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SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 
 
 GAIL HAMILTON," 
 
 Author of "Country Living and Country Thinking,''' " Gala Days," "A New 
 Atmosphere," " Woman's Worth and Worthlessness," &c. 
 
 And Moses said unto the Lord, O my Lord, I am not 
 eloquent, but I am slow of speech and of a slow tongue. 
 
 Behold, they will not believe me, nor hearken unto 
 my voice : for they will say, The Lord hath not appeared 
 unto thee. 
 
 And the Lord said unto him, Who hath made man's 
 mouth ? Have not I the Lord ? 
 
 Now, therefore, go, and I will be with thy mouth, and 
 teach thee what thou Shalt say. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WILLIAM F. GILL AND COMPANY, 
 
 309 Washington Stbeet, 
 
 OPPOSITE OLD SOUTH CilUECH. 
 
 1876. 
 
Copyright. 
 William F. Gill & Co. 
 
 1875. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY 
 
 C. J. Petebs & Son, 73 Federal Stbeet, Boston. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Imperiousness of Truth 9 
 
 Adam 33 
 
 The "Blue Blood" of Canaan 63 
 
 Our Charities 87 
 
 Religious Beggary 169 
 
 Heavenly Heathenism 207 
 
 Prayer 227 
 
 Tea-Party Salvation 245 
 
 The Land of Broken Promise 259 
 
 Missionary Musings 291 
 
 The Laws of Anger 331 
 
 The Sighing of the Prisoner 347 
 
 Fair Play 375 
 
THE IIPEKIOUSNESS OF TKUTH. 
 
SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 
 
 [HERE is, and there can be, no conflict 
 between scientific truth and religious truth. 
 Scientific men so far as they are honest, 
 and religious men so far as they are honest, are in 
 pursuit of one and the same object. All controversy, 
 all apparent contradiction, springs from the ignorance 
 of the persons who are engaged in it. From a few 
 facts that come within its ken, the Church constructs 
 a system of theology ; and from its few facts the world 
 constructs a sj'stem of science. Both, by reason of 
 the limited knowledge of the constructors, must be 
 very defective ; and from these defects it follows that 
 the two systems clash, inevitably clash. But between 
 the divine plan of theology and the divine framework 
 of science is no clashing. They are not simply har- 
 monious : they are one. Science is but a knowledge 
 of the divine method. What else is theology? Both 
 
 9 
 
10 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 have God for the basis and background. Even if the 
 votaries of science refuse to speak the divine name, 
 they are equally in search of the divine Being. God 
 is not less God, because you call him an original 
 Principle. 
 
 "What, then, are we striving for, — to defend our 
 own, or to discover the divine system? Who believes 
 that he has found all truth ? Who believes that he has 
 discovered enough to make it worth while to expend 
 his breath in defending it, except so far as attack and 
 defence are the handmaids of discovery? Certainly no 
 theory is indispensable, except the theory which com- 
 prehends all things ; and that we shall never compass 
 in this world. No fact is fatal, so it be a fact. As a 
 fact it must have its appropriate niche in the temple of 
 Nature, " whose builder and maker is God." 
 
 Yet a clerical discussion of certain scientific theories 
 closes with this statement : — 
 
 " Such, in a word, is the question which the thinking 
 portion of the religious world are now considering. 
 Shall we refuse to admit the possibility' that these views 
 can be true, under the idea that they exclude the ex- 
 istence of creative power ? or shall we gladly receive 
 them, if we find them sustained by the evidence, on 
 the ground that they vastly magnify the extent and 
 grandeur of its action? " 
 
 If this be true, the religious world is surely stultify- 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 11 
 
 ing itself with a remarkable and appalling unanimity. 
 If this be true, the religious world has not }~et learned 
 the A, B, C, of discovery in any truth whatever. Such 
 truth as it holds, it holds by imposition or by accident, 
 not by original acquirement ; for its method is all 
 wrong. It speaks as if truth were a matter of choice 
 and of consequences. B3* its own confession, it does 
 not ask, "Is this true?" but "Will it do for us to 
 admit that it is true ? " It is not concerned to know 
 what the facts are, but whether it can stand the conse- 
 quences of admitting those facts. The argument is 
 not, " The Darwinian theory is the correct theory, and 
 must therefore be accepted;" but, "In spite of all 
 ecclesiastical fear, the Darwinian theor} r is not onfynot 
 opposed to church-teachings, but realty upholds them. 
 Therefore we need not be afraid to receive it." 
 
 In scientific investigation, consequences are not to 
 be considered. Falsehood is always dangerous : truth 
 is always harmless. Where it seems to be injurious, it 
 is more often the preceding and surrounding falsehood, 
 than even the injudicious application of the truth, which 
 works woe. This very Darwinian theory is a case in 
 proof. No one knows whether it be true or false, or 
 whether our theory of the Creator be true or false ; but, 
 granting both to be true, the one is, as the writer quoted 
 saj'S, absolutely harmless to the other. It was supposed 
 to be subversive of the divine Being only by those who 
 
12 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 did not comprehend the theory. But whether harmful 
 or harmless is not the question. The only question is, 
 What is truth? It is irrelevant, it is mere charlantan- 
 ism, to ask on what ground we shall receive views : if 
 we find them sustained by the evidence, that is ground 
 enough. The sole point is, are they sustained hy the 
 evidence? If the}' are, we must receive them, whether 
 we like it or no, whether they subvert, or confirm, our 
 theories. There is no choice in the matter. God is 
 not the God of this world by sufferance, but by sove- 
 reignty. He borrows no leave to be, from savant or 
 saint. He cannot be volatilized out of his universe 
 by chemical agency, nor kept in it by any labored 
 harmony of the Gospels, or geology of Genesis. If he 
 is here at all, he is here by his own will and act, and 
 here to sta}^ 
 
 One might say that the Darwinian theory had as few 
 facts to stand on, and had to go as far to get them, as 
 any theory ever framed by man ; but that is not to the 
 purpose. 
 
 Not entirely alike, }-et not wholly dissimilar, is 
 another paragraph from a religious review : — 
 
 " The reduction of the biblical doctrine of the Devil 
 to a mythical personification of evil, and of the 
 account of the fall to a poetic representation, admits a 
 principle of interpretation fatal alike to the historical 
 and the moral weight of the Scriptures." 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 13 
 
 Here both the statement, and the principle which 
 underlies it, may be questioned. It is by no means 
 certain that an allegorical interpretation of the fall of 
 man is fatal to the historical or moral weight of the 
 Scriptures ; and, if it be, what of it? The issue is not, 
 What becomes of the Bible if the Devil was a myth ? 
 but, Was the Devil a myth? It is not to be asserted 
 that a story written in a certainly remote and a proba- 
 bty indefinite past, in a country and among a people 
 wholly different from our own, is to be understood pre- 
 cisely as we should understand a story of America to- 
 da}r. Nor is it to be denied that large portions of the 
 Bible are poetical and literary, not scientific or meta- 
 physical. Even its history is not the history of Hume 
 and Gibbon. Language itself has changed significance 
 in changing skies, and often puts us at loggerheads. 
 The Devil, we all agree, got into the Bible by a myth ; 
 and it is surely not unreasonable that he should go out 
 the same way. The first account of the creation says 
 nothing about the fall of man. The second says 
 nothing about the Devil. The only Deus ex macJiina 
 is a serpent. That serpent cannot be turned into the 
 Devil, except on the principle of poetic interpretation 
 and mythical personification. So we are not called 
 upon to admit the principle. The principle is already 
 there. " ' Nobody asked you, sir,' she said." 
 
 This principle is more nearly vital than fatal to the 
 
 2 
 
14 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 historical and moral weight of the Scriptures. I do 
 not care particularly about the Devil. A bad man is 
 a bad man, whether he is tempted of the Devil, or 
 whether he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. 
 It is rather satisfactory, on the whole, to have some 
 one to lay the blame on besides ourselves. At any 
 rate, Satan is under precisely the same laws as our- 
 selves, and to be combated exactly as if he were a vile 
 inclination or a bad habit. But on what principle do 
 we in ninetjr-nine cases proffer an allegory as the true 
 interpretation, and in the hundredth case not only 
 deny the allegory, but decree that an allegorical theory 
 would destroy the Bible? How can it be lawful to 
 poetize a snake, and not only unlawful, but revolution- 
 ary, to poetize the tree he coiled on, according to the 
 old pictures? We do" not hesitate to accredit our 
 Roman Catholic brethren with the woman sitting upon 
 the scarlet beast of the Revelation. Why may we not 
 use equal freedom towards the woman parleying with 
 the serpent of Genesis? The seven heads and ten 
 horns of the beast are not more suggestive of poetry 
 than the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that 
 springs in the garden. Who is it that says to poetry 
 and parable, " Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther"? 
 What sovereign commentator has announced, " Every 
 story of the Bible thou mayst freely allegorize ; but 
 the story of the Devil and the story of the Garden of 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 15 
 
 Eden thou shalt not allegorize ; for, in the day that 
 thou touchest that, thou shalt surely die, and the Bible 
 with thee " ? 
 
 When our creed declares that we hold all Scripture 
 to be given by inspiration of God, every one yields 
 ready assent : when it goes on immediately — as if the 
 one thing were involved in the other — to constitute 
 the Bible our complete rule of faith and practice, the 
 only rule to direct us how we may glorify God and 
 enjo} T him, we do not always have our thoughts suffi- 
 ciently about us to consider whether the second propo- 
 sition is really implied in the first, or whether it is 
 actually true, or what it definitely means. 
 
 I suppose creeds are not framed for keeping people 
 out of the Church, but, rather, to keep out heresy, to 
 keep out dangerous theological falsehood. The bene- 
 fit arising from church organization is so great, or 
 must be assumed to be so great, that we surely ought 
 to aim at bringing into the church-fold all who can be 
 brought in with truth and honor. It will be agreed 
 by every one, that we ought not to impose needless 
 restraints, that we ought not to ^demand belief in 
 statements of questionable purport and of doubtful 
 authority. 
 
 What does it amount to when we say that the Scrip- 
 tures are our only sufficient rule of faith and practice ? 
 They are not like a rule of arithmetic. They are not 
 
16 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 like a statute of law. These are, for the greater part, 
 exact, and to be definitely applied. The only way in 
 which the Scriptures furnish a rule is in supplying 
 principles, in softening and purifying the heart, in 
 tranquillizing the temper, in developing the conscience, 
 and putting us in the right frame of mind to make a 
 rule for ourselves. They furnish a rule, just as the 
 quarry furnishes to the sculptor his angel : he must 
 dig it out. When the Scriptures do give a rule, the 
 first thing we do is to show how often it ought to be 
 broken. The sacred writer makes a statement, and we 
 at once turn to and prove beyond a doubt that he does 
 not mean what he says. " Owe no man an}' thing but 
 to love one another," says Paul; but who refrains 
 from borrowing money on that account? " Whoso- 
 ever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him 
 the other also," says Christ; but, if a man smite us, 
 we prosecute him at the North, and knock him down at 
 the South. " Swear not at all," said the same divine 
 person ; and we not only swear, but hold that an oath 
 is a peculiarly sacred and solemn thing. I do not say 
 that we are contumacious or rebellious in doing thus ; 
 but, so long as we are in fact chiefly a law unto our- 
 selves, why do we pretend in our creeds to take the 
 Scripture as our only rule of faith and practice ? 
 
 We have a great theoretical dread of rationalism : 
 nevertheless we do constantly bring our own reason to 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 17 
 
 bear upon the precepts of the Bible. The most con- 
 scientious, the most devout, the most orthodox, does 
 not make the Bible his only rule of faith and practice. 
 He puts the Bible and his own common sense together ; 
 and the two furnish him a rule. Why is it worse to 
 say that we consider our own reason as authoritative 
 as the Bible, than it is always to interpret and construe 
 the Bible by our own reason? When the Bible con- 
 tradicts our judgment, we do not obey the Bible, and 
 fling our judgment to the winds : we follow our judg- 
 ment, and say that the passage is obscure ; that it 
 means something different from what it appears to 
 mean. We explain it all away. We think we can get 
 more truth out of witnesses, with oaths than without 
 oaths: so when Christ said, "Swear not at all," we 
 say that he only meant, swear not except in certain 
 circumstances. When the Almighty saj'S, "I loved 
 Jacob, and I hated Esau," it conflicts with our ideas 
 of what God ought to do ; and our most scrupulous 
 commentators do not scruple to say that God did not 
 really hate Esau, but only loved him less than he did 
 Jacob. When God said unto the man, " In the day 
 that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," we 
 affirm that he only meant that man should on that day 
 become liable to death. What is this but making our 
 human judgment paramount to Scripture ? 
 
 This is precisely what the Bible authorizes us to 
 2* 
 
18 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 do. I find no scriptural warrant for making the Bible 
 our only rule of faith and practice ; but I find abundant 
 warrant for making the Bible an authoritative reference- 
 book for faith and practice ; and the human reason the 
 proper and prescribed investigator. It may be, as is 
 asserted, that the Westminster Confessions and Cate- 
 chism, and the Thirty-nine Articles, and the Dord- 
 recht Formulas, are unsurpassed as specimens of logical 
 precision ; and, if what we wanted were perfect logical 
 systems and statements, we might go farther, and fare 
 worse. But what we want is not a perfect logical 
 circle above our heads, but concrete divine truth in 
 our hearts. Now, with all respect to the creed-makers, 
 it seems to me that the Scriptures give a better account 
 of themselves than any man has given of them. For 
 displa} T ing the origin and object of Scripture, its pre- 
 cise relation to human life, its precise place in the 
 divine economy, and its best showing in our creeds, 
 I do not think Nice, Athanasius, Prelate, Pope, or 
 Puritan has ever surpassed Paul. 
 
 " All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and 
 is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, 
 for instruction in righteousness.' ' 
 
 There we have no iron-clad " rule," at once rigid and 
 fragile, unbending, and therefore constantly breaking. 
 It is a precise statement of the case, as broad and 
 elastic as the truth itself, needing no explanation and 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 19 
 
 no supplement. It makes the Bible not a rule, but a 
 repertory of wisdom, goodness, truth, and love, of 
 divine principles, out of which we are to frame our own 
 rules on our own responsibility. 
 
 Even this great responsibility is not overwhelming. 
 The human reason which is to work on the Bible, — that 
 mere human reason which some flout at, and which 
 many seem to look upon as an insidious foe, — that 
 very reason has been much encouraged by these Sacred 
 Scriptures. "There is a spirit in man; and the in- 
 spiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding," 
 says Elihu in the Book of Job. Only twice in the 
 Bible is the word " inspiration " used. In both places, 
 it is the inspiration of God. In one passage, inspira- 
 tion gives us the Bible : in the other, it gives us under- 
 standing. If it is said that Elihu, the son of Barachel 
 the Buzite, is not as good authority as Paul, I can only 
 say that the statement is one that can hardly be proved 
 or disproved. It is certain that though Elihu waited, 
 as was proper, being a young man, till the three friends 
 had ceased to answer Job, yet, when he did speak, he 
 was as vigorous and pointed and decisive as any of 
 them. And though we are told that the anger of the 
 Lord was kindled against the other three, and they 
 were forced to humiliate themselves before Job, not a 
 word of rebuke was passed upon Elihu. Does not this 
 silence give assent? 
 
20 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 But we are not dependent upon Elihu's testimonj'. 
 The Lord himself " answered Job out of the whirlwind, 
 and said, Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts? 
 or who hath given understanding to the heart?" im- 
 plying more strongly than a mere assertion could that 
 God himself gave understanding. Solomon tells us 
 expressly, that out of the mouth of the Lord cometh 
 knowledge and understanding ; that, to the man that is 
 good in his sight, he giveth wisdom and knowledge and 
 jo}\ " If any of 3'ou lack wisdom," sa}-s James, " let 
 him ask of God that giveth to all men liberally, and it 
 shall be given him." On what authority do we throw 
 distrust and suspicion on the human reason, when God 
 himself has so often and so kindly urged us to use it in 
 studying his Word and himself? Wiry do we shorten 
 his arm by asserting that the Bible is all we have to go 
 b} T , when he has promised to shine directly into our 
 own minds, and to let us know, if only we will follow 
 on to know ? 
 
 It is feared and asserted that a reference to human 
 reason would open the door to all sorts of heresy ; that 
 leaving out certain forms from our creeds would be 
 bringing in certain other forms whose root is evil, and 
 whose fruit is death. We must raise barriers against 
 an " ever-restless, ever-developing, never-finished, pro- 
 gressive theolog} r ." It will not do to confine ourselves 
 to Bible statements, because Bible words do not mean 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 21 
 
 to people now-a-days the same that they meant to 
 people when they were uttered. They have lost some- 
 thing of their significance, of their solemnity. Words 
 which meant then only one thing now mean whatever 
 you choose. Explanation and interpretation have so 
 perverted the sacred texts, that the Bible can no longer 
 be trusted among the people unsupported, but must 
 be bulwarked with gloss and comment, by — hy whom ? 
 One is just as far off as another from Bible times. 
 Arians and Arminians, the dark ages and the renais- 
 sance, heres}^ and schism, brood with equal gloom over 
 us all. If the language of the Bible has been per- 
 verted to almost any meaning that a pretentious ration- 
 alizing may put upon it, how shall we know which of 
 those meanings to incorporate into our creed as the 
 true one? If the sacred writers confined themselves 
 to simple statements, because their hearers were too 
 near the facts to make any mistake, and if we are so 
 far off that we are liable to great mistakes unless we 
 have additional elaboration, formulated statements, 
 inferences and systems lifted into the realm of funda- 
 mental truth, in whom rests the authority to make 
 these additions, and to formulate scriptural simplicity, 
 and to say, once for all : This is what Christ meant, 
 this is the real gist of Paul's words? Have we an 
 apostle among us? The prophets, do they live forever? 
 Where is that fountain of interpretation of which, if a 
 
22 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 man drink, he shall mistake no more? Who has had 
 this supplementary inspiration, which not only illumin- 
 ates the Scriptures to his own edification, but author- 
 izes him to impose his interpretation as the condition 
 of union with Christ's visible Church on earth? 
 
 No one will deny the claims of truth. Sharp and 
 positive convictions are better than an indifferentism 
 naming itself with the name of liberality. Let the 
 Presbyterians govern themselves by a synod, and the 
 Congregationalists guide themselves by a council, and 
 the Universalists stay in a church that believes God is 
 too good to damn them, and the Unitarians in a church 
 that believes the}' are too good to be damned. We 
 need advocate no levelling of necessary barriers, no 
 sentimental union of feebleness and fustian ; but if 
 there are advantages in belonging to the Church, if the 
 communion of saints, if the sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper, be a sacred and solemn privilege, we have no 
 right to exclude from its participation those whom the 
 Bible docs not exclude. Ye take too much upon you, 
 ye sons of Levi, when ye graff the wild olive-branches 
 of j'our own conclusions into the good olive-tree of 
 God's gospel, and call it all alike the vinej^ard of the 
 Lord. 
 
 Few of us who have read the story of Samson have 
 not marvelled at the means which Samson took to 
 avenge himself on his father-in-law. We can very 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 23 
 
 well believe that he carried off the gates of Gaza to the 
 hill of Hebron ; for we have seen, in the picture, exactly 
 how he did it. It is easy to understand that a thou- 
 sand men should be slain by the jawbone of an ass ; for 
 such slaughter is not wholly unknown to modern 
 society. Any remarkable feat of strength may with 
 impunity be ascribed to Samson ; but the capture of 
 the three hundred foxes argues, besides superhuman 
 strength, an "infernal activity." And when we ob- 
 serve that these foxes were not only caught, as might 
 be possible in a trap and in time, but were caught all 
 at once, and were tied every one tail to tail, and that a 
 burning firebrand was secured firmly in the midst 
 between every two tails, — so firmly that a good many 
 of the foxes must have run a considerable distance 
 before the brand dropped off, if it dropped off at all, — 
 it must be admitted that very large draughts are made 
 on the childlike faith. For what motive had Samson ? 
 To catch three hundred foxes, and tie firebrands to 
 their tails in order to set your neighbors' cornfields on 
 fire, savors of the Western mode of preventing mos- 
 quito-bites ; viz., to catch your mosquito, give him 
 chloroform, and extract his teeth. It would seem 
 easier to burn up every cornfield in Massachusetts with 
 flint and steel than to catch a hundred foxes, not to 
 mention fastening a firebrand between their tails. Was 
 Samson afraid to go into the cornfields ? But did he 
 
24 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 not have to forage after the foxes quite as extensively? 
 "Would not the same cunning, agilitj*, and strength 
 which could capture, collect, accoutre, and despatch 
 three hundred foxes, have enabled him to slip into as 
 man}* cornfields, and set fire to them all? 
 
 It is amusing to see how nimble our commentators 
 become in the chase of those three hundred foxes. 
 The foxes turn into jackals at the first clip. The cap- 
 tor is furnished with a pair of mittens little less than 
 miraculous. He is allowed as many assistants as the 
 case may require. The foxes, become jackals, are sent 
 over the country in swarms. Samson is granted an 
 indefinite extension of time . The Greek term ' ' jackal," 
 we are told, means nimble; and the Persian jackal is a 
 gloiving coal. The red fox has a tail like a burning 
 torch; and the Greek word "fox" means " a bright, 
 burning tail." Ovid, in his Festival of the Cerealia, and 
 the Feast of Vulpinaria, and the tradition of the glow- 
 worm carrying fire, all point back to the fire-foxes of the 
 Philistines. What with fable, etymolog}*, and natural 
 history, we become bewildered, and, in the confusion of 
 law and legend, find ourselves quite read}* to welcome 
 that learned Hebraist who rises to explain that some 
 little quirk of a letter, some little dubious twist in the 
 tail of a comma, has made those foxes out of a shock of 
 corn, and sent them clattering across our common sense 
 through all these hundreds of years. It was not foxes 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 25 
 
 that Samson caught. He simply gathered shocks, 
 sheaves, bundles of corn, and such combustible matter, 
 fastened them together, and set the fire leaping across 
 the field, to the destruction of both shocks and stand- 
 ing corn, vinej^ards and olives. It was what any 
 shrewd Danish " fire-bug" might have done, — to our 
 nineteenth-century sense, a perfectly natural way of 
 setting the farms on fire. We are willing those three 
 hundred foxes should rest in peace ; and for us, before 
 we fash ourselves with strange stories, we will look to 
 our P's and Q's. 
 
 In the laws given to the Israelites, after they had 
 left the land of Egypt, we find the stern sentence, 
 " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live ; " in obedience 
 to which mandate, thousands of men and women — the 
 offscouring of the earth, and saints of whom the world 
 was not worthy — have suffered death at the hands of 
 men. Massachusetts has, I believe, the honor of 
 having first reared the standard of rebellion and revolt 
 against the devil of persecution, of torture, and of 
 death ; and that devil she cast out. But, before he 
 went, he so tore and bruised her, that the world remem- 
 bers only how the evil spirit foamed., and raged, and 
 remembers not that the foaming and raging were be- 
 cause she withstood him to the face, and crushed him 
 down, and cast him out. So her good is evil spoken 
 of. But Giles Corey bore the peine forte et dure; and 
 3 
 
26 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the venerable white hairs of that saintliest of women, 
 Rebecca Nourse, floated from the gallows-tree ; and the 
 Rev. Mr. Burroughs was torn from wife and babies in 
 the wilderness, and doomed to the felon's death, — 
 because, far back in the twilight of time, a Thus saith 
 the Lord had rung out through the smoke of Sinai, and 
 reverberated over the plains and the desert: "Thou 
 shalt not suffer a witch to live." Now comes up a wise 
 man of the East, and joins hand with sundry wise men of 
 the West, and all jointly and severally declare that the 
 true rendering and reading is, " Thou shalt not suffer 
 a witch to get her living." The Most High did not 
 command his people to do to death these wizards and 
 witches ; but he forbade them to allow the trade of 
 necromancy to be carried on in their community. 
 
 The dead cannot rise from their graves to receive or 
 to give atonement ; and, long before this, I trust that the 
 Rev. Mr. Parrish has found dust enough on the golden 
 streets to bestrew his garments of repentance for the 
 children whom he led astray, and the men and women 
 he hunted down. Long before this, I trust, have the 
 torture, the ignominy, and the shame which wrought 
 the death, and shrouded the grave, of Rebecca Nourse, 
 been lost in the light and glory of heaven. But, for all 
 the living, there is hope that the lesson of our fathers' 
 mistake may not be lost. 
 
 It is of very little consequence in itself whether 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 27 
 
 sheaves, or foxes, set fire to the Philistine vinej-ards'. It 
 is not of the first importance, whether, in one particular 
 passage, a witch was commanded to be slain, or to be 
 forbidden the practice of her arts ; for there are other 
 passages of similar purport. It concerned Abram 
 chiefly, whether the Moreh to which he passed were a 
 burning, perhaps arid, plain, or a sheltering and restful 
 oak. There is authority for both. The point is, that, 
 on certain words of Holy Writ, men of learning and 
 piety differ so widety as to change the whole meaning 
 of statement and command, — differ, in at least one 
 instance, by all the distance that stretches between life 
 and death. How unwise is it, then, how unscientific, 
 how impious, to pin our faith upon a word ! How 
 absurd to make the gates of heaven swing or shut to 
 any open sesame which one, or close sesame which 
 another, ma} r think himself to have found in the Bible ! 
 How derogatory is it to the divine Being to suppose 
 that he would make salvation turn upon any one or two, 
 or a dozen, interpretations in a book, when a dozen 
 other interpretations are admitted to be so doubtful 
 that the world cannot agree upon their truth ! If, when 
 the Bible speaks of so simple a thing as a fox, I am 
 expected to believe it means a jackal, and am not a 
 heretic if I think it means a shock of corn, why shall 
 I bar from heaven, and from the table of our Lord on 
 earth, my brother who cannot understand that "bap- 
 
28 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 tism" in the Bible means " immersion," or my brother 
 who cannot comprehend what the word ' ' trinit} 7 ' ' 
 means, which is not in the Bible at all? If some scrip- 
 tural words are vital, and other words are not vital, then 
 we need a supplementary revelation to tell us which 
 are the vital words. From the simple fact that the 
 revealed word of God is dotted with statements, which, 
 whether from lapse of time, or change of language and 
 manners, are to us practically incomprehensible, I 
 rather infer that intellectual comprehension of theo- 
 logical truth is not essential to salvation, but that, 
 "in every nation, he that feareth God, and worketh 
 righteousness, is accepted with him." 
 
 I do not suppose we have departed any farther from 
 the faith once delivered to the saints than the divine 
 Being knew we should depart. When he inspired the 
 sacred writers, he knew just as well what the perver- 
 sions of a pretentious rationalism would do with the 
 words as our modern theologians know what it has 
 done with them. And if he still let the words stand 
 as symbols of faith, and tests of piety, cannot we afford 
 to let them stand? Perhaps the ark of God is not so 
 unsteady as it seems. Perhaps it will not topple over, 
 even if we leave it to its own divine strength. It has 
 been brought forward as one great proof of the divine 
 origin of the Bible, that it was not confined to one age 
 and one people, but was adapted to all ages and all 
 
THE IMPERIOUSNESS OF TRUTH. 29 
 
 peoples. What becomes of this miraculous adapta- 
 tion, if it must be supplemented and interpreted and 
 appendixed, and generally pieced out and filled in, 
 before it can safely be trusted as a lamp unto our feet 
 and a light unto our path? Christ himself sa} r s, 
 " Whosoever believeth in me shall never die." But we 
 have discovered that men may sa}^ they believe, and yet 
 say nothing ; may call Christ the Son of God, and yet 
 mean nothing. Therefore we are not contented that 
 they should confess Christ before men. We will not 
 even let them simply confess Christ before men. We 
 build up a wall of logical precision, and verbal exact- 
 ness, and metaphysical distinction, and say that any 
 man that entereth by the door into the sheepfold, and 
 climbeth not up this wa}^, " the same is a thief and a 
 robber." Would it not be better, like Christ, to put a 
 generous construction on men's motives, to believe that 
 he who is not positively against Christ is on his part ; 
 that, if a man cares enough about Christ to believe in 
 him in any sort of way, he will not lightly speak evil 
 of him ; that, if he calls him the Son of God, he cer- 
 tainly means nothing bad ? He ma} r be yet far off from 
 the full assurance of faith. He may see the Lord only 
 through a glass very darkly ; but why is he to be treated 
 as a lrypocrite, a pretender, and a foe, to be barred out 
 with formula and exegesis, to be unmasked and ex- 
 posed, as it were, and not rather welcomed in, though 
 3* 
 
30 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 " not to doubtful disputations " ? Is not a man more 
 likely to be built up in the faith inside than outside the 
 Church? How, then, can the salvation of the world be 
 furthered by multiplying tests beyond those which God 
 himself laid down ? If Christ could trust the general 
 honesty of human nature in confessing him, why 
 cannot we? 
 
 And why is an " ever-restless, ever-developing, 
 never-finished, progressive theology " a thing to be 
 guarded against? Has any man, or any school of 
 theologians, ever found out the Almighty unto perfec- 
 tion ? A very high authority, long ago, declared, that, 
 ''touching the Almighty, we cannot find him out." If 
 he be indeed infinite, must not the science that treats of 
 him, unless it is a dead science, be " ever-restless, ever- 
 developing, never-finished, and progressive "? It will 
 make a thousand mistakes ; but the greatest mistake 
 which theology can make is to fold its hands, cease 
 to develop, cease to progress, and say, " It is finished.' ■ 
 All the ages and all the worlds may strive, b}>- search- 
 ing, to find out God ; and though the search is most 
 blissful in process, and most blessed in results, always 
 behind it remains the Almighty, forever found by the 
 sincere seeker, yet forever and forever to be sought. 
 
ADAM. 
 
ADAM. 
 
 |DAM'S fall is a very discouraging circum- 
 stance. 
 
 All the machinery of life aims to bring 
 man into a state of moral excellence. Churches, 
 schools, newspapers, are to make him good and wise. 
 The great obstacle is, that he has in himself so much 
 bad blood, and is surrounded by circumstance so un- 
 toward. A child seems to be made up of the traits of 
 many generations. He gets brightness from his 
 mother, deception from his father, a furious temper 
 from one, self-restraint from another, indolence from a 
 third, and a thousand little strains of strength and 
 weakness which once variegated the lives of ancestors 
 whom living eye has never seen, and who sleep in 
 forgotten graves. One propensity we try to curb, one 
 tendency to develop. We do not expect to accomplish 
 great things with the generation now on the stage ; 
 but, if we can only get this rising race started fair, we 
 have great expectations of the race that shall come 
 from them. Weak and wicked parents make weak and 
 
34 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 wicked children. Given one generation of upright, 
 noble, healthy men and women, and the world is fairly 
 started on its career of reform. 
 
 But, when you have secured your noble men and 
 women, you are, at the farthest, only where we started 
 six thousand years ago. Churches and schools, family 
 training and piety, have produced, let us say, the 
 upright generation ; but it is no better than was Adam. 
 Adam was upright and noble. He inherited no bad 
 blood, no weak trait. No stern father, no indulgent 
 mother, helped to spoil him. No society flattered and 
 fooled him. He was a perfect and holy man. God 
 was his teacher and intimate friend. All his powers 
 were balanced, all his faculties in harmony, all his 
 wants natural, all his tastes innocent. Yet, at the first 
 touch of temptation, down he went, and all the genera- 
 tions with him. 
 
 And it was no great temptation, either. If it were 
 proper, and to the purpose, one could find it in his 
 heart to be thoroughly angry with Adam for bringing 
 us into our estate of sin and misery on such slight 
 provocation. Adam's descendants, all degenerate as 
 they are, resist a thousand stronger temptations every 
 da}^. There are many sins into which it is hardty sur- 
 prising that a man should fall. When the appetite for 
 wine has once taken firm hold of him, the wonder is, 
 that he should ever dispossess himself of it. It is not 
 
ADAM. 35 
 
 incomprehensible that men and women will sacrifice 
 wealth, ambition, even honor, to love ; for love is a 
 passion so absorbing, so overpowering, that judgment 
 and reason nmy be held captive in its thrall. It is in- 
 conceivable that a man should commit fraud to gratify 
 a love of display and self-indulgence ; but it is not 
 inconceivable that he should commit forgery to conceal 
 fraud, and commit suicide to escape the penalty of 
 forgery. But Adam had nothing that was worthy the 
 name of temptation ; and he had every thing else. 
 There was his wife made on purpose for him, and made 
 out of his own flesh and blood ; so that he could not 
 find fault with her. There was no other woman exist- 
 ing to be compared with her to her disadvantage, or 
 to make it possible for him to think he might have 
 done better. No overweening appetite tempted him, 
 for he had perfect liberty and perfect likings, except 
 in one direction ; and there is nothing to indicate that 
 he ever so much as looked in that direction of his own 
 accord. He had not a single want or wish ungratified ; 
 and all his gratification was moderate, reasonable, and 
 wholesome, — as salutary in effect as it was pure in 
 enjoyment. He was called upon to crucify no natural 
 propensity, to exercise no form of self-denial. The 
 forbidden tree was pleasant to the eyes, and good for 
 food ; but so was every tree in the garden. There was 
 no reason why he should wish to eat of this tree, except 
 
36 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 that the Lord God had told him not to. And this Lord 
 God was no tyrant, no mere far-off unseen monarch 
 even, but a familiar friend in whom he trusted, who 
 had given him all things richly to enjoy, who had 
 brought all the creatures of the earth to him to ac- 
 knowledge fealty, and talked with him as a man talketh 
 with his friend. Now, I believe, that, all fallen and 
 sinful as we are, there are thousands of men and 
 women on the earth to-day who would stand such a 
 test, and call it nothing. They would do, even for an 
 earthly friend, for friendship's sake, what Adam would 
 not do for the sake of the Lord God. Every boy who 
 gives up smoking to please his father and mother re- 
 sists a temptation infinitely stronger than that which 
 beset Adam. For, let it be always remembered, Adam 
 was not hankering after the forbidden fruit. There is 
 nothing to show that he had even so much as thought of 
 it, or was any thing but indifferent to it, when up came a 
 beast of the field, and suggested to Adam and Eve that 
 they should try it. That was all. One would say a 
 thousand beasts of the field might have beset them, 
 a thousand serpents hissed out suggestions, in vain. 
 What was a serpent in comparison with the Lord 
 God ? Adam knew perfectly well that the beasts of 
 the field were inferior to himself ; for he had been set 
 to have dominion over them. He could not, of course, 
 comprehend the Almighty ; but he knew enough to 
 
ADA M. 37 
 
 know that he was Sovereign, sovereignly good and 
 wise, and to be revered, obeyed, and adored. Yet 
 upon the first suggestion of an irresponsible, unhelp- 
 ing, slanderous serpent, they disregarded his wishes, — 
 I will not say disobeyed his commands, — apparently 
 without the smallest compunction, misgiving, or re- 
 morse, as simply, coolly, and heartlessly as if they had 
 been used to disobedience ever since they were cre- 
 ated. Veterans in faithlessness could hardly have 
 done worse. 
 
 Now, if these things are done in a green tree, what 
 shall be done in a dry? If Adam, pure, perfect, holy, 
 with no acquired weakness from habit, with no treach- 
 ery of inherited traits, with no temptation fromungrat- 
 ified wants, and no promptings of pride, could thus 
 wantonly fall into the first silly sin that he could 
 stumble upon, how shall the present generation, all 
 borne down with the weight of accumulated crime, 
 enervated by centuries of weakness and vice, beset by 
 temptations that Adam never knew or dreamed of, — 
 how shall such a generation even think of maintaining 
 itself upright? How can we be expected to stand 
 where Adam fell ? And suppose we do stand, suppose 
 we do secure an upright generation, what guaranty 
 have we that it will not, upon the second temptation, 
 lapse into vice, repeat the ruin of Adam, and so give 
 us all our work to do over again ? What hinders the 
 4 
 
38 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 world's progress from being at best but a perpetual 
 moral see-saw — now up, next down? And what 
 encouragement have we to help a man to his feet, 
 when his first act after he gains them is to fall flat 
 upon the ground again? 
 
 Is there not somewhere a flaw in our exegesis? 
 Simply considered as literature and history, it might 
 well be that the story of Genesis had not yielded up 
 its gem of the ages to our strictest research. Learn- 
 ing, logic, and piety have striven to unfold its secret, 
 and, for all answer, we have only conflict and clashing. 
 It is easier to say what cannot be the true meaning 
 than what the true meaning must be. Certainly an 
 interpretation which contradicts the ordinary notions 
 of sense and justice must have a good deal to say for 
 itself, before it can be received as a veracious history, 
 or a true philosoplry, of the ways of God to man. A 
 theory which starts out with the statement, that, 
 
 "In Adam's fall 
 "We sinned all," 
 
 it cannot be irreverent or profane to question. 
 
 If a man in New York or Boston had grown up vir- 
 tuous, amiable, and honorable, and in his mature 
 years, with a happy family surrounding him and 
 depending on him, should suddenly steal a million dol- 
 lars from the desk of his best friend, not because he 
 
ADAM. 39 
 
 was in need of money, or had any special desire for it, 
 but because a veteran pickpocket had suggested to him 
 that he should, we should say the man had lost his 
 mental balance, that he was beginning to have soften- 
 ing of the brain. If we read the story in the reporter's 
 column of the morning paper, we should say, "What 
 absurd stories these newspapers invent, now that the 
 war and the panic are over ! " But Adam had a better 
 character than any bank president ; and, where the 
 defaulting cashier brings only his own family to grief, 
 Adam dragged down with him a whole world. The 
 great comfort in doing moral work is, that, once done, 
 it sta}^s done. The United States is not in the smallest 
 danger of lapsing into Druidism. The vices of the 
 freeclman and the Indian, we say, are the vices engen- 
 dered of long years of slavery and barbarism. After a 
 few successive generations of freedom, education, and 
 religion, we shall see that the one is not incapable of 
 self-government, nor the other of civilization. Moral 
 inertia is as strong as plrysical inertia. No man 
 plunges at once from the heights of virtue to the 
 depths of vice. It is not the man of wise prudence, 
 self-restraint, large views, enlightened conscience, and 
 liberal mind, who slays his opponent, even in a 
 moment of passion. It is the man, who, however fair 
 to far-seeing, is within weakened by self-indulgence. 
 He only falls at a sudden blow, because his props were 
 
40 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 never well set. The crash of disaster may be sudden ; 
 but a long series of secret crimes, weaknesses, and 
 selfishnesses, led up to it. 
 
 If, then, our theory be correct, — that Adam was 
 created holy, and that he fell, at the first comparatively 
 slight temptation, into iniquity and irreparable ruin, — 
 it would seem that he must have been very differently 
 constituted from any of his descendants. As vast 
 numbers of his descendants, in their fallen state, do 
 resist many and grievous temptations, and as Adam, 
 in his unfallen state, created in the image of God, in 
 knowledge, righteousness, and holiness, according to 
 the Westminster Catechism, never resisted any, it 
 seems to follow that an estate of knowledge, righteous- 
 ness, and holiness, is less favorable to goodness than 
 is an estate of sin and misery. 
 
 But is not that a conclusion in which nothing is con- 
 cluded ? 
 
 There is a theory that Adam was not positively holy, 
 but negatively innocent ; that he had perfect moral 
 purity, but not moral strength. That may be ; but 
 that makes him a man in physical and mental powers, 
 while morally a bab}'. If that be the true theory, then 
 it seems hardly fair to have made Adam the represen- 
 tative man of the race. Ordinarily the moral faculty, 
 though opening later than the other faculties, arrives 
 far sooner at maturity. Adam's descendants have 
 
ADAM. 41 
 
 usually a very clear sense of right and wrong, long 
 before they have a very correct sense of what is wise 
 or unwise, prudent and imprudent. But, if Adam was 
 created with mind and bod}^ fully developed while his 
 moral sense was infantile, he was so different from the 
 rest of mankind, that it is not just to bring them all to 
 destruction because he fell : it is not just that the fate 
 of a whole race, whose moral powers ordinarily keep 
 pace with its mental and physical powers, should be 
 put to the test of the only man in it whose moral 
 power was created organically weaker and tardier than 
 his other powers. A chain is no stronger than its 
 weakest link ; but, when we would strengthen the 
 chain, we do not begin by reducing every link to the 
 weakness of the weakest. 
 
 If the answer to a question in addition do not 
 " prove," we try it over again. The very number and 
 earnestness of the solutions which have been given to 
 this problem indicate that the answer will not 
 " prove." But the record of an event so august as 
 the foundation of a world has been thought worthy 
 the closest stud}', the most continuous attention, and 
 is full of the deepest interest. 
 
 The story of Genesis can hardly be intended as a 
 
 literal scientific statement. " The Lord God planted a 
 
 garden. And out of the ground made the Lord God 
 
 to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and 
 4* 
 
42 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 good for food." But could any one garden contain 
 every kind of tree to be found in every sort of climate, 
 — in torrid, temperate, and frigid zones? " The tree 
 of life, also, in the midst of the garden, and the tree of 
 knowledge of good and evil." What sort of trees are 
 these ? What nurseryman has ever had the seedlings ? 
 What gardener has ever eaten the fruit ? We find our- 
 selves, at the very outset, palpably and unquestionably 
 in the midst of an allegory. Something nrysterious 
 and uncomprehended, whether or not incomprehensi- 
 ble, is represented as the tree of life, planted in the 
 garden where man entered upon his active career. In 
 the holy cit}', the New Jerusalem, whither this world 
 leads and leaves him, the same mysterious tree blooms 
 down the centre of the golden street, and shadows the 
 banks of the river of life, yields every month its teem- 
 ing fruitage, and offers even its " leaves for the healing 
 of the nations." 
 
 Was it a literal plot of land in Asia that bore this 
 tree ? And the tree of knowledge of good and evil — 
 does it spring in any earthy soil ? Is it propagated by 
 grafting ? Is it nurtured by irrigation ? Is it blighted 
 by earh' frost? Does it grow side b}' side with apples 
 and apricots? We see at once that the idea is absurd. 
 These are allegorical trees, symbolical trees ; and, if 
 they are allegorical, the garden in which they are 
 planted, the whole story in which they are found, not 
 
ADAM. 43 
 
 only may be, but must be presumed to be, allegorical. 
 It is contrary alike to the laws of literature and of 
 sound reason, that an allegorical tree should be 
 planted in an agricultural garden. 
 
 What we cannot fail to notice in the story of Gene- 
 sis is, that the Lord God said to Adam, " Of the tree 
 of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat 
 of it ; for, in the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt 
 surely die." But the serpent said, "Ye shall not 
 surely die ; for God doth know, that in the day ye eat 
 thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be 
 as gods, knowing good and evil." 
 
 And the serpent was right about it. Adam and Eve 
 ate the fruit, and they did not die, as the Lord God 
 said they would ; but their eyes were opened, and they 
 knew good and evil, just as the serpent had predicted. 
 The serpent, apparently, spoke more truly than the 
 Lord God. No wonder the narrative affirms the ser- 
 pent to have been more subtle than an}^ beast of the 
 field which the Lord God had made. I suspect the 
 serpent himself honestly believed what he was saying. 
 He knew a great deal ; but he did not know every 
 thing. Adam and Eve seem to have been like two 
 children, — frank, innocent, ignorant, unsuspicious, 
 fearless. The serpent was far superior to them in 
 intelligence and experience ; but, when he undertook 
 to measure himself against the Almighty, he sank into 
 
44 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 abject insignificance. It looks as if he knew what 
 death was, and he knew what was the tree of the 
 knowledge of good and evil ; and he knew what were 
 its apparent, superficial, immediate consequences. 
 But its deeper, more remote, most vital consequences, 
 he did not know. He evidently thought the Lord God 
 was jealous of his prerogatives ; that he did not wish 
 Adam and Eve to become like himself in knowledge of 
 good and evil, and so was frightening them off with 
 a warning of consequences which would never follow. 
 But the serpent meant mischief. Out of pure malice, 
 he meant to get Adam and Eve into trouble ; or 
 perhaps, in revenge or hatred of the Lord God, he 
 would set Adam and Eve in a more godlike place than 
 their Maker intended. The only death which his sen- 
 sual mind comprehended, he knew was not a natural 
 result of eating of the tree of the knowledge of good 
 and evil. The result which would follow — and the 
 only result of which he was aware — was a perception 
 hitherto to them unknown, and a perception which the 
 Lord God had not intended them to have, and which, 
 the serpent thought, would thwart the divine plans, 
 and chagrin the Lord God. He himself turned out to 
 be the one who was thwarted and baffled and cha- 
 grined ; yet he had laid his plans well. His failure 
 was because he only saw things on the surface, and 
 could not pursue them into the depths. If there had 
 
ADAM. 45 
 
 not been to death a deeper meaning than he knew any 
 thing about, if there had not been in the knowledge of 
 good and evil a higher life than he could divine, he 
 would have been right. To the short-sighted eyes of 
 wickedness, the far-off truth seems a present falsehood. 
 
 One of the most remarkable features of the narra- 
 tive, one that has received far less prominence than its 
 character merits, and one that seems full of signifi- 
 cance, if we could but find the key to unlock it, is the 
 assertion of the Lord God, " Behold, the man is become 
 as one of us, to know good and^evil : and now, lest he 
 put forth his hand, and take, also, of the tree of life, 
 and eat, and live forever ; therefore the Lord God sent 
 him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground 
 from whence he was taken." 
 
 That was precisely what the serpent said. What 
 the serpent said would happen, the Lord God declared 
 had happened. But what was this wondrous change ? 
 And why should the Lord God be angr}- about it, or 
 have forbidden it in the first place ? It would seem as 
 if the change was a very elevating and a very desira- 
 ble one, — a change from a low to a higher state of 
 being. This man was become more, like God. But 
 he was made, at first, in the image of God : therefore, 
 we should say, the more he became like God the better. 
 Why should the Lord God object to any act which 
 could make man more like himself? And what was 
 
46 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 this knowledge of good and evil, of which man had 
 suddenly become possessed ? He knew good before ; 
 for he had felt it all through his happy life. It can 
 hardly mean that he was to know evil in the sense of 
 doing or suffering evil ; for he was to know it as the 
 Lord God knows it, who is incapable of either. And 
 what was that tree of life which once brought immor- 
 tality within human grasp ? The tree had been in the 
 garden from the beginning ; and it does not seem that 
 Adam and Eve were forbidden to eat of it. It is, 
 indeed, mentioned as the tree which was in the midst 
 of the garden ; and the woman declared that it was the 
 fruit of the tree which was in the midst of the garden, 
 of which God had said, " Ye shall not eat of it, neither 
 shall ye touch it, lest ye die." But, in the direct com- 
 mand of God himself, nothing is said of the tree of 
 life. The prohibition applies only to the tree of knowl- 
 edge of good and evil. Was it, then, that the}^ had 
 eaten of the tree of life, but that its effects were but 
 temporal ; that immortality could come only from 
 continuous partaking of its mystic fruit ; that the long 
 lives of Adam and Seth and Methuselah resulted 
 from the fruit of the tree of life which Adam had eaten 
 in the garden, — a fruit whose lingering virtue length- 
 ened out even the days of Abraham and Joseph, but 
 dwindled, and presently disappeared, till the human 
 organization had nothing to depend on but its own 
 
ADAM. 47 
 
 unaided force, and finds now its limit at threescore 
 years and ten? It would seem, then, that man was 
 not originally and inherently immortal. He was made 
 liable to death, but susceptible of life. He would 
 naturally die ; but, by the use of certain means, he had 
 a frame that could live forever. If he had not par- 
 taken of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, he 
 might still have fed on the tree of life, and have lived 
 forever ; but he would have lived in that lower estate 
 in which he was created. He would never have been 
 like God, knowing good and evil. Here is where the 
 reverend assembly of divines at Westminster must have 
 been plumply and squarely wrong. They were wise 
 above what is written. They were not content with 
 the simple Scripture statement, that God made man 
 "in our image, after our likeness." They gave no 
 heed to the subsequent modifications, which showed 
 how far the statue varied from its model. They say, 
 " God created man after his own image, in knowledge, 
 righteousness, and holiness." The writer of Genesis 
 docs not say one word about God's having created 
 man like himself in knowledge, righteousness, or holi- 
 ness. The only thing he says about it is, that, in one 
 whole department of knowledge, man was created 
 unlike God ; and the only way he got in was by rushing 
 in, in spite of God. His very fall consisted in leaving 
 the estate of ignorance in which he had been created, 
 
48 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and trespassing upon an estate of knowledge in which 
 he had not been created. But this estate of knowl- 
 edge was one in which the Lord God dwelt ; and it 
 could not, therefore, have been of itself guilty or un- 
 desirable. Adam's fault was, not in being in it, but in 
 going in when he was commanded to stay out. Yet, 
 thrusting himself forward all unbidden, he did not, 
 thereby, wholly forfeit all the advantages of the estate. 
 The fruit of the tree was potent. His eyes were 
 opened, and he did know good and evil, and he did 
 become as God. We have the lowest authority in the 
 universe foretelling that this is what would happen, 
 and the highest authority in the universe asserting that 
 this is what did happen. The serpent knew a great 
 deal more about the tree of the knowledge of good and 
 evil than we know ; but there was so much that he did 
 not know, that his knowledge was not of the smallest 
 account. No created being seems to have fathomed 
 the secret of the Almighty. 
 
 It does not seem certain, when we look at it care- 
 fully, that God was even angry with Adam and Eve 
 for thus clothing themselves with the attributes of the 
 Most High. Their banishment from the garden is 
 alleged to be, not by way of penalty, but of precaution. 
 They were expelled, not for an}^ thing they had done, 
 but for something which it was feared they would do. 
 "And now, lest he put forth his hand, and take of 
 
ADAM. 49 
 
 the tree of life, and eat, and live forever: therefore, 
 the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of 
 Eden.' , Even the divine unwillingness that man, 
 after his disobedience should eat of the tree of life, 
 and live forever, may have been divine compassion, 
 and not displeasure. An immortality that would have 
 been forever fresh and fair and sweet in the garden 
 of Eden might be a burden too heavy to be borne out- 
 side. It is not the least sola.ce of a life whose sorrows 
 are greatly multiplied, and whose toils are often exces- 
 sive, that its troubles are limited. One man of genius 
 represents death as the poor man's dearest friend, the 
 kindest and the best. ' Another pictures to himself 
 the consternation that would ensue in the world, if 
 death were suddenly abolished. The woes entailed 
 upon the human race by that mysterious and awful 
 comprehension of good and evil are lifted and light- 
 ened by the certain knowledge that the time is short, 
 or, if not by the knowledge, certainly by the fact. 
 Sin cannot grow hoary ; for the sinner returns to the 
 dust ; and out of the dust comes each living soul with 
 something of primal innocence about it. Suffering 
 does not on earth annihilate the power to enjoy ; for 
 aching brow and throbbing pulse find peace and rest in 
 the ever- welcoming grave. 
 
 It may be noticed, also, that a very different tone 
 is assumed toward Adam and Eve from that which is 
 5 
 
50 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 assumed toward the serpent. To the latter the Lord 
 God saj^s, " Thou art cursed." To Adam he sa} T s, 
 " Cursed is the ground for thy sake." When Cain 
 afterwards killed his brother, the Lord said unto him, 
 " Now art thou cursed. Lamech observed the dis- 
 tinction, and knows no curse upon man, but comforts 
 himself concerning our work and toil of our hands, 
 because of the ground which the Lord hath cursed. 
 
 It was the ground, and not the man, who was cursed. 
 Naj r , the ground was cursed for the man's sake. Is 
 not the phrase, " For my sake," oftener a friendly 
 than an unfriendly phrase ? Is not the necessity of 
 industry everywhere and always recognized as the 
 almost indispensable condition of excellence ? Is not 
 idleness denounced, and justly denounced, as the fruit- 
 ful mother, and the untiring foster-mother, of vice? 
 And seeing that man had presumptively, rashly, but 
 realty, drawn upon himself the immeasurable responsi- 
 bility of the knowledge of good and evil, did not God, 
 in love and kindness, curse the ground for his sake, 
 render it necessary that man should toil, and by his 
 toil be disciplined and trained into a fitness for the 
 station into which he had thrust himself, all ignorant, 
 untrained, unfit? That absolute ease and luxury in 
 which Adam lived before he had any knowledge of 
 good and evil did not hurt him. After that godlike 
 knowledge came to him, it would have been fatal. A 
 
ADAM. 51 
 
 baby plays with his toes and his toys through all his 
 waking hours ; but, when he becomes a man, he puts 
 awa}' childish things. 
 
 Nor does it appear afterwards that God was angry 
 with Adam, or alienated from him, or that Adam and 
 his family and friends and descendants fell under 
 God's wrath and curse. And when the reverend 
 assembly of divines at Westminster declare that " all 
 mankind, by the fall, lost communion with God, are 
 under his wrath and curse, and so made liable to the 
 miseries in this life, to death itself, and to the pains of 
 hell forever," they must go far for authority. How 
 they could make such a statement with the Book of 
 Genesis before their eyes is incomprehensible. 
 
 For, immediately after the fall, before Adam and 
 Eve were sent out of the garden, the Lord God made 
 coats of skin, and clothed them. He took pity upon 
 their shame ; he was touched by their simple, awkward, 
 clums}^ efforts to clothe themselves ; he did not wait 
 for them to learn by cold and fatigue the insufficiency 
 and fragility of the poor, perishable garments they had 
 stuck together : but he put them himself on the right 
 track. He made for them himself strong and decorous 
 coats, clothes that would stand the rain and storm and 
 toil that awaited them outside of Eden, garments that 
 could serve them till their progress in art and skill 
 should produce better. Does this look as if they were 
 
52 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 under God's wrath and curse? What could he have 
 done different, if they had been under his pity and 
 care and love ? 
 
 When Eve's first baby was born, she cried in rapture, 
 " I have gotten a man from the Lord." That is hardly 
 the cry of a woman whose whole nature was corrupt, 
 and who was cut off from communion with God. It 
 seems, rather, as if Eve were still living close to the 
 Lord God, and attributed this new, strange blessing at 
 once to him. 
 
 " And the Lord had respect unto Abel." And the 
 Lord talked with Cain. " And Enoch walked with 
 God." " And Noah was a just man, and perfect in his 
 generations ; and Noah walked with God." And God 
 talked with Noah, and " blessed Noah and his sons." 
 And all through the book comes a long line of men 
 whom God talked with, and bore with, and labored 
 with, and taught and directed, and blessed and com- 
 forted. And the reverend assembly of divines at West- 
 minster, with this long record of love and patience in 
 their hands, could put their heads together, and declare 
 that all mankind, by the fall, lost communion with God, 
 and are under his wrath and curse. Worse than that, 
 if any thing can be worse, in our own National Council 
 that met in Boston, there was not found a man to vin- 
 dicate the wa} T s of God to man ; but " all we, like sheep, 
 went astray" after the Westminster divines, and de- 
 
ADAM. 53 
 
 dared our adherence for substance of doctrine to the 
 faith and order which the synods of 1G48 and 1680 set 
 forth or re-affirmed. 
 
 As between the theological assertions of the West- 
 minster Assembly of Divines, and those of any other 
 body of divinity, it is doubtless proper to go with the 
 "Westminster Assembly ; but where the issue is between 
 the Westminster Assembly on one side, and Moses 
 and the prophets on the other, I should go decidedly 
 with Moses. Much as we esteem the Catechism, we 
 esteem the Pentateuch more. The Book of Genesis, 
 whether we accept it as authority or not, is all the 
 authority we have concerning the origin of the human 
 race. That book tells us that continually, after the 
 fall as well as before the fall, God did lovingly and 
 patiently and unwea^ingly talk with man, lead him 
 along pleasant paths, and over hard places, rebuke and 
 punish him when he was wicked, praise and reward 
 him when he was even a little good, encourage him 
 when he was weary, strengthen him when he was feeble, 
 and in all ways and places show himself a father and a 
 friend ; so that after all these years, in these remote 
 corners of the earth, one cannot read the story without 
 an amazement, almost an incredulity of gratitude ; 
 without exclaiming, " What is man, that thou shouldst 
 be so mindful of him? " 
 
 When any one says, on the other hand, that, after 
 
 4* 
 
54 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the fall, man lost communion with God, and fell 
 under his wrath and curse, I ask, with all respect, for 
 his authority. I ask, also, if there is an} r such author- 
 ity, why it was not incorporated into the book, — the 
 only book that professes to give a connected and com- 
 plete account of the creation? 
 
 A recent book discusses the story of Adam and Eve 
 from an entirety novel point of sight. It is called 
 "The Rise and the Fall ; or, The Origin of Moral Evil.'* 
 Its explanation is one that I should never have thought 
 of; yet, once presented, it is a theory of which one does 
 not easily become disembarrassed. The book is written 
 in a reverent and rational spirit. It professes as close 
 an adherence to the text of Scripture as to the rules 
 of right reasoning ; and the magnitude of the problem 
 to be solved, the unsatisfactoriness of all attempts 
 hitherto at its solution, and the earnestness and intelli- 
 gence which this writer brings to the discussion, cer- 
 tainty merit for it a fair hearing, and not a summary 
 dismission. 
 
 His theory is, that the tree of the knowledge of good 
 and evil was the tree of the knowledge of right and 
 wrong ; that Adam and Eve were not originalty created 
 with such knowledge. Their mental perceptions, their 
 physical powers, were in full play ; but the moral faculty 
 was in abeyance, corresponding to its later appear- 
 ance in every subsequent individual of the human race. 
 
ADAM. 55 
 
 The probability is, that they were intended to be 
 endowed at some future time — and after whatever 
 necessary training, under whatever favorable circum- 
 stances — with this moral faculty ; but, at the time of 
 their creation, thej^ were not so endowed. By their 
 disobedience, which could not be guilt} r (thej^ not being 
 moral creatures) , but which was rash and imprudent, 
 they became prematurely possessed of the moral faculty, 
 which, in its and their weakness, became often and 
 speedily prostituted to immorality. Nevertheless, the 
 possession of the moral faculty was in itself a rise, and 
 not a fall. To come into such an estate, even pre- 
 sumptuously and forbidden, was to rise into a higher 
 order of being. The fall was after this rise, when the 
 new moral faculty chose tergiversation rather than 
 frankness, and falsehood rather than truth. 
 
 This is but a hint of the gist of a theory which is 
 weak, perhaps, and far-fetched on the face of it, and 
 3 T et, in body and soul, is not without strength. And 
 as the answer to the great problem is an unknown 
 quantity, and must be represented by some x, y, or z 
 in order to be worked out, the necessarily hypothetic 
 theory which harmonizes the greatest number of facts 
 must, it would appear, be the best one to begin on. 
 This may not be such an one ; but we have ciphered, 
 patiently or impatiently, on the old hypotheses with 
 distinguished lack of success ; and it can surely do no 
 
56 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 harm to take a fresh start on fresh ground. This 
 theory may develop difficulties of its own ; but many of 
 those which perplex the old dispensation disappear 
 under its light. Especially falls to the ground that 
 monstrous assumption, that all mankind, descending 
 from Adam by ordinary generation, sinned in him, and 
 fell with him in his first transgression ; that all man- 
 kind, by the fall of one man, for whom they were in no 
 wise responsible, and from w T hom they involuntarily 
 descended, lost communion with God, and are under 
 his wrath and curse. The law of the transmission of 
 traits, faculties, qualities, is indisputable, though little 
 understood. Adam having, by his own act, become a 
 moral being, all his descendants became, perforce, moral 
 beings. But by that act he did not sin. When he 
 performed the act, he was not a moral being. His first 
 act after that change may or may not have been sinful ; 
 but the act itself was not sinful. And each child born 
 is born sinless — sinless, but with tendencies to sin or 
 to purit}^, according as its ancestors have kept them- 
 selves pure, or have lapsed into sin ; have consecrated 
 him to God, or left him to be the pre} T of the serpent. 
 We all recognize the fact that virtue produces virtue, 
 and vice has a tendency to spring from vice. This 
 theory shows it reasonable that moral strength should 
 be, as our experience finds it, cumulative, and gives us 
 encouragement to work for the exaltation of the race. 
 
ADAM. 57 
 
 By this theory we are not dismayed to find ourselves, 
 at the outstart, with a perfect and a perfectly-equipped 
 man, tripping at the first step into the gulf of wreck 
 and ruin. We find ourselves, on the contrary, enter- 
 ing the lists with a progenitor far less perfectly 
 equipped than we, and whose mistake and whose sub- 
 sequent sins, even if sins there were, were, in a certain 
 sense, entirely natural. We see why the Lord God 
 should pronounce a curse on the serpent who had 
 intermeddled so disastrously, who had tempted the 
 ignorant, innocent man to thrust himself into a sphere 
 for which he was unfit, and which could not fail to 
 bring him dismay and woe, instead of waiting the 
 slow, sweet processes, the pleasant paths, by which the 
 Lord God would have prepared him, and have led him 
 without hurt into the realm of the divine — but. should 
 have pronounced no curse upon the man and woman so 
 beguiled. We do by no means lose sight of the horror 
 of great darkness which envelops the origin of evil ; 
 but what we do see is clear and pure, and casts no 
 shadow on the great white throne. It doth not yet 
 appear, perhaps it never in this world will appear, that 
 he hath put all enemies under his feet. But certainly, 
 in this guise, he does not figure as a God of wrath and 
 cursing, shutting himself away from the poor, feeble, 
 falling man whom he has just made, but a God of 
 infinite love and condescension and consideration, 
 
58 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 standing by his puny man "through evil report and 
 through good report," punishing him only when he must, 
 and as little as he can, bending low to his infirmities, 
 promising all sorts of earthly good to him while his 
 soul is not elevated enough to value higher things, and 
 gradually, and with godlike pains and patience, lift- 
 ing him into a more spiritual life. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the framers of any 
 systems of theology and philosophy have acted from 
 wrong or unworthy motives. Doubtless they have 
 acted from the highest and the best. Our fathers did 
 not mean to make a sanguinary, arbitrary, cruel God, 
 being themselves cruel and arrogant men. They 
 acted, on the contrary, on the sublime and self-sacrifi- 
 cing principle, let God be true, and every man a liar. 
 There is something pathetic, heroic, in their resolution 
 to justify God, even at the expense of every instinct of 
 humanity. And unto them and their offering, doubt- 
 less, God had respect. But it cannot be that God 
 wishes us to sacrifice our common sense in his behalf, 
 though it is to be hoped he will not wholly condemn 
 us if we do. It must be that he wishes us to bring to 
 the study of himself the same modes of thought and 
 reason that we use in reference to other things ; for 
 with these minds has he himself endowed us. If there 
 is something which we do not understand, and cannot 
 reconcile, it is better to let it go uncomprehended and 
 
ADAM. 59 
 
 inconsistent than to warp every rale of reason in the 
 effort to explain and combine. It is not indispensable, 
 though it is lawful, for finite human beings to attempt 
 to frame perfect theological and philosophical systems ; 
 but it is indispensable that they should not overturn 
 reason and instinct and consciousness in so doing. 
 
 It seems, sometimes, to be thought, that, unless we 
 sinned in Adam, we cannot be saved in Christ. But, if 
 we are not saved in Christ any more palpably and con- 
 sciously than we sinned in Adam, we might as well be 
 lost. 
 
 If we are to take Paul verbally, and not argumen- 
 tatively; if we are to understand his eager, rapid 
 discourse as a presentation of historical facts contro- 
 verting the original account of creation, and not as 
 a literary and perfectly just illustration to elucidate the 
 thought that glowed within him, without reference to 
 scientific or historical statement, — then we must so take 
 it in all its parts, and to the last degree. To me there 
 is no clashing between Paul's statements and the ab- 
 solution of every man from guilt in Adam's act. We 
 might, indeed, say that not only sin, but sinners, and 
 every thing else, entered into the world by one man. 
 But Paul is not concerned with any naturalistic theory. 
 He is striving to set forth the unsearchable riches of 
 Christ, to show that salvation is as broad as sin, as 
 wide as death ; that man cannot go outside the love of 
 
60 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Christ ; that just as truly as all men die by reason of 
 their belonging to a mortal race, just so surely may 
 they live by reason of the life and immortality brought 
 to light in the gospel of Christ. If he does not mean 
 this ; if he means that literally all men sinned and died 
 in Adam, without consciousness, or will, of their 
 own, — then we must continue the parallel, and main- 
 tain that they live in Christ without any voluntary 
 acceptance of him, or belief in him, or following after 
 him. 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD " OF CANAAN. 
 
 |T seems sometimes as if God did not care so 
 much about honor and truth and righteous- 
 ness as the newspapers do. We are con- 
 vulsed at some flagrant misdemeanor ; but the sacred 
 historians take it as coolly as possible. The Bible is 
 full of sound moral precepts, and bad practical exam- 
 ples. You cannot teach your Sunday-school class the 
 lesson of Jacob's ladder, without striking snags in all 
 directions. What a family it was, to begin with ! — a 
 doting, partial father, a deceitful, partial mother, and 
 two spoiled children. Isaac loved Esau — because he 
 did eat of his venison. But Rebekah loved Jacob. 
 Whether she had an equally creditable reason for her 
 preference, we are not told. Esau seems to have been 
 a rash, headlong boy ; quick-tempered, but generous 
 and forgiving ; relinquishing his birthright in a moment 
 of passionate impatience, but capable of lifelong 
 regret ; bitterly resentful of his defrauded blessing, 
 yet gentle and magnanimous ; a vigorous, manly, and 
 somewhat savage character. No wonder his father 
 
 63 
 
64 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 loved him. But the mother's pet was Jaeob, — a 
 quiet bo} r , content to stay at home, while Esau was 
 gathering strength and skill from the chase ; a docile, 
 stupid boy, without wit enough to plan deceit, or will 
 enough to prevent it, and only just enough of both 
 to carry it out. It was Rebekah who devised fraud 
 upon the blind old father, and then another fraud to 
 save Jacob from the richly-merited consequences ; for 
 even the man seems tied as closely to his mother's 
 apron-strings as the child had been. But Esau, too, 
 with all his breezy, outdoor life, was not indocile. 
 He humored his father's ruling passion for venison 
 with as much alacrity as Jacob humored their mother's 
 for deception. He went out for his prey as readily as 
 Jacob went in for his. When he saw that his wives 
 did not please his father, he cheerfully took more 
 wives. Since the daughters of Canaan did not suit, 
 what more natural than to try the daughters of Ish- 
 mael? When Jacob came back from Padan-Aram, 
 fearing the wrath of Esau, and deprecating it with 
 craft} T forethought, with gifts and servile words, hale 
 and hearty Esau seems quite to have forgotten their 
 little tiff, and to have been entirely at a loss to know 
 what all this ado was for. In short, and speaking 
 after the manner of men, we should say that Esau was 
 far the more agreeable, interesting, and gifted person ; 
 and that Jacob — with his sty ways, and his mean- 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 65 
 
 spirited willingness to work seven years longer for the 
 man who had cheated him out of one wife and into 
 another, instead of rising up in virile wrath and love, 
 and taking the one he wanted out of hand, will you 
 nill you, as Esau would have done — was not a man to 
 be held in esteem of gods, or men, or women. 
 
 Yet it was Jacob, and not Esau, that God chose for 
 the transmission of his word. Naj r , more, it was when 
 Jacob was fleeing from the just and natural wrath of 
 Esau, it was when Jacob had just concluded a most 
 barefaced, unprovoked, and successful scheme of perfi- 
 dy against his own brother, when he had just made 
 that brother's kindness, and their father's blindness, an 
 opportunity for high-handed cheating, that the Lord 
 met him and said — what? u The blessing that thou 
 didst obtain by sacrilege shall be turned into curses : 
 instead of lording it over the brother whom thou hast 
 cruelly and repeatedly wronged, thou shalt be his ser- 
 vant of servants : what thou hast gained by fraud 
 thou shalt lose by force, that men may know that I am 
 a God hating iniquity, and that I will by no means 
 clear the guilty"? Not at all. Nor did God even 
 say, as Isaac did, with sore regret, "I have blessed 
 him, yea, and he shall be blessed, though he came with 
 subtilty," recognizing the irrevocable word while 
 bitterly lamenting the false pretences upon which it 
 was obtained ; for Isaac, at least, never held that fraud 
 
 6* 
 
66 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 vitiated election. It was by treachery of the most 
 outrageous kind, — treachery to an innocent brother 
 absent on an errand of filial love, — treachery to the 
 blindness of a dying father, — treachery in the name 
 of the Most High God. ' ' How is it that thou hast 
 found it so quickly, my son?" — "Because the Lord 
 thy God brought it to me," replies he, whom a news- 
 paper, if it were reporting the case, might call the 
 Irypocritical villain. By such treachery had Jacob 
 gained the blessing ; and for all Esau's great and ex- 
 ceeding bitter cry, — for all his pathetic entreaty, 
 "Hast thou but one blessing, my father? Bless me, 
 even me also, O nry father!" — Isaac could not take 
 back the promised supremacy. 
 
 But God did more than this. He met this false, 
 cruel, heartless man on his way to Padan-Aram, with 
 his sins still hot within his heart ; and, instead of 
 rebuking, he repeats and confirms and intensifies the 
 plundered blessing. Without even an implied cen- 
 sure, without so much as a reference to his past, he 
 assures the guilty man, "The land whereon thou liest, 
 to thee will I give it, and to thy seed. . . . And be- 
 hold I am with thee, and will keep thee, in all places 
 ... for I will not leave thee until I have done that 
 which I have spoken to thee of." 
 
 Surely it would have seemed more impartial and 
 fatherly in the Great Father to appear in a vision to 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 67 
 
 poor, cheated Esau, to comfort him. Was it quite fair 
 that Esau should suffer all his life, through all his gen- 
 erations, for one sudden moment of self-indulgence, 
 and that Jacob should not suffer at all, but be cherished 
 and encouraged for a cold-blooded outrage of every hon- 
 orable instinct and every filial and fraternal obligation ? 
 Is yielding to a quick temptation worse than partner- 
 ship in deliberate vice? At any rate, Jacob's treason 
 seems not to have alienated God from his cause. And 
 in practical, actual life, it is equally true that momen- 
 tary sins are often more severely punished than life- 
 long sins. There are sins which in themselves are 
 no sins, which are sinful only by reason of circum- 
 stances, which have their root in innocence, and 
 spring side by side with every virtue, grace, and charm, 
 yet in one moment overspread and shadow life. 
 And across the way a fatal selfishness blights every 
 fair thing it touches, and scatters disappointment and 
 misery on all around ; yet the selfish man lives with 
 untarnished respectability, and dies at last in the odor 
 of sanctity. Esau's one lapse from virtue forfeited 
 his birthright forever; and Jacob's smooth-faced wile 
 and saintly guile sealed his inheritance, and crowned 
 him with gloiy and honor. 
 
 It has happened to this generation to be disturbed 
 because persons who have retired from public with a 
 shadow upon their fair fame have been received at 
 
68 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 home with formal respect and rejoicing. Those who 
 believe that the shadow was a stain are indignant 
 that a man's fellow-townsmen who do not believe 
 it should publicly testify their unbelief, and should 
 welcome their respected friends with music and fes- 
 tivity. " What safeguard for public virtue," we cry, 
 " when public opinion and sentiment are thus undis- 
 criminating of right and wrong? " But human judg- 
 ment is not infallible ; and it is to be set down to a 
 man's credit, if the community in which he lives believe 
 him innocent, though all other men speak evil of him. 
 But here is a case which admits of no doubt. Jacob 
 had lied and cheated in the most abominable, the most 
 contemptible, and the most successful manner. Yet 
 it was when he was fleeing from the natural conse- 
 quences of his unnatural crime, that he had a recep- 
 tion which throws all other receptions into the shade. 
 For the angels came out of heaven to honor him ; and 
 the Lord God, who could have made no mistake about 
 the nature of his act, appeared to him in the skies, 
 and blessed him exceedingly. If he had been a hero, 
 saint, and martyr, he could not have been more dis- 
 tinguished by the divine condescension. And in all 
 the comfort and re-assurance was mingled no word of 
 rebuke. 
 
 When the divine Being deigned to give a human 
 record of his waj's, he, in a manner, challenged human 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 69, 
 
 criticism. In the matter of Jacob, he managed very 
 differently from what we should suppose a just God 
 would do ; and we naturally cast about for reasons. 
 Was it an occasion where magnanimity was more 
 effective than penalty ? Did the divine condescension 
 work remorse in Jacob's heart? Not at all. He was 
 surprised, but not into repentance, still less into res- 
 toration. The prudent, discreet man was convinced 
 that his vision was from God ; and he vowed a vow, 
 but still with his eye steadfastly fixed on the main 
 chance. 
 
 " If — God will be with me " — God had promised 
 to be with him. 
 
 "And — will keep me in the way that I go " — 
 God had promised to keep him in all places whither 
 he should go. 
 
 "And — will give me bread to eat" — None of 
 your glittering and sounding generalities for Jacob ! 
 He meant to have the terms of the bargain clearly 
 defined. "Keeping thee" is neither here nor there. 
 He was too wily himself to believe that the Lord God 
 could be trusted with verbal discretion or a liberal 
 rendering of the terms of the contract. "Shall I 
 have plenty to eat and drink and wear ? ' ' 
 
 " And — raiment to put on? " 
 
 " So that I come again to my father's house in 
 peace ' ' — Not harried and hated and hunted by that 
 great, strong, and angry Esau. 6 * 
 
70 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 " Then shall the Lord be my God." 
 
 Truly such worship must be pleasing to the Maker 
 of men. 
 
 There is a sort of sublime audacity in the way in 
 which the Bible deals with facts. It not only never 
 palliates, but it never explains. It makes the most 
 astounding statements without a particle of emotion. 
 Its respectable and virtuous men are credited with 
 high-handed villany as coolly as the census is taken. 
 Nations fall at the edge of the sword, and nobody 
 winces. Principles are enunciated, precepts laid 
 down, biography and history written. You are left to 
 work on them at your leisure. You may reconcile 
 contradictions if you can. You may find motives if 
 you choose. You may like or dislike, accept or reject ; 
 but you will get no help from the sacred writer. He 
 is absolutely indifferent to your conclusions and opin- 
 ions, to your creeds and your theories. He marches 
 straight on through his narrative, perfectly calm and 
 composed ; and you can take yourself and your lrypoth- 
 eses out of the wa} T , or be serenely trodden under foot. 
 He gives no sign. 
 
 Apparently the Creator manages his world on a busi- 
 ness basis. We are apt to think of him as intent only 
 on rewarding the good, and punishing the bad. Doubt- 
 less, in the end, goodness will be upheld, and iniquity 
 destroyed ; but at present, and to our experience and 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 71 
 
 consciousness, it is not holiness, but availability, that 
 seems to be in requisition. God chooses men and 
 nations for his service, not in proportion to their inno- 
 cence, but their fitness. Just as, in time of war, com- 
 mands ma} r be awarded, not to the officer of blameless 
 moral character, but of the greatest military genius. 
 Just as, in time of peace, men may be elevated to high 
 station, in spite of known personal blemishes, because 
 they have the knowledge, the capacity, the experience, 
 which the country needs. Their moral delinquency 
 may be a grief of heart to Isaac and Rebekah, a thorn 
 in the side of Rachel ; but it may not incapacitate 
 them for handling the public revenues, or caring for 
 the public interests, better than any other man. We 
 say, sometimes, that the people should vote only for 
 good men ; but a good man in the wrong place will do 
 as much mischief as a bad man. God does not seem 
 to have been very particular about employing good 
 men. 
 
 The divine purpose or object was to choose a nation 
 to receive the Christ for the whole world's sake. For 
 this purpose, it is easy to see that Esau — fearless, 
 adventurous, great-hearted, raiding around the country 
 sword in hand, sacrificing his most valued treasures in 
 a moment of impetuous fatigue, easily placated, but 
 easily inflamed — was far less fitted than the plain and 
 quiet Jacob, dwelling in tents, clinging to his mother, 
 
72 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 working seven years for his wife, and, when cheated 
 out of her, patiently taking another seven-years' pull at 
 it ;, not, like Esau, carving out his fortune with his 
 sword, in the wide, wild desert, but whittling it out 
 with his jack-knife, among his sheep and goats. It was 
 not Esau's unsuspecting readiness nor generous forgive- 
 ness that unfitted him for the Lord's service, but his 
 impulsive temper and nomadic tastes. It was not 
 Jacob's duplicity that recommended him to God, but 
 his tenacity of purpose. God met him at Bethel, not 
 to encourage him in his wickedness, but to encourage 
 him in spite of his wickedness. Jacob was thoroughly 
 frightened ; and it was necessary that he should be 
 re-assured. But, in order that he should be the bearer 
 of the Messiah to the world, it w r as not indispensable 
 that he should be brave : it was only indispensable 
 that he should live and prosper. Jacob was no better 
 a man for securing his just wages from trickj^ Laban 
 by a trick, and stealing awa}' from him unknown, when 
 he had the power and the right to march off with flying 
 colors ; but that intense love of life and peace and 
 quietness, and that ever-present timidity which made 
 him always and instinctively choose the submissive, 
 peaceable, servile course, rather than the outspoken, 
 resolute, and possibty violent one, constituted him the 
 fit recipent of the ark and the covenant. He failed 
 in grit, but he was mighty in grip. 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 73 
 
 Probably Jacob was of so mean a nature, that he 
 could not understand the nature of the transaction in 
 which he had just been implicated, nor in the least 
 appreciate the enormity of the crime which he had com- 
 mitted. But a high moral sense was not necessary. 
 There needed only certain mental and individual quali- 
 ties, which Jacob possessed ; and God did not even 
 make the attempt to indoctrinate him into a high 
 spiritual life, or to inspire him with high moral senti- 
 ments, but accepted his coarse, mercenar}^ loyalty, and 
 left it to time and circumstances to make a better man 
 of him. Jacob, as an individual, was no dearer to 
 God than was Esau. But Jacob as the founder of the 
 nation chosen for the most important mission of the 
 world was invaluable. Therefore, God met him, and 
 sustained him. 
 
 This, also, may have had a place in the divine econ- 
 omy. Christ came to save that which was lost; to 
 call, not " the righteous, but sinners to repentance." 
 As he took upon himself the form of man in order to 
 save men, so it may be that he took upon himself the 
 form of the lowest and least of men to save the 
 lowest and least. Humanity was to be saved, not from 
 its noble, its generous, its manly traits, but from its 
 vile, mean, underhanded tendencies. So God chose 
 out the mean and sly, and made himself of no reputa- 
 tion, but incorporated himself with them, that no one 
 
74 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 henceforth should think himself, or be thought by 
 others, too mean, too low, for salvation. Christ, in 
 rising up out of this crafty, cruel, wretched family, 
 drew all the crafty, cruel, wretched human family with 
 him. God could have staid in heaven, and ruled the 
 world thence ; but, choosing to descend, he showed 
 that it was necessary he should descend, in order, as 
 it were, to get a better purchase. We may, thence, 
 infer, that, the deeper the descent, the more sweeping 
 the salvation. 
 
 There remains, of course, always the alternative of 
 denying the reality of the revelation. We may believe 
 that it was only a dream ; that God did not appear, 
 but that Jacob magnified his own consequence, and 
 salved his conscience with a trumped-up story. This 
 would be no worse than man}' things which he is re- 
 ported to have done. And, when he subsequently told 
 the story of his speckled and ring-streaked cattle to 
 Leah and Rachel, we cannot help suspecting that he 
 drew a long bow. But, besides that he seems to have 
 been too unimaginative a man to have invented such a 
 story ; and that the narrative is not given as from his 
 lips, but from the pen of the historian, — his tale of the 
 second vision rather confirms the reality of the first. 
 He could not invent a circumstance so remarkable ; 
 but, when it had once happened to him, he was so 
 childish, and so given to deceit, that it was quite easy 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 75 
 
 and natural to him to get up a dream and a vision on 
 slight provocation. It was so very respectable a way 
 to disarm criticism upon any questionable proceeding 
 to say, "The angel of God spake unto me in a 
 dream." 
 
 Dr. Robinson makes a remarkably, indeed, I might 
 almost say a startlingly, interesting statement on this 
 subject. In his travels he had reached a slope that 
 looked straight down upon the spot where Jacob must 
 have lain, near the old city of Luz ; and there the party 
 halted to rest. 
 
 " I remember now how instinctively I found a stone for a 
 pillow. I lay back with my hands over my eyes, but irresisti- 
 bly peering through them. A long, beautiful valley lay right 
 down before us, so regular and smooth, that it might have been 
 furrowed with a giant's plough. Wonderfully green it was with 
 the first verdure of spring. ■ It stretched away for full three or 
 four miles, rising rapidly in the glade all the time, until it 
 faded into dimness and disappearance on the summit of a high 
 hill. It appeared to be a most fertile land-tract, caught 
 thus thriftily by some industrious husbandman, who, in order 
 further to guard it on either side from the wash of the hills, 
 had terraced it all along its length with conspicuous walls of 
 stone. So there below us it was spread, ^a green oblong of 
 soil, outlined and plain, between two lengths of rude yellow 
 masonry the entire distance. Across the slender tongue of 
 land, at right angles to the rest, the painstaking man had con- 
 structed other terraces in the same way, — one in perhaps 
 every forty rods, or thereabouts. This was to catch moisture, 
 
76 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and prevent the wash in the other direction. But, if I make 
 myself clear at all in the description, it is evident that the 
 appearance was precisely that of a gigantic ladder, — one end 
 close to us, distinct at our feet ; the other almost touching the 
 sky. While I was recalling the history in listless reminiscence, 
 it suddenly occurred to me that this was Jacob's vision. 
 
 "I started up with an exclamation of surprise that fairly 
 aroused my companions. . . . All our eyes were instantly 
 turned toward the spot. . There could be no mistaking it. 
 Here was the faultless natural image, half disclosed as it must 
 have been in the starlight to him, out of which Jacob's ladder 
 grew. I do not say this was what he saw. I only say it was 
 what we saw. We laid our heads back upon the ' pillows,' and 
 the illusion was perfect. Away from us, from earth to heaven, 
 that exquisite structure rose on its background of beautiful 
 green." 
 
 If we were not alarmed by the cry of " naturalism, " 
 would not this seem to give tho story a purely earthly, 
 though a beautifully poetic origin? And, again, why 
 is " mere naturalism " such a bete noir? Is not God 
 at the head of this world which we see, just as truly as 
 he is the head of the unseen world ? All theological 
 professors admit that only the divine Hand could keep 
 the sun up after nightfall ; but it seems to me a pretty 
 divine sort of thing to keep the sun up till sundown 
 every day. The doctors of divinity speak as if it 
 needs omnipotence to divide the Red Sea on a particu- 
 lar occasion ; but an} T body could do it ordinarily. 
 Supernaturalism must be accredited to Deity ; but any 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 77 
 
 tjTo is equal to mere naturalism. For me, I confess I 
 cannot speak so cavalierly of the creation. To me, 
 God is of this world and in this world, just as truly as 
 he is above this world. It is very interesting to know 
 how he appeared to Jacob ; but it is still more inter- 
 esting to know that he is not far from every one of us. 
 Suppose we reject every supernatural element from 
 Jacob's ladder, and reduce it to " mere naturalism," 
 what harm is done? God is not mocked. The sacred 
 writer is not discredited. He tells us distinctly that 
 Jacob dreamed and beheld. He tells us that God 
 Almighty appeared to Jacob. No one doubts that 
 Jacob dreamed and beheld. No one doubts that God 
 Almighty appeared to him. But there may be, with- 
 out impiet}' and without irreverence, dozens of opinions 
 as to what particular kind of a dream Jacob dreamed, 
 or in what particular manner God appeared to him. 
 What we are to do is to study facts, and believe accord- 
 ing to evidence. What we are not to do # is to set up 
 pet theories of naturalism or super naturalism, and say, 
 " These be thy gods, O Israel ! " Jf Jacob lay down 
 at Luz, weary, footsore, heavy-hearted, homesick, his 
 last waking gaze fixed upon the lovely landscape, 
 longing for the comfort and consolation of which he 
 despaired ; and if, as starving men dream of banquets, 
 he dreamed of heavenly succor, and grew strong there- 
 b} T , did not God appear to him in the dream ? Did he 
 
78 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 appear to him any the less because he may appear to 
 others in the same way? Is God dishonored because 
 we say that " every good gift is from above, and cometh 
 down from the Father of lights, with whom is no 
 variableness, neither shadow of turning ,, ? I see no 
 reason to suppose that the divine Being values super- 
 naturalism more than naturalism. On the contrary, 
 he never acts above Nature when he can just as well 
 act through Nature. And whether Jacob had a natu- 
 ral or a supernatural dream is still an open and a per- 
 fectly legitimate question. 
 
 The gentleman of Genesis was unquestionably Jo- 
 seph. " There were giants in the earth in those daj^s ; " 
 but the only symmetrical figure was Joseph's. Adam 
 had dominion over the earth ; but he attempted to 
 shield himself from the divine displeasure by laying 
 the blame on his wife, which no gentleman would ever 
 do. " Noah was a just man, and perfect in his genera- 
 tions,' ' if you do not mind an occasional fit of drunk- 
 enness. Abraham was a fine old sheik, a truly heroic 
 figure, brave, generous, courteous, hospitable, mag- 
 nanimous. No wonder the haughty Jews loved to 
 remember and repeat that they were Abraham's chil- 
 dren. But Abraham had his weakness, and fell before 
 his temptations ; and Isaac followed in his footsteps. 
 Of Jacob, perhaps the least said the better, though he 
 maintained his position as head of his family with 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 79 
 
 unrelenting vigor, calling no one master, either son or 
 king. There may have been other men whose life was 
 "without fear, and without reproach ; " but their histor}' 
 is unknown to us : their portrait is hardly more than a 
 name. Joseph alone rises up out of that vast, far 
 world, clearly outlined, distinctly seen, simple, saintly, 
 strong, — a perfect gentleman. 
 
 Yet we should hardly expect it. His father was a 
 man of double-dealing, and courageous only in ex- 
 tremity. His mother could steal, upon occasion, and lie 
 like a Frenchwoman, and was envious, petulant, and 
 unreasonable. His brothers showed their blood and 
 training. They were not without admirable traits ; 
 but they were given to low vices ; they were treach- 
 erous, cruel, and remorseless. And not only was 
 Joseph the son of his father's beloved wife, the 
 child of long waiting and many hopes ; but his mother 
 died in his early boyhood, and left him thus still more 
 at the mercy of untrained and unwise favoritism. 
 Surely Joseph had every prospect of becoming a 
 spoiled child ; yet he came out of it all tender and 
 sweet, and pure as the angels in heaven. No one pre- 
 tends that he ever was disciplined. . If there is any 
 thing injudicious and unnatural, it is partiality in 
 parental feeling and treatment. Yet Jacob made no 
 secret that he loved Joseph more than all the rest of 
 his sons. It naturally made the others angry ; but 
 
80 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Joseph's amiability of temper and disposition seem to 
 have been bej^ond the reach of the spoiler. We see, 
 therefore, that even Solomon cannot have it all his 
 own wa}\ If yon do not train up a child in the way 
 he should go, he may go there, in spite of you. Love 
 — demonstrative, overflowing everlasting — seems to 
 have done for Joseph every thing that the severest 
 discipline, the most careful training, could have done. 
 Let us take courage. We cannot all be wise ; but we 
 can all love. 
 
 Life lowered darkly over his dreams when this hand- 
 some, spirited young fellow was torn away from his 
 fond old father, and sold into apparently perpetual and 
 hopeless slavery. From being the pet and pride of 
 the house, with great expectations of immense wealth, 
 free, commanding, and beloved, this wandering heir 
 was an alien and a servant, and presently in a dungeon. 
 One would think his heart would have broken — his 
 free, wild soul, bred to the hills and the skies and all 
 the wide wilderness ; but he held himself firmly and 
 equably. Servitude and the prison were but his oppor- 
 tunity. There he developed his high executive ability, 
 and honor the most delicate and lofty. It was not 
 supineness, nor even an Oriental submission to fate ; 
 for his one prayer was to be taken " out of this 
 house : " but, while he was in it, he lived and learned 
 and labored, instead of pining. How came that grand 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 81 
 
 and tranquil spirit into the form of the spoiled child ? 
 Where, in his nomad, turbulent tribe, did he learn 
 this serene self-possession, this instinctive high-minded- 
 ness? 
 
 He had a gentleman's spontaneous shrinking from 
 u a scene." When he could no longer restrain him- 
 self, when there was no longer need that he should 
 restrain himself, since he had tested his brothers' dis- 
 position, and found that those who had sold him into 
 bondage were now ready to assume the dungeon them- 
 selves to save their young brother for their father's 
 sake, he sent every man — every officer, servant, at- 
 tendant — out of the room while he made himself 
 known to his brethren. No stranger should witness 
 that solemn moment. And then how his great heart 
 broke in the anguish of love and tenderness and long- 
 ing ! Recognition, re-assurance, inquiry, comfort, he 
 pours upon them incoherently, impetuously. No tact 
 of a French salon could surpass the tender tact of this 
 true-hearted gentleman. Their sin and shame must 
 come up (there is no help for that, his identity re- 
 quires it) ; but they come up only to be buried away 
 out of sight and sound forever. He gives his brothers 
 no chance to repent. He takes the words out of their 
 mouths : he would take the thought out of their 
 hearts, if he could. He forgives them so completely, 
 that they never sinned. It was not they that sent him 
 7* 
 
 ^ 
 sS 
 
82 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 hither, but God. Whitest of all white lies ! Whiter 
 and purer and fairer than the truth itself ! Sweet lie 
 that deceives nobody, and consoles the remorseful, and 
 succors the fainting heart ! And how guileless, filial, 
 and natural is his exultation over his proud pre-emi- 
 nence ! Doubtless he goes in and out before the Egyp- 
 tians as stately and pompous as any Pharaoh of them 
 all. No look or word betrays the smallest conscious- 
 ness of purple robe or regal chariot ; but with these 
 his brothers, who knew him as a boy, playing among 
 the sheepfolds, he delights to speak of his power ; and 
 perhaps the first pure joy in his glory he feels is when 
 he bids them "tell my father of all my glory in Egj-pt." 
 And let it not be forgotten, this petted, dreaming 
 boy, this spotless, incorruptible man, this fond, forgiv- 
 ing brother and yearning son, was no milksop, but a 
 great, powerful, ambitious, far-seeing man, premier 
 of Egypt, connected by marriage with the first families, 
 emphatically a ruler in his own right and by his own 
 might. Many boys, and some men and some women, 
 seem to think that to be tender and pure and loving is 
 to be " spooney." Our knowing philosophers are apt 
 to assert that "the good ones aren't smart, and 
 the smart ones aren't good." Bring out, then, your 
 rough-and-ready men, your sowers of wild oats, who 
 are " smarter" than Joseph. Let us see a question- 
 able, unprincipled, or careless life crowned with more 
 
THE "BLUE BLOOD" OF CANAAN. 83 
 
 even of what the world calls success than this Sir 
 Galahad of old Eg} r pt. The boy dreamed dreams by 
 the water-courses of Canaan ; but he was an i ' adroit 
 politician' ' in the council-chamber of Pharaoh. He 
 was not an advocate of universal suffrage. He had no 
 love for a republican form of government. He did not 
 believe in democracy. He was a land-monopolist of 
 the worst sort, and his income taxes were enormous. 
 But he ruled with a high hand. His word was law, 
 and his law was final. Pharaoh himself seems to have 
 been but a roi faineant. Whether in the house of 
 Potiphar, the prison of the guard, or the palace of the 
 king, this inexperienced young shepherd, this faithful 
 honest servant, this pure, polite, gentle, tender man, 
 rose by sheer wit and worth to the first rank. And 
 finally, above all political preferment, and all ancestral 
 advantage, and all personal ambition, he became the 
 very head and front of one of the most learned, power- 
 ful, and prosperous kingdoms of antiquity. Let vice 
 show a more brilliant career, before virtue is perma- 
 nently discrowned. 
 
 But, if I am ever on speaking terms with Joseph, I 
 mean to ask him why it was, that, during the twenty 
 odd years of his prison and palace life, he never com- 
 municated with his father. His brothers deserved no 
 better. But the fond old father was blameless ; and it 
 would have been such a comfort to him to know that 
 an evil beast had not devoured the lad I 
 
OTJK CHAEITIES. 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 
 
 IT a late meeting of the American Board in 
 Rutland, a great deal was said about giving 
 to the Lord. The point to be driven in was 
 the duty of supporting the various missions undertaken 
 by the churches which act through the Board. One 
 speaker said, in substance, as reported, that " while a 
 Christian man has a right to accumulate all he needs 
 as a capital with which to carry on his business suc- 
 cessfully, and make the most money he can for the 
 Lord, yet, when this point is once reached, it should be 
 a serious question, whether the surplus should not all 
 be systematically cast into the Lord's treasury. " 
 Another said that one-tenth was a very small part for a 
 rich man to offer to the Lord. A third advocated the 
 system which makes each one ask, "How much shall 
 I give to the Lord ?" A fourth told of the man, who, 
 in the loss of his fortune, rejoiced in what he had given 
 away; for "all he gave to the Lord's treasury was 
 saved, but all he saved for himself had been lost." 
 And so throughout, and throughout our ecclesiasticism 
 
 87 
 
88 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 generally, the money which we devote to teaching and 
 extending the gospel is considered money given to the 
 Lord ; while the money which we devote to other pur- 
 poses is money kept to ourselves. 
 
 That was the phraseology of the law. But we live 
 under the gospel. When there was a Church and a 
 State of which God was the official and recognized 
 head, the treasury of that Church was the treasury of 
 the Lord ; and the offerings which God ordained as one 
 feature of the regular worship were offerings unto the 
 Lord. But that Church and that State government 
 have, by God's own decree, passed away. He stands 
 to us now only in spiritual relations. No one church, 
 no one government, no one person, no one cause, is, 
 officially, any closer to him than any other. He has no 
 treasury apart from our treasury. There is no peculiar 
 people ; " but, in every nation, he that feareth God, and 
 worketh righteousness, is accepted with him. ,, Phra- 
 seology, therefore, which was once strictly accurate, is 
 now only poetically true, and if used too commonly 
 becomes offensive, and if used too strenuously be- 
 comes subversive of the truth, a teacher of false 
 doctrine. 
 
 Granting to the establishment and support of Chris- 
 tian missions all the usefulness and importance which 
 their most devoted founders claim, it is still not true 
 that the money appropriated to them is necessarily 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 89 
 
 given to the Lord, airy more than the money appropri- 
 ated to the preaching of the gospel at home. Grant- 
 ing to the pulpit all the power and influence which its 
 friends assert, it is still not true that money appropri- 
 ated to its support is any more, necessarily, given to 
 the Lord than the money which supports the family. 
 Of everjr dollar and every cent not spent for an evil 
 purpose, and wasted to no purpose, one may be 
 given to the Lord just as much as another — no more, 
 and no less. " The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness 
 thereof." There is no reason to suppose that he has 
 any pet schemes or any favorite persons. He is simply 
 full of good-will to men ; and, wherever man spends 
 money for the benefit of man, he is casting it into the 
 treasury of the Lord. My Irish washerwoman, who 
 is carefully hoarding the few dollars earned by her 
 unremitting labors, and coaxing her hens to super- 
 human efforts in the way of eggs, that she may make 
 up a certain sum for the savings bank at the begin- 
 ning of the quarter, for the future education and re- 
 spectability of her child, is casting her money into the 
 treasury of the Lord just as truly as the rich men who 
 are giving their thousands, and the poor widows who 
 are giving their mites, to the American Board. The 
 man who buys a picture to encourage a struggling ar- 
 tist ; the woman who buys a silk gown, that she maj' be 
 dressed in a manner becoming her position ; the girl 
 8* 
 
90 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 who adorns her hair with a red rose, that she may be 
 pleasing in the eyes of her lover ; the lover who would 
 fain choose the fairest ring out of the jeweller's case to 
 express his delight in her who is wholly fair, — they 
 are all giving their money to the Lord. Whatever it 
 is right to do with mone} r , that is an offering unto the 
 Lord. The woman may be extravagant, the man may 
 be dishonest ; but whoever is spending money as it is 
 right for him to spend it, he is casting it into the 
 treasury of the Lord. 
 
 God is no tax-gatherer, demanding a tenth part of 
 our income or property, and letting us enjoy the rest 
 ourselves. He does not stand in the way, taking 
 toll of all who pass through his world. The whole 
 world is his ; and the whole world is ours. He giveth 
 us richly all things to enjoy ; and he enjoys what we 
 enjo}\ So far as our missiomuy effort is benevolent, 
 he, no doubt, is pleased with it. If reason and reve- 
 lation teach us any thing, the}' teach us that he, also, 
 enjoys the father's pleasure in carrying home a doll to 
 his little girl, a hoop to his little boy. He is pleased 
 at the housewife's pleasure in her tidy home, at the 
 frugal man's satisfaction in his accumulating wealth, 
 at the energetic man's success in great enterprises, at 
 the poet's happiness in friendly appreciation and world- 
 wide fame. In whatever is generous, self-sacrificing, 
 beneficent, we all agree God is well pleased. But I 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 91 
 
 think, also, that in whatever is innocent, agreeable, 
 pleasant, natural, he is also pleased. Wherever men 
 and women and children are supporting themselves, 
 gratifying one another's tastes, bearing one another's 
 burdens, entertaining each other, making life easy for 
 husband, wife, or child, smoothing roughnesses, level- 
 ling stumbling-blocks, meeting anno}'ances quietly, or 
 resenting offences wisely, there they are doing the 
 Lord's work. We ourselves are the temples of the 
 Holy Ghost ; and whatever ministers to the temple of 
 the Holy Ghost is — Corban. We are the servants 
 and sons of the Most High God. Not one-tenth, nor 
 five-tenths, of our income, but all our income and capi- 
 tal — personal property and real estate — belong to 
 him, and are to be used to further the ends which he has 
 in view ; and those ends must be the happiness, the 
 education, the highest spiritual life, of nations and in- 
 dividuals. The Lord is not in the American Board, nor 
 in the American pulpit. He is every where, — in the 
 shop, by the fireside, at the table. He is to be served 
 by the marketing, as well as by the missions. There is 
 no rule of tenth and tribute. We are to judge by our 
 own reason. We will give to the American Board 
 such and so much as its wisdom and necessities de- 
 mand of us, but on precisely the same grounds as we 
 furnish our tables, and fill our wardrobes. I see no 
 reason why we should ask the Master of the universe 
 
92 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 how much we shall give to the American Board, any 
 more than we should ask him how much we shall spend 
 upon a croquet-set, or whether we shall buy a Brussels 
 or an ingrain carpet. He has given us abundant 
 means to find out these things for ourselves ; and he 
 cannot be pleased to have us ask needless questions. 
 We know, or ought to know, what our account-books 
 say, just as well as Omniscience knows it ; and, if we 
 do not know whether the American Board is wise in its 
 administration, Omniscience will never tell us, so long 
 as the publication of "The Missionary Herald," and 
 " The Annual Report," and the daily newspapers, is 
 continued. A lady from the Board of the Interior urged 
 women to give their jewels for the missionary work. The 
 ear-rings alone, she thought, might prevent the need of 
 retrenchment for a long time. Another lady described 
 a scene in Turkey where this idea was put in practice. 
 From a service with the native women there, she had 
 carried home a handkerchief-full of jewelry given for 
 the building of the mission-chapel. One woman gave 
 a bracelet she had worn fifty 3-ears ; and the} T observed 
 that her ear-rings were also gone. "Yes," she said, 
 "those are for the Lord too." The good lady who 
 tells us the story says she felt ashamed of her own ear- 
 rings, though they were only the little ones "John" 
 gave her. 
 
 I do not question either the sincerity or the earnest- 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 93 
 
 ness of the speakers or of the writer. When the heart 
 is wholly set on any object, the mind naturally sees all 
 things in relation to that object. The ladies who have 
 embarked their hopes and their fortunes in missionary 
 enterprises must look upon any failure to support them 
 with the utmost regret and dismay. And, indeed, it 
 would seem to the most casual observer, that failure, 
 or even retrenchment, would not be creditable to the 
 churches. But I cannot think we have reached the 
 point at which gentle and affectionate ladies need be 
 uncomfortable in wearing the ear-rings which their 
 husbands gave them. 
 
 Nor do the ladies in question think so themselves. 
 The shrinking possessor of the ear-rings goes naively 
 over to the other side of the argument with the most 
 winning unconsciousness that she has made a change 
 of base. One peculiarity of the Rutland meeting 
 was the evening reception given to .the missionaries 
 in the three church parlors. In one of these was 
 spread a table covered with refreshments, and adorned 
 with pyramids of fruits and flowers. 
 
 "Why was this waste of the ointment made?" 
 some one asks ; and the moderately bejewelled lady 
 answers, " It was not wasted for those brave soldiers 
 of the cross, any more than it was in olden time, on 
 the feet of the Master. It will be told in memory 
 of the Rutland women." And she is as right as a 
 
94 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 trcvet in this decision ; but it effectually disposes of 
 the ear-ring question. 
 
 It is not simply a matter of giving ear-rings : it is 
 one that concerns the whole structure of societ} 7 . If 
 we are to devote our ear-rings to the American Board, 
 we must wholly and radically re-organize our mode of 
 life. There is only one principle on which these orna- 
 ments are due to that organization ; and that is, that 
 we have no personal right to any thing more than the 
 necessaries of life, until all the rest of the world is 
 supplied with the necessaries of life. If this is 
 Christianity, we are bound to put it immediately and 
 forever into practice. If we are not bound to put it 
 immediately and completely into practice, it is not 
 Christianity. 
 
 What would it involve? As there are thousands, 
 and tens of thousands, of persons at this moment in the 
 world, with physical needs unsupplied, and hundreds 
 of thousands with spiritual wants unprovided for, we 
 should sacrifice, not our ear-rings alone, but our silk 
 gowns and our broadcloth coats, our carpets and 
 china, and most of our curtains and sofas and chairs 
 and silver. It means, for clergymen, shirts of the 
 coarsest unbleached cotton, and, for their wives, gowns 
 of linse3^-woolsey. It means, in short, the relinquish- 
 ment of nearty every thing that marks refinement of 
 tastes or habits, or culture in art and science. It 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 95 
 
 means a return to the roughest and most primitive 
 form of social and family life. There is no reason 
 why the lady should give up her ear-rings, that does 
 not apply with equal force to her reverend husband's 
 sleeve-buttons ; and even then the " refreshments " of 
 those Rutland parlors should, to use a classical 
 phrase, have stuck in their throats. 
 
 As a general principle, this seems wholly irrational 
 and unscriptural. There are emergencies which re- 
 quire sacrifices ; but these are local, temporary, ex- 
 ceptional, each separate case to be judged upon its 
 own individual merits. It would be disgraceful, mon- 
 strous, for a woman to wear ear-rings while her 
 child, or even her neighbor, was dying of starvation 
 which could be fended off only by those ornaments. 
 But the certain conviction that there are at this 
 moment persons perishing somewhere — in London, 
 or China, or Nova Zembla — for lack of food, does 
 not induce us to strip off the rings from our fingers, 
 the lace from our gowns, the gold heads from our 
 canes. The world is one. The cause of refinement, 
 of civilization, of art, of science, is the cause of God 
 just as much as the missionary cause. He seems 
 to be just as much engaged in polishing the corner- 
 stones as in hewing them out of the rough rock. The 
 Bible, on this point, gives no uncertain sound. There 
 is, relatively, perhaps absolutely, no more suffering in 
 
96 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the world to-da} T than there was when the Lord God 
 commanded to overlay the ark with pure gold, to make 
 the merc} T -seat of pure gold, and the cherubims of 
 beaten gold, and the ten curtains of fine twined linen, 
 blue and purple and scarlet. Splendor of tabernacle 
 and temple and priestly garb seems to have been 
 ordained as means of grace. The souls of the Jews 
 were to be reached through their eyes. Pomp and 
 circumstance, beauty and ornament, are accepted in the 
 Bible very much as they are accepted in the world, — 
 admirable and valuable when they are the outward 
 and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, 
 hypocritical and abhorred when they are substituted 
 for the grace itself. 
 
 Even the New Dispensation, upheld by no pomp, 
 endowed only with its own inherent vitalit}^, is adjusted 
 on principles harmonious with the severest code of 
 common sense. When the lawyer asked Jesus, " Who 
 is nry neighbor? " he set forth no impracticable scheme 
 of universal relief, but minded him of the duty that he 
 owed to all the suffering with which he came in contact. 
 
 There is nothing for it but to use our own reason, 
 reluctant as we are to make that last resort. The 
 Bible abounds in precepts and principles and illustra- 
 tions ; but it steadfastly refuses to give us rules. The 
 men and the women of old time, willing hearted, 
 brought their bracelets and ear-rings, and heaped them 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 97 
 
 up for the service of the tabernacle ; but the}' brought 
 them with equal alacrity for the making of the molten 
 calf. The small, sweet courtesies of life have their 
 part in Christian character as inalienably as its sterner 
 duties. The flowers and fruits, the coffee and salads, 
 of the pleasant Rutland reception, were as legitimate a 
 feature of the missionary work as the printing-press 
 and the colporter. A tasteful and cultivated family- 
 circle is a powerful missionary institution. The king's 
 daughter is not only "all-glorious within," but "her 
 clothing is of wrought gold." The emergencies are 
 extremely rare which make it requisite, or becoming, 
 for her to lay aside this regal robe, and array herself 
 in sackcloth and ashes. The diamond ring may be 
 just as truly consecrated to God on your own finger 
 as in the contribution-box. 
 
 Which does not affect the fact, that the churches 
 would fearfully stultify themselves, if, while declaring 
 their belief in Christian missions, they should enforce 
 or permit retrenchment. 
 
 We need a more intelligent understanding of the 
 principles upon which all wise charity is founded, 
 whether that charity be directed towards the spiritual 
 wants of the heathen, or the physical wants of our own 
 people. This American people is a people of magnifi- 
 cent generosity, and makes some very splendid fail- 
 ures. In benevolence, as in business, the logic of 
 9 
 
98 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 events is merciless. No matter how innocently we sin, 
 our sin is sure to find us out. If business be not con- 
 ducted in accordance with the unwritten laws of trade, 
 if benevolence be not conformed to the eternal laws of 
 human nature, no integrity and no unselfishness can 
 ward off disaster, either from the one or from the 
 other. 
 
 " The most bungling work society ever did," Mr. 
 Beecher is reported to have said, " was when it tried 
 to be merciful. " True, doubtless. Society is clumsy ; 
 but let it alwa}^s be remembered, in mitigation of its 
 blunders, that the poor are infinitely harder to deal 
 with than the prosperous, and that the difficulties of 
 the situation are enough to make even society lose its 
 self-possession. 
 
 - The poor-house is a dreadful place, no doubt ; but 
 they are a dreadful sort of persons that live in it. 
 Town-paupers are not above their situation. City 
 poor-houses may be filled with high-minded victims of 
 circumstances ; but, in the country, paupers who have 
 fallen under my observation have been, without ex- 
 ception, the offscouring of the earth, — dissipated, 
 imbecile, incapable. They are God's children, I 
 admit; but we are God's children too: and, if his 
 hand made the inmates of the poor-house disagreeable 
 and despicable, the same hand made them incurably 
 repugnant to outsiders. One can no more help being 
 repelled by them than they can help being paupers. 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 99 
 
 These remnants of society are also a great deal 
 harder to get on with than society itself. Society is 
 discerning, prosperous, and polite : it decorously con- 
 ceals its displeasure, speaks you fairly, understands 
 you generously, and, if it has any thing to say against 
 you, says it behind your back, where it does no harm. 
 But the remnants scowl in your face, if the porridge 
 you bring them is not quite thick enough : in fact, 
 you must carefully find out whether it will do to take 
 them any porridge, lest you hurt their feelings. In 
 English novels, the poor are grateful and reverential : 
 in American life, they are autocratic. It is always a 
 question beforehand, whether they will hold out their 
 sceptre at your approach. They are quite as likely to 
 be angry at your coming so late, or so early, as grate- 
 ful for your coming at all. You must keep constantly 
 on the lookout, and tack and veer and haul, or you 
 will speedily come to grief on the breakers. To your 
 equals, you can speak with freedom and force ; but 
 the sensitiveness of our high-spirited beneficiaries 
 is something to be admired. I have known a man, 
 who had been for years upheld \>y the charity of his 
 neighbors, fly into a passion of rage^ because it was 
 suggested that he should be taken to a comfortable 
 refuge. No doubt, society is clumsy in its attempt to 
 help ; but the crankiness and kinkiness and general 
 wrongheadedness of the people to be helped make 
 
100 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 society clumsy. If you could be natural and simple 
 with them, as j'ou can with your peers, it would be 
 easier ; but they are so open to offence, and so ungene- 
 rous in interpretation, that you must weigh all frank- 
 ness out of your words, and give only a measured 
 platitude to satisfy their querulous honor. 
 
 By poor people, I suppose we all mean, not those 
 who have greater or less incomes, or who are forced 
 to hard work, but people who are not self-supporting, 
 not independent, — the persons who have to be helped. 
 
 The fact of poverty in a country like this is a 
 presumption of defect. The land is broad, food is 
 plentiful, labor scanty and high, government just and 
 almost impalpable. What doth hinder any man from 
 earning his own living ? Illness may come : sudden 
 calamity may fall. Against these, even energy may 
 be powerless ; but, apart from this, it is to be assumed 
 that he who fails, fails because he lacks wisdom, and 
 not opportunity. And the same weakness which pre- 
 vented him from grasping the opportunity prevents 
 him from keeping hold of it after it is put into his 
 hand. Once in a while, once in a great while, a 
 timely succor avails in a moment of temporary weak- 
 ness, or averts the consequence of a mistake ; and the 
 man starts ahead at a swinging pace. But, oftener, 
 the results seem to indicate that it is of very little use 
 to help people who cannot help themselves. The 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 101 
 
 kingdom of pauperism is within them. The very 
 causes that made them poor keep them poor. It is 
 not that society bears clown hard upon them: it 
 is that they are self-indulgent. If you see a widow 
 and five children shivering over a few embers, you pity 
 them, and you must send them coal ; but you cannot 
 help feeling a wrathful contempt at knowing that they 
 all went to the photographer's yesterday, and had their 
 pictures taken, after bu}*ing a couple of twenty-five 
 cent brooches, on the way, to adorn themselves withal. 
 The very things that you yourself would hesitate to 
 do, on account of the expense, people who are partially 
 dependent on joxxv charity will do without hesitation. 
 Where you will practise a natural, cheerful, unthinking 
 self-denial, they will practise an equally cheerful and 
 unthinking self-indulgence. The remnants of bread 
 that you dry in the oven, and save for future use, 
 they throw away. The fragmentary vest-sleeve that 
 you fashion into a flat-iron holder, they put into the 
 rag-bag, and buy new cloth for their holders. Where 
 3-011 rise at six, they lie till half-past seven. Where 
 you walk, they ride. Where you pray and watch and 
 strive to do your work thoroughly, the}?- are content 
 with airy thing that will answer. That is the reason 
 wiry people are poor. In this county, any man who 
 is strong, and willing to work, can support himself, 
 and all the family he ought to have. This is not a 
 9* 
 
102 SERMONS TO TIIE CLERGY. 
 
 sentimental or a picturesque view to take of poverty ; 
 but, so far as my observation goes, it is the true one. 
 I have been far oftener surprised to see how the will 
 to work triumphs over obstacles than I have to see 
 how obstacles triumph over the will to work. Right 
 and left are women with infant children, incapable or 
 invalid or dissipated husbands, surmounting hinder- 
 ances, and earning not only a living, but a compe- 
 tence, by sheer pluck, or, if that is not an admissible 
 word, will. I see men with indifferent health, but 
 sturdy self-reliance and creditable pride, by steady 
 industiy, buying and building houses, lifting mort- 
 gages, growing gradually and surely into prominent 
 and permanent respectability ; while others, who started 
 with apparently equal or superior advantages, falter 
 and fail, simply from indolence, or feebleness of pur- 
 pose. We pity them ; but we also despise them. 
 Every healthy mind must despise that trait which 
 permits a man or a woman to prefer ignoble ease to 
 a dignified though hardly-earned independence ; which 
 permits the day-laborer to live bountifully on to-da3 T 's 
 wages, without laying by any store for the morrow, on 
 which he cannot work. Even the beasts of the field 
 know better than that. Have we been all our life- 
 time reading the fables of bees and butterflies, of 
 lady bugs and ants, to think now that it is prett} 7 and 
 pathetic, and not disgraceful, for a man to be shivering 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 103 
 
 like a ladybug in the winter time, for which he has 
 made no provision? When I see how improvidently 
 people will spend their mone} 7 , in the face of possible 
 want, and certain need of economy, I question whether 
 our charities have not their unwholesome side. If 
 every man knew that he must earn his bread, or go 
 without it, would he not be more diligent to earn, and 
 more careful not to waste what he did not want ? If 
 a drunkard knew that his children would starve unless 
 he fed them, would he not put a stronger curb on his 
 appetite than now, when he knows they will be taken 
 care of, after a fashion ? 
 
 Logic says, If the young man will not go West, 
 and feed on the abundant wheat which his own hand 
 raises, let him stay East, and die for want of it. If 
 the young woman will not become a skilful housewife, 
 let her stoop her life out over the needle. If the 
 thriving mechanic or factory workman will not lay up 
 wages when business is good, let him see his little ones 
 perish for lack of food when the mills are closed. 
 There is no way to teach providence, except by 
 letting persons suffer to the full the consequences of 
 improvidence. 
 
 If men feel that fate is inexorable, will they not 
 prepare to meet it ? It is because they expect some- 
 thing to step in, and shield them from the consequences 
 of their own acts, that the} r are so reckless of conse- 
 
104 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 quences. Mr. Brace gives direct testimony to this 
 end. Men, last winter, disdained labor through all the 
 country-side, rejected fair wages and useful work, 
 because New York offered them bed and board without 
 either. Women disdained service, and used without 
 scruple the funds of charity to enable them to hold 
 out against the demands of trade. Able-bodied pau- 
 pers refused fifteen dollars a month with " keep.'' 
 Girls would not work at less than fourteen and twenty 
 dollars a month, and would not go into the country at 
 all. Suffering artisans refused to work at twelve shil- 
 lings a day. With two hundred idle iron-puddlers on 
 the list of a single soup-kitchen in New York, iron- 
 puddlers had to be sent for from Pennsylvania. 
 
 The experiment never will be tried ; for nobody is 
 strictly logical, or will see suffering without relieving 
 it, whoever is to blame for it, or is confirmed in his 
 sins thereby : but if charity, while holding out relief 
 in one hand, would give a good shaking-up with the 
 other, it might sometimes be just as serviceable as to 
 paint pauperism always as an interesting and romantic 
 condition. 
 
 Without detracting a penny from heavenly charity, 
 or one drop of cream from the milk of human kind- 
 ness, it is well enough to remind ourselves occasion- 
 ally, that, in this country of slight government and 
 great opportunity, all pauperism, except that which is 
 
OUR CnARITIES. 105 
 
 caused by innocent illness, or overpowering calamity, 
 is somebody's shame ; and every thing that shades into 
 it is correspondingly disgraceful, not to be patted 
 and petted and pitied, but to be got out of, and away 
 from, as fast and as far as possible. 
 
 While we cannot say that logic should, in all cases, 
 be ' carried out to its extreme limit, we cannot read 
 such statements as Mr. Brace's without feeling that 
 it is dangerous not to use logic in charity as strictly 
 as in business. We cannot lay down the law that 
 he who cannot help himself is not worth being helped 
 by others, since that contradicts the law of humanity 
 and of the Sacred Scriptures. But, surety, when men 
 have proved themselves so incapable as to need assist- 
 ance, the assisting party has a right to dictate condi- 
 tions, and to enforce upon the weak the rules, which 
 have enabled itself to become strong. 
 
 It is far easier to give a dollar to a poor man, or a 
 thousand dollars to a soup-house, than it is to inquire 
 into the sources of pauperism, and the modes adopted 
 for its removal ; but it is to the last degree unpatriotic 
 and unchristian. When a poor woman begs at your 
 door, it is easier to give her food and clothing than it 
 is to follow or accompany her to her own house to 
 ascertain the truth of her story, to supply her with 
 work, to teach her how to do it, and to put her in the 
 way of becoming self-supporting. If the heedless, 
 
106 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 busy, or selfish giver is remonstrated with, he says, 
 " I would rather give to ten impostors than refuse one 
 deserving,' ' and hugs himself for a generous and 
 benevolent man. But it is not necessary to do either. 
 The over-worked lawyer, or tired plumber, may not be 
 able to follow up every case of distress that presents 
 itself to him ; but it is as easy to delegate that dut}~ to 
 another as it is to delegate to another his charity-soup, 
 instead of brewing the pottage himself. Money and 
 wisdom will organize a harmless and beneficent 
 charity as truly, if not as easily, as they will organize 
 an injurious and unintelligent charity. In Boston, 
 beggary is against the law, and all persons are warned 
 against bestowing money on beggars. Whoever does 
 it knows, at least, that he is doing a work of super- 
 erogation, and cannot have the applause even of a 
 darkened conscience. 
 
 Unintelligent giving is so hurtful, that its perpetra- 
 tion should be made odious. It is giving pleasure to 
 ourselves, regardless of the injury we inflict on the 
 receiver, or the stumbling-block we put in the way of 
 those who are intelligently seeking his welfare. Sup- 
 pose a great city trying to elevate its poor, to teach 
 them the first principles of political economy, the 
 painful wa} T s to honest work, the slow, sure rewards 
 of skill, the unerring rules of supply and demand. 
 Charity is at its very best in doing this ; and charity 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 107 
 
 it is, since logic would do it only by starvation and 
 suffering. Whatever does it tenderly, without pay, 
 without anguish, supporting while it teaches, is charity. 
 He, then, who strikes across this lesson with some 
 entirely irrelevant offer of free lodgings, or free soup, 
 to all the need} r , tends to throw every thing into confu- 
 sion, and does harm instead of good. 
 
 Charity should always couple money with work 
 for the able-bodied. It would be better that it should 
 be useless work than that there should be no work at 
 all. Whoever applies for mone}^ or soup, let him be 
 set to work at shoemaking, or any form of simple 
 work, and paid wages as low as may be sufficient to 
 keep him from want ; and, if the revenues of the busi- 
 ness be insufficient to pay its expenses, let the deficit 
 be met out of the charity fund; and, if he will not 
 work, neither shall he eat. If we could know the 
 facts, we should doubtless seldom find need of this. 
 In our large country, the supply of labor usually falls 
 short of the demand. What we want is not shops for 
 fictitious work, but, if necessary, the ability to trans- 
 port and apply labor. It seems, even, that we do not 
 need bureaus to regulate such transportation ; for they 
 already exist. The two hundred iron-puddlers sipping 
 the charity-soup of New York were not unneeded 
 laborers, who should have been sent to empty Pennsyl- 
 vania mills: on the contrary, the New York mills 
 
108 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 had to send to Pennsylvania for puddlers, while these 
 paupers fed at the public feeding- troughs. Mr. Brace 
 advertised largely that they were ready to send labor 
 where capital was loudly calling for it ; but labor re- 
 fused to go. It preferred to stay in the city, to fatten 
 on charity, and herd with idleness and vice. This 
 being the case, I see no reason why the indiscriminate 
 alms-giver in New York is not a malefactor, large 
 or small, according to the scale on which he works. 
 The real workers of the community are prej^ed upon 
 by the idlers ; and the rich help on their spoliation. 
 The householders are deprived of the help which they 
 ought to have in the kitchen ; the manufacturers, of the 
 hands which should guide engine and loom, because 
 outsiders step in to drown the natural regulations of 
 supply and demand in a swash of free soup. 
 
 If the kind-hearted and the benevolent, the great 
 majority of our self-supporting population, would 
 either turn their gifts into the established channels of 
 charity, or acquaint themselves thoroughly with the 
 persons whom they wish to relieve, they would do all 
 the good, and feel all the pleasure, which they now do, 
 without impoverishing themselves, without injuring the 
 poor, and without deteriorating society. It would no 
 longer be possible for "able-bodied paupers" to prey 
 upon the industrious and self-respecting. That " able- 
 bodied paupers " should exist in and be supported by 
 
 9* 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 109 
 
 a city where girls refuse thirteen dollars a month be~ 
 sides their board, and where men refuse nine shillings 
 a da} r , is a burden upon the worthy poor and the hon- 
 est rich too great to be borne. Let Charity be wise as 
 well as kind. Let her help the incapable, and not 
 pauper the lazy, or encourage the stubborn. As it is, 
 this flower of our civilization shows a bad tendency to 
 become a weed, and to overrun, and overshadow with 
 its rank mischief, the ground which should be occupied 
 by growths that are pleasant to the eye, and good for 
 food, and to be desired to make one wise. 
 
 We have allowed matters so to adjust themselves, 
 that " tramps " are getting to be a distinct and 
 dangerous class. They were always a nuisance ; 
 but now, from an anno}dng, they have become a 
 menacing, nuisance. In ancient clays an "old. strag- 
 gler" produced a sensation in a village. The school- 
 children scented him from afar, and, with swift heels 
 and scant breath, reported him to their comrades, 
 huddled into the schoolhouse, watched him by, behind 
 barred windows and bolted doors, and followed him, 
 retreating, at a safe distance. At the rare and hospi- 
 table farmhouses the "old straggler" called, modest, 
 and "sensing" the situation. He never drank: he 
 had no thirst for intoxicating liquor, but was generally 
 a prey to some disease for which " a little saleratus 
 and cider ' ' was the sovereignest thing on earth ; and I 
 
110 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 doubt not many a bearded man remembers the curi- 
 osity with which he watched the wa}^farer's eager hold, 
 rapt eyes, and negligence of breath, as he pressed the 
 cider pitcher upside down to his longing lips, loath to 
 lose one drop of possible delight. As we have arrived 
 at man's estate ourselves, we have seen the " old 
 straggler" coming thicker and faster ; but he is not so 
 old as he was. He is shabby enough ; but he is usually 
 a young fellow, able-bodied, out of work, and travel- 
 ling to Portsmouth. Sometimes he is fierce and Span- 
 ish-looking ; but oftener he is sandy -haired, sunburned, 
 and freckled, ill-favored, but not brigandish. He 
 seldom asks for money, but is perpetually hungry. If 
 you give him a remainder biscuit with an apology, he 
 accepts gratefully, with the assurance that it is " firs' - 
 rate," while, if you proffer a generous slice of squash 
 pie fresh from the oven, ten to one but you shall 
 go out to find it dashed against your garden wall. I 
 do not so much mind the wasted viand, though that 
 grieves me to the heart ; but the spretce injuria for mce, 
 the slight put upon my cooking, for all the neighbors 
 to see, — that I never will forgive. Nor do we, like 
 them of old time, invite these wa3 7 farers to the kitchen 
 to warm their frozen fingers by the glowing hearth- 
 stone. A seat on the sunny side of the door-step is 
 the most cordial invitation they receive, and that with 
 locks and bolts well secured ; for their humility and 
 
OUR CHARITIES 111 
 
 harmlessness seem to be deserting them. They come 
 no longer singly, but in squads. They have ceased to 
 beg: they demand. Their tramp has become their 
 profession. Their spare money they evidently spend 
 in clubs, knives, and revolvers. We scarcely take up 
 a newspaper without reading of some outrage and 
 violence perpetrated by a tramp. They rob, burn, 
 murder. They attack men and women and children. 
 They travel in couples and quartets, evidently divid- 
 ing up the houses among themselves. Some of our 
 laws seem especially made for their nurture ; or is it 
 that our American institutions are so flexible, that the 
 tramps easily bend them to their own advantage? 
 Every town is obliged, by law, to find lodging and food 
 for wayfarers : so the tramps are assured of bed and 
 board ; and if the landlord or landlady secured for 
 them be of congenial spirit, the gypsies live in clover. 
 A little village of eight hundred inhabitants is so 
 generously disposed toward the poor, that its chronic 
 paupers have been distinguished for the elegance of 
 their dress ; and twenty-five dollars have been paid 
 for a single night's lodging of the vagabonderie. Of 
 course, these nomads know when they-are well off: so 
 they u cut and come again.' ' I have seen parties of 
 four and six walking back and forth on the outskirts 
 of the village, waiting till it was dark enough to make 
 their request for lodgings legal. And so great is their 
 
112 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 liking for their hospitable quarters, that they are sure 
 not to go so far off that the}' cannot return at night- 
 fall. This is, perhaps, a good way to prevent crime, 
 since the scoundrels have all they want, and are not 
 tempted to violence ; but it is also an excellent way to 
 nurse vice. And it is, it must be confessed, a little 
 burdensome to the proud and haughty, who prefer not 
 to beg, and who are therefore forced to work. 
 
 Vagabondage, if it be not made a crime, should at 
 least work forfeiture of freedom. If tramps are to be 
 supported by honest men, honest men should at least 
 have the power to say in what manner the tramps shall 
 be supported. It is unfair for the farmer to work 
 hard in the hot hayfield all day or the shoemaker 
 in his little cramped-up shop, and then be obliged 
 to take a part of his small earnings to feed and 
 lodge a lazy fellow who has been tying under a 
 hedge till sundown, and who will break into his house, 
 and steal his goods, and murder his wife, if he gets 
 the chance or the provocation. Responsibility implies 
 authority. As long as a man is obliged to support his 
 children, he has authority over his children. If a 
 grown man is not self-supporting, he should not be 
 self-directing. Some towns have borne all the burden 
 they feel disposed to bear, and are arresting tramps in 
 all directions, determined to test their liabilities. Pub- 
 lic sentiment will doubtless approve their course ; but, 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 113 
 
 unless public sentiment formulates itself in common 
 law, these local measures will but increase local dis- 
 tress. If one village, by village law, arrests tramps, 
 and the next village does not, the second village will 
 be but a receiving-tomb for the decayed humanity of 
 the first. These vermin, driven out of the one town, 
 will take refuge in the next ; and the last state of that 
 town shall be worse than its first. It should be a rec- 
 ognized State law, if it be not now, that any person 
 asking alms from door to door thereby forfeits his 
 liberty. In surrendering the self-support of manhood, 
 he surrenders also its self-control. The community 
 that feeds him shall restrain him. If he will eat the 
 bread of beggary, it shall be behind a barred gate. 
 He shall not walk up and down, seeking what and 
 whom he may devour ; but he shall have keepers, and 
 be made to work : he shall lie down, and rise up, and 
 march to table and field and workshop, at the voice of 
 the bell. He shall have abundance of wholesome food, 
 but no squash pie to bespatter stone fences withal ! 
 He shall not batten longer on the toils of honest men ; 
 but he shall eat his bread in the sweat of his own fat 
 face ; and the only difference between, his fate and that 
 of his thrift}' brother shall be, that, while the latter 
 goes home to wife and child, and vine and fig-tree, the 
 former shall have neither ownership nor accumulation. 
 If a man find that he must work as hard for bare walls 
 10* 
 
114 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and coarse food as for home and family, and all social 
 solace and standing, it would be but an evil choice for 
 him to make. Let us take off the premium from vaga- 
 bondage ; let us make the tramp's life as stern and 
 severe as that of the honest citizen ; let society close 
 upon him, short, sharp, and decisive, and either make 
 a spoon, or spoil a horn. 
 
 All of which does not mean that the honest and 
 industrious but unfortunate laboring-man out of 
 employment shall be treated as a tramp, or that the 
 tramp shall not be considered as "a man and a 
 brother." Constraint and labor are means of grace to 
 the man who spurns both, and preys upon his neigh- 
 bors ; while the honest man out of work has no worse 
 foe than these lazzaroni, who drain a communitj^ of the 
 sympathy and succor which ought to be bestowed upon 
 those who need help, but not alms. 
 
 Physicians tell us that the great stone hospitals on 
 which we latter-day saints pride ourselves, as embodying 
 the last results of sanitary science, are, of all estab- 
 lishments, the most pernicious. The seeds of disease 
 are sown in them from year to year, and are ever 
 springing up in a fatal harvest. With all our knowledge 
 and all our money, the best kind of hospital is the 
 cheap wooden barrack, which can be torn down every 
 three years, and thus prevent the storing-up and dis- 
 tribution of disease, to which the enduring stone build- 
 
OUR CnARITIES. 115 
 
 ing is always liable. Is it not possible that some 
 similar necessity exists with regard to our great char- 
 itable institutions ? 
 
 There are soldiers' homes scattered over the land. 
 This is a form of charity as little offensive as it is 
 possible for charity to be. Indeed, I do not know that 
 it should be called charity at all. Surely, if debt can 
 exist between man and man, it is incurred by the 
 nation toward those who have perilled life and limb in 
 her behalf. So the nation does well to provide a home 
 for disabled soldiers. She rears a lofty and imposing 
 structure, laj^s out grounds with taste and elegance, 
 keeps every thing in admirable order, receives all poor 
 and wounded and invalid soldiers who knock at her 
 door, feeds them, clothes them if need be, furnishes 
 them pension for pocket-money, lays them under no 
 grievous restriction, and imposes no labor. If you 
 drive to their retreat, you see them sauntering along 
 the gravelled walks, reclining under the trees, lounging 
 upon the piazza, or perhaps engaged in some light 
 work. But, after all, it is a most drearj r place, — a 
 mockery of home. You are struck by the absence of 
 life. There is no interest, no animation, no vitality. 
 All is lounging and listlessness. I have been told that 
 soldiers enter these homes with reluctance, and leave 
 them with alacrit}-. There is no complaint of ill-treat- 
 ment, insufficient food or care : it is simply that their 
 
116 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 dreariness is insupportable. Can we wonder at it? 
 Think of fifty or a hundred men living together in a 
 perfectly comfortable house, with nothing to do ! They 
 have no care, no responsibility, no occupation, no soci- 
 ety but each other. As soldiers, they have had stir- 
 ring, active, eventful lives. Doubtless, at first, the 
 quiet, the rest, is delightful ; but when wounds are 
 healed, and life flows once more in all the channels that 
 are left, how these human hearts must long for the 
 variet} T , and even for the vexations, of humanity, for 
 the activities of manhood, the attraction of woman- 
 hood, the amusement of childhood ! In every estab- 
 lishment, ought we not to take the family as the model ? 
 So far as our institutions depart from the family t}-pe, 
 are they not on a wrong principle ? Is it practicable ? 
 And, if practicable, is it not better that the fifty 
 soldiers should be distributed through the community, 
 to live in, and become a part of, separate homes, rather 
 than live together in a monotonous and unnatural club ? 
 They need not be " town-poor," but national pen- 
 sioners, honorable, though dependent ; receiving their 
 support from the country, not as a gratuity, but as 
 some attempt at an equivalent for services rendered. 
 Many, perhaps most, of them, though partially dis- 
 abled, are not incapacitated for light labor, and would 
 be all the healthier and happier for its performance. 
 They may not be able to do man's work; but they 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 117 
 
 could be exceedingly useful in doing what is too often 
 added to woman's work. There are thousands of 
 farmhouses where these men could amply pay their 
 board by doing u chores " that now fall to the lot of 
 overworked women. Many families who could not 
 endure the incumbrance of a boarder, nor afford the 
 outlay of hired service, would be greatly relieved by 
 such an addition to their staff. The man would quickly 
 work into a pleasant and profitable position, and join 
 in the wholesome life from which the far more splendid 
 surroundings of the home completely shut him out. 
 It may not be immediately nor entirely practicable ; 
 but can we not hold this end in view ? 
 
 There is an insurmountable repugnance in the minds 
 of many poor people to technical places of refuge. It 
 is not independence ; for they will receive without 
 flinching, in their own miserable homes, an amount of 
 assistance at a cost of trouble, thought, and care far 
 greater than would be necessary to support them com- 
 fortably at the poor-house, or, as we have taken to 
 calling it, the " home ; " though we do not succeed by 
 our euphuisms in deceiving our victims, who draw 
 back from the " home " as decidedly as from the poor- 
 house. We are at great expense to provide an asylum 
 for old men, a home for aged and indigent females ; 
 and the old men throw their cane at you, if you propose 
 to take them there ; and the aged and indigent females 
 
118 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 grow young and rich in the vocabulary wherewithal 
 they declare their determination not to go. This 
 means something. Of course, we can make them 
 go if we choose. Society is a giant, and can use its 
 strength giant-wise, to be strong against the weak. 
 But it is not pleasant, even when it is necessary : how 
 much less when it is not certainly necessary ! Perhaps 
 the weak are right, and, haply, we shall be found to 
 fight against God. Instead, then, of giving all our 
 energies to the preparation of a house, why not devote 
 a part to the accumulation of a fund whereby these 
 poor, who so profoundly dislike the more public forms 
 of charity, may be supported in private homes ? There 
 are many families whose income would be materially 
 improved by the small sum which would be payed for 
 the support of a woman incapable of self-support, but 
 not needing any especial care or nursing. A board of 
 overseers, or a ladies' committee, could still supervise 
 affairs, keep track of all its beneficiaries, watch over 
 their interests, look out for their comfort. And the 
 old ladies themselves would often be far happier in the 
 humble but more cosey, more sociable, more natural, 
 if more narrow, home, than in the spacious, abundant, 
 but public and unfamiliar " refuge." Beggars should 
 not be choosers perhaps : still, if we give, we may 
 well give wisely. The poor may be unreasonable ; 
 and their poverty is often their own fault. But, after 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 119 
 
 all, we would a thousand times rather be ourselves, 
 with the annoyance of their unreasonableness, than to 
 be the poor, with all their dictation. In the general 
 distribution of traits, we are glad those fell to our 
 share which enabled us to be independent, though at 
 the cost of much hard work and self-denial. We are 
 thankful that we can work, that we can turn away 
 from the present pleasure to avert the future disaster. 
 I would make pauperism as odious as possible ; but 
 I would make the helpless victims of pauperism as 
 happy as possible. We cannot be too careful not to 
 loosen the foundations of self-respect, not to make it 
 seem easy and pleasant and natural to depend upon 
 others, instead of helping one's self, not to make this 
 false life of leaning too closely resemble the true life 
 of uprightness. Yet, on the other hand, there is so 
 much wretched dependence springing from age, sex, 
 infirmity, calamity, the error and the crime of other 
 people, that one cannot be too careful in applying even 
 just rules, — too gentle, too wise, too considerate in 
 guarding from additional pain those who are already 
 sore wounded and vanquished in life's hot battle. 
 
 If our modes of disbursing our charity funds need 
 to be carefully looked into, so, also, do our modes of 
 gathering those funds. The old type ideal of charity 
 is a quiet, modest, retiring, and gracious lady, search- 
 ing out the abodes of suffering, ministering to the sick, 
 
120 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 teaching the ignorant, giving of her substance, but 
 always unobtrusive, never letting the left hand know 
 what the right hand doeth. The real Lady Charity 
 seemeth to be somewhat of a brazen dame, sedulously 
 seeking her own pleasure in the name of the poor. 
 She institutes a charity ball, whither she goes dressed 
 in all the silk and lace and jewelry of luxury, or, 
 worse still, in calico fashioned in such fantastic shapes, 
 that neither rich nor poor can make any use of it after- 
 wards. She dances all night ; she devours creams and 
 cakes, salads and coffee ; she breathes the fragrance 
 of flowers, and moves to the music of a band, and in 
 all things disports herself like a lady bent on her own 
 amusement ; and is altogether satisfied and satisfactory 
 because it is a charity ball. The few hundreds that 
 maj r be left after the thousands are paid out for dress 
 and flowers, and lights and music, and supper and 
 hall and carriages and attendance, are given to the 
 poor ; . but charity has only the crumbs that fell from 
 the table. The table itself — the bulk of the expense 
 and the effort — was in the entertainment. I do not 
 say there is any thing wrong in this, except the name. 
 If persons find their account in weeks of preparation, 
 and much sounding of the tocsin, and soliciting of 
 patronage, for the sake of an evening's pleasure, who 
 shall gainsay them? Doubtless there are some, perhaps 
 the originators and organizers of the ball, to whom 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 121 
 
 it is really a labor of love ; but, in all its length and 
 breadth, let us not call it charity. To the deserv- 
 ing and suffering poor, to the invalids, the widowed, 
 the orphan, who know not to-day what they shall eat 
 on the morrow, it must be a strange sight indeed, — 
 this of men and women rushing together to expend on 
 a single evening's gratification for themselves, and in 
 various forms of luxury, an enormous sum of money in 
 order that a small sum may slip through into the out- 
 stretched hands of want. If, indeed, the small dole 
 can be entreated from the rich in no other way than by 
 bribing them with a fete for themselves ; if the pleasure 
 of blessing be not enough, but must be sweetened with 
 the pleasure of receiving ; if giving have no grace, and 
 money must bring to the donor money's worth in mar- 
 ketable values, — then, perhaps, we do well to make a 
 feast, and call in the rich and prosperous to make 
 crumbs for the poor and the maimed, the halt and the 
 blind ; but this is not charity. When the Philistines 
 ask, * ' What meaneth the noise of this great shouting 
 in the camp? " let no man have the effrontery to say, 
 4 ' It is because the ark of the Lord has come in." It is 
 far more like the song of the worship of the golden ear- 
 rings. Nine parts self-indulgence, and one part charity, 
 may not be an iniquitous compound ; but it is certainly 
 not the elixir of life. The clangor of our benefactions 
 does not mark their increase, but their diminution. 
 11 
 
122 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 In connection with this public hue and cry comes a 
 spirit of dictation, a virtual coercion, which it seems 
 offensive to resist, and hypocritical to accept. It is to 
 be expected, that, in the rattle and clatter of machin- 
 ery, all the ancient delicacy of charit}^, both on the 
 part of giver and receiver, should fade awa} T . When 
 men scatter their largesses from the housetops, with 
 bells ringing, and flags floating, they lose every pretext 
 for blushing to find it fame. They are far more 
 likely to redden with rage, if they do not find it fame. 
 We appeal for charity, not to the necessity of the 
 case, to the conscience or the pity of the beholder, but 
 to his vanity, his pride, his self-interest. A church 
 debt is auctioneered from the pulpit on Sunday. ' ' I 
 will give a thousand dollars," says A to B, "if you 
 will give a thousand dollars. " But what has A's 
 purse to do with B's ? If the case is a worth} 7 one, or, 
 in any case, why should one man's help be conditioned 
 on another man's? A knows, or ought to know, the 
 condition of his own finances. He knows nothing of 
 B's. If he can give a thousand dollars, let him give 
 it. He has no right to dictate the direction, or the 
 amount, of B's gifts, or to subject him to the necessity 
 of refusing, or of giving reluctantly. Benevolence is 
 no justification of impertinence. What is ill bred and 
 improper, dictatorial and rude, does not become polite 
 and gentle and Christian, because it is done in the 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 123 
 
 name of charit} r . There are some forms of charity 
 which seem to do more harm to the soul than good 
 to the body. They injure the manners of the givers 
 more than they benefit the lives of the receivers. All 
 such charity is suspicious. The true charity blesses 
 him that gives, and him that takes. The true charity 
 is as strong in its reflex as in its direct influence. It 
 shines all around, and not in one straight line alone. 
 It is marked by the most instinctive reticence, and a 
 constant courtesy of demeanor. It represses the 
 forward, and encourages the timid, and respects the 
 self-respectful, and tries to infuse into the shameless 
 a sense of shame. It reverences the dignity of 
 humanit}-, and the rights of the individual, and never 
 encroaches upon the poor or the rich. It assumes 
 no power of inquisition into the lowliest cottage, 
 the shabbiest hut, any more or any less than into the 
 houses of the great and strong. It is not bars, or bolts, 
 or servants, or force, that guide or guard its entrance 
 an}' where, but its own innate, unerring, ever sinuous 
 sense of propriety. And, while it is thus cautious of 
 imposing itself on the reluctant, it is equally solicitous 
 to win the confidence of the silent and forlorn. It 
 aims to do good, rather than to excite gratitude ; to 
 give the feeble a start, rather than to make a stir in 
 society. It would rather help a man to help himself 
 than to make his own exertions unnecessary. 
 
124 SERMONS TO TT1E CLERGY. 
 
 I believe we are mistaken in supposing that this 
 kind of charity would be less heartily supported than 
 the festive, luxuriant, and selfish charity. Men may 
 be reluctant to put a new carpet on the parish church ; 
 and it may be necessary to cajole them with a tea- 
 party. But, towards human want, human nature is 
 apt to be generous. The carpet is not a necessity. 
 But men will not willingly let a family suffer for want 
 of food. I do not believe the community exists in 
 America, that is not willing and able to provide for all 
 its needy without an atom of fanfaronade. When 
 Portland and Peshtigo and Chicago are burned, and 
 Louisiana drowned, and the valleys of our own New 
 England overswept by sudden desolation, there is no 
 waiting for balls and theatres. The money does not 
 wind through fairs and fashions, diminishing as it goes, 
 to fall, at last, a feeble, and sluggish stream, into a 
 thirsty soil that drinks it up, and gives no sign. It 
 rushes straight from purse and till, — an impetuous, 
 sustaining, and sufficient flood. Great occasions 
 bring great enthusiasms ; and, for ordinary occasions, 
 the enthusiasm of humanity is enough. If wisely 
 appealed to, it seldom fails to respond. The beating 
 of gongs is as unnecessa^ to secure the desired ends 
 as it is offensive to good taste, and obnoxious to good 
 manners. A charity that is indelicate in its methods 
 is a proper object of suspicion. So far as possible, 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 125 
 
 all the processes, and all the recipients, of charity, 
 should be guarded by a profound and sacred privacy, 
 that self-respect be not wounded, character injured, 
 nor truth destroyed. 
 
 Miss Cushman, with characteristic independence, 
 good sense, and good feeling, has entered a protest 
 against this system. The occasion was a request, 
 which had been made, that she would give a gratuitous 
 representation for the benefit of local charities in, let us 
 say, Venice. In response to this protest, one of her 
 rejected addressers says, "No actress in the country 
 has been more generously and heartily rewarded in 
 Venice than Miss Cushman. She has always been 
 a favorite here, and been alwa}-s treated with uniform 
 courtesy and kindness. We will not say that she has 
 not, in a measure, by her genius commanded all that 
 has been accorded to her : but, at the same time, we 
 believe that there are certain relations of good-will and 
 friendship which should always exist between actors 
 and the public ; and that, if any one in the country in 
 her profession is under obligations to a community, 
 Miss Cushman is to Venice." 
 
 All of which may be true, without, in the smallest 
 degree, militating against Miss Cushman's position, that 
 she is under no " especial" obligations to any commu- 
 nity in which she does not live. The people who go to 
 theatres and concerts, who biry bonnets and gowns and 
 11* 
 
126 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 shoes and sugar, are often spoken of as patrons of the 
 singers and pla} r ers and grocers and milliners ; and so 
 they are, but no more so than are the grocers and mil- 
 liners the patrons of those who buy their goods. You 
 go to the theatre for your own amusement, and not in 
 the least to oblige Miss Cushman, or Mr. Jefferson, or 
 Mr. Boucicault. If they play well enough to please, 
 3 t ou go again : if they do not, you stay away, regard- 
 less of their feelings or their purses. If they play so 
 well, that high admission-fees may be profitably charged, 
 you pay the high admission-fee, still not in the least to 
 profit Miss Cushman or Mr. Boucicault, but because 
 you cannot get in on a small fee. No one thinks of 
 patronizing an inferior actor from motives of benevo- 
 lence ; and it is pure absurdity to say that one is actu- 
 ated by benevolence in ending the personations of a 
 master of his art. Wiry, then, should an actor be 
 obliged to } t ou for pleasing yourself ? Why should 
 the shoemaker be obliged to you for the money whose 
 lack would make him less uncomfortable than you 
 would be in going barefoot? If there is any obliga- 
 tion, it is as much on the one side as on the other. 
 Venice is just as much bound to help Miss Cushman' s 
 charities as is Miss Cushman to help Venice. The 
 family ought to be quite as grateful to the butcher and 
 grocer and milkman who feed it, as ought they to be 
 to the family which pays them money. But did Miss 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 127 
 
 Cushman ever imply that Venice owed lief any thing? 
 or did Venice ever recognize any such relation ? She 
 is reported to have met with much pecuniary and other 
 trouble. Did Venice ever concern itself to ascertain, 
 remove, or relieve these troubles ? Did it ever make 
 any inquiries as to Miss Cushman' s necessities, or 
 pensioners, and ask to bear a part of her burdens? I 
 have pushed no researches on the subject, and, of tes- 
 timony, know nothing whatever about it ; but I hazard 
 the assertion, without fear of contradiction, that, what- 
 ever of trouble Miss Cushman may have met, she has 
 encountered it without asking or thinking of help from 
 Venice ; that her connection with the city has been 
 purely one of business ; and that whatever money she 
 has received has been in exchange for goods sold at 
 their market-value. At the same time, such are " the 
 relations of good- will and friendship " existing be- 
 tween her and the Venice public, that if, by some sud- 
 den turn of the wheel of fortune, she should be known 
 to be ill, destitute, and suffering, Venice, no doubt, 
 would take up a generous contribution, and send it 
 to her with such warm admiration and delicacy as 
 would fill her with rejoicing. So, I doubt not, if 
 Venice were suddenly smitten with overwhelming dis- 
 aster of fire or flood, Miss Cushman, with her great 
 generous heart, would give abundantly for its relief. 
 Great emergencies bring " especial" claims; but that 
 
128 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Miss Cushman should come down from Boston, or that 
 Venice should go up to New England, to help out the 
 ordinary duties of ever3 T -da} r life is — not reasonable. 
 
 " There is another point in this five-hundred-dollar- 
 a-night business," says the disappointed applicant. 
 "Does Miss Cushman really think that she earns it? 
 She gets it ; but we beg to remind her that she wrings 
 it out of the managers, under the villanous ' star ' sys- 
 tem, and at the expense of the poor and humble in her 
 own profession, who, in a large degree, contribute to her 
 success, and who are not paid as much in a year as 
 she is paid in almost a single night. She enforces her 
 five hundred dollars a night, demands her pound of 
 flesh ; and they must take what they can get. Miss 
 Cushman looks at the matter from a thoroughly selfish, 
 heartless standpoint." 
 
 It would not be easy to crowd more erring philoso- 
 phy into a single pronunciamento. Miss Cushman, 
 doubtless, being a woman of unusual grandeur of 
 character, looks at her business-engagements from a 
 thoroughly business standpoint ; and business is and 
 ought ever to be thoroughly heartless and selfish. To 
 make it an} r thing else is to embroil and despoil it. 
 To mix sentiment with business is to profane the one, 
 and to demoralize the other. But business is heartless 
 and selfish etymologically, not morally. It is heartless 
 precisely as mathematics is heartless. You might as 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 129 
 
 well blame a problem in Euclid for its lack of pity, as 
 to blame business for a similar deficiency. The one 
 principle of business is to buy in the cheapest, and sell 
 in the dearest, market ; and it is a thoroughly just 
 and legitimate principle, and thoroughly compatible 
 with generosit} 7 and magnanimity in the man who acts 
 upon it. Indeed, there is no other principle on which 
 business could be successfully and satisfactorily con- 
 ducted. 
 
 Miss Cushman, in demanding five hundred dollars a 
 night, is but doing what every merchant does in de- 
 manding an extraordinary price for an extraordinary 
 piece of Gobelin tapestry ; or a milliner of rare skill, in 
 charging high prices for her bonnets ; or Mr. Evarts, in 
 taking a ten-thousand-dollar fee in one lawsuit ; or Mr. 
 Beecher, in receiving his twenty-or-so-thousand dollar 
 salary. Does Mr. Evarts imagine he earns his enor- 
 mous retainer ? He gets it ; but we beg to remind him 
 that he wrings it out of his clients, and at the expense 
 of the poor and humble of his own profession, who are 
 not paid as much in a lifetime, perhaps, as he is paid 
 in a single month. Mr. Evarts enforces his pound of 
 flesh ; and the poor pettifogger must take what he can 
 get! 
 
 You might just as well reproach a diamond for cost- 
 ing more than a Scotch pebble as to blame Miss Cush- 
 man or Mr. Evarts for being more expensive than their 
 
130 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 " supes." We pay for things in proportion to their 
 rarity and to the pleasure the}' give us. The " star" 
 system may be vile ; but, when it is superseded, it will 
 not be because it is vile, but because it is unprofitable. 
 Miss Cushman's high demands not only injure no one, 
 but benefit many. The managers, on the whole, find 
 it for their interest to be wrung out by Charlotte Cush- 
 man rather than cast their play without her. No one 
 forces them to employ her. It is only, that, if the}' do 
 employ her, they must pay her price. So far from 
 injuring the poor and humble of her own profession, it 
 is she, and such as she, who give them any profession 
 at all. Who would go to a theatre to see the pitiful 
 mouthing and ranting and strutting, the wooden, 
 lifeless performances, of the lower class of actors? 
 " Can't you say it so?" said Edwin Forrest, instruct- 
 ing one of his " supports." " Confound you ! " cried 
 the poor fellow, in admiring despair, " if I could say 
 it so, do you think I would be pegging away here at 
 ten dollars a week ! " It is because Forrest can " say 
 it so," that we listen patiently to Tom, Dick, and 
 Harry all around him, saying things in quite another 
 way. Miss Cushman is far more necessary to her 
 poor supporters than they are to her. When she reads 
 absolutely alone, she draws crowded houses. How 
 many crowds would they draw without the allurement 
 of any superior talent? 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 131 
 
 Miss Cushman, in enforcing high prices for her per- 
 formances, is doing more for her sex and her profes- 
 sion than she can do in any other way. No one can 
 excel in any calling without diffusing the benefit of it 
 down through the very lowest stratum of that calling. 
 His genius and skill raise the average, help to make 
 the calling honorable. It goes much " against the 
 grain ' ' to pay twenty dollars for a bonnet whose ma- 
 terial cost five dollars ; but the milliner has a perfect 
 right to charge fifteen for her skill and taste. She may 
 overshoot the mark ; and the just result is, that her 
 bonnets are not sold. But these things arrange them- 
 selves on the everlasting principle of supply and de- 
 mand. It may be very sad that the poor sewing-girl 
 gets but starvation wages, while the mistress grows 
 rich. But poor sewing is as the sands of the sea for 
 multitude ; and artistic sewing is like the diamonds 
 of Golconda. Moreover, every new prime sewer and 
 fashioner creates a demand which gives employment to 
 the poor and plodding. The " star " has given to its 
 brilliancy care, time, and culture, of which the clod 
 knows nothing, and for lack of which it has only itself 
 to blame. But also the "star" had an original en- 
 dowment denied to the clod, for which the clod is not 
 to blame ; but neither is the " star." Is there wrong 
 with the Most High? 
 
 Since writing this, a remarkably apt illustration has 
 
132 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 been given of the obligations which Venice considers 
 due from the public toward those actors who have. 
 entertained it, whatever its views may be of the obli- 
 gations of actors to the public. Mr. J. M. Bellow, 
 the reader, being sick and poor, has applied for help 
 to the public. Venice says, through her press, that he 
 " is certainly the most genteel beggar that has j r et 
 appeared. Being sick, and nearly out of funds, he 
 sends telegrams all over the world, stating that he has 
 no prospects of getting better very soon, and would be 
 thankful for an}' assistance that may be rendered him. 
 "Who wouldn't feel overjoyed at receiving aid and 
 succor through such novel means? In case the re- 
 sponses are heavy and full, we would advise Mr. Bel- 
 lew to engage a clerk to acknowledge the receipt of 
 remittances. There are plenty of young men out of 
 employment in England who would be glad to secure 
 such a position." 
 
 I do not see why it was a more genteel beggary for 
 Mr. Bellew to telegraph to the world for charity than 
 it was for Venice to telegraph to Miss Cushman. Cer- 
 tainly her response was not half so scornful, and, I 
 suspect, not more unproductive. 
 
 When Miss Cushman said, " You simply ask of me 
 that I should give from four hundred dollars to five 
 hundred dollars to 3-our poor," the seeker replies, 
 ' ' We did not ask Miss Cushman to do any thing of 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 133 
 
 the kind. We asked her if she would give an extra 
 performance, and did not propose to interfere in any 
 way with her regular engagements. . . . Perhaps she 
 is right, and that we were wrong, in asking her to give 
 a few hours of her time to a charitable object." 
 
 This illustrates a very common mistake made by 
 persons in whom goodness of heart, let us say, out- 
 strips clearness of head. They have a certain desira- 
 ble object in view ; and, to promote it, they will, with 
 the most cheerful and unhesitating frankness, ask you 
 to give, not money (they would shrink from that), 
 but things which represent money to j'ou, which bring 
 money to you, and which will bring money to them — 
 and think they are doing the whole duty of etiquette. 
 Ask Miss Cushman to give us five hundred dollars ? 
 Not we ! We simply ask her to give a representation 
 which alwajrs brings her five hundred dollars, and to 
 hand over the proceeds to us, instead of putting them 
 into her own purse. Ask her for money? Nothing 
 was further from our thoughts ! We did but ask a few 
 hours of her time. Ask her to give us one of her 
 regular engagements, and so diminish her income? 
 Not in the least ! We did not interfere with her regu- 
 lar engagements, but desired her to grant an extra 
 performance. 
 
 But lives there a man with soul so keen as can 
 explain the difference between five hundred dollars in 
 
134 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 money at high noon and a performance that brings five 
 hundred dollars before midnight? What is the saving 
 clause that makes a regular performance a part of 
 your income, and an extra performance no income 
 whatever? An actor, during the season, makes, un- 
 doubtedly, as many engagements as his nerve and the 
 public purse will stand. If an extra one comes in, he 
 must make extra outlay of personal power, or with- 
 draw an engagement elsewhere. But, however that 
 may be, if he can earn the money, the money is his ; 
 and, if it is bestowed upon the poor, he bestows it, and 
 nobody else. 
 
 I say nothing of the nature of the actor's calling, 
 since it has no bearing on the case. We may approve, 
 or disapprove, of theatrical representation. If we dis- 
 approve, the impropriety is even stronger than if we 
 approve. It is bad enough to make unwarrantable 
 claims upon money honestly and honorably earned ; 
 but it is startling indeed, if we may oppose an actress 
 in the performance of her art by every form of moral 
 resistance, and, when she has earned the money in 
 spite of us, we may levy upon her to sustain our own 
 scheme. 
 
 Does the artist give only a few hours of her time? 
 If so, then suppose you select the three or four hours 
 that she is taking a railroad journey. Let her con- 
 tribute the proceeds of the three hours that she is 
 12 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 135 
 
 making morning-calls, or indulging in a siesta. Those 
 are the hours of her time as truly as the hours during 
 which she is performing on the stage. But those hours 
 bring no money. So it is not that she gives simply 
 three hours of her time. She gives time that is filled 
 to the brim with her gifts and graces. She gives you 
 all the native genius, the control, the hard study, the 
 assiduous practice, the vital power, the travel and self- 
 control, the fame and glory, which make her three 
 hours of time worth more in hard money than three 
 years of the kitchen-maid's. Her empty time is worth 
 no more than yours or mine. 
 
 You go to the lawyer for advice, which he condenses 
 into an hour, and for which you pay five, twenty, a 
 hundred dollars. It is not for his hour's time, but for 
 the three years of preparatory study, and four years of 
 college, and three years of law school, and days and 
 nights of laborious research and continuous applica- 
 tion, that make him capable of answering your question, 
 and make his answer worth to you a hundred times 
 what you pay him for it. 
 
 The grocer, who would be considered munificent in 
 giving you five dollars, is churlish if he will not give 
 five dollars' worth of flour to your charity, and nig- 
 gardly to the last degree, if he refuses to sell whatever 
 you want at cost price. The doctor is expected to 
 make out no bill against his poor patients. The edi- 
 
136 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 tor sends his newspaper to clerg} T men at half-price. 
 The author is asked to send fifteen or twenty dollars' 
 worth of books to a remote societ}', whose money 
 donors average a dollar and a half apiece ; and the 
 feuilletoniste, to contribute a twent}*, thirty, or fifty 
 dollar article to the "paper" of some unknown fair, 
 edited by citizen amateurs, whose services in that 
 capacity would not bring fifty cents in any known 
 market. If a knot of } T oung men in Omaha desired to 
 form a reading-club, they would not dream of asking 
 the proprietors of a newspaper for five dollars to pay 
 room-rent ; but if Messrs. Proprietors have not been 
 repeatedly requested to send their publications free, by 
 way of encouragement, to incipient and impecunious 
 reading-clubs, their experience is different from that 
 .of most publishing-firms whose ways I have known. 
 Beggary of goods seems a very easy Christian duty and 
 worldly pleasure to people who would count beggary 
 of money a thing improper, and deleterious to self- 
 respect. 
 
 None of these requests are unkindly meant, though 
 a refusal is sometimes rudely met. The}" spring from 
 a forge tfulness, or unacquaintance with the fact, that 
 whatever is worth costs ; that labor and products are 
 as valuable as the money for which they could be sold ; 
 that to ask a man to give that by which he gets his 
 living is just the same as to ask him for his living. If 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 137 
 
 the butcher choose to give meat, instead of monej', 
 that is his own affair ; but to ask him for meat is pre- 
 cisely the same as to ask him for money ; and to ask 
 him to sell meat at cost price is the same as to ask him 
 for all the money which constitutes his profit ; and, if 
 he refuse to give meat, you have no more right to call 
 him selfish or heartless, than he has to call you stingy 
 because you do not have beefsteak or veal-cutlets every 
 morning for breakfast. You have no more right to 
 dictate a man's charities than you have to dictate his 
 courtship. Especially have you no right even to pass 
 judgment upon the stranger that is far off from thy 
 gates, — the stranger whom you do not know, whose life 
 is remote from yours, with whose circumstances, and 
 daily surroundings, and personal connections, } t ou are 
 utterly unfamiliar. To hold up such an one to oppro- 
 brium, because he declines to contribute to a distant 
 charit} T , is to hazard the reputation of your own judg- 
 ment. No one can say whether another is, or is not, 
 justified in withholding alms, until he knows all the 
 sources of that other's income, all his channels of 
 outflow, all the circumstances of all his family and 
 acquaintance, all the system of his life, and all his 
 plans for the future. On the whole, the lesson is so 
 hard, that he would probably employ his time to more 
 advantage by pushing his researches in other direc- 
 tions. 
 
138 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Many of us who would never think of dictating the 
 charities of others are 3^et never wear}' of inculcating, 
 and even practising, econom}', that money may thereby 
 be saved to bestow upon the poor ; and think we are 
 doing God service. 
 
 Economy has a good sound, a very innocent and 
 even virtuous sound ; but how are we to economize ? 
 and who is to economize ? and what are we about to 
 economize for? and at whose cost shall the economy 
 be ? I should say, first, that if the winter is to be a 
 hard winter for the poor, if it is to<be scanty of labor, 
 and meagre in wages, the first duty of all persons is, 
 not to retrench unless they are obliged to retrench. 
 Charity is apt to be unwholesome and demoralizing. 
 Let us see that it is clad in its least offensive forms. 
 The rich man whose income is not seriousty affected, 
 or at least not reduced to the demands he makes upon 
 it, ought b}' no means to reduce his stjle of living. 
 If he make occasion, from the dulness of the times, to 
 dismiss three of his six servants, is he not adding to 
 the general distress by throwing three unemphjyed 
 men upon the community, already staggering under 
 the weight of its unemployed force ? If a woman who 
 would ordinarily have four new suits for the winter 
 content herself with two, is she not helping to with- 
 draw from circulation money which would help to 
 diminish friction? Women are proposing to make 
 12* 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 139 
 
 their own gowns, and do their own housework, not in 
 the least because they are hampered by the hard 
 times, not because they are not just as able to hire 
 labor as the}' ever were, but because of the example. 
 They say, conscientiously, that man}- persons will be 
 obliged to curtail, and that it will be all the easier for 
 these if they see others, possibly their superiors in 
 social station, doing the same thing. This is friendly 
 and kind; but is it not mistaken kindness? It is 
 foregoing a positive for an imaginary service. Two 
 women, let us say, live side b}' side. One is rich : 
 the other has a moderate fortune. The first is not 
 seriously affected by the state of the money market ; 
 that is, her income is less, but it is not sufficiently 
 lessened to touch her style of living. The second 
 woman finds herself obliged to cut off several expenses. 
 She dismisses her seamstress and her second nurse. 
 Now, if the first woman, to encourage and sustain 
 her, does the same, we have two nurses and two 
 seamstresses thrown upon the already overstocked 
 labor market. One ma}' be inevitable ; but the two are 
 not. Most likely these two have others dependent 
 upon them ; and so, for a mere sentimental and prob- 
 lematical object, the circle of want and distress is 
 enlarged. 
 
 I think, moreover, that we overestimate influence. 
 The thing which it is right and proper to do is gener- 
 
140 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 ally the thing which will have the best influence. It 
 is pleasant to reflect that one is not singled out by 
 fate for hard knocks. There is a certain satisfaction 
 in feeling that your poverty is not the result of your 
 own folly or error exclusively. But, however your 
 drudgery over broom or needle may be softened by 
 the thought that your bosom-friend is reduced to 
 the same drudgery, there is very little mitigation in 
 seeing your millionnaire friend pretending to be under 
 a similar necessit}\ Grown people ought not to be so 
 babyish ; and, if they are, it is much better to reason 
 them out of it than to give in to it. The people who 
 are to be first considered are not those to whom 
 retrenchment means a little more or less feeling, 
 pride, or work, but those to whom it means perplexit}^ 
 struggle, despair. To spare the sensitiveness of one 
 woman at the expense of another woman's dinner is 
 a very unreasonable way of setting a good example. 
 If circumstances enforce retrenchment, let people 
 retrench " without fear, and with a manly heart." 
 But let not those who are not obliged to do it diminish 
 aught of their expenditure. Especially let them, in 
 every possible way, purchase labor. No woman who 
 can afford to buy should herself do a stitch of sewing 
 or any household work. The cooking, the waiting, 
 the sewing, which she hires, may be the very life of 
 those to whom retrenchment means starvation. u It 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 141 
 
 will not be disastrous to me," said the manager of a 
 dressmaking establishment to a customer who was 
 proposing to sew her own dresses. " I am sure of 
 work enough for myself for the winter. But I employ 
 twent} T girls, not one of whom is independent, not one 
 of whom but has some one or more to be helped by 
 her earnings. As fast as sewing diminishes, I shall 
 dismiss these girls ; but what is to become of them ? ' ' 
 Others say that they must curtail in expenditure in 
 order to have money to bestow in charity. This, too, 
 is wise if it be wisely done. But can money be better 
 bestowed in charity than in the purchase of labor? A 
 great point is to arrange our charities so that they 
 shall neither wound nor lower the self-respect of the 
 recipients. There are manufacturers who are running 
 their mills at a loss, because of the large suffering 
 that would ensue from stoppage. This is not business : 
 it is charit} r . The loss is so much money given to the 
 poor. But it is given in the least offensive way. It 
 is given in connection with a regular life, with stated 
 work, with industrious habits, and, in many cases, to 
 the recipient, wears the aspect of wages ; so that he is 
 not demoralized thereby. Many a woman would not 
 consider twenty, or fifty, or five hundred dollars an 
 enormous sum to contribute for women and men who 
 were starving in her neighborhood. Let her, then, 
 distribute it, so far as possible, in the form of reward 
 
142 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 bestowed for service rendered, and thus prevent 
 starvation and suffering, heal the feud between rich 
 and poor, and avert social confusion and dismay. 
 
 And what is applicable to the rich may also be 
 applicable to those who are hovering on the border- 
 land of wealth. Such a winter as is foretold might 
 be doubly a " means of grace " to many women, — to 
 those, for instance, who are a little doubtful as to 
 whether it would be prudent to " keep help," or to 
 add another servant to the household staff, but who 
 would exceedingly enjoy and improve the leisure 
 which such assistance would permit. Let charity give 
 to them, and to some needy woman, the benefit of the 
 doubt, and let the overburdened housewife rest from 
 her labors, and refresh herself with social pleasures, 
 with outdoor exercise, with family diversions, with 
 reading and music, and all possible gratification of 
 taste, and enlargement of culture, solacing herself 
 continually with the added satisfaction of knowing, 
 that, in ministering thus to her own joy s, she is minis- 
 tering also to the more imperative wants, and- the 
 greater need, of a poorer and more helpless woman. 
 
 When Mr. Charles Kingsley wrote in the young 
 lady's album, — 
 
 " Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever," 
 
 it answered every purpose for poetry; but, in the 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 143 
 
 conduct of life, it seems almost as necessary to be 
 clever as it is to be good. 
 
 And poverty is not without its comical side, even in 
 our serious, self-governing country. 
 
 Any person who has travelled in Canada will have 
 vivid recollections of the lively little beggars who 
 swarm in all its streets and highways. Not only in 
 the cities, but along the country roads, some dragon's 
 cub's teeth seem to be springing up as merry alert 
 children, ever on the qui vive for un sou. Wherever 
 a penny is, there will the beggars gather together in 
 numbers so perplexing, that you feel the sole safety is 
 withdrawing into your shell, and relinquishing specie 
 payment altogether. 
 
 The only place in the United States where I have 
 found any thing like this is Washington ; and there it 
 is wholly unlike it. Independence, thank Heaven ! is 
 the characteristic of our countrymen. The tow- 
 headed, freckled-faced, bare-footed children of a New- 
 England village would no sooner think of asking 
 money from the passing traveller than would the 
 president and his cabinet ; and, if you wish to give a 
 cast-off garment to a soldier's widow, you must ap- 
 proach her with as many moral salaams as if she were 
 the cadi himself. Long and long and long may it be, 
 or ever we shall lose our honorable pride in this re- 
 gard! 
 
144 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 But we have changed all that in Washington. 
 Whether it be from some abnormal element in the social 
 atmosphere, Washington seems to have more than its 
 due share of the mendicancy of the country. It is true 
 that you will occasionally find a mature beggar at some 
 Northern street-crossing (I never did, though I have 
 heard of them) ; but they are generally foreigners : 
 and occasionally a demure boy, with a world too much 
 pathos in his melancholy voice, will implore you to 
 give him a few cents to buy a loaf of bread for his 
 sick mother, or a pair of shoes to enable him to appear 
 at the Sunday school ; (the precocious little Irypocrite !) 
 but these are sporadic cases, and hardly more than 
 emphasize the general rule of American self-respect. 
 It is in Washington alone that our native but else- 
 where latent talent for direct beggary has found the 
 conditions of development ; and the result is such as a 
 patriotic American must ever view with feelings of 
 pride. It may, at first sight, seem a rather extreme 
 case of extracting sunshine from cucumbers ; but 
 herein is genius. To be first in war, first in peace, 
 and the rest, is easy enough ; but to be first in begging 
 requires a rare combination of qualities : and nowhere 
 does the ingenuity, the high spirit, the creative power, 
 the fertility of resources characteristic of our country- 
 men, show more clearly than in the manner in which 
 they have lifted beggary out of the gutters of Wash- 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 145 
 
 ington, and set it among the high and fine arts. 
 Some in rags, and some in tags? Not a bit of it! 
 The rags and tags, the bandaged arms and blinded 
 e} T es, the shipwrecked sailors, and all the hackneyed 
 machine^ of the professional beggar, are haughtily 
 and completely abandoned. They may well enough 
 serve the purposes of the effete despotisms of Europe ; 
 but America plants herself on the rights of man. 
 Rags for the peasant, tags for the serf, but, for the 
 free American citizen, black coat and clean dickey 
 forever ! And, if your American woman takes to beg- 
 ging, be sure not one hair of her chignon shall fail, 
 nor shall her overskirt miss a single puff, or the regu- 
 lation ruffle be wanting from her walking-suit, with 
 gloves and parasol to match. 
 
 Your door-bell rings before breakfast ; and your ser- 
 vant brings j t ou the card of Rev. Dr. Adams. You 
 are hardly in visiting-humor before breakfast ; but, if 
 it is the gentle and scholarly pastor of Portsmouth, 
 you would not for the world miss seeing him. And 
 perhaps it may be Rev. Dr. Adams of Madison 
 Square : who knows ? You give the last touch to your 
 crimps, and a slight adjusting shake to your flounces, 
 and go down with your best face. A„ single glance 
 shows you that it is not the Portsmouth clergyman ; 
 and, though there is a white cravat and a black coat, 
 an indefinable something convinces you that it is not 
 Dr. Adams of Madison Square. 
 
146 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Dr. Adams rises to meet you, and bows with dignity. 
 You return his bow with dubiety. 
 
 " Mrs. Smith? " inquires the doctor blandly. 
 
 You assent, stiffening slowly each instant. 
 
 " I have called," pursues the doctor, lt in behalf of 
 a brother-clerg3 T man who has been obliged to retire 
 from the pulpit on account of ill health, and who is 
 thus left without resources. He is a very respectable 
 man : I have known him for a long tine, and can vouch 
 for his character." 
 
 "The River Rhine, as is well known, 
 Washes the city of Cologne ; 
 But, oh, ye gods! what power divine 
 Can ever cleanse the River Rhine?" 
 
 " He is in great need of help ; and any assistance 
 you may be able to render him " — But here you take 
 up the parable, like any heathen man and publican ; 
 and Dr. Adams departs, unconsoled for his brother- 
 clergyman. 
 
 Mrs. Karl begs the favor of a few moments with 
 Mrs. Smith. It is little to grant to a woman and a 
 sister, and you go down. Mrs. Karl is a woman who 
 has seen better days. She owned, in New York, a 
 farm worth twelve thousand dollars. War, sickness, 
 and misfortune came : they lost their property, farm 
 and all. She is very desirous of getting it back. To 
 do so, she proposes to set up a bakery. This bakery 
 13 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 147 
 
 once established, she is confident she can recover her 
 farm in a year. The bakery building is already taken ; 
 but as it was formerly a barrack, or hospital, or some- 
 thing of the sort, her claim to it can be secured only 
 b} r congressional action : of course, this involves 
 delay. Meanwhile, could she borrow of you money 
 enough to bu}>- a load of coal ? She will pay you in 
 baking, when her title-deed is secured, and her barrack 
 made over into a bakery. She will send it to you in 
 bread or cake, as you may desire. She has a very ac- 
 complished daughter, and has no doubt of her success. 
 You are less sanguine ; but is it not an heroic plan ? 
 You give her five dollars. Three months pass, and the 
 barrack still remains unmolested ; nor have you any 
 proof of the spelling-book assertion, that 
 
 "Bakers bake bread and cake." 
 
 An English lady has called to see Mrs. Smith. The 
 English lady is short and stout and ruddy, in a rusty 
 black suit, with double rows of ruffles, with a spotted 
 black veil parted here and there in the meshes. She 
 brings herself to your recollection as a woman who 
 has formerly applied to you for sewing. She then 
 brought you a note of recommendation from the am- 
 bassadress of her British Majesty, who had often 
 employed her. The ambassadress has now left town, 
 and can give her no more assistance. Her daughter is 
 
148 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 apprentice to a hairdresser. Her time will be out in 
 two weeks ; and then she will begin to receive wages. 
 Meanwhile, would you be willing to have the daughter 
 come to 3^our house every day to lunch, at precisely 
 eleven o'clock ? She does not wish } t ou to lay yourself 
 out on the lunch : any thing will do. She is particular 
 only that it shall be at precisely eleven o'clock. A 
 very kind gentleman in one of the departments has 
 hitherto given her her meals ; but he has now gone 
 into the country : hence this requisition upon you. 
 
 You compromise by giving her two dollars, assuring 
 her that that will provide her daughter with lunch for 
 a week. And, while I am writing these words, the 
 Englishwoman has returned, after a month's absence, 
 and asks for a little money, just to keep her over Sun- 
 day. I cannot, for the life of me, see why she should 
 want to be kept over Sunday more than any other day. 
 If 3 r ou are to starve on Monday, you may as well 
 starve on Saturday, and be done with it. But my 
 lady looks the farthest in the world from starving : 
 even hunger can never have come unpleasantly near 
 that ruddy face and rotund form. " Fee-faw-fum ! I 
 smell the beer of an Englishman." I have even grave 
 suspicions of gin. But what can you do ? The voice 
 is tremulous. Compromise, alwa}-s compromise. You 
 do neither one thing nor another. Fifty cents is 
 neither here nor there ; and then she asks you if you 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 149 
 
 will not use your influence to get her a place in the 
 treasury. If she could have a place in the treasury, 
 it would yield enough to supply all her needs. As it 
 is, all their mone}' goes to pay the rent. 
 
 It is hardly hypocrisy to say you will mention it, as 
 you would probably have far more difficulty in deceiv- 
 ing her than she would have in deceiving you ; and, 
 before the door has closed upon her retreating alpaca, 
 a little girl trips up the steps, and informs you cheer- 
 fully that the baby is very sick, and cannot live, and, 
 "if it does die," ma has not money enough to buy a 
 coffin. You invest ten cents in that hypothetical 
 coffin, with an alacrity which does no honor to your 
 heart, and which will be very far from appearing on 
 the credit side when your account is made up. 
 
 Mrs. Henderson calls before breakfast to see Gen. 
 Smith. Gen. Smith, scenting the battle afar off, 
 cowardly but piteously implores Mrs. Smith to go to 
 the front. What exigency is too great for woman's 
 devotion? Mrs. Smith goes — and is covered with con- 
 fusion. Mrs. Henderson a beggar, with gay bonnet 
 and spruce walking-suit? Not she! What is this? 
 Two five-dollar bills held out to you! the genial 
 McCulloch-face shining up at you from its home of 
 dingy green as sweetly as if no war nor battle sound 
 had ever been heard the world around. You put your 
 hand to your head, almost like Mr. Twemlow, fearing a 
 
 13* 
 
150 SER310NS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 softening of the brain. But Mrs. Henderson explains 
 that this is money which Gen. Smith was so good as to 
 lend her some time ago. She has called to pay it be- 
 fore ; but the general was out. She has tried again 
 and again to find him at the Capitol, but failed. You 
 take the money with unresisting, and even with un- 
 thinking, innocence ; but she does not go. She lin- 
 gers, hesitates, tells you they are still very poor. She 
 has just received a letter from her sister in Virginia, to 
 whom she had written, to know if it were worth while 
 to come home. Her sister told her by no means to 
 come ; that there was nothing for her to do, and their 
 poverty was extreme. Her sister is a girl of education 
 and accomplishments. She should like to read you 
 the letter, that you may see in what condition they 
 are : whereupon she unfolds the letter, and stands in 
 the window to read it ; you, by the way, standing, all 
 the while, to redeem what time you may. Father, it 
 seems, has borrowed twenty-five dollars from Cousin 
 Tom; and, " just think of it ! " comments Mrs. Hen- 
 derson, "of the leetle, leetle money that poor girl has 
 been able to earn, he has borrowed five dollars, and 
 even of me five ! " and she resumes her letter with its 
 tale of woe, till she comes to " we don't even have" — 
 and there she stops short, sajdng, it just relates to the 
 dishes on the table which they do without : she will 
 not read that. Could the force of genius farther go ? 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 151 
 
 She has too much delicacy to enter into those minute 
 details, yet manages to convey to you the pith of the 
 whole catalogue. You express your regret ; and the 
 thought dawns upon you, that, perhaps, you ought not 
 to keep the monej'. How can you take ten dollars from 
 a table where they don't even have? — The more you 
 think of it, the tighter 3-ou clutch the bills. Why 
 should she read such a letter to you, a perfect stran- 
 ger? "Why did she bring the monej 7 , if not to pay the 
 debt? Wretch that you are, thus to take the pound 
 of flesh so scrupulously proffered ! But you do not let 
 go the bills ; and you do let Mrs. Henderson go. You 
 report proceedings to the mone}- -lender. Oh, yes ! he 
 remembers Mrs. Henderson. She came to him, repre- 
 senting herself a Virginia woman, who had somehow 
 got a place in the treasury. There she proclaimed her 
 "secesh" views with a violence which lost her the 
 situation ; but she appealed to Northern Republicans, 
 in season and out of season, till she was restored. 
 From the same gentlemen she had also borrowed 
 various sums of money ; and to one of them, a sena- 
 tor, she had afterwards gone, saying that she had a 
 great desire to attend Mrs. Secretary's reception, and 
 begged him to escort her. Unhappy Mrs. Henderson ! 
 Ill-timed honesty ! Had Gen. Smith obeyed her sum- 
 mons, she would doubtless have retained her little bills 
 with the pleasant McCulloch face ; but a woman has 
 
152 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 no sentiment about a woman, and takes her dues as 
 coldly as the frosty Caucasus. Let a woman pray 
 Temryson's prayer, "O God! for a man," if she de- 
 signs to do any thing in the way of wool-pulling. 
 
 Mrs. Forrest sits in the hall, patiently waiting oppor- 
 tunity to see you. She is dressed in a perfectly plain 
 mourning calico, and black, broad-brimmed straw hat, 
 trimmed with a single ribbon. Her voice is low, her 
 manner quiet, her words well chosen. She was the 
 daughter of a Maryland farmer, and was reared with- 
 out affluence, but in entire comfort. Her husband is 
 an invalid, bed-ridden. She has five children. They 
 have had absolutely nothing to eat since three o'clock 
 the day before. They live out in the country, — a 
 pleasant evening drive after dinner, but a weary, weary 
 wa}^ for this poor woman to drag herself in on a sunny 
 "Washington morning. Yet again and again has she 
 made the toilsome tramp in search of something to do. 
 She is willing to sew, she will take service, she will 
 work by the day, — any thing that will bring food for 
 the helpless family. She has worked one day at Mrs. 
 Evans's, assisting the ordinary household staff through 
 an entertainment. For her day's work, she received 
 fifty cents. 
 
 " But you should have asked a dollar. That is the 
 usual price for a day's work of that sort." 
 
 "I did ask it; but they refused to pay it. They 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 153 
 
 said fifty cents was all it is worth; and," she added 
 quaintly, " the spunk has all gone out of me." 
 
 Back and forth, from one department to another, 
 had the poor woman sought emplo}^ment. She had 
 thought herself very near getting the washing of the 
 towels at the post-office ; but it had been given to 
 another person. She had just heard of a woman who 
 had got a place in the treasury, and had been told 
 that she might, perhaps, secure one, if she could get a 
 letter of recommendation from some influential person. 
 What could she do in the treasury? Any thing but 
 write. She could be a messenger, a porter, — any 
 thing that does not require education. You give her a 
 little money (which, no doubt, perplexes her with the 
 necessity of spending it twenty ways at once) and, 
 perhaps, a very little hope, which is, after all, more 
 than you feel yourself; for what is her waning 
 strength among so many wants? 
 
 Enter Mrs. Bainbridge, representative, in her own 
 person, of the oldest and most aristocratic family in 
 the Carolinas, and, in her husband's person, of the next 
 best. Thus Mrs. Bainbridge. A gentleman told her 
 that Gen. Smith used to be in the Carolinas, and rec- 
 ommended her to come to him. Her husband died in 
 the Union army, and she is entitled to a pension ; but 
 she has never received it, and, in fact, does not know 
 how to go to work to get it. She was well educated ; 
 
154 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 but her accomplishments have become rusty through 
 disuse. She had, however, brushed up her music, and 
 earned a little money by giving lessons. Her son ob- 
 tained a place in the folding department, where he 
 worked by the piece ; and, as he was ver}- ambitious, 
 had earned sometimes as much as thirty dollars a 
 month. Indeed, she has kept him at it so close, that 
 he scarcely knows how to read and write. " You 
 would be surprised, Mrs. Smith, to know how little we 
 can live on. Two sandwiches a day from the market 
 is very often all we have." But her boy's arm, owing 
 to the intensity of his toil, has become paralyzed ; 
 and he is completety disabled. She has now the offer 
 of a little school at Richmond, which she would take 
 at once if she could but get money to pay her fare. 
 She has been to the railroad authorities to beg them 
 to take her free. They refused, but would take her at 
 half-rate. That would be seven dollars and a half. 
 She has pawned all her clothes, except what she wore. 
 Mrs. Montgomeiy, who used to know her, had given 
 her a fan and parasol, saying, " Mrs. Bainbridge, } t ou 
 are so reduced, that }*ou must keep up your spirits 
 and self:respect by being well dressed, or you will go 
 down entirely." 
 
 Very much shaken in mind, you ask her why she 
 does not apply to the gentlemen from her own section, 
 rather than to the representatives of the frozen North. 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 155 
 
 She says they are Democrats, and would not do a single 
 thing for her. There is Mr. Lang, a gentleman from 
 her own town ; but it would be no use at all to go to 
 him, because he is a Democrat. You think better of 
 the Democrats than that, Red Republican though you 
 be. You do not believe the man lives, North or 
 South, who would refuse to help a suffering woman 
 because of the political creed of her dead husband. 
 But it is a pitiful case on the face of it. If it should 
 be true ! You go scrambling around in your mind to 
 catch an impartial view of the situation. She is a 
 Randolph, let us say, by birth, and a Bainbridge by 
 marriage. Why does she not appeal to the extant 
 Randolphs and Bainbridges, if they belong to her, 
 instead of exposing the family poverty? But you 
 have heard that the Randolphs and Bainbridges have a 
 large and impecunious family connection ; and this 
 may be one defective link in the rusty chain. Wiry did 
 the unnatural mother sacrifice her son's arm and edu- 
 cation so ruthlessly? A Yankee mother would sooner 
 have lost her own life. And why did they send to 
 market for sandwiches ? It would have been cheaper 
 to make their own bread. But, bless me ! if a woman 
 is faint and hungry, there is an end of it. There is no 
 use in arguing that it is her own fault. " The poor ye 
 have always with you/' so long as the fools are three 
 out of foui*, in every person's acquaintance, according 
 
156 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 to Lady Mary. Yet, if she should be an impostor, 
 and this merely a way of getting a living ! You re- 
 member that your friend and neighbor kept the tally 
 of all the beggars for a month, taking the name and 
 address of every one, and sending her son, or a trusty 
 servant, to investigate eaeh case. Of thirty appli- 
 cants, only one proved to be honest. The god of this 
 world whispers over your left shoulder, and you give 
 five dollars, telling the distressed relic of the first and 
 second families that no doubt the railroad company 
 will carry her for five dollars. All day you are 
 haunted, at intervals, by an uncomfortable feeling that 
 you may have been a grudging steward of the Lord's 
 estate ; held in suspense by an almost equally uncom- 
 fortable suspicion, that you will be laughed at by the 
 lord of the earthly manor for having again been duped 
 by a gay deceiver. So far as peace of mind is 
 secured, your five dollars is as poor a venture as was 
 the bow which Silas Wegg invested in Mr. Boffin. 
 
 Mrs. Nott's card comes up to }^ou perfectly comme il 
 faut. Long experience has made you suspicious of 
 strange names ; but this may be a visitor proper. You 
 descend to find Mrs. Nott a quiet, lad3'like-looking 
 person, as non-committal as her card. To beg, or not 
 to beg, is a question which must be left to answer 
 itself. 
 
 " Have I the pleasure of knowing 3 r ou, Mrs. Nott?" 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 157 
 
 " I have never seen 3-011 before, madam ; but I have 
 called in behalf of a lady of my acquaintance who is 
 very need} T , and wants assistance." 
 
 " What is the name of the lady? " 
 
 "Oh! you would not ask me to give her name, if 
 3-0U knew her : it would hurt her feelings so much ! " 
 
 " Surely you cannot expect me to give blindfold." 
 
 " Oh ! I do not expect a great deal from any one 
 place ; but twenty-five cents here, and fifty cents there, 
 make a great deal in course of the day." 
 
 ' ' Do you find it agreeable to go about from house to 
 house asking alms ? ' ' 
 
 " On the contrary, it is the most disagreeable work 
 I ever did. I do not mind being refused ; but some 
 of the ladies refuse so harshly ! If they would only 
 refuse me kindly, I would not feel so badlj*." 
 
 You mentally thank the Jew for teaching you that 
 word, and refuse her with the very honey and cream 
 of kindness. 
 
 You are sitting, like Father Abraham, in your tent- 
 door, anglice bay-window, in the cool of the da}', 
 listening to the wandering minstrels. No beggars 
 they, no vulgar organ-grinders, with grinning monkey, 
 hardly less hideous than themselves, but an Italian 
 troupe, olive-skinned, dark-eyed, pleasant-voiced, 
 decently-dressed, — a young man with a harp, a younger 
 man and young girl with violins, who play " Norma " 
 14 
 
158 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and bid you good-evening; or go quickly away 
 without playing at all, if you do not appear at 
 the window at the touch of the first few notes. 
 The} T are not mendicants, but ministers to your 
 pleasure, harbingers of the millennium, honest earners 
 of honest money. The mendicants are the two 
 able-bodied young men coming up the door-steps, 
 who, seeing you convenient, tell their moving tale 
 without further parley. The thunderbolts of fate have 
 smitten them sore. One has lost his wife, and one his 
 betrothed, — " his only friend, to whom he was to have 
 been married." Sisters and brothers followed in 
 rapid succession. " Give me some money for them," 
 sa} T s the general. 
 
 " I won't," says the colonel in flat insubordination. 
 
 " Fifty cents? " pleads the general. " Haven't you 
 an}' heart? " 
 
 " I haven't fifty cents in it." 
 
 " A quarter, then. Lend me a quarter." 
 
 " I won't : you will never pay it." 
 
 And the hapless afflicted, seeing the case going 
 against them, proceed ruthlessly to slay father and 
 mother, till they stand alone in the world, a pair of 
 helpless orphans. 
 
 "There!" sslys the general, "now they've killed 
 them all off. Give them ten cents, colonel, and let 
 them go. Don't be stingy." 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 159 
 
 "No," says the colonel. "Now I won't give them 
 any thing," as if he had meant to settle a handsome 
 pension on each ; and the bereaved young men 
 march away, unfriended, melancholy, slow. 
 
 A buxom Irishwoman sends up an earnest appeal 
 from the kitchen for permission to see you a few 
 minutes. She has been unable to keep the wolf from 
 the door, except by pawning her clothes. She shows 
 3^ou the pawn-tickets. She has two dresses and a 
 shawl which she is exceedingly desirous to redeem from 
 the gentlemen of the three balls ; and she solicits you 
 to advance — mind, I say, to advance, not to bestow, 
 — eight dollars for the purpose. Remuneration is to 
 come to you in the shape of spring chickens for your 
 table, if Providence smiles upon her poultry-yard. 
 Your servants know nothing about the woman. No 
 one knows any thing about her ; but the general, who 
 hears of her story, thinks it is better to be on the safe 
 side, and give her the eight dollars. Observe the 
 superior sagacity of the superior sex. Women give 
 hesitatingly, fearing imposture on the one side, and 
 ridicule on the other. Man, the tyrant, having nobody 
 to fear, gives with a high hand, assumes imposture in 
 the first place, bestows his alms in spite of it, and 
 defies fate. A young man accosts the general at the 
 Capitol, tells him he is from his own State and cuy, 
 and gives his name. He has been on duty at Fortress 
 
160 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Monroe ; has received news that his mother in Ohio is 
 very ill ; and has obtained leave to visit her. Coming 
 up the Potomac on a steamer, his money is stolen ; and 
 he finds himself in Washington, penniless, unable to go 
 forward or backward. Thus appealed to, what can the 
 general do, but lend him thirty dollars for his sick 
 mother's sake, "hoping for nothing again," — a hope, 
 it is needless to add, which does not fail of fruition. 
 
 To the same general comes another } T oung man, 
 representing himself to be the brother of a friend of 
 his in New York. He, too, in Washington, has fallen 
 among thieves at the hotel, who have stripped him of 
 his money, and reduced him to the necessity of beg- 
 ging for a loan of twenty dollars, for a week at the 
 longest. And the general looks him in the eye, and 
 knows he shall never see his twenty dollars again, and 
 gives it to him ; and is careful to buy his own horse- 
 car-tickets by the package, to save a cent or two a 
 year. So complicate, so wonderful, is man ! 
 
 But one of these adventurous young knights was 
 foiled, though "more by hit than any good wit." A 
 gentleman, a member of congress, served on a com- 
 mittee, several years ago, with another gentleman, 
 who used frequently to refer certain questions to him, 
 saying, half jocularly, that he was the only business- 
 man in the house. Not long ago, a young gentleman, of 
 pleasing person and address, called upon him, stating 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 161 
 
 that he was the son of his former congressional friend ; 
 that he was returning from a trip to the White Moun- 
 tains, in company with his two sisters ; that on the 
 road his purse had been stolen, and that they were now 
 at their hotel in a very embarrassing position. He 
 knew no one in the city to whom he could apply ; but he 
 remembered this gentleman's name as that of a friend 
 of his father's, of whom he had often heard his father 
 speak as the only business-man in the house. He 
 had, therefore, ventured to call upon him, and begged 
 to know if he would furnish him with a hundred 
 dollars, on receipt of a telegram from his father saying 
 that it was all right. The gentleman, very much pre- 
 possessed in the young man's favor by the combined 
 frankness and dignity of his demeanor, and perfectly 
 recollecting the phrase which his father had been in the 
 habit of using, hastened to assure him of his readiness 
 to assist him in every way ; and was about to add that 
 he would give him the money on the spot without 
 waiting for the telegram, but thought better of it, and 
 asked him, instead, whether he was at all familiar with 
 the city. The young man replied that he was not, 
 never having been in it till that morning. 
 
 "Then," said the gentleman, "as my carriage is 
 coming immediately, I will telegraph to your father 
 myself, and save you the trouble ; and the money shall 
 be ready for you when you call." 
 
 14* 
 
162 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 The young man thanked him, and took courteous 
 leave. The telegraph brought, from the gentleman 
 appealed to, the reply, that he had no grown-up son ; 
 that all his children were small, and all were at home 
 with him. 
 
 The young gentleman never returned for his hundred 
 dollars. 
 
 There is another class, a sort of cross between 
 beggars and work-people, — women who ask to do 
 washing for you, and, when they have spoiled your 
 laces and muslins, will take no pay for it ; but if you 
 will get their bo}^ a place in the department ! — meriy, 
 hearty women, who will accept any thing, and inveigle 
 for more before } r our very eyes. 
 
 " You know that coat 3^011 gave me," says one of 
 these jolly beggars. " I ripped the tails off, and made 
 a jacket for my man. People say, ' Where did you 
 get this nice coat ; ' and I say, ' Why, the Hon. Judge 
 Smith gave it to me.' (The Hon. Judge Smith never 
 having been inside a court-room in his life.) ' Look 
 at this cloth,' I say to 'em. ' See how fine it is ! 
 You wouldn't catch the Hon. Judge Smith wearing 
 any thing but fine cloth.' " 
 
 To such adroit compliments can you refuse an old 
 waistcoat, even if the Hon. Judge Smith must wear 
 his coat close buttoned to the chin in consequence ? 
 
 Sometimes they sue for sewing. They always come 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 163 
 
 with verbal recommendations from Mrs. Admiral This, 
 or Mrs. Secretary That, or Mrs. Minister Tother. The 
 plain Mrs. Jones, Brown, and Robinson receive scant 
 courtesy from these dames of the needle. In an 
 experimental, or a quixotic, or a philanthropic mood, 
 3 r ou suddenly take one of them at her word, and intro- 
 duce her to 3'our happy home. She has just been two 
 months at Mrs. Senator Irving' s, can cut and make 
 all sorts of children's clothes, can run a machine, and 
 will rent one for you at five dollars a month, and just 
 finish your whole season's sewing at one smart swoop. 
 Her buoyanc} r and confidence are contagious ; and you 
 meditate a general clearance of the sewing-room. 
 Alas ! the very first overskirt gives signs of woe. The 
 waist is a total wreck. Puffs swell awry ; gaps yawn 
 tremendous ; seams close untimely. Material for two 
 is swallowed up by one, and that a failure. Still she 
 cuts and sews, and sews and cuts, like one possessed 
 with an evil spirit. The sewing-machine becomes a 
 hungry monster, gobbling up dry-goods with insatiate 
 maw. Your one object is to get this Witch of Endor 
 out of the house before you are quite stripped of your 
 possessions. At the end of three da}^s, by force of 
 hard money and soft words, Sindbad frees himself from 
 his old man ; and you stand in j T our sewing-room, 
 which looks as if a whirlwind had swept through it, 
 feeling that you would gladly pay the money over 
 
164 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 again, if you could but be put back to the place whence 
 3011 started, } T et thankful that any thing has escaped 
 from the general wreck. 
 
 Next day there comes in a bill of fifty-five dollars 
 for a sewing-machine. 
 
 Separate from all these is another class, — the real 
 poor, the poverty-stricken, maimed, halt, and blind, 
 deformed children, squalid children, ragged be}*ond 
 the verge of decency, dirty, famished, pitiable, — 
 14 creation's blot, creation's blank." You cannot help 
 them. You can only give to them as the}^ come, from 
 day to day, tiding them over from one wretched hour 
 to another. Whence they come, or whither they go, 
 you cannot divine. Must the}' not burrow in the 
 ground like moles? Out of their ranks, I fancy, come 
 the newsboys, who seem to be a more miserable, filthy, 
 and forlorn set of bo} T s than are ever seen elsewhere. 
 Their pinched old faces, apparently, lack the humor 
 that enlivens the Northern newsboys ; and any thing 
 more hideous is seldom heard than the laugh which 
 accompanies the Washington newsboys' proffer of a 
 paper. 
 
 Ingenuit} 7 , Irypocrisy, deception, one does not look 
 for in these unhappy creatures ; yet I would fain hope 
 the}' are less unhappy than they seem. Painful to the 
 eye, hopeless to the heart, they, and such as they, are 
 the insoluble problem of the world. Making every 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 165 
 
 possible allowance for that power of becoming used to 
 tilings, which, according to Plato, is a gift of the gods, 
 and which needs must soften their hard lot, rendering 
 less sharply bitter what nothing can make sweet, it 
 still remains, that unconsciousness of evil is the last, 
 worst result of evil. And, for a life so harsh, nothing 
 can atone, — nothing in this world ; but, in some of 
 the pleasant stars that go shiniug through the sky, 
 may not the Father of all have prepared a clean and 
 wholesome place for these neglected little ones? — 
 some pure and perfect world, where light and love 
 may find them ; where all the defilement of earth shall 
 be cleansed from them, and all the abasement of earth 
 shall vanish away ; where, in the ministrations of 
 unwearying care, and the unfolding of repressed ten- 
 dencies, all memory of degradation shall fade into a 
 dim far-off dream, whose only power shall be to lend 
 an ever-keener joy to the happiness of their ever- 
 brightening home ? 
 
 But I do not set the Rev. Dr. Adams on that star ; 
 at least, not yet. Late may he return to those skies, 
 and never until he has cast off his black coat, and torn 
 off his white choker, and turned into a retired clergy- 
 man, whose sands of life shall henceforth run out 
 honestly. For him no shining star, but a lonely 
 journey on the melancholy moon, and on its dark side 
 too ; for all home, a crag in that worn-out world, a 
 
166 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 sharp coal-peak on that burnt-up cinder, companioned 
 only by the ghosts of dead generations, where he may 
 bemoan himself for the brother-clerg}'man, who lived 
 only in his own wicked heart ; since, doubtless, nothing 
 short of the moon will bring this obdurate and deco- 
 rous sinner to repentance. 
 
KELIGIOUS BEGGAEY. 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 
 
 HERE is no such thing as religious beggary. 
 All beggarj" is irreligious. A "converted 
 Jew" walks through the country village, 
 asking the hard-working farmers to help him prosecute 
 his studies, preparatory to going back to Jerusalem, 
 and converting his brethren. He presents on a paper 
 the names of several neighboring clergymen, by way 
 of indorsement, some one of whom has also given him 
 a list of the persons upon whom it will be worth his 
 while to call. I survey him, — an able-bodied young 
 man, lounging across the country in a decent coat, 
 daring to ask alms of men who toil from sunrise to 
 sunset in shirt-sleeves, — a strong man, with muscles 
 in his arms, daring to ask bounty of women ; and I 
 think the Jews might as well stay unconverted. A self- 
 supporting Jew is better than a beggarly Christian. 
 Why will clergymen countenance such riff-raff ? Why 
 will they bring conversion into contempt by making it 
 a vagabond's profession? What is it that causes 
 clerical and ecclesiastical mendicancy to be honorable, 
 
 15 169 
 
170 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 while social and secular mendicancy is disgraceful? 
 Can beggar}* be baptized into the name of Christ? 
 Does the abnegation of self mean the abnegation of 
 self-respect ? 
 
 A little while ago, while walking home from church 
 on Sunday, we were assailed by a decently dressed 
 beggar-boy, asking money to send the gospel to the 
 heathen. One might have supposed it was an ingen- 
 ious species of fraud, adapted to church-goers : but 
 the boy declared that he was no impostor, that his 
 Sunday-school teacher had just given him his commis- 
 sion ; and he produced a paper, showing that he had 
 actually been sent out into the street as a common 
 beggar, on the sabbath-da}', with some trumped-up 
 story about the heathen. This country, not long ago, 
 entertained a company of heathen for several weeks ; 
 and it is safe to hazard the assertion that not one of 
 them was guilty of a misdemeanor surpassing this. 
 Such Sunday-school teachers are corrupters of the 
 young : such Sunday-schools are nurseries of vice. 
 They tend to all manner of craft and cunning. Let 
 Sunday-school teachers go and stand themselves, hat 
 in hand, at the corners of the streets, if they like ; let 
 them bandage their arms, or blind their eyes, and 
 adopt a dog and a string as additional persuasives to 
 early piety ; or perhaps a hand-organ and a monkey 
 might bring more money into the treasury of the Lord 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 171 
 
 from the pockets of church-goers : but let them do 
 this beggar's work themselves, and not tamper with 
 the children. The worst count in the indictment 
 against Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, was, not that he 
 sinned himself, but that he made Israel to sin. Ec- 
 clesiastical Fagins may even pick pockets with what 
 dexterity the service of the sanctuary seems to them 
 to require ; but we do not care to have even our 
 work' us boys turned into Artful Dodgers. 
 
 Speaking of pickpockets, once there was a church 
 that wanted a new bell. If a cotton-factory were in a 
 similar predicament, it would take its own money, and 
 buy a bell, or go without. But we change all that 
 when we experience a. " change of heart." Accord- 
 ingly, this church took the more excellent and ecclesi- 
 astical wa} r , of going around with a subscription-paper 
 among the " outs " and the "ins," Christian or infidel 
 (all is fish in which can be found a piece of money) ; 
 and, having mulcted the community in a goocuy sum, 
 this enterprising church changed its mind, broke out 
 into a local honest}-, appropriated the money to pa}- 
 its debts, and, after a while, started on another tour of 
 bell- wringing. 
 
 " Half -pence and farthings 
 Say the bells of St. Martin's," 
 
 calling to the worship of Mammon. 
 
172 SERMONS TO TIIE CLERGY. 
 
 " Leave is light," thought another church which 
 applied to Demetrius, the silversmith, for his aid in 
 replacing their old communion-service with a new one, 
 although Demetrius confessed another creed. Deme- 
 trius being a generous man, with the instincts of a 
 gentleman, and as yet unhardened hy ecclesiastical 
 practices, asked how much money was required, and, 
 to prevent the necessity of further begging, offered to 
 furnish a new service, and pay all the cost, bejond 
 what the proposed sale of the old one should bring, 
 out of his own pocket. In due time the work was 
 done, at an outlay considerably larger than the origi- 
 nal estimate ; and the gift was received by the church 
 with the grateful and pleasant suggestion, that, if 
 Demetrius chose to bear the whole cost, the money 
 arising from the sale of the former plate should be 
 devoted to replenishing the Sunday-school library. In 
 the world, this would be called greed and grossness ; 
 but, in the Church, it is only that " the zeal of thine 
 house hath eaten me up," — hath, at least, eaten out of 
 me the unregenerate virtues of delicac}', modesty, and 
 propriety, the sense of Christian and even of Pagan 
 courtesy, and made me, instead of a self-respecting, 
 high-minded Christian gentleman, a bold and shameless 
 beggar. 
 
 Motive does not affect such deeds. Bad manners in 
 the world do not become good manners by ' i joining 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 173 
 
 the church." Brass in the street is not gold in the 
 pews. The whine of a beggar is not music, because 
 played on a Jew^'s-harp. You might just as well ask 
 3'our neighbors to put a piazza on your dwelling, as 
 neighboring churches to put a bell on your meeting- 
 house. I have my own heathen constituency : it is an 
 impertinence to ask me to look after yours. We 
 inveigh, justly enough, against political corruption. 
 We do not believe that all the money which is raised 
 for elections goes to circulate documents, or transport 
 voters, but that many a stream deviates into dishon- 
 est pockets. The raising and the managing of church 
 funds may not be open to the same objections ; but, 
 considering the higher plane of Church than State, 
 they are equally unsatisfactor}'. We have departed as 
 far from piety as politics from honest}" ; and it is not 
 unquestionable that we have always saved honesty 
 intact. " Let not thy left hand know what thy right 
 hand doeth," sa} T s Christ ; and we send a subscription- 
 paper around the parish, with every man's gift against 
 his name ; the big figures at the top, to be seen of all, 
 the little ones following suit in a pell-mell of publicity. 
 " Whosoever is of a willing heart, let him bring it, an 
 offering of the Lord,'* was the divine way of building 
 churches. And " they came, every one whose heart 
 stirred him up, and every one whom his spirit made 
 willing." We do not trust a man's heart to stir him 
 
 15* 
 
174 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 up, nor his spirit to make kirn willing. If there is a 
 church to be built or rebuilt, or a debt to be paid, 
 we engineer it, from the first stage of reluctance to 
 the last announcement of success. We have private 
 conferences, and well-selected committees, and public 
 meetings, minutely prepared for well-manufactured, 
 spontaneous enthusiasm. It is edifying to read in the 
 religious newspapers, that the Church of Sardis has, by 
 a freewill and united offering, removed the heavy debt 
 under which it had been suffering since the erection of 
 its new house ; so niauy members coming forward with 
 five thousand dollars, so many with three thousand, so 
 man}- with one thousand, cheering the heart of their 
 pastor, and reviving the faith of the saints. But it is 
 not edifying alwa}'s to hear the remarks the saints 
 make at home, touching the manipulations and manoeu- 
 vres by which they have been forced to volunteer. If 
 the freewill offering of the Israelites were like many 
 of ours, Bezaleel, the son of Uri, and Aholiab, the 
 son of Ahisamach, must have heard some pretty plain 
 talk. 
 
 In the Protestant Church we have abolished priest- 
 hood ; but mendicanc}', prevented from concentrating 
 itself in a single order, has become diffused through 
 all orders. It is not strange that the lay mind becomes 
 confused when clerical views are vague. " If golde 
 ruste, what shulde iren do?" The laborer, whether 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 175 
 
 clergyman or farmer, is worthy of his hire ; but the 
 clergyman and the farmer stand on entirely different 
 grounds. The farmer sells a bushel of potatoes, a ton 
 of hay, and receives the price agreed on ; and that is 
 the end of the matter. The clerg}Tnan receives his 
 stipulated one, two, five, thousand dollars a year, but 
 is never let alone. Somebody, generally a woman, is 
 evermore perambulating the parish, gathering dimes 
 and dollars to buy the minister's wife a set of furs, or 
 himself a silk gown, or a carpet for their parlor, or, in 
 a general wa}-, to make them a present, or get up a 
 surprise-donation-party, till ministers have lost some- 
 what of manhood. Something sturdy, self-reliant, 
 independent, upright, and downright, has gone out of 
 the profession. Ministers will permit, will even invite, 
 what other men would resent. The merchant in a city, 
 the shoemaker in a country village, would feel dis- 
 graced by a contribution-paper going about town to 
 collect mone} r to bu} T himself a coat. The lawyer's 
 wife would rather wear calico all her life than levy 
 tribute on the parish for a silk. But the minister and 
 the minister's wife will wear the contributed clothes, 
 and make a note of it for the religious newspaper. The 
 school-teacher surveys his district, builds or buys such 
 a house as he can, and, if not able to do either, rents 
 a tenement, or boards, and betters himself as soon as 
 possible. Ministers are willing to be accounted a 
 
176 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 feeble folk, for whom houses should be provided, with- 
 out responsibility of their own ; and this unmanly 
 self-surrender loses its sting b} r christening the house a 
 parsonage. The carpenter who wants to take his wife 
 on a summer-trip to the White Mountains waits till 
 he has earned enough to do so at his own expense ; 
 but some rich deacon, or " active brother," is expected 
 to take the minister, and pay the bills. And the min- 
 ister not only suffers these things, but takes pleasure 
 in them that do them, and sometimes feel aggrieved if 
 they are not done ; and sends a note to the religious 
 newspapers, suggesting or affirming that they should be 
 done. A minister of aesthetic tendencies has his. 
 rooms frescoed by a painter who has recently joined 
 his congregation. After waiting a reasonable time, 
 the painter sends in his bill. The clergyman returns 
 an injured-innocence sort of note, saying that he had 
 not expected to be called upon to pay ; but he will 
 settle the bill as soon as he can, though not immedi- 
 ately, as he shall have to save the money out of his 
 salary. The painter, being a gentleman, immediately 
 sends him a receipted bill ; and the minister, being a 
 — minister, accepts it. But upon what ground should 
 he expect to be frescoed for nothing? Why is it a 
 grievance for a minister to pay his bills out of his 
 salary ? What else is his salary for ? The blacksmith 
 never asks his neighbor the mason to give him money 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 177 
 
 to bu} r his wife trinkets, or to treat him to a pleasure- 
 excursion. Why is it better manners for the minister ? 
 The little boy is taught that it is very impolite to go to 
 a companion's house, and ask, or even hint, for plum- 
 cake. Wiry is it polite for his father to ask in the 
 religious newspaper, or hint in any way, that his com- 
 panion should join hand in hand to give him the plum- 
 cake that his soul longs for? But the religious 
 newspapers blossom with hints and downright exhorta- 
 tions to parishes to make presents to their ministers, 
 to take them on journe}'s, to pay their expenses to 
 national councils. There is often a certain space 
 devoted to a record of the presents thus made ; for 
 indelicacy has come to such a pass, that donors do 
 not sometimes neglect to stipulate with the donee, 
 that their donations shall be given the publicity of 
 print ; and, on the side of the clergy, the argu- 
 ment is unblushingly used, that the facts are bruited 
 for the sake of stirring up other parishes to make 
 similar presents to their pastors. The resources of 
 ingenuity are exhausted in devising pleasant and 
 playful metaphors to describe the presentation ; and 
 sometimes the statement is as formal and crisp as an 
 advertisement. Donation-parties are occasionally 
 made the object of a little gentle satire ; but it is not 
 because they are donation-parties, but because the 
 donations are not big enough. " According to the 
 
178 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 ecclesiastical almanac," says a religious paper, " now 
 is the time for ministers to ' look out for donation- 
 parties ; ' which, in the words of one of their number, 
 ' are cheerful gatherings, when a clerg}'man's flock 
 overwhelm him with bead watch-pockets, and eat up 
 about one hundred and twelve dollars' worth of his 
 winter provisions.' " 
 
 Here is a good text for the religious journal. An 
 excellent sermon could be preached upon donation- 
 parties in general, — the evils from which the} T spring, 
 the evils which they engender, and the propriety of 
 their discontinuance. But the religious journal only 
 draws the very mild moral, "Nevertheless, a good 
 donation-party is a good thing. Try it, flocks, and let 
 the ministers see." It is not that flocks break into 
 the parsonage with their cumbrous fleece : it is that 
 the} r only rub up against it, leaving bits of stray wool. 
 If they would shear close enough, there would be no 
 fault found. Indeed, the amount of fleece left is get- 
 ting to be the measure of grace received. I read in a 
 missionar}- report, that " Our associates, Mr. and Mrs. 
 S., are meeting with great success among the natives 
 of N. During the seven weeks we were absent, they 
 received more presents from our people than I had for 
 eight 3 r ears. And Mr. S. had made such progress in 
 the language, that he occupied the pulpit three sab- 
 baths, discoursing in the native language. This is a 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 179 
 
 most hopeful beginning for the missionary work." 
 Most hopeful indeed. " Rev. A. B. C. and wife," we 
 are told, " were favored with a very pleasant visit and 
 valuable gifts from his people, on the tenth anniversary 
 of his marriage. Great harmony prevails ; and a 
 gracious outpouring of the Spirit has been enjoyed." 
 
 Grace and greenbacks are the two horns of the 
 altar. A " precious revival," and " a purse of money 
 and other gifts, amounting in value to sevent3'-five 
 dollars," enjoy the honors of the same paragraph. A 
 gifted 3'oung brother preaches to the heathen in their 
 own tongue, and draws more money out of their 
 pockets in .seven weeks than his less eloquent prede- 
 cessor had done in eight years. The power of the 
 gospel is seen in a whole parish's coming together in 
 the vestry to present the minister's wife with a 
 thimble, and the minister himself with a gold-headed 
 cane — as if the kingdom of heaven were to be taken 
 by violence. The number of young converts gathered 
 into the church, and the market- value of the beef and 
 cheese contributed by the old converts, are reported 
 with equal precision ; and it is counted for distinguished 
 disinterestedness, if the minister looks around upon 
 the dried apples and salt pork left by the receding 
 donation- tide, and exclaims, with tears in his eyes, 
 " Not yours, but you ! " 
 
 " Let every church," says the religious newspaper, 
 
180 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 "whether rich or poor, contribute, of such as the} r 
 have, to form a fund to enable their pastor to take such 
 jonrnej's as are expedient. By his attendance on the 
 associations, conferences, and conventions, — meetings 
 so closel}- allied to the best interests of the Church, — 
 he will be so stimulated and refreshed, that the enrich- 
 ing which his people have bestowed on him will be 
 returned to them fourfold. This fund may be called 
 'The People's Relief-Fund,' or ' The Minister's Travel- 
 ling-Fund.' Let the people try this ; and, certain it is, 
 that they will be relieved of a dull minister. ' ' 
 
 They will be relieved of him while he is gone to his 
 county conference ; but they will be surprised to find 
 how short the time seems before he is back on their 
 hands again. To hire a dull minister, and then hire 
 him to go away, is burning } T our candle at both ends. 
 Would it not be cheaper to hire a bright one in the 
 beginning? The notion that a dull minister is to be 
 sharpened up b} r conferences and conventions is pre- 
 posterous. They are far more likely to fritter away 
 an able man's power. Doubtless, for certain purposes 
 and to a certain extent, conference is useful ; but the 
 multiplication, in our da} r , of associations and con- 
 sociations, of convention and council, is airy thing but 
 conducive to intellectual or moral vigor. No doubt 
 suggestions are sometimes made, and thoughts eluci- 
 dated ; but we are oftener reminded of Mr. Weller and 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 181 
 
 the alphabet, and ask, " Is it worth while to go through 
 so much to get so little? " Any thing like a mental 
 shock is studiously avoided. The questions which are 
 really questions are left outside, or represented only 
 by persons of our own faith ; and what is admitted is 
 that which is, in the main, universally assumed. Our 
 National Council in Boston m&y have been greatty 
 productive of good fellowship and good feeling, and, 
 so far, a good thing ; but as an exponent of religious 
 belief, as a simplifierof theological creed, as an organ- 
 ism of faith or polity, did not the mountain bring forth 
 a mouse ? The great object of the council seemed to be 
 to keep hands off. The great aim was, how not to do 
 it. But why come up from the ends of the earth to 
 declare our adherence to the articles which our fathers 
 set forth or re-afflrmed? That goes without saying. 
 Life and thought have changed since the days of our 
 fathers ; and, if we want to know any thing, it is how 
 we stand affected by this change. To say that we are 
 not affected at all is to sa}- that we have a name to 
 live, and are dead. 
 
 The chances are, that the association, the conference, 
 the convention, will travel around in the same orbit, 
 and on the same plane, as the dull minister. He will 
 be stimulated and refreshed to pursue, upon his return, 
 the precise path which has alread}^ led him to failure. 
 If the People's Relief-Fund would send him to a politi- 
 16 
 
182 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 cal caucus, to the gaming-tables of Hamburg, to the 
 Derb}- Races, to the Louisiana legislature, to a travel- 
 ling circus, to a French assembly, or a London dinner- 
 table, — to places where men are in deadly, if wicked 
 earnest, or places where he will be dashed out of 
 his grooves, and into new contacts and courses, — the 
 People's Fund might, indeed, afford relief. 
 
 But, apart from the wisdom of any mode of apply- 
 ing a relief-fund, why should the suggestion of a 
 relief-fund be made? Why should the farmers and 
 the shoemakers and the da} T -laborers of a poor church 
 take their hard-earned monej", and give it to their 
 pastor, to send him anywhere? They have already 
 paid him his salary. Why must they give him gifts ? 
 They need their surplus earnings as much as he. 
 Their lives are more limited than his. Their wives 
 stay at home from year's end to year's end. If they 
 have any money to spare, let them take their own 
 little trip, and enlarge their views to broader horizons. 
 If the rich merchant choose to give mone}' to his 
 minister, and his minister choose to take monej^ as a 
 gift, it is their own affair. But for an educated man 
 to take the money of uneducated men and hard-working 
 women, and spend it in pleasure and recreation ; for 
 religious newspapers to urge or to hint that the hard- 
 working men and women should thus devote their 
 mone} T , and praise them without stint when they do 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 183 
 
 thus devote it, — seems not high-minded, seems mean 
 and mercenary. 
 
 A parsonage is a good thing in many respects. 
 Very few ministers, perhaps, are able to buy or to build 
 houses ; and it is desirable that they should have a fixed 
 home. If parishes should feel that the parsonage was 
 as much a part of their responsibility as the church, 
 that they could no more expect a minister without the 
 one than without the other, I should not object. We 
 should all be better, if ministers were so able that they 
 could dictate their own terms. Whatever the parish 
 in its own interest, from a business-point of sight, 
 chooses to proffer, it need not be unmanly for a min- 
 ister to accept. But is it manly for him to ask people 
 to provide him a house ? Is it even proper or neces- 
 sar} r ? As ministers come and go, there are very few 
 parishes where the} T cannot hire a house for as long a 
 period as they are likely to sta}*. Why should one 
 man in a town be freed from the need of care and 
 thought by the care and though? of other men ? Is it 
 that he may be the more free to pursue his spiritual 
 calling? Come, then, the celibate clergy of the 
 Roman Catholic Church ! Let us have either one 
 thing or another, — either a celibate priesthood, with- 
 out entangling alliances, wholly devoted and subject 
 to the Church ; or a man taking care of himself and 
 his wife and children, precisely like other men. 
 
184 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 A woman spends her prime in teaching the children 
 of her native town at a third, or a half, or a quarter, 
 what the minister receives ; and boards in her father's 
 house, or wherever she can find shelter. No one ever 
 thinks of building her a house, or giving her a quit- 
 claim deed on a single apartment in anybody's house. 
 The person who teaches your children six hours a day 
 for five days in the week has, apparently, a greater 
 influence on the next generation than he who preaches 
 to grown-up people two hours a day once a week. 
 That person needs, just as much, freedom from material 
 care ; and, if a woman, she has immeasurably less 
 chance for securing such exemption. But the women 
 of a parish, who never think of providing a domicile 
 for their townswoman, will meet at each other's houses 
 to knit toes and heels to coarse woollen stockings, 
 at sevent} r -five cents a dozen pairs, to provide a 
 house for an able-bodied man. I should not think 
 a man would like to live in such a house. It cannot 
 be a pleasant thing fot" a man to look around upon his 
 wainscots and windows, and reflect that a dozen or 
 twenty women, by "working smartlv," finished a 
 dozen pairs of stockings in three evenings, and, with 
 the seventy-five cents therefor received, built up pain- 
 fullj' the roof that shelters him. It is a reform against 
 nature. If ministers will not let women preach, 
 neither should they let them build. If they do not 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 185 
 
 want women to become men, they should play the man 
 themselves. It is certainly no more unwomanly to 
 occupy a man's pulpit than to rear a man's house. 
 But a woman in the pulpit sets a whole presbytery to 
 cackling ; while a woman may build a Presbyterian 
 parsonage from turret to foundation-stone, and not a 
 clergyman of them all will move the wing, or open 
 the mouth, or peep. 
 
 "Who says that we have no 'plain speaking' in 
 the pulpit, these da} T s," asks a religious newspaper, 
 " when the Massachusetts preacher can be named 
 who uttered the following in a recent sermon ? — 
 
 " ' Some of the ladies of the Church may say, 
 
 that, if they lived in Christ's time, he should have made 
 their house his home, nor suffered for the lack of any 
 hospitality they could furnish. But I think he would 
 have gone homeless for all you would have clone for 
 him. And here is why I think so : you allowed me to 
 pay the hotel-bills of every minister who supplied the 
 pulpit while I was in a few months ago.' " 
 
 If a teacher hire a substitute during his absence, 
 does he expect the committee to pay that substitute's 
 hotel-bills? If a treasury clerk put his brother in his 
 place during his extra furlough, does he expect the 
 government to pay his brother's board? Why should 
 the church pay the hotel-bills of the substitute any 
 more than the butcher's bills of the regular preacher? 
 
 16* 
 
136 SERMONS TO TI1E CLERGY. 
 
 At the outset, the church agrees to pa}* so much salary. 
 It is no more incumbent upon the church to entertain 
 the preacher's guests, be the}* substitutes or exchanges, 
 than it is incumbent on the minister to entertain the 
 deacon's son-in-law, or the merchant's aunts and 
 cousins. Yet this preacher has the profaneness, the 
 vulgarity, the assumption, to say, that, because his 
 church did not pay the hotel-bills of his hired man, 
 they would have rejected Christ. The religious news- 
 paper calls this " plain speaking : " I call it brutality. 
 The minister who can so defile his pulpit as to use it 
 for such purposes is not fit to be admitted to any 
 lady's house. 
 
 Again : the same paper says it hears of a " minister, 
 who lately astounded his congregation by reading ' out 
 in meeting ' an account of his receipts and expenses for 
 the year. The only item to the credit of the richest 
 member of his flock was ' one apple-pie.' " 
 
 This seems but a smart joke to the reverend re- 
 corder ; and, no doubt the reverend reader thought he 
 had scored one against his congregation : but it is such 
 things as these that lower the clergy in public estima- 
 tion, and inspire the laity with disgust. Why should 
 a minister be going over his accounts on Sunday, any 
 mo v e than the merchant or the banker? Why should 
 he bring his private affairs into the great congregation, 
 any more than the milliner or the cook? If he is dis- 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 187 
 
 satisfied with the bargain which he made with the 
 people, or if they do not fulfil their part of the contract, 
 there are places and times when it is proper for him to 
 enforce his contract, or to secure better terms. But 
 to take his account-book into church, to preach his 
 groceries for the gospel, to feed his " flock " with stale 
 bread and scant} T steaks, makes his pastorate dear, 
 even at the price of one apple-pie. 
 
 What is the quality which suggests such a para- 
 graph as this? — " As a St. Louis preacher was leaving 
 the church last Sunday, an appreciative parishioner 
 slipped a hundred-dollar-note in his hand as a reward 
 for his excellent sermon. Perhaps, if there were more 
 such parishioners, there would be more excellent ser- 
 mons." 
 
 Is it, indeed, only the voice of malice and all un- 
 charitableness that calls ministers mercenary? I have 
 quoted nothing from foes, only from ministers them- 
 selves. Think what a sermon is represented to be, — 
 the message of God to man b} T his appointed and 
 anointed ambassador, the application of saving truth 
 to souls sore-wounded and shot at by the archers of 
 sin, light to them sitting in the darkness, salvation to 
 the lost. And a man, an ambassador of heaven, will 
 preach Christ and him crucified with" more fervor and 
 unction, if a hundred-dollar-note awaits him now and 
 then in the pews below ! 
 
188 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 Benighted and blind leader of the blind ! Thy 
 money perish with thee, because thou hast thought 
 that the gift of God ma} r be purchased with mone}'. 
 Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter ; for 
 thy heart is not right in the sight of God. Repent, 
 therefore, of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if, 
 perhaps, the thought of thine heart may be forgiven 
 thee. 
 
 I do not join in the outcry that the clerg}^ are mer- 
 cenary. As a class, they are not mercenary. They 
 give largely in proportion to their means. In a very 
 large diocese of clergymen, I know not a single one 
 who is miserly, or who is even charged with being 
 mercenary. Yet the responsibility of the charge rests 
 chiefly with themselves. It is because clerg} T men set 
 up a standard for themselves different from the stand- 
 ard of other men, that they are differently judged. 
 The}^ are ridiculed, not for exchanging a low for a 
 high salary, but because they insist on calling the 
 higher salary a louder call. No one sa3 T s aught 
 against the country school-teacher who goes to the 
 city schoolhouse, or the author who sells to the pub- 
 lisher that pays the best, because these are reckoned 
 as matters of legitimate business. But the clerg} T man 
 assumes that the question of salary does not enter into 
 his profession. lie is concerned only to put himself 
 where he will do the most good. Ministers are on 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 189 
 
 precisely the same ground as writers and other clergy. 
 An author is entitled to sell his books to the highest 
 bidder. But the author who lets the consideration of 
 mone3 r into his writing, — the author who would write 
 better for ten dollars than he would for one dollar, — 
 the author, who, at any time and for any purpose, 
 does less than his best, is mercenary, and unworthy to 
 be an author. The minister may lawfully, manfully, 
 and religiously go where he maj^ receive the highest 
 salar}" ; but no consideration of salary or hundred- 
 dollar-notes may ever slip into the fountain whence 
 his sermon springs. And, in view of such para- 
 graphs as this, it ma} T be questioned whether the same 
 public sentiment which forbids a bribe to a judge, 
 which has taken away the moiety from internal reve- 
 nue collectors, which frowns upon the fee to waiters, 
 should not, also, investigate the system of gifts to the 
 clergy. But, however this may be, there can be but 
 one opinion, — that it is more manly, more apostolic, 
 more devout, to settle the question of salary in pri- 
 vate, and in a business-like manner, than it is to dis- 
 claim pecuniary considerations because Christ had 
 not where to la}^ his head, and then stand up in the 
 pulpit to flout at hotel-bills, and whine over an apple- 
 pie. 
 
 If the minister's be a peculiarly sacred calling ; if 
 he devote himself to the salvation of souls ; if he have 
 
190 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 sacrificed all hopes of making a fortune, all prospects 
 of personal advancement, to the cause of Christ ; if 
 it be proper that extraordinary means should be em- 
 ployed to assist him, because he has performed an act 
 of extraordinary self-abnegation, — what then ? If he 
 have only shifted the burden of providing himself 
 with luxuries from his own shoulders to other peo- 
 ple's, what sort of self-abnegation is it? A minister 
 is expected to live, and generally does live, in as 
 good style as the majority of his people. I think it is 
 safe to sa}^, that the average minister occupies as high 
 a position, has as many of the comforts and luxuries 
 of life, and perhaps as much money to spend, as he 
 w'ould have done in any other occupation. But be 
 that as it may. A minister adopts his profession, 
 either as a business or as a consecration. It ma} r , 
 and rightty, be both ; but it must be one. If it is 
 a consecration, then this talk about parsonages and 
 donations is not only idle, but it borders on the pro- 
 fane. Jesus Christ had not where to \&y his head. 
 Must those who call him " Master," not only have a 
 place to lay theirs, but have it secured to them by 
 title-deed, hung with satin paper, carpeted from Brus- 
 sels, and stocked with winter provisions ? To go cold 
 and hungiy for the good cause is a sacrifice ; but to 
 sit still, and hint to other people to haul in coal and 
 flour and sugar for 3'ou — what sacrifice is that ? To 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 191 
 
 turn away from costly books and fine pictures, the 
 desire of the e}*es, and the pride of life, for Christ's 
 sake, is the act of a devotee ; but to buy yoxxv books 
 and pictures, and have your church come in at the 
 year's end, and pay your debts — is that devotion? I 
 say that the man who does it follows no more closely 
 the footsteps of the Master than he who goes into the 
 " cotton trade and sugar line," and pays his own 
 bills. 
 
 Of course, it is absurd and unjust to ask ministers 
 to suffer privations. Therefore, it is absurd to put 
 these matters on other than a business-ground. A 
 theological student may be never so conscientious and 
 consecrated ; but he chooses his church on common 
 business-principles, as it is proper he should. The 
 only unwisdom is in talking as if he did not. He 
 never remits a cent of his salary because he calls his 
 parish a field of labor. When he leaves that parish 
 for another, he says God has called him to another 
 field of labor ; and the dismissing, council says, Amen. 
 But all it realty means is, that the people are tired of 
 him, or he of them ; or his salary is too small ; or the 
 house is damp, and the situation unhealthy ; or he 
 wants to live in a city ; or preach his old sermons ; or 
 have a wider scope. God calls him to go just where 
 the minister thinks, on the whole, he would rather go. 
 If one or the other candidate should be defeated at the 
 
192 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 next election, it would be God calling them to another 
 field of labor. There is no reason to suppose that the 
 Deit} r is not just as much concerned with the shoe- 
 maker who moves from I/vnn to Boston, in prospect 
 of higher wages, and better lectures and concerts, as 
 with the minister who moves from Boston to New York. 
 God calls us all, and in onty one wa} T , — by the use of 
 our own reason ; and it would be just as pious, and a 
 great deal more savory, if we would speak of it in a 
 reasonable, and not in a supernatural way. We may 
 be perfectly sure of our motives : we are not perfectly 
 sure what God thinks about it. If people will not 
 come to church, or will not pay their minister's salary, 
 that is something tangible ; but precisely what attitude 
 the divine Being assumes toward it is another thing. 
 When the religious newspaper sa} T s that one of the 
 members of a church in Chicago "planned a large 
 addition to his dwelling ; but, after the cellar-walls 
 were completed, the work ceased for about one year, — 
 the reason for which, it was said, was, being president 
 of the board of directors of the Chicago Theological 
 Seminary, and seeing its pecuniary wants to be so 
 pressing, he concluded to give up building, and appro- 
 priate the mone} T to the relief of the seminary," — we 
 are ready to receive its testimon}-, because it testifies 
 of what may have come within its scope. But when it 
 goes on to say, "And, as another proof that God loves 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY, 193 
 
 the cheerful giver, his place of business was the only 
 one belonging to the church which was not consumed,' ' 
 we are constrained to enter a demurrer. Was the 
 president of the board of directors of the Theological 
 Seminary the onl} r member of that church whom God 
 loved ? Was there no cheerful giver in all that burnt 
 district, but him who gave up his new dining-room 
 above the cellar- walls ? Is not the fact that Mrs. 
 O'Leary's house and barn were the only ones in that 
 quarter not burnt, an equally conclusive proof that 
 God loves the woman who does her milking by a kero- 
 sene-lamp ? Considering that Jesus has said that ' ' no 
 man, having put his hand to the plough and looking back, 
 is fit for the kingdom of God," and that " whom the 
 Lord loveth he chasteneth," it is quite as reasonable, 
 and quite as scriptural, to say that God hated the pres- 
 ident for having begun to enlarge his house, and not 
 being able to finish it, and punished him by leaving 
 his shop standing amid desolation. And if the fire 
 had induced Chicago to remove its business-centre, 
 and the president's property should thus have depreci- 
 ated, Madam President would be perfectly just in say- 
 ing to her husband, " I told you so. You ought to 
 have finished that kitchen while you were about it, and 
 have been burned down like the rest, and so have 
 reaped all the advantage of taking a new start." 
 
 Is the work of God injured by a clergyman's pros- 
 17 
 
194 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 perity? " A minister," says a high clerical authority, 
 1 ' whom the question of money or fame could influence 
 to desert a more useful post for one more lucrative or 
 more honored, is unworthy of that Saviour, who . . . 
 1 made himself of no reputation,' and became exceed- 
 ingly poor, to . . . accomplish man's salvation. He 
 who toils and suffers like Christ, in obscure places, 
 where frowns are thicker than smiles or applause, 
 shall, like him, and with him, be at last exalted ; and 
 every being in the universe shall know and acknowledge 
 the excellence of his motives, and the success of his 
 obscure toils. Christ sa}'s, ' If any man serve me, 
 him will my Father honor.' " 
 
 It is true that the gist of this remark is the exact 
 opposite of what it is supposed and intended to be. 
 A minister is not to be influenced by fame, because — 
 fame is one of the strongest motives to which Christ 
 appealed. It is unworthy, and a shame, to care what 
 others say about 3'ou. Stay where } t ou are, and every 
 being in the universe will presently applaud you. 
 The writer does not see that this is not laj-ing aside 
 the question of fame and honor, but putting a small 
 and immediate fame against a remote and world-wide 
 renown. Leaving that matter, however, the point to 
 be observed is, that the useful and obscure place is 
 set off against the more lucrative and more honored 
 post, as if lucre and honor were separate from useful- 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 195 
 
 ness. But do not the very characteristics which make 
 a ministry lucrative and honorable, b}^ that token 
 make it more capable of usefulness? We cannot, of 
 course, bring a mathematical certainty into moral 
 forces ; but is it not generally considered that useful- 
 ness increases with the enlargement of one's circle? 
 The man who is known by six men may be just as 
 good as the man who is known by six hundred ; but, 
 other things being equal, is not the man who helps 
 six hundred men out of difficulty more useful than he 
 who helps o\\\j six men ? On what other ground does 
 the same journal from which I have quoted say else- 
 where, "Who believes the usefulness of a laborer 
 who raises a hundred bushels of corn a year to be as 
 great as that of a village pastor, who, by his teachings, 
 and the daily beauty of his example, ' allures to brighter 
 worlds, and leads the way' ?" The laborer may be 
 just as sweet-tempered, just as self-denying, just as 
 devout and benevolent and blameless, as the village 
 pastor. That, no religious newspaper or religious 
 teacher will deny. As to the quality of his work, the 
 production of food is universally admitted to be the 
 one occupation that lies at the very foundation of life. 
 Nothing can be more important than this, because, 
 without this, no other occupation could exist. The 
 superiority of the pastor, therefore, consists in certain 
 qualities, in certain powers, which have been cultivated 
 
196 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 in him at great cost, which command mone} T , and 
 which enable him to touch life at many more points 
 than the laborer is able to do. The church which calls 
 him awa} r doubles his salar}', and promises him a 
 "larger field," — promises, that is, more listeners, 
 more men and women to learn of him, to criticise his 
 statements, to stimulate his intellect, to disseminate 
 his views. All these are advantages ; but the increased 
 salaiy is also an advantage. The larger the salary, 
 the larger ma}^ be the life. An ample income is no 
 more to be despised than good ej'esight or great 
 strength. If a man has qualities that command 
 money, he has the same right to use them that he has 
 to walk, or ride or row, for his health. A man is just 
 as mighty to the upbuilding of Zion with five thousand 
 dollars a year as with five hundred. He is no more 
 mercenaiy in receiving ten thousand than he is in 
 receiving one thousand. He may benefit his kind just 
 as much on a salaiy of twenty thousand as on eight 
 hundred and hints. 
 
 The minister is on the same ground as other men. 
 Only let him occupy that ground manfully. He should 
 discard, once for all, the notion that he is a peculiar 
 people. The nineteenth century knows neither priest 
 nor Levite, but holds eveiy laborer worthy of his hire. 
 A minister has only to be simple and natural, to pro- 
 pose or assent to terms, to enforce promptness, and 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 197 
 
 pa} T his debts like other men ; and ninety-nine out of 
 everj^ hundred will uphold him. But what we cannot 
 uphold is the grotesque commingling of sacred and 
 profane things. What we cannot endure is the sub- 
 stitution of a man for the Lord Christ. What we will 
 not away with is the idea that the gift of God may 
 be purchased with money, if a clergyman act as 
 auctioneer. Yet to such straits as these are ministers 
 reduced. They profess to be ambassadors of God, 
 successors of Christ and the apostles. They are not 
 money-makers. They cannot buy and sell, and get 
 gain, as other men do, because their calling is holy. 
 And under this sacred banner they will do and say 
 things which violate the decorum of the world, shock 
 the sensibilities of sinners, and bring a blush of shame 
 to the cheeks of many a man who has been stolidly 
 bivying and selling all his lifetime. 
 
 Do ministers like the role that has been assigned 
 them, — not quite a woman, yet but half a man? Do 
 they like the semi-charity which has tampered with 
 their business-relations ? Do they like to have their 
 homes invaded, their carpets chosen,- their coats cut, 
 let alone bead watch-pockets and winter provisions? 
 It is a matter that lies entirely in their own hands. It 
 is man's own free will, and not divine sovereignty, that 
 inundates his house with bead watch-pockets. Parishes 
 will never give their pastors donation-parties, if pas- 
 17* 
 
198 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 tors decline to accept them. For the sake of the good 
 ones, the} r are willing to put up with the poor ones. It 
 is the hope of a fruitful harvest that lures them into 
 the disappointment of empty wains. If they would 
 stand on the same footing as the lawyer and the farmer 
 and the merchant, they would have no disappointment 
 to bear. The people who flock to their minister's 
 house, and give him useless trinkets in return for his 
 bread and meat are precisely on a level with their 
 minister. It is no more mean to go to a man's house 
 for what you can get than for him to receive you for 
 what you will give. It is barter on both sides. It is 
 a travesty, and a profanation of hospitalit} T ; and 
 whichever side is worsted in the scramble deserves no 
 S} r mpath3 r . 
 
 Donations — the ecclesiastical term for gifts — are 
 defended on the ground, that, without them, the minis- 
 ter has not a sufficient salary. His people will pay 
 twelve hundred dollars. They will not pay fifteen ; 
 but they will give the minister presents " amounting in 
 value to three hundred dollars," so that he will receive 
 and report a salaiy of fifteen hundred dollars. But this 
 three hundred dollars has to do double duty, — as gift 
 and salaiy. The people have the genial glow which 
 arises from a generous act, and the calm content which 
 springs from justice done. "What do } t ou pay your 
 minister?" asks the foreigner. "Twelve hundred 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 199 
 
 dollars is the nominal salary ; but really it amounts to 
 fifteen " is the satisfied reply. But let the minister 
 leave for another ' ' field of labor ; " and the aggrieved 
 comment is, "Should you think he could, when we 
 had just made him that handsome present? " 
 
 If a people can give their minister fifteen hundred 
 dollars, the}' can pay him fifteen hundred. If he has 
 earned it, it should be paid as wages, not doled out as 
 charity, or bestowed as affection. It is for the minister 
 himself to decide how large a salaiy he will claim, or 
 with how small a one he will be content. If he agree 
 upon five hundred, let him take his five hundred, and 
 say no more about it. If he find himself mistaken, he 
 can ask a higher ; and, if it be not granted, he can 
 withdraw. But he can make it known from the begin- 
 ning that his salary is salarj*, and not sentiment. 
 Nothing is easier than for him to nip in the bud dona- 
 tion-parties and subscription-presents, and all such 
 makeshifts, by a simple announcement. A bargain 
 between clergyman and parish is as practicable as any 
 bargain and sale ; and the dignity of his office is no 
 way infringed upon by proceeding on the principles of 
 ordinary bargain. It is sadly infringed upon by the 
 course which at present obtains. In what attitude 
 appears the clergyman who complains that his flock 
 overwhelm him with bead watch-pockets, and eat up 
 his winter provisions? What becomes of his sacred 
 
200 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 office, while lie is ridiculing the small-type Testaments 
 which his donation-party has left in his parlors ? Apart 
 from the vexation and uncertainty which he brings 
 upon himself, the minister injures his people by per- 
 mitting them to flatter themselves that the}' are gener- 
 ous, when they are not even just. If they pay him a 
 sufficient salary, he has no reason to complain of 
 meagre gifts. If they do not pay him sufficient, he 
 wrongs them by letting them feel as if they did. He 
 should train them to discrimination. He should make 
 a contract, and keep it, like any other man. He 
 ought not to complain that his salary is small, or that 
 it is not promptly paid. He should stipulate for a 
 larger salary, and enforce its prompt payment, and 
 thus keep his business out of the pulpit. If his parish 
 decline, the world is all before him where to choose. 
 If he have no choice of places, he cannot dictate 
 terms. He must view himself as a commodity which 
 has small market-value, and must go for what it will 
 fetch. Ministers with four or five thousand dollars' 
 salary will stand in their pulpits, and complain, that, if 
 they die, their children must go to the work-house, as 
 if that were a fact in which the parish is concerned. 
 The only question is : Did the minister agree to five 
 thousand dollars ? and does the parish pay it ? If so, 
 their responsibility is over, and the place of his chil- 
 dren's death is impertinent. If he cannot live on five 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 201 
 
 thousand dollars, what doth hinder him from going 
 where he can get ten thousand? It would be just as 
 apostolic for him to do that as to stay, and grumble. 
 
 Anecdotes are in circulation " illustrative of the 
 close-fisted meanness of certain rural congregations 
 in dealing with their ministers. " If lions wrote his- 
 tory, it would be found that there is a " congregation 
 side," as well as a clerical side, to the close-fisted 
 
 meanness of the rural districts. To Parson B , 
 
 the story says, the parish agreed to pay four hundred 
 dollars ; yet the} 7 fell short seventy-five dollars, and, 
 when reminded of the deficiency, suggested that " min- 
 isters should not be greedy of filthy lucre." After 
 continually falling short, and excusing themselves, and 
 leading their pastor a life of anxietj*, till he grew old, 
 infirm, and unable to do clerical duty, the} 7 at length 
 took him to the alms-house, where he yielded up his 
 life. 
 
 This is a very mean way to treat a minister, but 
 not half so mean as the minister who would permit 
 himself to be thus treated. A man who cannot make 
 any more headway than that against greed and avarice 
 is dear at any price. A minister who preaches all his 
 lifetime to a people, and cannot bring, them up to the 
 point of common honesty, has certainly mistaken his 
 calling, and should be thankful that he is permitted to 
 die peaceably in the alms-house. A man who will 
 
202 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 permit his congregation to cheat him year after } r ear, 
 who has not power enough to convince them of sin, 
 nor nerve enough to leave them, ma} T be a sincere 
 Christian, and receive his reward at the judgment- 
 seat ; but he certainly has not earned his salary in this 
 world. He has helped to demoralize his people, 
 instead of uplifting them. He has made the gospel a 
 " savor of death unto death. " 
 
 It may seem cold-blooded and mercenary to discuss 
 such matters on such grounds ; but nothing can be 
 more mercenary and cold-blooded than for a minister 
 to sneer at the gifts which his people bring him, and 
 the greed with which they eat up his winter provisions. 
 We have well-nigh lost the divinity which should 
 hedge a gift ; and no class of persons have contributed 
 more to this result than clergymen. The ideal gift is 
 spontaneous, is useless, is private and sacred. It is 
 the blossoming of assured love, or the timid outreach- 
 ing of a love that craves assurance. We give dia- 
 monds the most enduring, flowers the most fragile ; and 
 love knows no distinction. In love, it is the giver who 
 is uncertain, who is obliged : it is the receiver who 
 confers obligation, and approves affection. It is only a 
 long course of the most complete harmon}-, of the 
 most profound and unwavering confidence, that justifies 
 a man in being careless about gifts, and bestowing, in 
 the matchless freedom of inviolable friendship, what is 
 the ordained prerogative of charity. 
 
RELIGIOUS BEGGARY. 203 
 
 In the hands of clergymen, the gift has fallen from 
 its high estate. They have solicited it ; they have pro- 
 claimed it ; they have computed and bruited its money- 
 value, and mocked at its insignificance. They have 
 debased it into the payment of a debt, confounded it 
 with the discharge of a duty, profaned it by associa- 
 tion with a grudge. They owe it to the congregations 
 they have tampered with to sit for a generation in 
 sackcloth and ashes, — sackcloth of their own buying, 
 and ashes of their own burning, — and, with tight fists 
 of integrity, to reject and repel the false gifts of tight- 
 fisted meanness, of uncomprehending carelessness, 
 while with uplifted voice they teach their people the 
 eternal distinction between a tax wrung, a subscrip- 
 tion badgered, a compromise effected, and the spon- 
 taneous offering of brooding and delighted love. 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 
 
 ITANDING amid the ruin of a great disaster, 
 je£^y and seeing on all sides the ungainly relics of 
 stately edifices, while one building, apparent- 
 ly no better and no less endangered, remains unharmed, 
 almost untouched, one instinctively inquires, "How 
 could it be that this did not burn with the rest?" 
 Says a pretty pietist in reply, " A kind Providence 
 protected us. God did not mean that this store should 
 burn. That is the way I account for it." 
 
 A little farther up, out of the desolation, but close 
 upon its brink, rises some such institution as an Emi- 
 grants' Aid Savings-Bank, with a placard arched over 
 the sign, to the effect that "God has protected the 
 savings of the poor ; ' ' from which we are to infer, I 
 suppose, that the Emigrants' Aid Savings-Bank has 
 not gone out in the flame. 
 
 Far be it from me to attempt to dissociate man from 
 his Maker in ever so small a measure. Nothing is more 
 wholesome, more heartening, than the ever-present 
 consciousness of an ever-present God, interested in his 
 
 207 
 
208 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 children, co-working for their good, watching over 
 thern with unceasing love and care and wisdom. But 
 let us not, on that account, discontinue the use of our 
 reasoning faculties. When a young girl, untaught 
 either by books or by life, inexperienced, and without 
 responsibility, utters a saintly sounding but senseless 
 sentiment, we accept the saintliness as an omen of 
 good, and hope the sense will come with years and 
 exigencies ; but when mature business-men — men who 
 hold other people's property in trust, bank directors 
 and proprietors — publicly placard the divine favor as 
 a reason of their exemption from disaster, it is time for 
 stockholders to look into the books. 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform ; " 
 
 but he is in no proper sense a bank director, nor a 
 fire-insurance company ; and it would seem as if even 
 his divine patience would be taxed with our petty 
 attempts to glorify him by attributing to him their 
 functions. For look you, fair philosopher: a kind 
 Providence protected you, you say ; and your shop was 
 not burnt. Was it an unkind Providence, then, that 
 refused to protect the shop across the street ? or did not 
 Providence care, one way or another, and just let it 
 burn ? Does God love Hovey , and hate Holbrook ? Is 
 he kindly disposed toward Bigelow Brothers, but 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 209 
 
 hostile to Palmer and Bachelder? When Shreve, 
 Crump, and Low succeeded in removing their goods to 
 a place of safety, did they elude an angry God who 
 had planned to burn them ? Do you really think that 
 God cares more for Jordan and Marsh than he does 
 for Stevenson ? Are Boston and Portland and Chicago 
 any less dear to him than New York and Baltimore 
 and Cincinnati? If God saved one house, did he set 
 fire to the others? 
 
 Hard-headed mone} r -man, when you say that God 
 protects the savings of the poor, what do you mean? 
 Did he protect the poor people of Peshtigo, who 
 rushed from their burning houses to swift death by 
 flood and flame ? Did he preserve the savings of the 
 poor in Chicago ? Does he have more regard for the 
 five cents which the sewing-girl puts in the bank than 
 for the sewing-machine by which she earns it? 
 
 And why should God care for the savings of the 
 poor anjr more than for the savings of the rich ? He 
 (according to this philosophy) desolated whole tracts 
 belonging to the rich. He swept away in a night the 
 savings of 3 T ears. Men who had grown rich from 
 poverty grew suddenly poor from wealth. Was it the 
 hatred of Deity ? Man}^ of them were men who feared 
 God, and honored him with their substance. The 
 churches of Boston did not minish aught of their 
 Thanksgiving contribution to the poor, though they 
 
210 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 had been fearfully marred b}' the fire. Does that 
 indicate a quality that would be likely to incur the 
 divine displeasure? The burned-out merchants of 
 Boston are, so far as human e3'es can judge, as worthy 
 a class of people as the emigrants who come to us 
 from abroad. They are as honest, as upright, as 
 humane, I think I may say as devout. Compared 
 with emigrants, one would say that God could have 
 nothing against them but their wealth ; but, if he dis- 
 approves of wealth, it must be that he disapproves of 
 the qualities that produce wealth. These are more 
 likely to be sagacity, industry, prudence, integrity, 
 than greed and dishonest}'. The} T are far more likely 
 to be those traits which in combination we call virtue, 
 than those which we call vice. But when a man, 
 using the talents of which he finds himself possessed, 
 and the opportunities which are presented to him, 
 becomes a rich man, a supporter of the churches, a 
 patron of the arts, a promoter of education, does he 
 pass thereby under the ban of Deity? 
 
 Our piet} r needs a stiff breeze of common sense 
 blowing through it. We need to remember that God 
 is no partial parent, caressing one child, and chiding 
 another, but impartial, loving all, through evil report 
 and through good report. The saved and the lost, 
 the murderer and his victim, are alike children of 
 one Father. The little barefoot boy is as dear to 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 211 
 
 his Maker as the dainty lacly in her silken attire ; 
 and the silken lady is as beloved of God as the 
 barefoot bo}\ God is angry with the wicked every 
 day ; but below the anger dwell love and untiring com- 
 passion, working always for repentance and reformation 
 in the guilty but beloved child. 
 
 God no more saves a shop or a bank than he builds 
 them. He does both, for he is the source of all 
 things ; but he builds houses by the architect, and he 
 saves them by the fireman. It has pleased him to 
 enact that a nail shall go where it is driven ; that 
 mortar shall harden in air, and clay by fire. "We dis- 
 cover these laws, and build houses, and live in them 
 with great delight ; but we do not say that God built 
 them. He has enacted that wood shall consume, and 
 granite crumble, and water turn to vapor, and air to 
 wind, by the action of fire ; and our houses burn, 
 
 " Our spirits consume, 
 Our flesh is a flame : " 
 
 but to say that God did it in any other sense than he 
 does every thing is to outrage reason, and exasperate 
 justice. It is good to be religious ; but it is not good 
 to make God capricious. A great conflagration is 
 kindled and fanned by natural causes. Its lesson is 
 one of logic. We should aim to discover what pro- 
 duced it, what increased it, what the duties it devolves 
 
212 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 upon us in attempting to prevent its recurrence, and to 
 mitigate its consequences ; but to overleap all these 
 possible and comprehensible steps, and mount up into 
 heaven, and define what part the Deity took in it, is a 
 work of supererogation, of utter inconsequence and 
 fatuit3 T . The only legitimate way of finding out God 
 is through his word and work, not through conjecture. 
 The lazy fatalism of the Mohammedan is in no way 
 allied to the intelligent trust of the Christian. God is 
 as much dishonored by our attempts to fasten upon 
 him our puerile ways of thinking, our feeble modes of 
 acting, as by denying his existence altogether. An 
 inscrutable God may still be God ; but an inconse- 
 quent, capricious, unreasonable God is — Atheism. 
 The divine name is not a talisman for security, a 
 charm against evil : it is the sign of one existence, 
 the great I Am of the universe. What we can com- 
 prehend, that we know. Beyond this, let us not 
 wildly and profanely assume, but wait in reverent 
 silence. 
 
 And let us sometimes worship in reverent silence. 
 A devout writer wishes to ' ' combat the idea that God 
 can be worshipped at Boston and Chicago, but must 
 be ignored during the thirty-six hours of travelling 
 between Boston and Chicago." His idea of worship 
 is the Jewish and Samaritan, not to say Gentile idea, 
 that there is no worship but the external ceremony 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 213 
 
 performed in this mountain, or in Jerusalem, or in 
 Delphos. He, apparently, never heard that the hour 
 cometh, and now is, when neither in this mountain, 
 nor yet at Jerusalem, but in spirit and in truth, any- 
 where, shall true worshippers worship the Father. 
 
 " A company of Christian workers," he says, 
 " journe3 T ed to Chicago, and beyond. Christ was with 
 them at all times while journeying." He speaks, it 
 will be observed, as coolly and confidently as if Christ 
 were a Pullman porter, ticketed through without 
 change of cars. A good many of us believe in 
 Christ's help and comfort, know that there is such 
 a thing as the full assurance of hope and of faith, 
 and feel, sometimes, what seems to be a real and 
 elevating communion with the divine Being ; but know- 
 ing, also, the vanity, the impatience, the indolence, 
 and selfishness which so easily beset us, we should 
 shrink from asserting, and almost from believing, 
 that Christ was with us in airy other sense than 
 that in which he is alwa} x s with his children, — the 
 poorest, weakest, most wayward, as well as the 
 stanchest and wisest. But to assume Christ's pecu- 
 liar presence with a whole compan}^ for a whole trip, 
 at one clip, seems rather more like assurance pure 
 and simple than like the assurance of hope or faith, 
 or any other Christian grace. But, " moreover, he 
 was seen by others as with them ; " and this is the 
 
214 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 keynote of the whole performance. This Christian 
 traveller has, or at least expresses, no other idea of 
 Christian travelling than to be seen of men. He wants 
 the Bible to be as freely used, and as fearlessly pe- 
 rused, as a travelling hatter takes out his pass-book 
 for an order. He has no other, at least he presents no 
 other, conception of Christian travelling than saying 
 3*our pra3'ers, and studying your Sunda3'-school lessons, 
 on the train. When the twilight of the first evening 
 came, one of them (I venture to say it was the very 
 man himself) remarked to his fellow-travellers, — 
 not simply of their own party, but of the whole car, — 
 that, " as this was their usual hour of worship at their 
 f amity altars, they knew of nothing that should pre- 
 vent them here," and according^ fell to. It seems 
 not to have occurred to them that the peculiarit}* of 
 family pi^er is its being offered in the sacred privacy 
 of the family, and that what is sweet and tender and 
 devout by the fireside may become ostentatious, con- 
 ceited, and displeasing in the noisy publicity of a pro- 
 miscuous, rattling railroad-car. The next thing they 
 wanted was a state-room in the Pullman car to study 
 their next Sunday's lesson in Mark. Why they should 
 have wanted a state-room, it is difficult to surmise, as 
 the Christian traveller takes special pains to inform 
 us, that during all the singing, praying, and studying, 
 " the door was left wide open." To be sure, Christ 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 215 
 
 implies and assumes, that, when we enter into our 
 closet, we shall shut the door ; but these Christian 
 travellers could not afford to have so much piety shut 
 up in a state-room. They were altogether too economi- 
 cal to waste thus the odor of sanctity ; and the} 7 left 
 the door ajar, that it might be wafted through the 
 whole car. It is true that Christ says, " When thou 
 pra}~est thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are ; for 
 they love to pray standing in the s3*nagogues, and in 
 the corners of the streets," and in the Pullman cars, 
 "that they may be seen of men." But we have changed 
 all that. Christ was not a Christian traveller. To be 
 seen of men is the very essence of Christian travel- 
 ling. Its only trait in distinction from profane 
 travelling is being seen of men. Not a word is 
 said about behavior, — honesty, kindness, politeness, 
 promptness, neatness, unselfishness, good-nature ; noth- 
 ing at all of any thing but public appearance. 
 
 The disgust and derision excited by his ill-breeding 
 and self-conceit are recorded by this naive Christian 
 traveller, without the smallest suspicion of their nature. 
 He probably, to this day, never dreams that he played 
 any thing but the man. One good old gentleman, 
 indeed, afterward placed in the hands of some member 
 of the party at Niagara a paper recording his love for 
 God. But what of the official in charge, who, in spite 
 of their family altars, replied afterwards to their 
 
216 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 request for a state-room, with a knowing wink, and the 
 remark that the}' "could have a nice time playing 
 euchre ' ' ? The wink and the wit were lost on the im- 
 pervious Pharisee who evoked them ; and he "frankly 
 informed" the ungodly official, "that the next sab- 
 bath's lesson in Mark was to be studied, as there would 
 be no other opportunhry." Equally wasted upon the 
 Christian traveller was the sarcasm of the Episcopal 
 clergyman, that " he took them for actors, performing 
 their parts." Hands off, Episcopac}- ! You have got 
 your chasubles and your maniples, and I know not 
 what of incomprehensibilities ; but you are not to 
 monopolize the theatricals of the church. We also, 
 we Congregationalists, have our cap and bells ; and 
 if airy choirs of yours can jangle longer and louder 
 than these Christian travellers, speak now, or else 
 hereafter forever hold your peace. 
 
 "Now this," says my martinet, "I call common- 
 sense travelling." I thank thee, O God, that I am not 
 as other men are, — devout at heart, silent, reverent 
 toward God, respectful to man, not obtruding my per- 
 sonal views and habits on strangers, shutting my closet- 
 door to pra}- to God in secret. I thank thee, O God, 
 that I do not count religion any thing, unless it be seen 
 of men. I believe nothing of right living, or true 
 thinking, or of worshipping thee in the spirit, but only 
 in perpetual talk, — talk to, talk at, and talk about. I 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 217 
 
 thank thee, that, rattle the railroads never so noisily, 
 I can rattle louder still. Conductors may wink, and 
 clergyman frown ; but my pachyderm is impenetrable. 
 I am that kind of fool, that, though thou bray me in a 
 mortar among wheat, with a pestle, yet will not my 
 foolishness depart from me ! 
 
 But it is this sort of thing which gives us faith in 
 Christianit}', in spite of right-hand fallings-off and 
 left-hand defections. Only a divine institution could 
 withstand such advocac}', and remain respectable. 
 
 There are a good many persons who are not dead in 
 trespasses and silliness, but who yet are influenced by 
 such sentiments. They are well disposed, busy about 
 other matters, and rather apt to adopt views without 
 discrimination, especially if they have a religious tinge. 
 But it cannot be too strongly urged that such teach- 
 ings as these, so far as they have any influence at all, 
 are utterly destructive of simplicity of character. He 
 who talks about reading the Bible freely and fearlessly 
 in the railroad train has fallen from grace. He is not 
 thinking about things, but appearances. He is not 
 thinking about divine truths, but of how he looks read- 
 ing them. He is not thinking of the Bible, but of 
 himself. A man has no more occasion for fearlessness 
 in reading the Bible in a car than in reading a news- 
 paper or a novel ; and, if he thinks he has, it is only 
 because he is swollen with conceit and self-importance. 
 
 19 
 
218 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 And, if he is a Boston Sunday-school teacher, the best 
 thing he can do on his way to Chicago and Oregon is 
 to leave his "International Sundaj'-school Lessons" 
 behind him. He will see little enough, if he keeps his 
 e}^es out of the window the whole time. If he rides 
 through Michigan studying his question-book, he might 
 as well have staid at home. The very object of travel 
 is change. The Sunda} r -school teacher abroad should 
 put his Sunday school as far out of mind as possible, 
 and la}' open heart and soul and mind to all new and 
 strange scenes. If a man in his vacations cannot get 
 on without the machinery of religion, that machinery 
 is of little use to him, is likely to be of harm. If a 
 man cannot feel comfortable at twilight, without stand- 
 ing up in a Pullman car, and praying aloud before the 
 passengers, he has prayed to little purpose before he 
 stepped into the car. I do not say, that, among the 
 group which assisted at this spectacular performance, 
 there were not sincere and trustworthy Christians' ; but 
 I do say, that their reporter has succeeded in setting 
 them in a singularly ridiculous and offensive light. 
 And I venture also to add, that — outside of the artificial 
 atmosphere of technical professional religionists, in the 
 real instantaneous and solitary application of principle 
 to action, without fuss or formalit}', or the observation 
 of men ; in the strenuous wear and tear of life, — the 
 religion that is silent and simple and modest, cherished 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 219 
 
 in the sacred and secret depths of the soul, self-mis- 
 trustful, and not overbold, is more to be depended on 
 than that other religion, which, however sincere, is ever 
 patent and blatant, ready, like a Jack-in-the-box, to 
 spring up into your face at the slightest touch, and 
 which, fed by vanity and supported by admiration, is 
 likely to have neither courage nor discretion left for 
 the real emergencies of life, that come without warning 
 and without witness. 
 
 Is it Christ, or Apollo, that said, " Not every one 
 that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my 
 Father which is in heaven "? 
 
 When Chicago was cast down in dust and ashes, 
 the whole world went out to her with compassion and 
 succor. There was no solicitation. All hearts swelled 
 with a passion of sympathy, whose only solace was a 
 swift and eager giving. The most orthodox of our 
 pulpits found itself exclaiming, ' ' Who could read the 
 telegrams last week, without a choking in his throat? 
 Who could think of this great outpouring of compassion 
 and bounty, without feeling that love is mightier, after 
 all, than selfishness ; that the new commandment is, 
 indeed, the highest law? " 
 
 But is love mightier than selfishness? Then must 
 not all things follow? Love is the law of heaven. 
 Selfishness is the law of hell. If heaven is the 
 stronger, surely heaven must prevail. 
 
220 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 We believe in original sin and total depravity, after 
 a fashion. Indeed, in the midst of the falsehood, the 
 slander, the malignity, the recklessness, the shame- 
 lessness, of a political campaign, we believe in it after 
 a very sturdy fashion. Somewhere in the human heart 
 there seems to be a fountain of sin, which is easily 
 unsealed, and which sends forth bitter waters. But 
 what if, close alongside, lies a fountain, as accessible, 
 of original purity, of total goodness? You touch the 
 chord of selfishness, and man grasps and jostles, and 
 turns neither to the right hand nor to the left. You 
 smite the chords of love, and he stops in his gain- 
 getting, flings all his eagerness into helpfulness, and 
 becomes as a god. Never were our growing, hot- 
 headed cities more bent on making mone}^ than they 
 were on giving it awa} T when trouble came. Never 
 was their intelligence, their sagacit} r , their experience, 
 their activity, more swiftly and imperatively summoned 
 for their own advantage than for the succor of a suffer- 
 ing neighbor on one memorable morning. Which is 
 the fact, then, on which to base our creed? Why 
 predicate total depravity, unless we predicate, also, 
 total goodness ? Are we any more sure that men will 
 sin than we are that men will save? May we not 
 count as confidently on human generosity as on human 
 greed? Does human nature any more quickly fall 
 before temptation than it rises before opportunity? 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 221 
 
 Has it not an aptness for good as strong as its aptness 
 for evil? 
 
 To which is it, in the long-run, and sometimes in 
 the run that is not very long, safer to appeal? — the 
 good, or to the evil passions ? Who is the more 
 influential leader of his kind, he who assumes that 
 men are corrupt, immoral, dishonest, tricky, or he 
 who assumes that they mean to be honest, just, and 
 candid? Why do men, in speaking to their fellows, 
 always. try to maintain the appearance of right, unless 
 it be because there is still in the human breast an 
 unspoiled appreciation and approbation of the right ? 
 
 Right thinking is not, indeed, right doing ; but it is 
 the first step which costs. And is there not, on the 
 whole, more right doing than wrong doing? Sin in 
 the mass is odious ; and the mass is immense. It is 
 noisome and noisy : it is against wind and tide : it 
 makes outcry, and attracts attention. Innocence and 
 virtue and holiness are quiet and natural. Their voice 
 is not heard ; but they are pervasive, and one might 
 almost say, overpowering. The honest, generous, 
 worthy people in almost any community outnumber the 
 thieves, the misers, the worthless. The fathers and 
 mothers, the brothers and sisters, do many more good 
 deeds to each other than evil ; say many more kind 
 words than harsh ones. But the ninety and nine 
 respectable and exemplary families figure far less before 
 
 19* 
 
222 SERMONS TO TIIE CLERGY. 
 
 the public than the one litigious and quarrelsome family. 
 The one hasty word of the good husband stays longer 
 in memoiy to harass and annoy than the twenty kindly 
 and comfortable words to soothe. The little children 
 pla}^ in the sunshine for hours, and nobody minds them ; 
 but one howl of displeasure speedily rivets all the 
 attention of authority. The mass of vice is immense ; 
 but the mass of virtue — is it not, also, immense and 
 immeasurable? Where, then, is total depravity? and 
 what is total depravity? 
 
 Shall we say that generosity and benevolence and 
 sympathy are but natural traits, have no moral 
 character, are destitute of holiness, and will not avail 
 in the general summing-up ? that there is in them no 
 more saving virtue than in the pla} T fulness of the 
 kitten, or the timidity of the lamb? But is it not the 
 best thing possible to be said of Nature, that its 
 unforced, spontaneous traits are noble? It is, surely, 
 far better to be kind simply, naturally, unconsciously, 
 than to be forced to make a fresh resolution every time 
 there is an opportunity for kindness. To be, without 
 thinking, what, with your hardest thinking and 
 strongest determination, } t ou would wish to be, ought 
 not to be counted a disadvantage. The strongest con- 
 demnation we can pronounce against airy sin is, that it 
 is unnatural. In that do we not pronounce a eulogy 
 on Nature? 
 
HEAVENLY HEATHENISM. 223 
 
 And if kindness and benevolence have no moral 
 character, are simply temperamental and insignificant, 
 shall not unkinclness and malevolence come under the 
 same head? If a man's good deeds to his neighbor 
 shall go for nothing in the general judgment, because 
 he did them, not from love to God, but simply out of 
 a naturally kind disposition, shall not his evil deeds 
 be equally set at nought, because he did them with no 
 hatred, and no thought of God, but only out of that 
 temper which his mother gave him ? 
 
 One child is so rooted and grounded in love to his 
 father, that he never thinks of disobeying him ; never 
 thinks of the household rules as law, more than of the 
 sun rising. Another rebels and revolts ; and it is only 
 after a hard struggle, and much inward discussion, that 
 he conforms to the household authority. Shall his 
 submission be counted to him for righteousness, while 
 the other's blameless walk, which is not submission, 
 but harmony, counts for nothing? 
 
 Sin is a terrible blot on the world's page ; but 
 perhaps it is a blot, and not the page. For me, I am 
 amazed at the amount of quiet, stolid, unswerving 
 goodness that does not know itself for goodness, but 
 thinks it is simply supporting the family, or paying the 
 taxes, or training the children, or doing the fall sewing, 
 or electing the candidate, or minding its own business 
 generally, — goodness that rates itself too low to im- 
 
224 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 agine that the Deity could take any cognizance of it, 
 but which I imagine to be an offering of a sweet savor 
 unto the Lord, — goodness which wears noplrylacteries, 
 and flaunts no banners, nor ever thinks itself meet 
 to enter even the outer court of the sanctuary, but 
 before which, I fancy, the inner doors will one day 
 part, on golden hinges turning. 
 
PEAYEE. 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 |HE proposal of Prof. Tyndall, or his friend, 
 to subject prayer to scientific tests, seems to 
 have somewhat shocked, not to say angered, 
 the religious world. Possibly, that is what the gentle- 
 men wanted. Perhaps, however, they were sincere 
 in their desire to ascertain the efficacy of prayer; 
 or perhaps it was less to show their own disbelief 
 than to convince the world of its unbelief. It is surely 
 unnecessary to assume that they were actuated by un- 
 handsome motives. Even if they were, would it not be 
 wiser, and worthier the truth, to ignore that fact, and 
 treat them as if they were simply mistaken, and 
 sincerely inquiring, rather than attempt to cast odium 
 upon them, to call them Sadducees, and their proposal 
 a trap ? 
 
 Why must it be a trap ? Why is not the test they 
 propound just as fair as that named by Elijah to the 
 prophets of Baal, to which we never raised objection? 
 James said, ' ' Is any sick among you ? Let him call 
 for the elders of the church ; and let them pray over 
 
 227 
 
228 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord : 
 and the pra}~er of faith shall save the sick, and the 
 Lord shall raise him up." If we believe that James 
 meant to state a truth of literal and universal appli- 
 cation, why are the philosophers unreasonable? If 
 we do not believe it, what do we believe ? 
 
 To sa}' that God will not answer a prayer that is a 
 challenge, or pra}^er that proceeds from a doubt as to 
 the efficacy of prayer, and that Christ always refused 
 to give a sign, is hardty fair to Prof. Tyndall, and is 
 not beyond question. Christ would hardly refuse to 
 give a sign which was precisely what he had himself 
 prescribed. If the prayer of faith shall save the sick, 
 how is one to know that it is irreverent to ask all the 
 faithful to pray for the sick? Elijah's proposal was a 
 challenge of the most defiant sort ; and the priests of 
 Baal showed, at least, the sincerity of their belief, by 
 accepting it. We may, indeed, say that the challenge 
 was not given to the true God, but to the false god. 
 But we cannot place the divine Being in the attitude of 
 proposing what he would decline to accept. He surely 
 showed conclusively that he was not offended by being 
 subjected to a material test. It was not, indeed, sci- 
 entific ; but it was purely popular. Gideon, in great 
 doubt and fear, sought an arbitrary sign from Heaven ; 
 and it was granted him once and again. Christ did re- 
 fuse to give signs, but not when something was asked 
 
PRAYER. 229 
 
 in direct conformity with his directions. Elijah had 
 great faith ; but Gideon, apparently, had little. If it 
 does no good for any person to pray who does not 
 believe in pra}~er, if prayers have no effect except when 
 offered by persons who have no doubts to set at rest, 
 alas ! would not the lips of the world be well-nigh 
 sealed? I have not so learned Christ. It seems to 
 me that God is so abundantly and immeasurably kind, 
 considerate, and helpful ; he is so eager that we 
 should confide in him, and love him ; he is so anxious 
 to put us into communication with himself, and yet 
 so unable to do it without our concurrence, — that he 
 clutches at a straw as it were. He comes out to meet 
 us while we are yet a great way off. He catches the 
 first glance turned toward him, even though it be of 
 gloom and doubt. He accepts even an unreasonable 
 and arbitrary challenge. He is glad to hear us say, 
 "Lord, I believe: Lord, I believe," even though we 
 contradict ourselves in the next breath, and cry out, 
 " Help thou mine unbelief." He will hear and answer 
 the prayer that is offered with halt and hesitancy ; 
 that has scarcely a stronger hold on the soul than has 
 the spider's web on the tree from which it trembles. 
 
 Does not the question, after all, turn on the nature 
 
 of pra}^er, and, by implication, on the proper objects of 
 
 prayer? The Bible certainly seems to teach, that 
 
 prayer for direct, personal, material objects, will be 
 
 20 
 
230 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 literally answered. We who have grown abstract 
 and philosophical are inclined to reject the theory, 
 and say that the only prayers to which we ought to 
 expect literal answers are prayers for spiritual gifts. 
 We may pray that our friends recover their health, 
 but with the proviso, if it be God's will. So, then, if 
 our friends die, the prayer is not lost. We pray 
 that we may be of forgiving temper. That needs no 
 proviso, because we know it is the will of God that we 
 should be forgiving. Such prayer, then, will surely be 
 answered. But, says the scientist, "if the disease be 
 an incurable one, all the pra3^ers of all the world will 
 not cure it. Filth brings fever. Prayer cannot inter- 
 pose." And we admit the force of the statement. 
 But law has no more force in the physical than in the 
 moral world. The heart is just as truly, if not just as 
 directly, under the sway of logic, it is just as subject to 
 cause and effect, as is the head. God cannot make 
 me good without my concurrence, any more than he 
 can make me healthy. I must take just as reasonable 
 and definite measures against malice, envy, and un- 
 charitableness, if I have a tendency that way, as 
 against rheumatism and typhoid-fever. A forgiving 
 temper is as much within my own grasp as physical 
 vigor, and as unattainable outside of certain conditions. 
 God as really desires I should be well as he desires I 
 should be good. I pray him to enable me to forgive 
 
PRAYER. 231 
 
 m} T foe ; and I at once turn about, and speak peaceably 
 to him, and help him bear his burdens. I pray God 
 to conduct me safely on my journey ; and I take care 
 never to step upon the train when it is in motion. 
 But if I am weak, and fall into revenge ; if I am late, 
 and fear to miss the train, and, in each case, come to 
 grief, — is prayer unanswered, and of no avail? 
 
 Reason does not forsake the spiritual to control the 
 material world. The two worlds are one, — subject to 
 the same law of cause and effect, ruled by the same 
 sovereign. The Lord our God is one Lord. If the 
 little geological hammer shivers the efficacy of prayer 
 for material blessings, it annihilates with the same 
 blow all prayer for spiritual blessing. If science will 
 not permit God to refresh the thirsty earth with falling 
 showers, in response to the prayers of the saints, 
 neither can it permit him to refresh their thirsty souls 
 with the dews of divine grace. 
 
 I do not believe any theory of prayer can be framed 
 which will satisfy either the believer or the unbeliever. 
 There is a whole universe to rove through, and we 
 know very little about it all. It is not only that the 
 stars in their courses fight slry of us ; but we are living 
 every day in close contact with forces, of whose nature, 
 origin, and ends, we are almost totally ignorant. It 
 is not only we, the people, who walk " in a vain show ; " 
 but the scientists hold their knowledge by the most 
 
232 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 insecure tenure. The learning of one generation is 
 the rubbish of the next. " God cannot contravene hia 
 own laws," says the philosopher. " Wiry pray that he 
 should?" But tell me, O my philosopher, what are 
 God's laws ? Once it was a divine law that heat was 
 caloric, a latent substance in all bodies : now it is 
 divine law that heat is no substance at all, but a mode 
 of motion. Once the law bade the sun go around the 
 earth : now it sends the earth spinning around the 
 sun. Once the law made light to be the emanation 
 of matter from luminous bodies ; then it was the 
 undulation of ether, pervading all bodies : now it 
 looks as if light were decreed to be the vibrations of 
 the molecules of matter itself. Once the law made 
 sharp and essential distinctions between mind and 
 matter : now the correlation of forces transmutes 
 bread and butter into thought, and philosophy is but 
 phosphorus on the brain. Surely the condemnation 
 of Christian devotion is premature. Further investi- 
 gation may yet discover prayer, too, among the 
 secretions. 
 
 Indeed, the philosopher's refusal to recognize prayer 
 as a possible force seems to me eminently unphiloso- 
 phical. After long and elaborate treatises to prove 
 that muscular power is correlated with nerve-power, 
 and nerve-power with will-power ; that mental opera- 
 tions are directly correlated with physical activities ,• 
 
PRAYER. 233 
 
 that external material force may become a mode of 
 internal consciousness ; that emotion may be converted 
 into movement, — they turn around, and affirm that one 
 special form of emotion cannot be converted into 
 movement, a certain mode of consciousness, a certain 
 exertion of will-power, one especial form of mental 
 and moral operations, can have no influence whatever 
 upon physical activities. Our magi are ready to swear 
 to the correlation and conservation of forces ; but they 
 must select the forces. 
 
 Learned and logical Herr Professor, we believe in 
 you profound^. Whether you go down into the 
 darkness of the under-world, or up into the very 
 brightness and substance of the sun, we follow you 
 with unequal steps, but with reverent eyes and de- 
 lighted hearts. Many things which you say we must 
 take on trust ; but the results of your difficult and 
 occult processes we receive gladly. But if you put 
 prayer outside the pale of cosmical forces, if 3'ou de- 
 monstrate that it is only a name, and nothing more, 
 we may not refute your argument, or resist your 
 action ; j 7 et, all the same, not one single believing 
 heart is shocked one hair's-breadth out of its position 
 by your flawless argument. This is one of the facts 
 you must build on, and it is as indisputable as an 
 alkali. We pray, not because it is reasonable or 
 logical to pray, but because we cannot help it. Does 
 20* 
 
234 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Mr. Galton say that " prayer is but a signal of 
 distress, the outcry of the hare in mortal terror of the 
 hounds " ? Why, even thus he concedes every thing. 
 It makes prayer organic, natural, real. Admit that 
 prayer is what it seems to be as truly as is the cry 
 of the hunted hare, and we need ask no more. 
 
 We know well that typhoid-fever is generated by 
 ignorance and negligence. We are ready to believe 
 that the germs of disease have a fatal affinit} T , so to 
 speak, with certain living tissues ; but, when the child 
 of the house is prostrate and tossed with fever, all the 
 treatises in the world would not keep the father and 
 mother from pushing to Heaven constant and earnest 
 implorings for his recovery. In the early morning, 
 as you stand at your window, looking over the green 
 world, all sparkling and dew}^, all alight and alive, 
 your soul rises to God in praise and exultation, — not 
 by a mental causation, perhaps, but upborne by a no 
 less powerful moral instinct, which is, also, not without 
 the line of causation. If you come to that, you may 
 resolve the dew, and the brightness, and the fertility 
 into vapors and suction and absorption, the blind 
 workings of Nature, the simple procession of cause 
 and effect, for which no one has an}^ especial call to 
 be grateful. But we are grateful. We do praise the 
 Lord for it. All nations, in all ages, have ascribed 
 glory to God. Find room for that fact in your sj-stem 
 
PRAYER. 235 
 
 of philosophy, or your induction must be incom- 
 plete. 
 
 We are ready to relinquish our philosophical theories 
 whenever you speak the word. "We are not indisso- 
 luble wedded to the sjdlogism. We shall never make 
 any fight against the convertibility of forces, or the 
 indestructibility of matter. In the heavens and the 
 earth, and the waters which are under the earth, in 
 the solar s} T stem, and the whole boundless universe, 
 you shall have every thing your own way ; but suffer 
 the little children, and forbid them not, to say, " Our 
 Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name." 
 
 And except ye become as little children, and until 
 ye become as little children, and in as far as ye do 
 not become as little children, I do not see but you 
 will have to wander forever in the outer darkness of 
 your molecules and your imponderables, your dynamics 
 and yom transmutations, and never enter into the 
 warm, loving, certain kingdom of heaven. 
 
 No doubt, at heart, the philosophers are far better 
 Christians than they make themselves out to be. 
 The} r have a profound trust in protoxides, and a 
 simple faith in the spectroscope, which promises to 
 keep bright their power of faith and trust. And if 
 they do seem to remit the Deity to the further end of 
 the chain of causation, and allow him no part nor lot 
 in the affairs of to-day, nevertheless, he is not far 
 
236 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 from every one of us, and, haply, they feel after him, 
 and find him, even in a chemical experiment or an 
 astronomical observation. 
 
 Nor are we, Christians after a sort, such hypo- 
 crites as they fear, although we do not readily accept 
 their suggestion of concerted and concentrated prayer. 
 The reasons that we give for our refusal may not be 
 coherent or consistent ; but the one unanswerable 
 reason is, that we do not like the idea. It is repulsive. 
 If 3 t ou cannot see why , O philosophers ! never mind. 
 The fact remains ; and it is an insurmountable objec- 
 tion, just as truly as if it bristled with premise and 
 conclusion. 
 
 " The reason why I cannot tell; 
 But I don't like you, Dr. Fell." 
 
 And Dr. Fell would have been no more completely 
 rejected if he had been a villain, and therefore rejected. 
 Somebody, who apparently believes that the Deity is 
 of the Chinese persuasion, and will hear a clash of 
 gongs, when he would be deaf to a "still, small voice," 
 proposed, that, when the blare of trumpets should have 
 died out of the Peace Jubilee House, a world's pra} T er- 
 meeting should be gathered there from all quarters of 
 the globe. The suggestion fell flat upon the public 
 ear, and was never heard of more ; but it was not in 
 the least because Christian America does not believe 
 
PRAYER. 237 
 
 in prayer. We are bad enough, Heaven knows (and 
 it is a great comfort that Heaven does know it) ; 
 but, amid all our dissensions and distractions and 
 inconsistencies, the one thing on which we are most 
 closely united, the one thing in which we believe both 
 instinctively and intellectually, is praj^er, not dis- 
 tinctively in social prayer, in public prayer, in formal 
 prayer, but in the unforced, spontaneous, irresistible 
 outflow of the human soul to a personal, sympathizing, 
 all-comprehending God, in whom we live and move, 
 and have our being. 
 
 It seems to me, learned and beloved Prof. Tyndall, 
 that if you would only say the Lord's Prayer every 
 night, reverently and really, as such a man as you 
 must needs say it, if he say it at all, the problem of 
 prayer would soon solve itself. And it is worth 
 while to observe, that, while there are prayers and 
 prayers, the Lord's Pra} T er seems to cover the ground. 
 All the good in all the world is comprehended in those 
 simple, succinct formulas. They are relegated largely 
 to children and Episcopalians ; but adults have not 
 outgrown them, nor have even Congregationalists 
 devised any thing better. I cannot think of a blessing 
 to be desired, an evil to be averted, which is not 
 included in the Lord's Prayer ; and we are expressly 
 warned not to lay stress on much speaking. Still, if 
 the soul wishes to go outside the form presented by 
 
238 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 our Saviour, and voice its wants in its own words, I 
 suppose the Lord God will still be attent. 
 
 Shall I give a little narrative that proves nothing, 
 and may go for nothing, but is, nevertheless, not 
 unconnected with our theme ? 
 
 Said my friend, a simple, unlearned woman, " I 
 wanted a servant. My house was in order ; and I was 
 read} 7 to set up housekeeping. I went to the intelli- 
 gence-offices. The same shabby benches of shabby 
 women, rough, untidy, repulsive. My heart sank 
 within me at the thought of organizing a home on such 
 a basis. It occurred to me, would it do any good — 
 in fact, would it be right — to pray over it? If good 
 servants are not to be had, God himself cannot bring 
 me one. Moreover, the supply is extremely limited, 
 and the demand very great. I was not in sore need. 
 There were a great many other women to whom a 
 competent servant meant health, peace of mind, con- 
 tent with life : to me, it meant only freedom from 
 annoyance ; and I was so rich in happiness, in comfort, 
 in occupation, in satisfying friendships and natural 
 life, that it seemed selfish to be craving the good serv- 
 ant which other women needed so much. And with 
 it all was a doubt whether God ever intended us to 
 throw such things on him. Having given us ability to 
 help ourselves, would it not be like indolence to ask 
 him to help us? And, ignorant as we are, is it ever 
 
PRAYER. 239 
 
 safe to set our hearts upon any thing in particular ? 
 Still I wanted the right one so much, and did not in 
 the least know how to get at her. So, all quietly, and 
 with never a thought of breathing it to any one, I 
 made a little arrangement with the good God, that if 
 it could be done without depriving any one else of 
 assistance, and if it were not a thing so much my 
 own business that I had no right to trouble him about 
 it, and if, in addition to all the rest of my satisfactions, 
 he could afford to let me have the satisfaction of a 
 good servant, why I should be very glad and grateful. 
 But I stipulated expressly that I would not presume 
 on an affirmative answer, and that a negative answer 
 should apply only to this particular case. If nothing 
 came of it, I would, perhaps, be more backward about 
 tr}*ing again ; but I would not promise not to try 
 again. 
 
 " On my way to the intelligence-office, it came into 
 my power to attempt a good service for an absent 
 acquaintance. It would cost me two or three hours 
 of time, a good deal of discomfort, and interruption of 
 m}^ present pursuit ; and the woman in question had 
 showed herself entirely unappreciative, not to say 
 resentful, of previous favors. I had a thousand minds 
 not to go ; but it occurred to me, that here was I 
 asking a doubtful favor for myself. I was not sure I 
 was on legitimate ground there ; but I was quite sure 
 
240 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 in doing a kind act. Was it rather bribing the good 
 God? Perhaps so. But I knew he could not be 
 bribed : so there was no harm done. My errand over, 
 I went to the intelligence-office. Immediately a 
 3'oung woman was presented to me, so pretty, modest, 
 and ladylike, that I thought she could not be a servant ; 
 but she was. I put several questions, which she 
 answered so satisfactorily, and her whole appearance 
 was so prepossessing, that I was taken aback, and 
 actually sat and stared at her. I don't know what the 
 poor creature thought of me ; but I was thinking over 
 and over again, c I wonder if God did send }'ou.' It 
 seemed just like the Old Testament. And yet it 
 seemed, also, somehow, as if God was making fun of 
 me, you know. But there was nothing to do but take 
 her home. On my way home, it came into nry power 
 again, by taking some trouble, to do another small 
 kindness to certain good friends. I was just as uncer- 
 tain where I stood as before ; but I said, ' If there is 
 any such thing as putting God under bonds, I will do 
 it. He shall have no excuse for not obliging me in 
 my indisposition to oblige others.' "Well, I have not 
 got over it }'et. Here is my pretty handmaiden, neat 
 and trim and tidy, intelligent, capable, sweet-tempered, 
 quiet, respectful, modest, — a girl that I can really 
 love, not with what theologians call the love of benev- 
 olence, but with the love of complacenc3 T , — a servant 
 
PRAYER. 241 
 
 who is in her place a lady. Now, as she moves about 
 the house with noiseless footfall, as I see the brown 
 hair put smoothly back from her delicate forehead, as 
 I mark the varjing flush in her round cheek, as I look 
 into her deep, earnest eyes, it is not simply that a 
 helpful, healthful Scotch lassie is making life pleasant 
 to me ; but I say over and over again in mute apos- 
 trophe, ' I wonder if God did send you.' It is such 
 a perfect answer, that it does not seem as if it could 
 be an answer at all. But, if it is not an answer, 
 should you think God would let it happen so ? " 
 
 Wise men of the East and of the West, this is not 
 argument. It is hardly illustration. It is only a 
 specimen of the way in which the minds of the un- 
 learned work. You know perfectly well that God had 
 nothing to do with it, but that it was simply the 
 result of long trains of Scotch history and American 
 politics. But political and historical scholars are few ; 
 while the men and women are many in the world, who, 
 not with gong and trumpet, in the open squares, but 
 silently, in their own hearts, in a thousand modes and 
 forms, are putting God to the test. "There is no 
 speech nor language. Their voice is not heard.'' 
 They can give no physical nor metaphysical formula 
 that can for a moment resist your logic ; but it is borne 
 in upon them somehow, that God stands the test ; and 
 against this solid, deep-seated, lifelong conviction, 
 believe me, you will never make any headway. 
 
TEA-PAETY SALVATION. 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 
 
 |HE problem of saving young men from moral 
 destruction in large cities is of vital impor- 
 tance to the Church, and perhaps an incident 
 . . . may help to solve it. For two evenings in suc- 
 cession, one of the elders of" [a certain] " church had 
 noticed two young men in the lecture-room, appar- 
 ently strangers in the city. Entering into conversa- 
 tion, he found that neither belonged to any church 
 organization, but both were favorably disposed in that 
 direction. In response to a question, one of the 3 7 oung 
 men said, that it was the first time in seven years" 
 [they had been that time in ] "that any Chris- 
 tian man had spoken to him about his soul. The elder 
 invited the 3 r oung men to take tea with him at his 
 house, which they accepted. The sequel was, that 
 both young men became regular attendants upon the 
 sabbath school and church ; and both are now con- 
 verted and active members of. the church. The 
 incident has a moral and a sermon in it." 
 
 The incident has two sermons in it. The one more 
 
 21* 215 
 
246 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 commonly preached is to church-members, to the effect, 
 that, if a young man loses his soul, it is rather their 
 fault, in that they have not ' ' spoken ' ' to him about 
 it. The other was preached, many years ago, to the 
 young man himself: " If thou art wise, thou art wise 
 for thyself ; but, if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear 
 it." 
 
 It is not to be denied, that the problem of saving 
 young men from moral destruction is of vital impor- 
 tance to the Church ; but it is also undeniable, that 
 it is of equally vital importance to the young men. 
 Selfishness, indifference to our neighbor's weal, and 
 neglect of his claims, are sins ; but the warmest 
 Christian interest in another's welfare is always to 
 be cherished in deference to the requirements of good 
 breeding and good sense. Much of our religious talk 
 seems to proceed on the assumption that a young man 
 is a moral infant, who must be kept from hurting him- 
 self by ecclesiastical petting. There is strength in as- 
 sociation ; but, if association is to relieve a grown man 
 from the necessity of standing alone, it cannot be too 
 soon dissolved. The object of combination is to util- 
 ize, not neutralize, strength. Strength is to be turned 
 into force, not into weakness. 
 
 Here is a young man who has been seven years in a 
 church-going city, — himself a church-goer, — and says 
 this is the first time any Christian man has spoken to 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 247 
 
 him about his soul. What does he mean ? There are 
 churches in that city : there are }~oung men's Christian 
 associations, to which every young man is again and 
 again, and in many ways, welcomed. There are min- 
 isters who every Sunday are honestly and earnestly 
 trying to point out to their hearers the way of life. 
 Every word spoken was intended for these young men. 
 They had, moreover, the Bible and all the insti- 
 tutions of a Christian city. Every avenue to the 
 kingdom of heaven was as wide open to them as the 
 clergy and the church could open it. No elder of any 
 church can tell them how to become a Christian, any 
 better than they can tell themselves. The Bible is 
 his source of information ; and a New Testament can 
 be bought anywhere for twenty-five cents. Instead 
 of censuring the neglect of the churches, I censure 
 the egotism of the young men. It was not that 
 no Christian had spoken to them about their souls, 
 but that no one had taken notice of their special 
 personality. No one had flattered their vanity by 
 addressing them as Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown. They 
 would not join the church until they had been invited 
 to tea. 
 
 Many years ago, a half-witted negro, called Pompey, 
 was to be hung for having murdered his master. The 
 Sunday before his execution he was taken to church, 
 and sat, the sermon through, on a stool in the broad 
 
248 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 aisle. The minister prayed for him fervently; but 
 when he was returned to his cell, and asked if he heard 
 the prayer, he asserted and insisted that the minister 
 had not pra} T ed for him at all. "He never said, 
 6 Poor Pomp ' once." The good clergyman was in- 
 formed of Pompey's incredulity ; and in the afternoon 
 he prayed with renewed and real fervor for "Poor 
 Pomp " by name, to Pompey's great edification and 
 consolation. 
 
 Young men in this age and country have no more 
 reason to charge neglect upon church-members for not 
 speaking to them about their souls than had Pomp to 
 charge neglect upon his pastor. All their grievance is, 
 that the deacons do not say, "Poor Pomp." They 
 have not been invited to tea. I do not say that the 
 elders shall not, for Christ and the Church, invite them 
 to tea, and talk about their souls. If they have no 
 power to reason, if they have no original thought, if 
 they have no conviction and no principle, perhaps 
 there is nothing left but to work upon their emotion. 
 If " poor Pomp " is helped by the mention of his name 
 to reach feebly up to God, it is a small thing — and 
 yet not small — to name him. But I do say that the 
 young man is egotistic, self-conceited, and, as yet, very 
 shallow, who brings this forward as a reason why he 
 has not joined the church. That is a question for 
 himself to decide. Either it is his duty, or it is not. 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 249 
 
 Society furnishes him with every opportunity of 
 enlightenment on the subject. No man has spoken to 
 him about his soul ? But has he spoken to any man 
 about his ? The church-member has no more responsi- 
 bility for the young man's soul than the young man has 
 for the church-member's. Whatever the pulpit says to 
 its elders, it ought ever and ever to say to the young 
 man: "If thou art wise, thou art wise for thyself; 
 but, if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it." What 
 the State and the Church want, is, not the surging and 
 swaying of the populace, not the blind force of an 
 unreasoning multitude, not people who go as they 
 are led, but strong individual character, — young 
 men and 3*oung women who think for themselves ; who 
 unite with the church, or remain outside, from intelli- 
 gent conviction, from well founded principle, — men 
 who can give a reason for their hope and their action ; 
 who can reject error without becoming disgusted with 
 truth ; who can resist temptation, without crying to 
 others to resist that which is no temptation ; who can 
 do right simply and naturally, without making a scene, 
 and without calling upon bystanders to come and 
 behold how sublimely they are devoting themselves to 
 the cause of Christ ; who can stand erect, without 
 clamoring to be bolstered up by religious nurses, or 
 supported by ecclesiastical standing-stools ; who go to 
 church to worship God, and not to be patted on the 
 
250 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 back by an elder ; who walk the narrow path in stout 
 leathern shoes and with their own oaken staff, and do 
 not need to be escorted along on tiptoe by some 
 sturdier servitor. 
 
 Different cases require different treatment. There 
 is no law save the universal law of love and wisdom. 
 Doubtless there are times when a gentle and friendly 
 word falls like balm on the wounded spirit. Blessed 
 is the man who pours in oil and wine. Doubtless 
 there are shrinking and sensitive souls that must be 
 won out of their shadowy solitude into the more 
 wholesome sunshine of companionship. There are 
 reckless, rollicking revellers, whom a word ma}^ touch, 
 whom a tender solicitude may soften, when sermons 
 and books would glance off, and leave them unmoved. 
 But behind all these remains a class whose stock in 
 trade is innuendoes, insinuations, and .accusations 
 against the Church, — men who want to be coaxed and 
 cajoled ; who love the little sensation of standing out, 
 and having the Church bemoan itself over its languor 
 and laxity in bringing them in ; who reckon themselves 
 a sort of martyr to the neglect of Christians. 
 
 To such it seems, sometimes, as if it would be well 
 to preach the gospel after another fashion, — at least, 
 by way of experiment, — and say, " Why, go to the 
 Devil, if you choose. It is nobody's affair but your 
 own. If you prefer dissipation and death to honor and 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 251 
 
 life, who is the loser? You may bring shame to inno- 
 cence, and grief to gray hairs ; but their trouble is 
 short, and to them " jo} r cometh in the morning." It 
 is your own self, and nobod}' else, who will bear the 
 sorrow and the scar forever. But you are a free agent. 
 Go your own way. If you prefer to sta} r outside, on a 
 fancied punctilio, rather than come in to our hospitality 
 and societ} 7 ; if you think it more manly to stand aloof, 
 and criticise the brethren, than to cast in } T our lot with 
 them, at the risk of being yourself criticised, — do so. 
 " If thou art wise, thou art wise for thyself." But do 
 not think, that, in so doing, you are rebuking the 
 brethren, or approving yourself a martyr. You are but 
 showing } r ourself a foolish and sentimental young 
 person, who needs, like Mr. Small weed, a thorough 
 shaking-up. You cannot yourself think 3 r our soul is 
 of any great account, if you will maunder on seven 
 years because nobody happened to speak to } t ou about 
 it." 
 
 This may seem a harsh gospel, and I admit that it 
 should not be indiscriminately preached ; but I am 
 sure there is a mental fibre that needs it. 
 
 The ignorant and stupid outcasts of civilization, the 
 unhappy, poverty-stricken waifs who have not so much 
 as heard whether there be any Holy Ghost, any Christ, 
 anj- loving Father, — these must be minutely and per- 
 haps individually instructed ; but why should an intel- 
 
252 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 ligent, church-going adult need any one to speak to 
 him about his soul ? Especially why should he wish or 
 expect a stranger to do so ? It is a delicate matter, 
 when 3*011 come to that. There are few more cloistered 
 and sacred possessions than a man's soul. If the 
 principle is once established, that the presence of a 
 person in church is sufficient reason for any member to 
 question him about the most interior concerns of life, 
 the result will be, that persons who have any individu- 
 ality worth speaking of will stay away from church. 
 Some learned and pious ancient worthy is said to have 
 made a resolution never to talk with any one five min- 
 utes, without speaking about the salvation of his soul. 
 Would he think it proper to introduce the topic of a 
 man's income, courtship, or domestic economy after 
 an acquaintance of five minutes? Yet these are con- 
 cerns far less intimate than religion. They concern 
 only a man's dealings with his fellow-beings : religion 
 concerns his relations with his Maker, — relations 
 which even to himself are but imperfectly compre- 
 hended, and by his Maker only are thoroughly under- 
 stood. Shall the acquaintance of five minutes' 
 standing presume to intermeddle ? 
 
 But it is said that these relations are of so much 
 more importance than any other as to justify extraor- 
 dinary measures. Extraordinary caution, but not 
 extraordinary precipitancy. The more momentous 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 253 
 
 and delicate an affair, the more careful should we be 
 in treating it. It is safer to leave the intelligent mind, 
 the enlightened heart, of our age and country, to the 
 influence of the Holy Spirit working through Church 
 and Bible and Divine Providence, than it is to attempt 
 to mould it with irreverent and unskilful hand. When 
 Uriah profaned the ark of God with unseemly touch, 
 he not only lost his life, but he did not advance the 
 ark. The amount of mischief that is done by a coarse 
 handling of the soul's most delicate concerns has 
 never been estimated ; but souls are grievously marred. 
 We are told of the persons, here and there, rescued 
 from sin by a rough and ready word ; but no account 
 has ever been kept of those who have been repelled, 
 disgusted, and alienated. 
 
 I question the kind of conversion that comes of hob- 
 nobbing, Unless a man is convicted of sin, and con- 
 vinced of truth, strongly enough to come out against 
 the one, and for the other, of his own will and motion, 
 is any thing accomplished ? Tea-drinking and caresses 
 and S3Tnpathy are pleasant ; but they are not principle. 
 It is pleasanter to be taken by the hand to a cheerful 
 home than to go to a boarding-house alone ; but it is 
 an appeal to the social, and not to the religious nature. 
 I do not say it is wrong or undesirable : on the con- 
 trary, not only Christianity, but humanity, demands, 
 that, on every possible occasion, we should let our light 
 
 22 
 
254 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 shine, — the light of home and love and human brother- 
 hood no less than that of integrity and uprightness. 
 But that does not dispense with the necessit}" of dis- 
 criminating between affection, gratitude, and social 
 magnetism, on one side, and innate rectitude on the 
 other. The result of our ecclesiastical tactics does 
 not indicate so brilliant a success as to forbid all 
 question as to the wisdom of the methods by which it 
 has been obtained. Neither in the quantity nor the 
 quality of our church-membership are we invulnerable. 
 We are not sufficiently rooted and grounded in the 
 faith that conversion is good for an}- thing only as it 
 affects character. If the onty change is, that a man 
 goes regularly to church and Sunday school, while for- 
 merly he went to neither, he might as well have staid 
 unconverted. If the only result of the tea-party be, 
 that a 3'oung man is now an active member of the 
 church, whereas he was formerly no member at all, the 
 elder who invited him has not got back the money's 
 worth of his tea. A man is not necessarily a particle 
 better for teaching in Sunday schools, or going to 
 prayer-meetings. To draw him into the church by 
 flattering his vanity, b} r ministering to his self-love, by 
 making him an important and conspicuous partner in a 
 close corporation, is not certainly improving either the 
 man or the church. He ought to come in by his own 
 mind's working and his own heart's leaning. He 
 
TEA-PARTY SALVATION. 255 
 
 ought to come in, at once being and becoming a 
 stronger man, more patient, more energetic, more con- 
 siderate, more temperate or more spirited, more indus- 
 trious or less worldly, more generous or less prodigal, 
 more severe or more lenient, according to his weak- 
 ness. It does not signify whether or not he is ready 
 to lead the brethren in prayer ; but is he less grasping 
 in his dealings than he was, less vain, less self- 
 centred, less exacting? Do the sinners whom he 
 trades with find him more punctual in keeping his 
 engagements ? Is he more careful not to be sharp and 
 selfish at home ? Is he more charitable in judgment, 
 more intolerant of rascality, even in respectable garb? 
 It is not those who are the most forward to speak, or 
 to be spoken to, about their souls, who have necessarily 
 the most pure and undented and trustworthy religion. 
 There are people who would rather be talked about as 
 backsliders than not be talked about at all. There are 
 people who will boast of the enormity of their sins as 
 if it were a feather in their cap. And I know a woman 
 who never sings more merrily at her washtub than 
 when she has set a whole class-meeting groaning and 
 praying over her " fall from grace." 
 
 It only needs a certain degree of self-confidence, 
 self-conceit, and coarseness, to enable anybody to 
 ' ' speak ' ' to anybody. What we need is not en- 
 couragement to prey upon our neighbor's privacy, but 
 
256 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 warning to respect it. Young people need far less aid 
 in laying their personal responsibility upon others, and 
 refusing to be upright, except upon the church's soli- 
 citation, than in learning the meaning and dignity of 
 silence, and the profound reverence, which, under all 
 circumstances, and on every occasion, should be paid 
 to the living soul. 
 
THE LAND OF BKOKEN PEOIISE. 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 
 
 [HE reverend and venerable Dr. Woolsey, late 
 president of Yale College, publicly expresses 
 his dismay at our national plight, and our 
 especial need of hope, " aside from personal consider- 
 ations, when the affairs of the country are conducted 
 with so little wisdom, and when political corruption 
 seems to be becoming more and more rampant." 
 
 Mr. James Russell Lowell is made so uncomfortable 
 by reading American newspapers abroad, that he in- 
 troduces into a solemn and stately elegiac poem upon 
 Agassiz the teacher, his deep disgust with the country 
 of his birth and of Agassiz's adoption. This song 
 sings he from over the sea : — 
 
 " The festering news we half despise, 
 Yet scramble for, no less, 
 And read of public scandal, private fraud; 
 Crime flaunting scot-free, while the mob applaud; 
 Office made vile to bribe unwortbiness; 
 And all tbe unwholesome mess. 
 The Land of Broken Promise serves of late 
 To teach the Old World how to wait." 
 
 259 
 
260 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 And, as all roads lead to Rome, "The Congregation- 
 alist," one of the oldest, ablest, and most influential 
 religious newspapers in the countiy, deduces from the 
 Mill River disaster the rather remarkable moral reflec- 
 tion, that our own community, and our whole nation, 
 should ' ' be admonished by it of a danger in which we 
 are, from the great volume of political corruption 
 reservoired at Washington, which ever and anon gives 
 warning of its dangerous power, and which at any 
 moment may deluge the broad land with distress. 
 Charles Reade's attempted remedjr was to ' blow up 
 the waste-weir.' If something could be seasonably 
 blown up at the capital, there might be less danger to 
 the land." 
 
 The affairs of this Land of Broken Promise are con- 
 ducted by — or we may sa}^, "the reservoir of political 
 corruption at Washington" is divided into — three 
 departments, — the executive, the judicial, and the 
 legislative. The President, the head of the Executive 
 Department, is a regularly educated man, a graduate 
 of West Point. The Vice-President is not a graduate, 
 but is a member of an evangelical church in good 
 and regular standing. Of the seven members of the 
 cabinet, the advisory council of the Executive, at least 
 five have a college education. Of the nine judges 
 of the Supreme Court, I assume (what I do not know) 
 that all are graduates of colleges, Of three hundred 
 
TEE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 261 
 
 and forty-eight members of the present Congress, 
 one hundred and seventy are recorded as having re- 
 ceived a college-education, most of them being gradu- 
 ates. A very large majority of the remaining one 
 hundred and seventy-eight — so large, that we may 
 say all, with a few exceptions — have received an aca- 
 demic education. The ratio of liberally educated, and 
 even of college educated, men in the National Govern- 
 ment, is, therefore, overwhelmingly larger than that out- 
 side of government. It is safe to assume (and, if I am 
 wrong, I can easily be proved wrong by exact sta- 
 tistics) , that of the eight millions of adult men, who, 
 according to the ordinary rule of ratio, may be reck- 
 oned citizens of the United States, not more than fifty 
 thousand are college graduates. Of the Executive De- 
 partment, then, two-thirds are college graduates. Of 
 the Judicial Departments, all are college graduates. 
 Of the Legislative Department, nearty, if not quite, 
 one-half are college-bred, and nearly all have an aca- 
 demic training ; while, outside of Congress, the college- 
 men are only one in one hundred and sixty of the 
 whole male adult population. When we reflect, that, 
 almost universally, the colleges and academies of the 
 country — if not dedicated definitely and formally, like 
 Harvard University, to Christ and the Church — were 
 yet founded in the interests of religion as truly as 
 of science, by devout and learned men, we see that 
 
262 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 government is not made up of the scum and dregs of 
 our country, nor even of its average " sweetness 
 and light ; " but it is the outcome of our churches and 
 colleges, the product of what is considered to be our 
 highest intelligence and virtue. If, then, the average 
 wisdom and honesty of the government be less than 
 those of the outside world, it certainly leads to the sup- 
 position, that church and college train to weakness and 
 wickedness, and not to purity and strength. It would 
 seem that the fountains of political corruption are to be 
 found in our nurseries of religion and learning. Nor, I 
 trust, will it be deemed impertinent for me to suggest 
 to college faculties and other clergy, that though 
 standing afar off, and "blowing up something" at 
 Washington, is a favorite and an easy method of 
 political reformation, it may not really be the most 
 thorough, rational, and effective. When our schools and 
 academies, our colleges and churches, have so remod- 
 elled their modes of study and their moral influence as 
 to become potent for good rather than for evil ; when 
 the} r can contribute to the government men stronger 
 against temptation, nobler in the adoption of ends, and 
 wiser in the pursuit of means, than are reared outside 
 of college-walls, — then may we look for political re- 
 generation. But so long as the body-politic outside of 
 government — of which the very offscouring of the earth 
 is a large component part, and into which comes 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 263 
 
 liberal education in a severely diminished ratio — is a 
 comparatively virtuous and pure body, and the body 
 called government — though almost entirely free from 
 the low element characterized as the " dangerous 
 classes," and composed largely of the very flower of 
 civilization and Christianity — is so filthy and nau- 
 seous as to be a "reservoir of political corruption," 
 from whose defilement the purer outside world should 
 be defended, it must be agreed that our science and 
 our Christianity are both failures, and that the most 
 urgent need of the day is a radical reform in our insti- 
 tutions of learning and religion. 
 
 I speak as a fool, "yet as a fool receive me." 
 My acquaintance with colleges is limited ; yet such 
 straws as I have seen fluttering harmonize with the 
 above recorded facts in marking the direction of the 
 wind. When a young man of cultivated and honored 
 ancestiy, having reached his twentieth year not only 
 without reproach, but with signal honor, becomes a 
 member of that university of which Prof. James Russell 
 Lowell is so distinguished an ornament, to be, in his 
 senior } T ear, expelled with his fair young name tar- 
 nished, and his future marred ; when, in the same 
 university, a young man attends recitation every day, 
 and is summoned to recite only once in four weeks ; 
 when a man whose European reputation is wider even 
 than that of Mr. James Russell Lowell declares that 
 
264 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the headquarters of Harvard College are in the Parker 
 House bar-room, and all the Harvard world applauds 
 the ' ' hit ; " when an express-box brought to a student's 
 door suggests u wine " to the first passer-by; when 
 that member of the cabinet who has been most de- 
 nounced for incapacity, not to say imbecility, for 
 connivance at fraud, not to say fraud, for insignifi- 
 cance, not to say imperceptibility (I am not now pre- 
 suming to give an opinion of my own, but am merely 
 stating the case as our journals give it), when this 
 secretary is a graduate with honors from Harvard 
 Universit}', — I cannot help suspecting that no incon- 
 siderable part of the "unwholesome mess" which 
 disturbed the digestion of Prof. James Russell Lowell 
 was cooked at the university with which his name is 
 indissolubly connected. When I hear the president 
 of that college which Dr. Woolsey for many years 
 distinguished by his fame, and nurtured with his coun- 
 sels, characterizing an assemblage of twenty or thirty 
 of his own students as " a drunken crowd ; " when its 
 attempts at discipline are so clumsy, that a New York 
 newspaper, prominent for courtesy and calm compre- 
 hensiveness, and wholly friendly to the college, rebukes 
 it for inflicting " most arbitrary and excessively unjust 
 punishment for questionable offence," — I cannot think 
 that the " little wisdom" of the National Government 
 is the nearest target for Dr. Woolsey' s arrows. When 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 265 
 
 the secret society of a college carries its brutal and 
 bacchanal initiation orgies to the cruel death of the 
 student to be initiated ; when the servile and stupid 
 custom of hazing has been allowed to take such root 
 in our colleges, that the effort to extirpate it is heard 
 from Michigan to Maine ; when resistance to constituted 
 authority goes to the length of a secession of two whole 
 classes ; and the relation between teacher and taught, 
 even in our most prominent colleges, is publicly, and 
 without contradiction, characterized as " a system of 
 mere arbitrary and irresponsible power on the one 
 hand, and, of course, of antagonism, and often rebel- 
 lion, on the other," — I cannot admit that the National 
 Government is par excellence the corporate bod}' which 
 stands in need of more wisdom, and demands the 
 greatest help from hope. It is not unnatural that 
 college officers, with all their traditions and habits of 
 absolute sovereignty, should be impatient at the slow 
 and halting steps of a government hampered by con- 
 stitutional law and the rights of the individual ; but, 
 apart from the fact that our National Government has 
 not the power to compel all men — even in its own 
 employ or its own constituency — to be virtuous, the 
 success of the colleges in compelling their own students 
 to virtue has not been so brilliant as to make any large 
 portion of our countrymen desirous to change, with 
 all its drawbacks, the national for the collegiate form 
 of government. 23 
 
266 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that Mr. James Russell 
 Lowell, writing from a far, foreign country, and loving 
 his own with the idealization w r hich absence and 
 distance always lend, could formally and publicly 
 brand her with a name of dishonor, without an over- 
 powering cause, as well as the bitterest pain. 
 
 What w r as that cause? What does Mr. Lowell 
 mean when he names the United States " The Land of 
 Broken Promise " ? What promise has our country 
 made, and what has she failed to keep, that she should 
 be signalized above all nations as the land of broken 
 promise? Her Declaration of Independence and her 
 Constitution are the formal statement of her faith and 
 practice, and the standard by which she should be 
 judged. Has she been false to the one or to the 
 other ? Has she failed to maintain her independence ? 
 Has she faltered in her efforts to secure to her people 
 life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, or to derive 
 the power of her government from the consent of the 
 governed? Has she been careless to form a perfect 
 union, to establish justice, to insure domestic tranquil- 
 lity, to provide for the common defence, to promote 
 the general welfare, to secure the blessings of liberty? 
 Has she been reckless of the Constitution expressly 
 framed for the furtherance of these ends? It is not 
 simply that she fought eight years to maintain her 
 independence, and four years to uphold her Constitu- 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 267 
 
 tion (at what a cost of blood, none knows better than 
 Mr. Lowell) : it is that she has been so successful in 
 securing independence, she prizes so highly the free- 
 dom she has won, that her pride and exultation have 
 become proverbial, — a theme for the gay banter of her 
 friends, the malignant caricature of her foes. It is 
 that her Constitution is so fixed in the regard of the 
 people, that it forms the ultimate appeal of the bitterest 
 partisan of all parties. The one unpardonable sin of 
 the political world, which is not to be so much as 
 named among us, is violation of the Constitution. 
 What other promise has America made to the world 
 than individual liberty and constitutional government 
 of the people by the people ? 
 
 Or is it not the government, but the individuals 
 who compose the nation, who give the nation its bad 
 pre-eminence? But when have we even promised to 
 secure universal personal perfection? When and 
 where did this country take out a patent for private 
 individual regeneration? Nowhere but in the brains 
 of theorists. The men who founded, and the men who 
 sustain, this nation, know well that it is not a form of 
 government which moulds character, but character 
 which shapes the form of government. They were 
 never so foolish as to suppose that human depravity 
 would die out in the purest republic : on the contraiy, 
 they assume, in the strongest manner, its indefinite 
 
268 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 existence b} r making laws to restrain and diminish it. 
 Undoubtedly they believed that what was peculiar in 
 their institutions would not minister to vice ; that in 
 the greater happiness, freedom, and prosperity which 
 they wished to secure, there would be less temptation 
 to, less commission of crime. Were they wrong? Is 
 private character less honorable here than in the Old 
 World ? Is the standard of truth and honesty lower ? 
 Is the word of a gentleman less binding? Is there 
 less pa}*ment of debt, more trickery in trade, more 
 cheating of servants, less chastit}', less charity, less 
 courtesy to women, less consideration for a neighbor? 
 On the contrar}', do not our higher and our lower 
 classes compare favorably with those of any other 
 country ? Is an American less trusted in the shops of 
 Europe than a Russian? Is an English gentleman 
 more courteous, is an Italian peasant more comfort- 
 able, is a Prussian mechanic more free, is a French 
 tradesman more honest, is a Spanish laborer more 
 intelligent, than his American comrade ? 
 
 " Crime flaunting scot-free while the mob applauds." 
 
 What crime flaunts scot-free ? and what mob applauds ? 
 Is it murder ? is it theft ? is it drunkenness ? On the 
 contrar} r , this Land of Broken Promise serves of late 
 nothing more noticeable than a fixed, resolute deter- 
 mination to ferret out and annihilate all malefeasance 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 269 
 
 in office, all breach of trust. No "public scandal" 
 has made part of Mr. Lowell's " festering news," but 
 in connection with, and often in consequence of, an 
 effort to remove it. The great wickedness of Mr. 
 Tweed and the New York Ring was successful only 
 so long as it was secret. It flaunted only to fall. No 
 sooner was it set forth to the world than a universal 
 rage tore down upon it, and scattered its perpetrators 
 to prison and to exile. In a sort of renaissance of 
 virtue, our zeal has sometimes outrun our discretion. 
 We have pushed " investigation ' ' sometimes to an 
 absurd and injurious limit, and to the distress and 
 serious detriment of men who were not only innocent, 
 but who would have been considered innocent by a 
 more dispassionate survey. Through mere good- 
 nature, weak, perhaps, and harmful, but not unmanly, 
 offence has been condoned, but never applauded. 
 Criminals have been, through mercy, let off lightly; 
 but their crime has not been flaunted. So strong is 
 the determination to put down fraud, that our censure 
 is often too swift and sweeping. We denounce with 
 too little discrimination. It is because the conscience 
 of the country is so almost morbidly keen and alert, 
 that Mr. Lowell is troubled by "festering news." A 
 single English railway pays regularly every year, 
 without a ripple on the surface of English society, 
 seventy-five thousand pounds sterling to the English 
 
 23* 
 
270 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 parliament for precisely such service as a few con- 
 gressmen were suspected of having been, for a single 
 session, urged to render in the Credit Mobilier affair, 
 and the mere suspicion of which rocked the whole 
 country with alarm and indignation, and no doubt 
 hastened, if it did not cause, the death of two men 
 most prominently concerned. 
 
 Or may it be that our non-resumption of specie 
 payment constitutes us the Land of Broken Promise? 
 But are we alone in resorting to notes of credit in 
 order to sustain the burden of a prolonged and costly 
 war? Is it not the common mode of distributing the 
 expense? What great nation has ever carried on a 
 great war without it? And, if so, ma}' we not have 
 adopted the general course, not from signal and 
 degraded love of cheating, but because there appears 
 to be some inherent wisdom or necessit}' in the way 
 itself ? The United States did in this precisely what 
 England did for twenty-three years during and after 
 the Napoleonic wars, — she had a paper currency not 
 redeemed in gold. England, indeed, went one great 
 step bej'ond our government, for she made her people 
 take the notes of the Bank of England ; whereas our 
 people have been asked only to take their own prom- 
 ises to pay. But, whenever and wherever the United 
 States has agreed to pay gold, gold she has paid. 
 The old debts, maturing when our civil war was 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 271 
 
 flagrant, and gold at an enormous premium, were 
 paid at a fearful cost and sacrifice by our govern- 
 ment ; but paid they were, in solid coin, to the utter- 
 most farthing. In whose eyes does our Punic faith 
 make us the Land of Broken Promise ? Not in those 
 of our own people ; for during the sudden and severe 
 panic of 1873, when great houses went down, and no 
 house seemed firm, the nation's notes were in as 
 great demand, and of as sound value, as gold in other 
 panics. Not in the eyes of foreign financiers ; for our 
 bonds abroad stand to-day higher than those of any 
 European nation, England alone excepted ; and this 
 in the markets of Europe. Our hundreds of millions 
 of Fives sold by the famous syndicate, brought par in 
 coin ; while the French Fives, on the market at the 
 same time, were sold at a very considerable discount. 
 It has, moreover, been currently and confidently re- 
 ported in the treasury circles of Washington, that 
 Secretary Bristow had the most flattering offers for 
 funding the entire amount of United States Sixes as 
 low, possibly, as four and a half, certainly as low as 
 five, — offers, let it be remembered, from the bankers 
 of Europe. How is it that the Land of Broken Prom- 
 ise maintains this high credit hy that most sensitive of 
 all tests, the purse? How is it, that, if our promises 
 be lies, the people at home and abroad seem wholly 
 given over to believe the lie? How is it that the 
 
272 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 bankers of Europe repose the most absolute confidence 
 in our integrity, while an American poet goes abroad 
 to hold his country up to contumely ? 
 
 I offer no opinion whatever as to the right or the 
 wrong of specie basis, or legal tender, or any mone- 
 tary measure whatever. It may be that we could 
 have waged our war without paper. It is easy now to 
 say it, and perhaps not easy to disprove it, and per- 
 haps not possible to prove it. At the time, we thought 
 we could not. It may be that we ought to have dis- 
 pensed with paper credit before this. I leave these 
 matters entirely untouched ; but what I do maintain is, 
 that there is nothing to indicate that the nation intends 
 to forswear her plighted faith, or that an} T large number 
 of men, either at home or abroad, have a lively fear that 
 she will do so. Repudiation did but stir, and she was 
 beaten down. There is a question of ways and means. 
 It may be that a country so wide, with interests so 
 diverse, can arrive at a wise and harmonious conclu- 
 sion on a question of so vital import, only with infinite 
 debate and delay. It is not enough that a course be 
 right and proper : it must be seen to be right and 
 proper east and west, north and south, by the igno- 
 rant and the intelligent, by the freedman and the free- 
 born. We have never promised the world, or ourselves, 
 to be over-wise in finance ; nor do we imagine that 
 wisdom will die with us. We must learn, as other 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 273 
 
 natioDS learn, truth by experience. They are but 
 dreamers who imagine that any form of government 
 can open a ro}-al road to virtue, fame, or fortune. 
 
 Did Agassiz, that Agassiz whose loss Mr. Lowell 
 so tenderly deplores in the same breath in which he 
 stigmatizes the country that welcomed and adopted 
 him, — did Agassiz find it a Land of Broken Promise? 
 From the da} r on which he came, a stranger, to her 
 shores, till the day on which he lay dead, a well- 
 beloved son, did she fail his hope? Did she refuse 
 him any opportunity, begrudge him any means, deny 
 him any honor ? 
 
 Charles Dickens, inoculated with what venom I do 
 not know, could write of " that republic but yesterday 
 let loose upon her noble course, and but to-day so 
 maimed and lame, so full of sores and ulcers, foul to 
 the eye, and almost hopeless to the sense, that her best 
 friends turn from the loathsome creature in disgust." 
 But, if she be indeed in such evil case, it would seem 
 more decorous for her own sons not to enshrine her 
 shame in monumental verse, but rather 
 
 " Pay the reverence of old days 
 To that dead fame, 
 Walk backward with averted gaze, 
 And hide the shame." 
 
 In the midst of the crimination and recrimination, 
 the accusations and investigations, the proved guilt 
 
274 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and the uncontradicted slander with which our news- 
 papers abound, it is not strange that uneducated men, 
 whose knowledge of history is derived chiefly from 
 newspapers, whose acquaintance with the experience 
 of other peoples and other ages is but vague and 
 slight, should view the situation with dismay, should 
 feel that we have fallen on evil days, should fear that 
 " political corruption is becoming more and more 
 rampant. ' ' 
 
 But it is surprising to see educated people doing 
 precisely the same thing. What is culture for, if it be 
 not to enable its possessor to make intelligent compari- 
 sons? What is the good of an acquaintance with the 
 past, if it be not to give us a more accurate judgment 
 of the present? The average length of life is said to 
 be about forty } r ears. Looking at this fact alone, and 
 seeing that man is made capable of living comfortably 
 for seventy years, we might despair of the future, and 
 say that his ignorance and recklessness had already 
 reduced his span from seventy to forty years, and set 
 the race on the sure road to annihilation. But, when a 
 survey of the past has informed us that of old time the 
 average length of life was thirty years, we see that our 
 course is really in a different direction ; and our jeremiad 
 should be a paean that science and virtue have already 
 added ten years to the life of man. 
 . Why do not our sages, instead of joining the mob, 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 275 
 
 and reviling the present for vices and errors which are 
 patent to all, and even for processes which are neither 
 errors nor vices, — why do they not bring out of their 
 treasury things old as well as new, and increase the 
 value of popular criticism by making it intelligent? 
 The mechanic and day-laborer cannot be expected to 
 know ; but the professor and the clergyman surely 
 ought to know and teach that society has improved, 
 and not deteriorated, since the early daj's of the 
 republic. It is less gross, less animal, more pure and 
 elevated ; and in this elevation public and political life 
 has shared. What was tolerated then would now con- 
 sign men to infamy. Charges of corruption were as 
 fierce then as now ; but man} 7 things which would now 
 be condemned as dishonest were then considered but 
 a part of the " regular routine," and have lost character 
 only as the atmosphere has become clearer, the national 
 and private conscience more sensitive. 
 
 The fact, also, that the names which we now hold in 
 highest honor were most sweepingly traduced in their 
 own day, ought, it would seem, to teach our learned 
 men to make allowance for the recklessness of eager 
 and irresponsible persons, whose interest it is to 
 startle. The same shafts of corruption, intrigue, and 
 selfishness that are levelled at the sons were levelled at 
 the fathers. The country was in the same danger then 
 as now of being betrayed and dishonored by the ignor- 
 
276 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 ant and unprincipled men who were managing the 
 government. So long ago as March 10, 1779, the 
 disheartened editor declared that "universal despond- 
 ency seemed to spread itself through every class of 
 men that were led to reflect either upon the weight of 
 domestic calamity or the political derangement of the 
 government." 
 
 While Washington was yet alive, there were not 
 wanting those who declared that he had slept away his 
 time in the field till the finances of the country were 
 completely exhausted ; that John Adams was always a 
 speller after places and offices, that he never contem- 
 plated the origin of government, or comprehended any 
 thing of first principles ; that John Jay was always 
 the sycophant of every thing in power ; and that the 
 Federalists were but dignified traitors. " The charac- 
 ter which Mr. Washington has attempted to act in the 
 world is a sort of non-describable, chameleon-colored 
 thing called ' prudence.' It is, in many respects, a 
 substitute for principle ; and it is so nearly allied to 
 hypocrisy that it easily slides into it." The treaty 
 which this imbecile administration made with France 
 had nothing to boast of but the poltroon's right to let 
 another kick him. It was the pusillanimity of the 
 Washington faction that brought upon America the 
 loss of character she suffered in the world. The wan- 
 ton profligacy of John Adams and his friends made 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 277 
 
 him seem like a debauched libertine, whom a rich and 
 virtuous woman had selected for her husband, spend- 
 ing all she was worth, and getting into debt every day. 
 Parson Read of Massac husetts is accused of getting 
 six dollars a day in Congress, and paying half a dollar 
 to a young sprig of divinity for every sermon preached 
 for the old parson while at Congress. The last day 
 of Washington's administration was hailed with delight 
 as the beginning of an era in whLh his name should 
 cease to give a currency to political iniquity, and to 
 legalize corruption. Had a fastidious gentleman been 
 living in Paris in 1777 and 1778, his ears would have 
 been as much offended by "festering news " of that 
 mischievous and intriguing commission of which Ben- 
 jamin Franklin was at the head as they have been by 
 any public scandal or private fraud in this year of 
 grace 1875. 
 
 It was Mr. Arthur Lee who found fault, and it was 
 Benjamin Franklin with whom the fault was found, in 
 our negotiations with France. "It is impossible to 
 describe to you," writes this pure, this patriotic, this 
 incorruptible man, "to what a degree this kind of 
 intrigue has disgraced, confounded, and injured our 
 affairs here. The observation of this at headquarters 
 has encouraged and produced throughout the whole a 
 spirit of neglect, abuse, plunder, and intrigue in the 
 public business, which it has been impossible for me to 
 
 24 
 
278 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 prevent or correct. ... I see in every department 
 neglect, dissipation, and private schemes." And in 
 almost every distinguished man who was prominent in 
 aiding our cause in France, the pure, sharp, argus eyes 
 of Mr. Arthur Lee saw onty a greed of gold, an un- 
 scrupulous and dishonest plot to amass wealth for 
 himself. 
 
 In 1790 there were not wanting remonstrants against 
 this over-censoriousness. Says one, June 9, 1790, — 
 
 "I wish the Americans were more attentive to their duty. 
 Not only numerous complaints are tittered against the measures 
 of Congress, but evil surmisings and predictions. One predicts 
 they will consume a long session, and disagree at last about the 
 mode of doing the business. ... A third apprehends it is not 
 their intention to establish public credit, but to waste one session 
 after another in speculations and intrigues for their private ad- 
 vantage. How irrational is all this ! Ask any one of these 
 complainers and surmisers, if he would act so unwittingly and 
 inconsistent a part, were he in Congress. He will confidently 
 answer, No ! . . . More time having been spent in national 
 arrangements, and forming a system for the establishment of 
 public credit than some expected, they are ready to draw the 
 worst conclusions, suppose our representatives will quarrel like 
 children, and part without accomplishing their business. Let us 
 honor ourselves too much to believe it possible that we can be so 
 deceived in the men to whom we have committed the honor and 
 happiness of our country." 
 
 Would not this gentle rebuke appty equally well 
 to-day? The complaints are the same. The long 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 279 
 
 sessions of Congress, the failure to agree, private 
 greed instead of public spirit, prolonged debate re- 
 garding the establishment of national credit : they are 
 the same sounds with which our ears are so familiar. 
 We have been harping on my daughter, and still she 
 lives. We have not unsealed an El Dorado, whose 
 waters have power to quench disease, and give im- 
 mortal youth. We have not established an Utopia, 
 where all men's good is each man's rule. We have 
 not reconstructed the human heart, and produced a 
 race without sinful tendencies. We have not levelled 
 the partition-wall between rich and poor, or caused that 
 one star should not differ from another star in glory. 
 But we have secured a greater degree of personal lib- 
 erty and self-government than the world has hitherto 
 seen in a republic of vaster proportions, and with 
 strength proven by resistance of the severest shocks. 
 Our working-classes, the rank and file of a nation, 
 suffer less from the misery of povert}-, have an intelli- 
 gence more widely diffused, and a greater command of 
 the decencies, the comforts, and the refinements of life, 
 than those of any other country. We are far behind 
 the optimist's faith ; but we are, also, far ahead of the 
 pessimist's fear. The Old World, which has not largely 
 dealt in an absolutely free criticism of the governor 
 by the governed, may be a little misled by seeing our 
 secret sins set forth with an almost exaggerated frank- 
 
280 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 ness in the columns of the newspapers. But, surety, 
 Americans who have been familiar from their 3-outh 
 up with a freedom of the press Avhich often lapses into 
 license, and which is subject to scarce any other than 
 the natural laws of repression and re-action, the}-, cer- 
 tainty, ought not to be deceived b} r any abandonment 
 of self-accusation. One might just as reasonably 
 charge the clergy with crime and corruption, because 
 Henry Martyn and David Brainerd indulged in a fervor 
 of self-abasement. Mr. Martyn and Mr. Brainerd, 
 and a great cloud of newspaper witnesses, use lan- 
 guage which strictly belongs only to an estate of 
 great sin and misery ; but probably none would be 
 more surprised than themselves to find that this lan- 
 guage was not apprehended in a Pickwickian sense. 
 If our literary and learned men would give themselves 
 to teaching us the accurate use of words, the awful 
 force of language, the natural affinities of thought and 
 terms, the wickedness of divorcing an idea from its 
 expression, of filling a word with a meaning that does 
 not belong to it, of transforming a suspicion into a 
 fact, a conjecture into an assertion, an incident into an 
 event, an accident into a trait, gossip into history, — 
 thejr would do a good service to the cause of truth, of 
 patriotism, and of morality, for which we should all 
 have reason to be grateful. 
 
 One of the greatest safeguards of popular government 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 281 
 
 is popular criticism ; and popular criticism is valuable 
 in proportion as it is discriminating, intelligent, and 
 just, not in proportion as it is censorious or laudatory. 
 No easier way of being patriotic offers itself than to 
 deciy the methods, motives, and acts of those who are 
 conducting the affairs of the county. There is, and 
 there always will be, sufficient material for censure ; 
 but ill-directed censure, general denunciation, indefinite 
 sneers, are of very little use in reforming. If the object 
 of censure be not to exhibit one's own superior stand- 
 ard, but to improve and purify, it should be pointed, 
 accurate, and sure. At the basis of all sound and 
 useful criticism is knowledge. Some knowledge is 
 hard to be got at, and some would seem to be easy of 
 access ; yet much resounding censure is apparently 
 founded on an entire absence of both kinds. 
 
 With every recurring close of the sessions of Con- 
 gress, the custodian of public virtue is shocked by 
 the accumulated legislation of the few last weeks of 
 Congress. All the early weeks, he severely declares, 
 are wasted in useless debate ; and all the real work is 
 crammed into the closing portion. It is the hot 
 weather, it is the approaching adjournment, which 
 makes members sensible. They dawdle at the begin- 
 ning, and in the end rush bills through with reckless 
 haste. 
 
 But an observer who looks at things themselves, 
 24* 
 
282 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 and not at the mere rumor and surface of things, 
 would see that a great part of the work of legislation 
 is done in committee. Not in the great halls of the 
 house or the senate, but in the small committee- 
 rooms, bills are matured. Each bill is there discussed 
 by a few men selected to represent the opinion of the 
 whole bod} 7 , — selected hy election in the senate, by 
 appointment of the speaker in the house. Yet the 
 speaker is bound in his appointments to represent not 
 his own opinions, but the opinions of the house. 
 These committees have each its own room, where bills 
 are discussed with entire freedom, and often at great 
 length. It naturally happens that the bulk of these 
 bills are ready to be reported at about the same time. 
 When the bills are matured for presentation, Congress 
 can appoint a time for adjournment. That is, the 
 pressure of business does not come because adjournment 
 is fixed ; but adjournment can be fixed because business 
 is now all ready to press. During the early weeks of 
 the session, the fifty committees were laboring in their 
 committee-rooms to reconcile opposing opinions and 
 clashing interests, and present measures which should 
 be likely to receive the assent of the whole body. 
 During the later weeks of the session, the same fifty 
 committees are striving to bring forward the various 
 bills, one after another, in as rapid succession as may 
 be. Is it strictly intelligent to say that the processes 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 283 
 
 are useless, the results alone are work? Many bills 
 are of such a character as not to enlist universal 
 interest. Many men trust in these matters to the 
 judgment and honor of the committee that has them 
 in charge, or to the vote of other well-known men ; 
 and these bills pass without debate, that is, are 
 "rushed through." Sometimes this confidence is 
 misplaced : a bad bill is passed, and mischievous legis- 
 lation is the result. But, in a vast majority of cases, 
 confidence is not misplaced. Of this vast majority 
 we hear nothing ;" but the mischievous bill that slips 
 through makes a great outcry, as is natural and 
 proper: and this is the safeguard. This occasional 
 passage of a bad bill is a reason why people should 
 be vigilant : it is not a reason wiry they should be 
 despondent, least of all why they should be denuncia- 
 tory of our institutions. In any case, it is simply 
 impossible that one man should be able to acquaint 
 himself thoroughly, by personal investigation, with 
 the merits of every bill brought forward. The ambi- 
 tion to do it is worse than idle. The man who under- 
 takes to know every thing in Congress is good for 
 nothing, — a failure and a nuisance. The most valu- 
 able members are those who have a spccialt}-, and 
 are authority on that point. It is" on this principle 
 that business is conducted, and fame acquired, in the 
 English house of commons. More and more, as our 
 
284 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 country increases, will congressional business be done 
 in committee. That way, danger lies. Danger lies, 
 also, in the direction of too much legislation. It 
 behooves all good citizens to be on the alert. But 
 it behooves them, also, to sight their game before they 
 fire. Random shooting may startle ; but it is likely to 
 do quite as much harm as good. Probably there is 
 about as much censurable delay of business from the 
 earlier to the later weeks of the session as there is a 
 censurable delay of sermons from the earlier to the 
 later hours of the week. 
 
 Much debate is characterized as useless on question- 
 able grounds. What is a mere truism to the compre- 
 hension of the critic may be matter of doubt to the 
 inferior intellect of the congressman, and even of his 
 constituent. It is not enough for the " hard mone}^" 
 man to know that a specie basis is best : he must get 
 the " paper money " man to believe it also. It is not 
 enough for the Granger to know that the cost of 
 transportation is too high : he must put the railroad 
 man under conviction of sin. Whatever is of broad 
 and vital interest is not likety to be passed in the 
 house without prolonged and even heated debate, no 
 matter how closely it may have been discussed in 
 committee. Religious papers may well quarrel with 
 Congress here. They "know a trick worth two" 
 of these national debates. A minister preaches a 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 285 
 
 sermon through, and lets no dog bark. We may 
 think he has left out a fact or two in his argument on 
 the atonement ; that there is a flaw in his reasoning 
 on original sin, a cloud in his definition of the 
 doctrine of substitution ; but the good minister has 
 put us under such training, that we dare not open our 
 lips, and he has it all his own way. How long would 
 a sermon last, if, every time the Congregational, Evan- 
 gelical preacher struck a snag, Brother Charles K. 
 Whipple, and Brother Voysey, and Brother Bishop 
 Potter, and Brother Fulton, and Brother Abbott, and 
 Brother Patton should rise and say, " Will the gentle- 
 man allow me to ask a single question ?" "Will the 
 gentleman permit me to interrupt him a moment? " 
 " Will the gentleman grant me a few minutes of his 
 time to correct a statement of fact?" "Will the 
 gentleman kindly repeat his last assertion?" — if, in 
 short, he were surrounded by eager antagonists ready 
 to claw and clutch at every lapse from logic, and every 
 weak statement or forced inference? Let me not be 
 arraigned for a mover of sedition ; but I sometimes 
 think when I hear, as I sometimes do hear, a good 
 man plodding serenely onward in the pulpit, assuming 
 his premises, begging his questions , confounding his 
 terms, mistaking assertions for conclusions, and 
 upsetting his dish generally, that it might not be 
 wholly insalubrious to have a little "useless debate" 
 
286 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 introduced into the churches. When I read in the 
 Confession of Faith of the Presbyterian Church, that 
 " elect infants, dying in Infancy, are regenerated and 
 saved by Christ, . . . others, not elected, . . . 
 never truly come to Christ, and therefore cannot be 
 saved," I think I should like to see that poor little 
 non-elect infant run the gauntlet of the debate in the 
 house of representatives. 
 
 The reservoir of political corruption at Washington, 
 built out of the ruins of the Williamsburg flood, is an 
 illustration of the directness and logic of our censure. 
 All investigation points to bad work, ill faith, as the 
 cause of that disaster. The dam was not built accord- 
 ing to specifications ; and the specifications themselves 
 fell below the safety mark. The foundation-wall 
 should have been laid three feet below the surface, and 
 it was laid on the surface. It was not properly secured 
 at the ends, and was not thick enough anywhere. The 
 moral that sticks up everywhere out of the wreck is a 
 reform in home-manufactures, the necessity of more 
 scientific, conscientious, thorough work. If any politi- 
 cal moral be deducible, it is, How can we expect 
 honest}' in our representatives, when our own citizens, 
 the solid men of Massachusetts, church-members and 
 property-holders, are so corrupt and reckless, that, to 
 save a few hundreds of dollars to their own pockets, 
 they will wreck millions of their neighbors', destroy 
 
THE LAND OF BROKEN PROMISE. 287 
 
 scores of human lives, and spread desolation through 
 hundreds of homes? 
 
 Instead of which, Massachusetts — the dear old sly- 
 boots — turns her Mill River on to Washington, where 
 its pure water becomes " a great volume of political 
 corruption, which at any moment may deluge the broad 
 land with distress," but which, we must infer, if kept 
 well dammed up, and only let out as it is wanted, is a 
 legitimate source of wealth and power. However, let 
 us not miss any opportunity of ' ' letting drive ' ' at 
 Washington. Where there is a will there is a way ; 
 and he who supposes that wa} r is to be blocked up 
 by any thing so trivial as a flimsy Massachusetts 
 dam has little idea of the fervor of our patriotism. 
 
 Another moral drawn from the same disaster is the 
 " sure consequences of the American habit of shiftless- 
 ness, of running for luck, of trusting that the bridge 
 Will stand for this strain. ' ' But why American ? Is 
 America the onl} T countn- whose dams give way? In 
 March, 1864, the dam of the reservoir near Sheffield, 
 in England, was broken down ; and a body of water 
 covering sevent}--six acres of ground rushed down the 
 gorge of the hills, and swept away two hundred and 
 fifty human beings and a vast amount of property. 
 In 1802 a dam gave way in Spain ; and six hundred 
 and eight people were drowned. 
 
288 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Remembering Mr. Plimsoll, shall we not believe that 
 ignorance and recklessness and total depravity are 
 traits of human rather than American, or English, or 
 Spanish nature ? 
 
 " Peccavimus, but rave not thus." 
 
MISSIONAEY MUSINGS. 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 
 
 |HE idea is somewhat prevalent, that, while 
 our own churches must have ability, a good 
 disposition is the one thing needful in a 
 missionary. We want the first choice ourselves. 
 What is left is good enough for the heathen. But this 
 notion has been supposed to be confined to the un- 
 learned and unthinking. He who has an adequate 
 idea of the magnitude of the work undertaken in 
 christianizing the world must, apparently, admit that 
 the greatest sagacity, as well as the greatest piety, is 
 required in those who are to be its immediate agents. 
 
 But it seems otherwise to the gods who preside over 
 some of our missionary boards. The printed commis- 
 sion used by a certain board in appointing missiona- 
 ries declares that "this appointment is made on 
 condition that the appointee shall agree, without reser- 
 vation, to the following stipulations ; namely, — 
 
 " 1. To become a missionary for life." 
 
 This seems a little like a blow in the face, to begin 
 with. Are missionaries, then, a separate ecclesiastical 
 
 291 
 
292 SER3I0NS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 order, or do the} 7 belong to the same guild as other 
 ministers? Do the ministers of an}- Protestant de- 
 nomination take upon themselves vows of perpetual 
 obligation? If a countr} T clerg}*man, after ten or 
 twenty 3^ears of preaching, finds his throat giving out, 
 he retires from the pulpit, and turns stock-broker. If 
 he contracts a distaste for his work, or grows tired in 
 or of it, or thinks he would like something else better, 
 or accomplish more good in other occupations, he 
 enters a newspaper office, or becomes secretary of a 
 charitable society, or commissioner of jails, or a furni- 
 ture-dealer, or (such things have been known) he buys 
 a snug little house, and lives on the interest of his 
 mone}^. Is there a single Protestant denomination 
 that forbids it? Has the missionary an inferior rank, 
 that he cannot be allowed the same libert}' ? 
 
 Probably the stipulation is made with the praise- 
 worthy purpose of preventing a waste of the money of 
 the churches. The minister pays his own preparatory 
 expenses. The missionary is sent by the Board ; and 
 it would not be economical to furnish him with an out- 
 fit for a short term. But to make him serve an 
 apprenticeship for life in order to defray the expense of 
 one journe} r is rating him at a low figure. Our National 
 Government sends the } T oung man through West 
 Point, and demands only an eight-years' service in 
 return. Is not a missionary of more value than many 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 293 
 
 cadets ? And what is the attitude of the missionary 
 toward the home churches ? Is he the dependent upon 
 or the almoner of their bounty ? Is he an office-seeker, 
 clamorous for outfit and salary, to whom the keepers- 
 at-home ma}* say patronizingly, " Yes, we will give 
 you the place you want, on condition that you stay 
 there the rest of your life, and never let us have to 
 provide for you again," or is he a man whom the 
 office seeks, whom the place craves, who earns his 
 salary, who does not barter away his right of self- 
 direction, who is the peer of his appointers, and may 
 be presumed to have sufficient character, ambition, and 
 philanthropy to know when to retire with honor? 
 Gen. Schenck, Mr. Washburne, Mr. Bancroft, are 
 fitted out by government, and can resign and return 
 the moment they touch a foreign port if the}* choose. 
 Have the ministers of religion less interest in their 
 work, less perception of the fitness of things, less 
 regard for their good name, than the minister of 
 politics ? Must they be bound by an oath, lest they 
 run away from their stations ? What does it say of 
 missionaries and missionary work, if only a contract 
 can keep them at it ? There are many offices to which 
 men are appointed for life ; but I know none to which 
 the}* are forced to adhere for life. This missionary 
 board has so poor an opinion of its appointees, and 
 the work which it assigns them, that it binds them to 
 
 25» 
 
294 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 it by extraordinary and unusual ties, and imposes upon 
 them restraints and engagements to which no class of 
 ministers at home are called upon to submit, and to 
 which, it may be presumed, they would not submit if 
 they were called. 
 
 The appointee agrees : — 
 
 "3. To go out deeply imbued with the love of 
 Christ and of souls ; profoundly impressed with the 
 danger, the folly, and the guilt of men in heathendom ; 
 fully sensible of his call from God to preach the 
 gospel ; a hearty acceptance of the doctrines and 
 discipline of the [apostolic] Church, and well affected 
 toward its authorities ; a profound sense of his con- 
 stant dependence on divine grace to qualify him for 
 the great work to which he devotes himself, and fully 
 determined to labor in harmony with his brethren, to 
 avoid all causes of irritation, to discourage all factions 
 and strifes in the mission, and all attempts to weaken 
 the bonds between it and the Church at home." 
 
 If the appointee has any ' ' realizing sense ' ' of 
 Lindley Murray, he must go out deeply imbued with 
 the grammar of the appointing power, and profoundly 
 impressed with the ignorance and the folly, if not the 
 guilt, of men out of heathendom. The heathen, the 
 Deity, and the [apostolic] Church, autocratic bishops, 
 and quarrelsome brethren, are mingled indiscriminately 
 in the draught which is commended to his lips. Noth- 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 295 
 
 ing human or divine is foreign to his contract. It is 
 not enough that he is called upon to promise, that, at 
 some future time, he will be deeply imbued with certain 
 sentiments, and profoundly impressed with certain 
 facts : he is required to become responsible for the 
 divine Being. The Board is not content to take his 
 view of the case ; but it forces him to go up into the 
 heaven of heavens, and tell us the precise part which 
 the Most High took in the arrangement. But can the 
 divine acts be the subjects of human testimon3 T ? 
 When a man saj^s he is fully sensible of his call from 
 God to preach the gospel, do we know any more about 
 it than we knew before ? It was a great victory in the 
 old witchcraft trials when spectral evidence was ruled 
 out of court as inadmissible ; but it was no more in- 
 tangible than the evidence which modern man can offer 
 of God's plans and purposes. If the [apostolic] Church 
 believes, with the Roman Catholic Church, that the age 
 of miracles is not past, that the blood of St. Januarius 
 still reddens and bubbles before the eyes of the awe- 
 struck people, and the bread of the sacramental table 
 becomes the body of our Lord Jesus Christ ; if God 
 still appears to men in dreams and visions to reveal 
 his will, — then it may be that a man becomes fully 
 sensible of his call from God to -preach the gospel. 
 But if with the revelation to St. John the divine 
 ceased the special revelation of God to man, a mis- 
 
296 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 sionary has no other way of being sensible of his call 
 from God to preach the gospel than the dressmaker 
 has of her call from God to make gowns, or the 
 dentist his call from God to fill teeth. We can judge 
 of what God calls us to do only from the human side : 
 the missionary, like the rest of us, must use his own 
 judgment in deciding where to go. Reason tells every 
 one to do the work for which his character, abilities, 
 and circumstances best fit him. One man is born to 
 the purple, and one to be hewer of wood, and drawer 
 of water. If the purple and fine linen are trailed in 
 the dust of defeat and disaster and degradation ; if 
 the hewer of wood passes with swinging, steady step 
 from his native forests to the forefront of battle and 
 a nation's highest place, — what is it but the call of 
 God ? God calls us through ability. How can a man 
 know his ability till it is tested? Doubtless many 
 a minister, and perhaps many a missionary, has 
 entered conscientiously upon his work, and led a life 
 of disappointment, discontent, and failure, from sim- 
 ple error of choice. I have heard ministers lament, 
 that, under stress of parental influence or temporary 
 excitement, they adopted their profession, exerted but 
 half their powers, and achieved but partial success ; 
 while all their tastes led them in another direction, and 
 all their faculties fitted them for another sphere : but, 
 at the time the choice was made, they would have had 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 297 
 
 no hesitation in avowing themselves fully sensible of 
 their call from God. Really the call was from their 
 parents or their emotions : their mature judgment 
 could attribute it to no higher source. 
 
 But while the Board exalts its missionaries to the 
 throne of God with one hand, with the other it keeps 
 the balance true by thrusting them down far below 
 those who remain at home. It demands that the mis- 
 sionary shall agree, fourthly, "to observe and keep 
 the rules and regulations both of the Discipline and 
 the Missionary Manual in their present form, or as 
 they ma} T from time to time be changed hereafter ; and 
 also to be governed and guided by the general commit- 
 tee and board of managers of the Missionary Society 
 of the [Infallible Apostolic] Church, and by the 
 bishop having charge of the missions, giving due heed 
 to the instructions and suggestions which they from 
 time to time may send in regard to plans and opera- 
 tions.' ' 
 
 "A man I know, 
 But shall not discover," 
 
 is wont to terminate all discussion on female suffrage 
 with the terse and intelligible declaration, " Madam, 
 the end of the matter is this : we have got you down, 
 and we mean to keep 30U down." Very much of this 
 sort seems the attitude of the apostolic Church toward 
 
298 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 its missionary. They swear him in for life, and they 
 bind him to observe and keep, not only the rules as they 
 now exist, but as they may from time to time be changed 
 hereafter. They do not demand from him a declara- 
 tion of belief in the infallibility of the Board; but 
 they demand a promise which he ought not to give un- 
 less the Board be infallible. Of actual rules he can 
 form a judgment, and such he may intelligently agree 
 to obey ; but a rule which is not made he cannot agree 
 to keep, except by divesting himself of his manhood, 
 and following a Board as blindly as the most bigoted 
 Roman Catholic follows the Pope. No matter how 
 preposterous a rule some subsequent revolutionary 
 Board may lay down, he has bound himself beforehand 
 to obey it, and has not even the alternative of resigna- 
 tion. No Romanist requirement is more unreasonable 
 than this. He promises : — 
 
 "5. To refrain from making known his grievances 
 in communicating with his friends, and especially in 
 writing to newspapers ; to avoid calling in question, in 
 any public way, the policy, plans, or spirit of the mis- 
 sionary administration at home, reserving his opinions 
 or complaints for the general committee, the board of 
 managers, or the bishops having jurisdiction severally 
 in the premises, according to the nature of the 
 case." 
 
 [Signed by the bishops."] 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 299 
 
 "With a single exception, the good bishops have taken 
 every available method of securing order in Warsaw. 
 But the} T should have made the candidate agree : — 
 
 6. Never to put his printed commission into his hat, 
 and especially never to suffer the wind to blow hard 
 enough to blow his hat off, and whirl his commission 
 into the hands of strangers, especially the newspapers, 
 and thus prevent calling in question in any public way 
 the intelligence, policy, or effectiveness of the mission- 
 ary administration at home. 
 
 This wise regulation was not inserted, though it may 
 be one of those future rules which he has construc- 
 tively agreed to observe. We have, therefore, the 
 opportunity to remark, that the objection which lies 
 against this commission is, that it is founded on the 
 opposite of intelligence. It appeals to ignorant and 
 undiscriminating piety ; and in proportion as a man is 
 wise, in proportion as he understands the meaning and 
 use of words, the limits of thought and obligation, the 
 freedom and dignity of the individual, he rejects it, not 
 only with decision, but with scorn. In direct ratio with 
 his fitness to be a missionary is the impossibility of his 
 agreeing to the condition of becoming one. 
 
 No man, no committee of intelligence, would make it 
 incumbent on any one to agree to support a contingent 
 discipline. The first reqmremf nt of reason is that the 
 mind shall clearly understand the articles to which it 
 
300 SEKMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 subscribes. The Board demands that its servants 
 shall support an unstated proposition, either from a 
 lack of sufficient mental acutencss to see the absurdi- 
 ty of such a thing, or from a dishonorable disposition 
 to take advantage of a similar presumed lack on the 
 part of the candidate. The wise man refuses to be 
 thus blindly bound. It is only the unthinking who are 
 caught. 
 
 Again: when a man agrees to "report his accept- 
 ance in writing to the missionary secretaries, and place 
 himself under their direction as to the time of sailing, 
 the mode of conveyance, and the preparation for the 
 voyage," he agrees to something definite, intelligible, 
 practicable. But when he agrees "to go out deeply 
 imbued with the love of Christ and of souls, profoundly 
 impressed with the danger, the folly, and the guilt of 
 men in heathendom, fully sensible of his call from God 
 to preach the gospel, and of his constant dependence 
 on divine grace to qualify him for the great work," 
 he agrees to he knows not what. Whose lead and line 
 shall be used in fathoming his love, to tell whether it 
 be deep or shallow? And suppose the party of the 
 second part should at some future time affirm that the 
 party of the first had violated his contract, and was 
 not deeply imbued, or profoundly impressed, or fully 
 sensible, how is the latter to prove or disprove it? He 
 makes a contract regarding possessions which are in- 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 301 
 
 tangible, immeasurable, incapable of being made the 
 objects of contract. He agrees at a certain future 
 time to be in a certain state of mind. The committee 
 stipulates for emotions. The state of mind may be a 
 very proper one, and the emotions highly becoming to 
 the occasion ; but neither the understanding which re- 
 quires, nor that which subscribes to, these conditions, is 
 of a lofty or discriminating order. The commission is 
 a medle}^ of possibilities and impossibilities, of divine 
 grace and human botch, of sentiment and steamers. 
 The only pleasant feature of the whole form is the pain- 
 ful, scrupulous, ever-vigilant care taken to repress 
 insurrection, and secure obedience. Evidently the ven- 
 erable bishops have had a hard time of it. Apparently 
 the heathen have not given them half as much trouble 
 as the brethren. These missionaries must be a restive 
 folk. The managers have but a passing word upon the 
 perils of Pagans ; but they exhaust the resources of 
 ingenuity in building barricades against the machi- 
 nations of the men who are conspiring to convert them. 
 One word for the gloiy of God is followed by ten for 
 that of the board of managers. It is very well for the 
 missionaries and the heathen to depend upon divine 
 grace ; but the bishops want it down in black and 
 white. They lift one eye to the hills whence cometh 
 their help ; but they keep the other on the valleys, to 
 see that no unruly brother take advantage of their 
 
 26 
 
302 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 devoutness to indulge in revolt against their dominion. 
 In one breath, the candidate agrees that he will be 
 imbued with the love of Christ ; in the next, that he 
 will be well affected toward the church authorities. 
 Not a religious plank is brought forward for the plat- 
 form, but this belabored Board is sure to be bobbing 
 behind it. Between the secretaries and the manuals, 
 the general committees and board of managers, the 
 bishops and other clergy, the missionary must some- 
 times be hard pushed to know which king it is to 
 whom he has sworn allegiance. 
 
 And the worst of it is, that he cannot have the com- 
 fort of writing home to his sweetheart about it. If the 
 Board cannot prevent the formation of steam, it can, at 
 least, shut down the valves, and prevent its escape. 
 The Rev. Mr. Brown may grumble about the stupidity 
 of Secretary Smith in sending him around the Horn, 
 instead of across the Continent ; but he shall not per- 
 mit his grumbling to reverberate in Isabella's epistles. 
 The Board fears its missionaries even writing love- 
 letters. Its model correspondent would be that la- 
 conic 3*oung man, who, being commissioned to break 
 gently to distant parents the tidings of their son's 
 violent death, fulfilled his mission by writing : — 
 
 "Mr. A. 
 
 " Dear Sir, — A coyote has eaten your son's head off." 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 303 
 
 In short, if we were to judge from this commission, 
 we should say that the missionary force consisted of 
 two parties, — the Board of Managers, which stays at 
 home, and whose work is chiefly and constantly a 
 fierce struggle to maintain and perpetuate its own 
 supreme power ; and the missionaries proper, who go 
 abroad, and whose chief industry is to distract the 
 councils, neutralize the action, and destroy the authori- 
 ty, of the Board. He might, also, hazard the conjec- 
 ture, that, between the upper and the nether millstone, 
 the heathen would be ground exceeding small. 
 
 " Another Board appropriates a hundred dollars per child 
 toward their support (the support of ' the children of mission- 
 aries, who have been left in this country for education, or who 
 
 have lost their parents by death ' ). Mrs. and Mrs. 
 
 have been appointed by the American Board to look after the 
 interests of these children. But a further sum is required to 
 meet their expenses; and we write these lines with the hope 
 that some among our readers may be glad to assume the cost of 
 boarding one child for a year or more." 
 
 This is beggarj^. This makes our missionaries men- 
 dicants. This is organizing a system with pauperism 
 for one of its foundation-stones. 
 
 There ma}^ be two opinions about the prudence and 
 wisdom of sending men out to convert the Chinese, the 
 Hindoo, the Zulus, to our faith ; there may be two 
 opinions as to the wisdom of sending these men out 
 
304 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 solitary or in families : but there can be but one 
 opinion about taking care of them and their families 
 after they are sent. We, a great Christian nation, un- 
 dertake to convert a great Pagan nation. We select 
 men of pure character, of fair, sometimes of eminent 
 abilities, and of expensive education. It is not worth 
 while to talk about the sacrifices they make, partly 
 because that always spoils a sacrifice, and also because 
 they probably make no more than many a man makes 
 in the way of business. Still it is true that their life 
 forbids all hope of wealth, holds out very little pros- 
 pect of fame, and does, more or less, put them outside 
 the pale of the civilization whereunto they were born. 
 It would seem, then, the least that could be required 
 of us, that we should secure to them a salary sufficient 
 for their support in comfort and respectability. If we 
 are not able to do that, we are not able to found 
 missions. If we are not willing to do that, w r e need 
 all our missionaries at home. 
 
 We raise four or five hundred thousand dollars a 
 year to convert the world to Christianity. It is 
 nothing to boast of. England raises about as much 
 for her ro}~al family. But, perhaps, while it very 
 fairl}- represents the benevolence of the Church on the 
 one side, it quite as fairly represents the incredulity of 
 the Church on the other. If men really believed that 
 the Brahmins and the Mandarins were in as imminent 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 305 
 
 danger of perishing without their aid, and would be as 
 directly and surely saved by their aid, as the victims 
 of the Chicago fire, they would, no doubt, be as alert 
 and as helpful in the one case as in the other. But 
 though, with only half a million a 3~ear, it will take 
 some considerable time thoroughly to christianize the 
 world, it will surely not diminish that time to econo- 
 mize money b}' degrading missionaries. That is sav- 
 ing at the spigot to lose at the bung. That is bringing 
 Paganism on a level with Christianity by letting Cbris- 
 tianit}^ down. We should consider any parish incon- 
 ceivably mean that should pay its minister so small a 
 salary, that he should be obliged to put his children up 
 at auction, to be bidden off like the town's poor. 
 Ministers in America could not hold their own for a 
 day, if they should go about in the religious news- 
 papers asking people to take their children to board. 
 But missionaries are but ministers, who earn their sal- 
 aries as really as any ministers. The American Board 
 is but the parish committee that hires them ; and the 
 American public, the American Church, is the parish 
 that employs and paj^s them. If we cannot raise 
 money enough to support ten Christian families, let us 
 support nine, but let us not send out ten, and keep 
 them alive by working the adults, and turning out the 
 children to charity. I think it is better for the 
 heathen to get along with what religion the}' have, 
 
306 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and die in their sins, such as they are, and be judged 
 without law, than it is for freeborn American children 
 to be distrained from their parents, and brought up by 
 charity. If the Chinese go to church in a joss-house, 
 thejr do no worse than did their fathers before them ; 
 but we were reared in a sturdy independence, and, 
 though pulpit and people jpin hands to make the clergy 
 into a new order of mendicant friars, we cannot 
 succeed in it without serious deterioration. If it is 
 our duty to send missionaries to the heathen at all, it 
 is our duty to furnish them with the means of living 
 comfortably. If it is best to employ missionaries with 
 families, it is imperative to furnish them with means 
 sufficient to support their families without appeals to 
 charity. It is just as disgraceful and demoralizing for 
 the children of a missionary to be hawked about the 
 country in search of homes, as it would be for the chil- 
 dren of Boston and Brooklyn ministers. We shall not, 
 perhaps, convert the heathen ; but we need not spoil 
 ourselves. 
 
 It is not a great while ago that a missionary and his 
 wife (I might as well say a missionary and her hus- 
 band) were in this country for a visit. They were 
 agreeable and cultivated persons ; but the lady was 
 particularly piquant and pleasing. The freshness, 
 simplicity, and grace of youth were combined with the 
 wisdom and mellowness of maturity. They were 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 307 
 
 received with great cordiality, and entertained with 
 much hospitality, by the best people of the country. 
 But I well remember the horror which attended the 
 discovery that the lady in question was wearing a 
 borrowed gown. She was visiting the great cities, 
 constant^ associating with silk and satin and velvet 
 and fur. But said the portly and handsome D.D., 
 in spotless linen and faultless broadcloth, " Why, she 
 would better wear a calico dress than borrow." 
 
 Of course, the horrors of a borrowed gown cannot be 
 exaggerated. But, O mi fili! let us see } T ou walking 
 into your own pulpit in a blue farmer' s-frock, let us see 
 you presiding over a conference in a flowered cotton 
 wrapper, before fully accepting your dictum in this 
 matter. It is very easy to tell other people to be 
 brave ; but conspicuity may be more fearful than 
 cannon-balls. The pity of it is, not that a missionary 
 should borrow a garment, but that we, the home- 
 guard, should suffer her to be reduced to the necessity 
 of borrowing a garment, or going without. We send 
 a woman out to the cannibal islands to lavish her youth 
 and health and life on savages, while we stay at home 
 and enjo} r ourselves ; and, when she comes home for 
 a few months' rest and refreshment, she has to borrow 
 clothes in order to make a decent appearance among 
 us. It is we who are heathen. We scarcely mend 
 the matter by clubbing together in swift dismay, and 
 
308 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 providing a silk gown after the discovery is made. 
 That is but a clumsy and unregenerate charity. Our 
 religion ought to have taught us long ago, that a black 
 silk dress should await every missionaiy wife the 
 moment she sets her foot on the wharf of her country, 
 and that not as a charit} 7 , but as the least of her legal 
 rights. Not one of us but would rather take a con- 
 tract to supply the whole American Board with silk 
 gowns than to settle down in the South Sea ourselves ; 
 and, if we can compromise on a handsome outfit and 
 ample support for all goers and comers, we ought to 
 consider ourselves let off very lightly. 
 
 Have we any right to be let off at all ? I suppose 
 there is no question that the work does drag a little. 
 The debt this year is somewhat alarming. Nor are 
 those 3 r ears which are free from debt altogether encour- 
 aging. The treasurer's report of one such 3'ear was 
 received with much gratification, and followed by a 
 hearty prayer of thanksgiving ; but it was a little 
 startling to find, later on, that, " the sad reason why 
 the debt has been reduced is, that persons enough 
 could not be found to go abroad, so as to require more 
 money. . . . The most pressing appeals from the 
 secretaries and missionaries — the great burden of 
 the meeting, indeed — were for more men and women 
 to go into the white harvest-fields. It was a piteous 
 cry, almost a wailing. ,, 
 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 309 
 
 Of course, there is no inconsistency, and no impro- 
 priety, in being glad you are out of debt, even though 
 the reason is that you had no chance to get in. Speak- 
 ing after the flesh, one would say, that, even had there 
 been people wanting to go, it would have been wiser 
 not to send them, so long as there was no money to 
 do it with. Indeed, may we not reckon it providential 
 that the lack of mone}^ was so handsomely met by a 
 lack of men? And, on the other hand, is it so piteous 
 a thing that men do not wish to go ? In yet another 
 column of the same paper, I find, " In speaking of the 
 dangers which ma}^ burst upon our brethren in China, 
 at any moment, Mr. Goodrich said, ' No man ought 
 to engage in the missionary work who is not willing 
 to be a martyr.' As we looked over the vast assem- 
 blage of noble-looking men and women who listened 
 so attentively to his thrilling words, we wondered 
 how it would be, were all of them filled with the 
 martyr's spirit. . . . We felt sure the speaker had 
 faced in sober thought the possibilities of martyrdom." 
 
 Now, I must confess, in commonplace honesty, that 
 there was, at least, one of those noble-looking men and 
 women who did not feel filled with the martyr spirit, 
 and who did not see any reason why the rest should. 
 When duty and danger front a man, he is a coward to 
 shirk them ; but is it a duty to go around to the other 
 side of the world to court clanger ? When the Chinese 
 
310 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 come to our country, we ought to protect them in life, 
 libert3 T , and the pursuit of happiness, at all costs. 
 There is a clear case for the martyr spirit to have free 
 course, run (forward, not backward), and be glorified. 
 But to sail twelve thousand miles away from our own 
 country, to thrust ourselves into a kingdom that does 
 not want us, and tells us so at the cannon's mouth, 
 seems to me, like swearing, 
 
 "Neither brave, polite, nor wise." 
 
 " Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel 
 to every creature," sure enough. But, when Christ 
 was sending out his first missionaries, he bade them 
 expressly, not to go to China and Japan and Mi- 
 cronesia, but to New York and Boston and Lowell. 
 " Go not into the way of the Gentiles, and into any 
 city of the Samaritans enter ye not. But go, rather, 
 to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." If the 
 heathen did not want the gospel, he did not bid his 
 disciples to force it upon them : he did not bid them 
 stay, and be martyrs, but enjoined upon them to come 
 away. Offer the gospel, but remember that it is for 
 them to take or to leave. A man shall not be forced, 
 even into the kingdom of heaven. " Whosoever shall 
 not receive \~ou, nor hear your words, when ye 
 depart out of that city, shake off the dust of your feet. 
 . . . When they persecute you in this city, flee ye 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. ' 311 
 
 into another." Surely, the Bible is not all martyrdom. 
 There is room left for the exercise of prudence and 
 reason. Can the fields be considered ripe for the 
 harvest, so long as they bristle with guns? While 
 broad lands are lying opposite our own doors, into 
 which we ma}^ enter unopposed, and wherein we may 
 work unmolested, is it necessary to traverse half the 
 globe to dash our life out against the Chinese Wall ? 
 The Chinese soul is worth as much to the Creator as 
 the American soul ; but the American soul is also 
 worth as much to the Creator as the Chinese soul ; and 
 to the American nation it is worth a great deal more ; 
 and is, moreover, easier to get at. If we want an 
 alien race to work on, here it is, ready to our hand. 
 The paper from which I have quoted says, " There 
 are thirteen thousand Dakota Indians now under 
 missionary influence. But, besides these, there are, 
 outside and beyond the limits of our own stations, 
 mairy thousands more, who, as a young missionary 
 said, are ' as wild as an}*- Texan cattle.' " But these 
 wild Texan cattle are our own countrymen. The} T 
 meet us at every point. It is a matter of life and 
 death. And to this day we know no more what to do 
 with the Indians than did Columbus. We preach to 
 them a little, and we plunder them a little ; we feast 
 them, and fight them ; and a good many of us have 
 more faith in the fighting than in the feasting. We 
 
312 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 have been a Christian nation ever since we have had 
 any thing to do with them ; but we have not converted 
 them to any great, certainly not to any national, 
 extent ; and I presume that the most sanguine expecta- 
 tion we entertain concerning them, is, that the} T will 
 die out of our way. If we are so powerless for good 
 to an alien race over which we have complete control, 
 and to which we have, of course, free entrance, are we 
 called upon to be martyrs to a race that is an inde- 
 pendent power, and exercises its independence by 
 shutting the door in our faces ? 
 
 The same paper saj^s, that, " in speaking of his late 
 field of labor at Cheyenne, Col. Davis, who now goes 
 as a missionary to Japan, said that town had been 
 termed * hell on wheels.' And it was a significant fact 
 that women vote and hold office there ; an allusion 
 which produced a broad grin and hearty laughter all 
 over the house. In going there, he also remarked that 
 he had in mind the story of the negro who advised his 
 master to go where there was ' the least pay and the 
 most devil.' " 
 
 Why, then, does he leave Chej^enne? Wiry do we 
 leave a ' ' hell on wheels ' ' in the midst of our own coun- 
 try, and sail off to Japan ? Has Cheyenne been turned 
 into heaven, or even into a civilized and christianized 
 town on earth? Or have we there as man}' ministers, 
 and as much machinery, as can be profitably employed ? 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 313 
 
 " The Rev. John T. Gulick will henceforth devote 
 himself to work among the Mongolians. He has found 
 them a cordial, hospitable people, living under a patri- 
 archal government. They are ready to welcome the 
 Christian teacher. Is there any one to go with him to 
 that land?" 
 
 Why, indeed, should there be? With what face 
 could we leave a " hell on wheels " driving about here, 
 and set up to reform a nice, hospitable, patriarchal 
 people like these Mongolians? Is it economical or 
 patriotic, is it even right, to send our best men from 
 home, while there is so little pa}' and so much devil at 
 home? Among those on the platform at the meet- 
 ing, says a religious paper, " certainly two were 
 young pastors, who, with their wives, gladly go to the 
 heathen, out of the midst of homes and parishes where 
 they have been delightfully settled for two or more 
 years. The Macedonian call moved them. Besides 
 these, ... we met others on that platform at the 
 same time, agitated and agitating the question, each 
 for himself or herself, ' Am I not called to go ? ' ' ' 
 
 What is the Macedonian call ? If it is the wicked- 
 ness of heathendom that draws them, here is heathen- 
 dom nourishing like a green ba}r-tree ^>y our own door- 
 way. If it is the pastoral simplicity and winsome 
 docility of the Asiatics, let us not tamper with them. 
 
 For a few years, Japan has been sending young men 
 
 27 
 
314 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 to this country and to Europe to be educated. When 
 more than three hundred had been scattered through- 
 out the countiy, the report of some of our highest 
 religious observers, after four years of trial, was, — 
 
 " The Japanese intellect, in the test which has thus been made 
 of it, has proved itself bright, clear, and discriminating. . . . 
 
 "From their first coming hither, it has been very manifest, 
 that these boys have been accustomed to the ways of a truly 
 polite and refined society. They are neat in appearance and 
 dress, cleanly in their habits, gentle and winning in their inter- 
 course with each other and with Americans. But more than this 
 has been discovered as time has passed on. There is a moral 
 rectitude among them which is truly surprising. There is almost 
 no tendency to disorder, profligacy, and vice. 
 
 " Among the same number of American boys of similar age, 
 picked from any class of society, whether sent abroad or kept at 
 home, no one could hope to find a style of conduct so truly 
 exemplary. Pres. Hopkins might well say, as he did at the late 
 meeting of the American Board at New Haven, that, if all which 
 is said of these Japanese students be true, he could wish that 
 some of them might be kept as models of conduct in our Ameri- 
 can colleges. As a general fact, they are painstaking and labori- 
 ous in their habits of study, keeping themselves closely to their 
 books from morning till night; and it is the almost universal 
 testimony in the families where they have lived, that they 
 have shown themselves quiet and agreeable members of the 
 household. 
 
 "In conclusion, it may be mentioned as a remarkable fact, 
 that these young men seem to be almost absolutely free from 
 what may be called heathenish superstition, and are ready to re- 
 ceive favorably the impressions which the Bible and our religious 
 institutions are fitted to make upon them. A few have already 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 315 
 
 professed Christianity, and joined Christian churches ; and many- 
 others seem to he thoughtfully pondering upon this subject." 
 
 Is there any thing in this report that seems to 
 make it imperative upon us to listen to the call to 
 martyrdom in Japan? 
 
 W e were sauntering through the pleasant streets and 
 suburbs of North Adams, on a fine summer morning. 
 Over against one of its little bridges stands the unpre- 
 tending red brick factory -where our modern Sampson 
 has grappled with the problems of labor and capital, 
 of supply and demand, of blood in its unity and diver- 
 sity, — has wrestled, and seems thus far to have pre- 
 vailed. We had, like thousands of others, walked 
 through the quiet, busy house, and seen with our own 
 eyes the foreign faces and the untiring, skilful hands. 
 The simple American dress suits ill our ideas of Chi- 
 nese dignity and luxury ; but the long black hair, 
 braided and curled around the head, somewhat after 
 the " Pompadour " style, was any thing but American ; 
 and the short, small figures, and soft, beardless faces 
 combined w T ith the braided womanly hair to give an 
 appearance of effeminacy to these celestial immigrants. 
 But that they were in earnest, their unceasing work 
 showed. They scarcely looked up at the approach of 
 visitors ; and, if the}' observed us at all, their coun- 
 tenances maintained a dignified and self-respectful 
 unconsciousness. That they are earnest and aspiring 
 
316 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 is seen, also, from their schoolroom, where they are 
 mastering the new language and the new modes with a 
 rapidity and persistence quite worthy of the Caucasian 
 race, while maintaining still a most tenacious love of 
 fatherland, a close knowledge of its history, and a fond 
 pride in its traditions. 
 
 So, as you stand leaning over the wooden railings 
 of the wooden bridge, listening dreamily to the rush 
 of waters, and looking abstractedly at the common- 
 place brick factory, 3*011 feel that this incursion from 
 the ancient world may dwindle into insignificance, or 
 rise into nationality ; but all the same the ancient 
 world is here. The grandeur and the antiquity, the 
 vague, veiled splendor, the secret, sacred learning, are 
 unsealed, and the Celestials are making shoes in a 
 Yankee factory. 
 
 We reckon these Chinese as heathen and publicans, 
 to be civilized and christianized. But what do they 
 think of us? 
 
 I am sure that those almond eyes are watchful, and 
 theories are forming under those black coronets. 
 
 Two women come chattering up the bridge ; and we 
 accost each other in friendly country fashion. Among 
 other objects of interest, they point out the Chinese 
 factory. I love information at first-hand ; and I ask if 
 our Asiatic friends are welcome. 
 
 "No, indeed!" says the portly matron, bridling 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 317 
 
 with indignation. " They've no business here ! Every- 
 body hates 'em but Mr. Sampson ; and he worships 
 'em more than he does his Maker." 
 
 It is a new view of the bond between employer and 
 workmen. 
 
 " How are they offensive? " I ask. " Do they not 
 behave well? " 
 
 "I don't know but they behave well enough. But 
 the}- have no business here ! " 
 
 "Are they riotous, quarrelsome, noisy? Do they 
 rob hen-roosts and clothes-lines ? Do they mingle in 
 street-fights, and stir up strife?" 
 
 " No, they are peaceable enough. They are afraid 
 to do any thing of that kind. They are too afraid 
 themselves. They dasn't do any mischief." 
 
 " Perhaps the} 7 would behave well, even if they were 
 not frightened into it. "We might, at least, give them 
 the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 "But they've no business here. They don't take 
 any part in the government. They've no wives or 
 families. They don't mean to stay here. They only 
 come to get money, — our money." 
 
 "That is an innocent object, if they use innocent 
 means ; and we boast that this is a free country, open 
 to all. Perhaps, if we treat them fairly, they will 
 presently bring their families, and become citizens." 
 
 "We don't want any more foreigners. There's 
 enough here now." 
 
318 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 " But the nation was originally founded by foreign- 
 ers. And if the&2 people are quiet, honest, and in- 
 dustrious, may they not be a real advantage to us? " 
 
 " No : they don't spend any money. They laj T it all 
 up, and live on nothin'. If there's a concert or a 
 lecture, Mr. Sampson has 'em all go, and take the best 
 seats. You can't get anywhere, because he's got 
 mone}', and is just king." 
 
 " But they pay for their seats? " 
 
 "Oh, yes ! they pay for every thing. But I call 
 'em no better than a mess of hogs." 
 
 Evidently this " mess of hogs " is not wholly given 
 over to evil. While I am writing this, I take up a 
 chance volume of Goethe, and find him sa3 T ing to 
 Eckermann," Since I saw you, I have read many and 
 various things, among which a Chinese romance has 
 occupied and interested me most of all." 
 
 "Chinese romance!" said I. "That is, indeed, 
 something quite out of the way." 
 
 " Not so much as you think," said Goethe. " The 
 Chinamen think, act, and feel almost exactly like us ; 
 and we should feel perfect congenial^ with them, if 
 all thej- do were not more clear, more pure, and 
 decorous than with us. . . . 
 
 " Then you find an infinite number of legends, . . . 
 all turning upon what is moral and proper. 'Tis this 
 severe habit of regulation in every thing which has 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 319 
 
 * 
 
 sustained the Chinese empire for thousands of years 
 past, and will for thousands to come. 
 
 "I find a remarkable contrast to this Chinese 
 romance in the ' Chansons de Beranger,' which have, 
 almost every one, some immoral or licentious sub- 
 ject. ... Is it not remarkable that the subjects of 
 the Chinese poets should be so thoroughly moral, and 
 those of the most distinguished French poet of the 
 present day be exactly the contrary ? " 
 
 I asked whether the Chinese romance of which he 
 spoke were one of their best. 
 
 " By no means ! " said Goethe. " The Chinese have 
 thousands of them." 
 
 In our own day and country, we see that they are 
 peaceable and docile, eager to learn our language and 
 our ways, and are therefore, of their own accord, 
 putting themselves into very good training for Christi- 
 anity ; while the hostility, the tumult, and the brick- 
 bats are on the American side. Would it not be well 
 to leave the Chinese to themselves for the present, and 
 to see that Massachusetts and California are well 
 stocked with missionaries, whose first duty shall be to 
 preach to American citizens that the Chinese are not a 
 " mess of hogs " ? If the Chinese are not human beings, 
 " subject to like passions as we are," we waste money 
 in sending them the gospel : if they are human beings, 
 it must strike them strangely that we thrust ourselves 
 
320 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 into their homes with the Bible, and receive them in 
 our homes with stones. If we cannot christianize our 
 own communities into a fellow-feeling with the Chinese, 
 what ground have we for expecting to christianize 
 Chinese communities into a fellow-feeling with us? 
 We have long counted Chinese exclusiveness and 
 seclusiveness as a mark of barbarism ; but I cannot 
 see that China has expressed her desire to be let alone 
 b} 7- America in any more emphatic or barbarous manner 
 than America has expressed her desire to be let alone 
 of China. American missionaries have directly inter- 
 fered to alter established Chinese institutions; but 
 Chinese immigrants have been only too happy to con- 
 form to our laws and customs. They have never 
 attempted to proselyte, or even to modif}^. They have 
 simply and humbly sought to earn an honest living by 
 supplying labor which we need, at prices which we fix. 
 And they have been met with a ferocity and a brutality 
 which would do credit to the darkest Paganism, and 
 which ought to figure brilliantly in some Chinese 
 " Fox's Book of Martyrs." 
 
 The situation is certainly peculiar. We go to great 
 expense in conveying a few ministers to that human 
 hive ; but when the bees swarm on our shores, at 
 their own expense, we beat one, and kill another, and 
 stone another, which must seem a little incongruous to 
 the bees. I not long since heard a missionary who had 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 321 
 
 spent many } 7 ears in China describe her disintegration 
 and demoralization, arising, in part at least, from the 
 opium-war and sundry foreign influences ; and when I 
 asked him whether, on the whole, contact with Chris- 
 tian nations had as yet done China more harm or good, 
 he answered promptly and emphatically, " Harm, a 
 hundred times ! " 
 
 A late writer tells us that one of our early Indian 
 missionaries found a greater obstacle in the lawless 
 and immoral conduct of some of the Dutch than in 
 the Paganism of the Indians. How would it do to 
 turn our half-million of money, and our hundreds of 
 missionaries, into our own land, and keep them there 
 until the nation is so thoroughly christianized, that it 
 becomes by its mere existence a missionary nation ; 
 till every ship's crew that leaves its shores on any 
 errand of pleasure or commerce or science shall, by 
 their purity, integrity, unselfishness, preach an irre- 
 sistible gospel to Jew and Gentiles ? 
 
 How would it do to let the Chinese worship God 
 their own way in their own land, until we have chris- 
 tianized America up to the point of not plundering 
 and murdering the Chinese when they come to us ? 
 
 A missionary from China was announced to speak 
 upon the work which had been done in China. It was 
 precisely what I was eager to know ; and I took good 
 care to be in attendance. He was very interesting, 
 
322 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 full of sincerity and simplicity. He drew a contrast 
 between the Chinese and ourselves. Our feet point 
 downward ; the Chinese, upward. But that was the 
 paradox of our childhood. We read a book from the 
 beginning to the end ; the Chinese, from the end to 
 the beginning. But we learned that before we had 
 left our childhood far behind us. Here, in riding 
 across country, we see church-spires rising all around : 
 there we see no church-spires. But that we could 
 evolve from our moral consciousness. Here we sleep 
 on beds : there they sleep on their ovens. Every one 
 to his taste. 
 
 "A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day," 
 
 is not unknown to Christendom. Here our teaming is 
 done by horses and oxen : there you will see a donkey 
 and a woman working together. But we need not 
 leave our own country to see that. In China the ladies 
 pinch their feet to make them small : here they pinch 
 their waists. Does that indicate unquestionable supe- 
 riority ? 
 
 All this, and much more, is very interesting ; but I 
 can draw from it no opinion at all as to whether we 
 have really put an opening wedge into China, or only 
 driven a tack into the outmost bark. When I learn, 
 that, within the last six or seven years, the missionary 
 has numbered eighty or ninety converts, I begin to see 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 323 
 
 light. That is as mairy, perhaps, as his American 
 confreres have gathered into their home churches in 
 that time, and is an encouraging sign ; but I immedi- 
 ately long to know what sort of person a Chinese con- 
 vert is, how much he differs from a Chinese Pagan, 
 what are his ideas of uprightness and honor, what are 
 his rank and influence in Chinese circles, and what is 
 the rank of a Christian colony or a Christian church in 
 Chinese society. American merchants have told me, 
 that some of their Chinese business acquaintance, 
 unmitigated heathen, have had as high and delicate a 
 standard of integrity and generosity as any Christian 
 community can show. Is this exceptional, or general? 
 My returned missionary says he has no doubt, that, in 
 time, China will be like America. In what time, I 
 wonder ; and, outside of the nature of things, what are 
 the grounds of his belief? Besides the conviction, — 
 
 " That somehow good 
 Will be the final goal of ill," 
 
 is there actual indication that China will be able 
 to exhibit, for instance, a statesmanship, a financial 
 ability, an unbending integrity, a supreme regard for 
 the rights and welfare of others, approximating those 
 which have illustrated the government of our own 
 commercial metropolis ? 
 
 We will not give up our Chinese missions, expensive 
 
324 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 though they be ; for as one little stream, pouring into 
 the fissure of a rock, will finally rend and shatter the 
 whole mass, so our little gospel-rill is going presently 
 to shiver this great Pagan empire, and rear upon its 
 ruins a Christian civilization which shall be a joy to 
 the whole earth. 
 
 But, while we are waiting, would it not be prudent 
 and economical to take advantage of other means? 
 "YVe will continue to send out missionaries at great 
 cost ; but we will not forget, that, at North Adams and 
 California, the heathen have come to us at their own 
 expense. To be sure, they are not on pleasure or 
 religion bent, but have a frugal mind. Yet if, while 
 they are merely pegging at their boots and shoes, we 
 could quietly convert them into Christians, it would 
 certainly be a great deal cheaper than to fasten them 
 up in China, and convert them there. And, as we have 
 only about half a million a year to spend on the whole 
 world, it must be readily seen that the question of 
 dollars and cents becomes a very important one. We 
 take heart by looking at the Sandwich Islands, which 
 were the seat of a savage society, murderous, idola- 
 trous, licentious. Now they are clothed, and in their 
 right mind. The} r are governed by a constitution ; and 
 they worship 'the true God. So the missionaries 
 preach, and so we believe. . But, on the other hand, 
 infidels and unbelievers, and even good Christians, tell 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 325 
 
 us that the natives are dying out. In the good old 
 times, when they worshipped their own gods, and were 
 not hampered by dress, they numbered four hundred 
 thousand. Now they are but sixty-five thousand. The 
 infidels admit, indeed, that this depopulation had 
 begun before the missionaries appeared upon the 
 scene ; but their appearance has not checked it. The 
 rate of decrease has even been higher than ever since 
 the mission-work ; and they attribute it to the fact 
 that the missionaries have substituted for the natural 
 dress and the natural amusement of the simple island- 
 ers the cumbrous dress and the severe manners of 
 their own austere climate. 
 
 Have we carried the gospel and the arts of civiliza- 
 tion to a nation that was rapidly dying out, and has it 
 been dying all the more rapidly since it accepted us? 
 If so, is it good economy? Is there some offset of 
 which we know nothing? Is there any thing in the 
 position of the Sandwich Islands which makes it 
 incumbent on us to have a Christian people there, even 
 though we slay the natives with the sword of the 
 Spirit, and substitute for them a population transported 
 from our own shores ? Is it, at any rate, so important 
 as to compensate us for the pain of seeing, both in the 
 secular and religious newspapers, that our home mis- 
 sionaries are not receiving their usual grants from the 
 Home Missionary Society ; that ministers in October, 
 
 28 
 
326 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 " supporting themselves on a mere pittance any way," 
 have received no payments since the first of August ; 
 that five hundred missionaries have waited months for 
 the remittance from New York ("their credit is 
 impaired, their ambition sapped") ; that there is 
 untold anxiety in the missionaries' homes, on account 
 of the delay in remitting salaries ; that the A. H. M. 
 S. owes forty thousand dollars to missionaries for labor 
 already performed ; and that some of them have 
 alreacty sacrificed their furniture and books, and have 
 even sold the horse and cow from their frontier homes, 
 to obtain the necessaries of life ? 
 
 This, at least, seems indisputable, — that the world 
 is one. He who works at home faithfully is doing as 
 good service as he who sails the wide seas over. 
 Wherever a man's taste, powers, circumstances, call 
 him to go, thither he shall go unblamed ; and, if he 
 choose to stay in quiet havens, equally unblamed shall 
 he stay. It is not where he lives, but how he lives, 
 that decides the character of his stewardship. He 
 shall put to the best account his love of novelty, stir, 
 travel, fresh ways and large affairs : but he shall not 
 call it consecration ; nor shall he imply that the quiet, 
 home-staying student's life is inspired by indolence or 
 love of ease and self. He is consecrated who does 
 alwa}^s his best work as unto God, and not as unto 
 man. His consecration may lead him to martyrdom 
 
MISSIONARY MUSINGS. 327 
 
 in the deserts of Africa, or by his own fireside, to 
 comfort on the pleasant uplands of India, or to bound- 
 less content in the beloved valleys of his father- 
 land. 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGEK. 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 
 
 10 far" as the Scriptures contain rules, popularly 
 5^|] so called, those rules are not for us ; and, so 
 far as the Scriptures are for us, they are hardly 
 to be called rules. The rules of the Bible are chiefly 
 to be found in the Old Testament, and were strictly 
 laid down for the Jews. The New Testament widens 
 its scope to embrace the whole world ; but it directly 
 and forcibly abrogates rules, and deals only in princi- 
 ples. 
 
 It is, in some respects, far easier to be guided bj^ 
 rules than by principles. A rule tells you exactly 
 what to do : a principle leaves you to find out for 
 yourself. A rule demands only obedience : a principle 
 requires judgment. Government by rule attaches re- 
 sponsibility chiefly to the ruler : government 03^ prin- 
 ciple fastens it upon the individual actor. Those who 
 are governed can make but one mistake, — disobedi- 
 ence, which is fatal : those who govern themselves may 
 make a thousand mistakes, none of which is fatal, save 
 the mistake of motive. If the divine object were to 
 
 331 
 
332 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 have an orderly and decorous world, one would say we 
 ought to be governed by rules : if it were to build up 
 a world of intelligent and dignified beings, we should 
 be, as we are, relegated to principles. 
 
 Reason teaches us, that if there is any God at all, 
 any God worthy of worship, he is the God of the whole 
 world. He is the Creator and Guardian, not of Jew 
 and Christian alone, but of Gentile and Pagan as well. 
 He did not withhold himself from the human race in its 
 infancy, and come to its help only when it had grown 
 into fulness of days : every where, and at all times, 
 he has revealed himself in such wa}*s as seemed to him 
 good. Many ages and many nations have never heard 
 of our Bible ; yet in no one of them, sa} T s that Bible, 
 confirming the conclusions of our reason, has God 
 left himself without a witness. The Bible may be the 
 clearest lamp unto our feet, and the brightest light 
 unto our path ; but it does not profess to be the only 
 light that ever shone upon the world ; and the attempt 
 to make it so throws a glamour and uncertainty upon 
 the path. There can be no harmony of the Gospels, no 
 symmetrical plan of salvation, no sufficient theory of 
 life, unless we admit that God is the Father and Friend 
 of the whole human race, that he works efficiently 
 without, as well as within, the Bible, and that not only 
 upon Sinai and Zion may his presence shine, but upon 
 every high hill under the whole heaven. 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 333 
 
 I think it would not be far wrong to say that the 
 popularly received Christian doctrine of resentment is, 
 that there should be no resentment. " I say unto 3-011, 
 That ye resist not evil : but whosoever shall smite thee 
 on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if 
 any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy 
 coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever 
 shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. 
 Give to him that asketh thee, and, from him that would 
 borrow of thee, turn not thou away." These and such 
 teachings as these are our warrant for resolving the 
 whole duty of man into a mush of complacency. We 
 have never yet quite succeeded in the effort. We find 
 ourselves ever and anon flaming out into indignation 
 and wrath. If a man smite us on the right cheek, we 
 knock him down. If a man sue us at the law, we 
 stand suit ; and if he would borrow of us, we promptly 
 turn away, unless he can give ample security. But we 
 have succeeded so far as to do these things in a shame- 
 faced, apologetic manner. We have succeeded so far 
 as to give those who are outside the church weapons 
 to wield against it which they would not otherwise pos- 
 sess, and which are unlawful to hold. We have suc- 
 ceeded so far as to put an odium upon anger. We do 
 not recognize it as the natural and proper exercise of 
 certain faculties ; but we deem it the overflow of evil 
 passions. We by no means obey these precepts of 
 
334 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Christ ; but we say the3 T , and they only, ought to be 
 obe3 T ed ; and we admit that the reason we do not obey 
 them is hardness of heart. 
 
 I admit nothing of the sort. This seems to me a 
 feeble and false presentation of Christianity, as far 
 removed from real Christianity as it is from Paganism. 
 In the first place, it is absolutely unreasonable ; and 
 nothing which is unreasonable can be Christian. In 
 the second place, it is impracticable ; and nothing 
 which is impracticable can be Christian. But, in the 
 third place, it is utterly antagonistic to the gist of 
 Christ's teachings, and to the whole course of his 
 life. He says explicitly, " Think not that I am come 
 to destroy the law or the prophets : I am not come to 
 destroy, but to fulfil." When he quoted them of old 
 time, who said, "An e}-e for an e3'e, and a tooth for a 
 tooth," did he mean to condemn them? He says expli- 
 citly not. He introduces a new principle ; but he does 
 not withdraw the old. He goes further in the direc- 
 tion which Moses travelled. When they of old time 
 said, " Thou shalt not commit adultery : thou shalt not 
 kill : thou shalt demand eye for eye from thine enemy," 
 the} r spoke in the interests of truth and purity, of law 
 and order. Recklessness on the one hand, and revenge 
 on the other, were curbed b}* the law of eye for eye. 
 Whatever communication God may have held with his 
 world outside of the biblical record, we little know. 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 335 
 
 We do know that there was great need of well-defined 
 laws among the Jews. Moses found his people violent 
 and barbarous ; and he repressed them with simple and 
 wholesome laws. When these laws had done their 
 work, Christ came and informed them with spiritual 
 life. Where Moses had forbidden murder, Christ went 
 deeper, and forbade those evil thoughts in the heart, 
 out of which murder springs. Where Moses had for- 
 bidden indiscriminate and unlimited revenge, Christ 
 went further, and inculcated forgiveness* and friendli- 
 ness. He did not preach the duty of resentment, 
 because there was no need of it. Anger is one of the 
 earliest and easiest instincts of the human being, and, 
 in the natural course of things, needs to be trained by 
 discretion and discrimination. Forgiveness belongs to 
 a higher and more spiritualized and advanced stage. 
 But that Christ did not mean to extirpate anger, and 
 substitute forgiveness, is proved by the whole tenor of 
 his own life. It is no weak, yielding, namby-pamby 
 figure which the authors of the Gospels draw for us, 
 but a Being of severe and exacting majesty. When 
 the Pharisees shut their ej^es to the claims of humanit}-, 
 and counted a legal phrase more strenuous than human 
 suffering, he looked round about on them with anger. 
 Often his anger burst out in bitter, scorching words : 
 "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, Irypocrites ! 
 for ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, 
 
336 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 and, when he is made, ye make him twofold more the 
 child of hell than yourselves. Hypocrites, fools, blind, 
 whited sepulchres.' ' " Tribunes, " "Times," and 
 "Heralds," nay, even "Christian Unions," "Inde- 
 pendents," and "Observers " address each other in 
 no more uncomplimentary terms than these. And 
 they are not the words of a well-meaning but short- 
 coming Christian, a man who tried to follow Christ, 
 but found the old Adam too strong for the } T oung 
 Melancthon : the}- are the words of Jesus Christ him- 
 self, the sinless and perfect man, "the only-begotten 
 of the Father, full of grace and truth." Nay, more, 
 his anger was not confined to words. When this man, 
 who was so meek and forbearing, who taught submis- 
 sion to evil, and patience under insult, — when he saw 
 God's temple profaned to profit and pelf, his anger was 
 kindled into an over-mastering fury : he armed him- 
 self, and alone drove out the crowd of hucksters and 
 peddlers, scattered their money, upset their tables, 
 ordered out their wares, and made a clean sweep of 
 the whole filthy concern. There was no turning of the 
 other cheek, no giving-up of the cloak also, but a 
 summary and forcible check put upon abuses. If it 
 had been an ordinary church-member, the world look- 
 ing on, and especially the marketmen who had been 
 turned out of their comfortable stalls, would very 
 likely have said that this reformer and radical had 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 337 
 
 lost his temper, and become as one of us. But he 
 was the Lord Christ in his anger, in his denunciation, 
 in his force, just as truly, just as divinely, and just as 
 exemplariry, as when he cried, "Father, forgive 
 them ; for they know not what they do.'' 
 
 The Lamb of God was so meek, that he suffered 
 himself to be slain for us ; but there came a time when 
 " the kings of the earth . . . and the mighty 
 men . . . hid themselves in the dens, and in the 
 rocks of the mountains, and said to the mountain and 
 rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from . . . the wrath 
 of the Lamb : for the great day of his wrath is come ; 
 and who shall be able to stand ? ' ' 
 
 God's first revelation to man is man: his second is 
 the law : his third is the gospel. One supplements 
 and complements, but does not contradict, its predeces- 
 sors. It abrogates only by fulfilment. If the. human 
 race guided and controlled itself perfectly, it would 
 need no law : if it perfectly obeyed the law, it would 
 need no gospel. Neither law nor gospel requires the 
 annihilation of any faculty which God has given to 
 man, and which he gave before law or gospel. When 
 the law says, " Thou shalt not kill," it makes no iron- 
 bound prohibition ; for this direction is explicitly mod- 
 ified by sundry other directions concerning the modes 
 and circumstances in which thou shalt kill. When the 
 gospel says, " Resist not evil," it furnishes no ground 
 
 29 
 
338 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 for universal and immoral acquiescence in or toleration 
 of wrong ; for the gospel abounds in examples of 
 stern and strenuous resistance of evil. It only means, 
 that along with the right resentment of outrage,- of 
 resistance to evil, which the world has alwaj^s practised, 
 lies another finer right and duty, — namely, that of 
 forbearance and forgiveness. "When we are to exercise 
 the one or the other, each man is to judge for himself. 
 There are times when a man does well to be angry ; 
 and there are times when he does well to forgive. This 
 is certain : " If thy brother trespass against thee seven 
 times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to 
 thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him ; nay, 
 until seventy times seven." It must be a little hard 
 when it gets into the four hundreds ; but even a tran- 
 sient repentance, a feeble impulse toward right, is to 
 be recognized and encouraged. But stronger than the 
 assertion is the inference, that, if he do not repent, 
 thou shalt not forgive him. The doctrine which I 
 have heard preached as the word of God, the gospel 
 of Christ, — that forgiveness does not depend upon 
 repentance, that we must treat those who have done us 
 a wrong precisely as if they had not done it, — is irra- 
 tional, unscriptural, and demoralizing. It violates the 
 first instincts of healthy human nature : it puts virtue 
 and vice on the same level, and thus removes a power- 
 ful incentive to the one, and preventive of the other : 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 339 
 
 it makes the man himself the centre of his action, and 
 regards not at all the effect of his course upon his 
 brother, the wrong-doer. 
 
 There are certain broad lines of demarcation in 
 Christ's example, which we should do well to trace. 
 We find that his forbearance was exercised towards 
 those who had wronged himself: Ms wrath blazed 
 towards those who wronged others. His pit} T and 
 patience were lavished on the poor, the suffering, the 
 ignorant : he spared little to the rich and bigoted, who 
 misled and misruled them. When he saw the multi- 
 tude, he was moved with compassion on them ; but he 
 branded the scribes and Pharisees as blind leaders 
 of the blind, and hypocrites. He forgave, unasked, 
 those who crowned him with thorns, and doomed him to 
 cruel death ; but whoso shall but offend one of these 
 little ones ... it were better for him that a millstone 
 should be hanged about his neck, and that he were 
 drowned in the depth of the sea. "When the mob 
 would have cast him down headlong from the brow of 
 the hill, he only slipped out of their hands, and went 
 his way without words ; but no denunciation was too 
 strong for those who bind hea\y burdens . . . and 
 lay them on men's shoulders, while themselves will not 
 move them with one of their fingers ; for those who 
 shut up the kingdom of heaven against men, and will 
 neither go in themselves, nor suffer them that are enter- 
 
340 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 ing to go in ; for those who devour widows' houses, 
 and for a pretence make long prayers ; for those who 
 compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and, 
 when he is made, make him twofold more the child 
 of hell than themselves ; for those who pay tithe of 
 mint and anise and cumin, and omit judgment, 
 mercy, and faith ; for those who make clean the 
 outside of the cup and of the platter, but within are 
 full of extortion and excess ; for those who build the 
 tombs of the prophets, yet crucify the successors of 
 the prophets, — for them we hear little of compassion, 
 nothing of forgiveness, but Ye serpents, 3-e genera- 
 tion of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of 
 hell? 
 
 In all this, Christ spoke the sentiments of honest, 
 uncontaminated human nature. Instinct, reason, ex- 
 perience, and revelation are in perfect accord. It was 
 no nerveless, emasculated, sentimental, and impracti- 
 cable gospel which he preached, but a gospel of dis- 
 crimination and emphasis and vitality, — a gospel for 
 the conduct of business and courtesy, as well as of 
 religion, — a gospel masculine, as well as feminine ; 
 of strength, as well as of refinement ; of self-respect, 
 as well as of self-sacrifice ; of force, as well as of 
 feeling. 
 
 Let anger, then, resume its place as an original and 
 dignified function of the human organization, and be 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 341 
 
 no more looked upon as the outburst of a rebellious 
 outlaw, or an invincible alien. While we are not to 
 be petty and touchy, easily provoked, self-centred, 
 solicitous of our own dignity, imagining evil, quick to 
 fly into a passion, strict to mark iniquity against our- 
 selves, implacable and revengeful ; while we are to be 
 generous and large minded, to ascribe good intent 
 where evil intent is not demonstrable, and not to take 
 offence unless offence is meant, — we are equally under 
 bonds not to level the barriers between courtesy and 
 discourtesy, between justice and injustice, between 
 right and wrong. We owe it to the wrong-doer to 
 throw all the weight of our disapprobation against his 
 wrong-doing. If the wrong be done not to ourselves, 
 but to others, and if, in addition, it be a wrong done 
 to the weak and the helpless, it is difficult to learn 
 from the Bible, or from our own hearts, what, expres- 
 sion of indignation would be excessive. So far from 
 the truth is it, that an outburst of wrath must be un- 
 christian, the sudden explosion of surprised but de- 
 praved nature, it may rather be that non-explosiveness 
 is but an apathy of the conscience, a dulness of 
 sympathetic perception, an outgrowth of selfishness, a 
 defect of the moral organization. The only man who 
 may be fairly inferred to have lost his temper is the 
 man who never shows that he has any. If he that is 
 angry with his brother without cause is in danger of 
 
 29* 
 
342 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the judgment, what reason have we to suppose that he 
 who is not angrj r with his brother when there is cause 
 should go scot-free? When oppression, fraud, malice, 
 are banished from the earth, we can afford to be even- 
 tempered ; but, in their present roaring and rampant 
 prosperity, it is more Christian that our hearts should 
 roll up mountain-ranges of disapproval, and occasion- 
 ally burst into volcanoes of burning indignation. God 
 is angry with the wicked every day, and makes repent- 
 ance and reformation the conditions of forgiveness. 
 What right have we to look upon the wicked with 
 tranquillity, and take him into our confidence and com- 
 panionship, as if he had never sinned? To be hasty 
 in spirit, to be angr}^ is the mark of a petty nature : 
 to be slow to anger is one mark of a large nature : to 
 put a ban upon anger is not the work of the divine 
 nature. 
 
 The excesses of anger are to be deprecated. The 
 man who loses control of himself in his wrath is never 
 to be admired. That is a weakness which he should 
 conquer. But he who holds himself well in hand 
 while he hurls his wrath at the evil-doer ; he who never 
 loses sight of human weakness, even while the flame of 
 his indignation leaps forth to consume wickedness, — 
 he is not to be apologized for as a halting disciple : 
 he is rather to be rejoiced over as an effective apostle. 
 Blessed are the peace-makers indeed; but blessed, 
 
THE LAWS OF ANGER. 343 
 
 also, is whoever cometh in the name of the Lord, 
 though he come not to send peace, but a sword. 
 
 In this, as in every other question, it is well to 
 remember that no one text or precept of the Bible 
 undertakes to set forth in general and in particular 
 the whole duty of man. One phase of the truth is 
 illustrated in one place, and one in another. Every 
 man must decide for himself, on every occasion, as to 
 the bearings of the Bible on his own behavior ; as to 
 whether he is right to be angry, or right to forbear ; 
 as to whether he demand eye for eye, or resist not 
 evil ; as to whether he submit to, or revolt against, the 
 powers that be ; as to whether he answer a fool accord- 
 ing to his folly, or answer him not. This is an ever- 
 recurring trouble. It gives a man no rest, but keeps 
 him constantly using his observation, his conscience, 
 and his judgment. Nevertheless, it seems to be the 
 divine way, and we cannot help ourselves. "We may 
 insist that a part is the whole, that a principle is a 
 precept, that a mariner's compass is a baby-jumper ; 
 but such insistence does not alter the facts. The uni- 
 verse with all its laws is around us. The Bible with 
 all its mysteries is before us. Not a hair's-breadth 
 will be changed in the one or the other, because we 
 fail to apprehend them. 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PEISONEE. 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 
 
 |E should be able to reform the world rnucn 
 faster and further than we now do, if we 
 could only have full swing at it ; but we are 
 constantly hampered by the necessity of respecting the 
 freedom of the individual. If we could enact and 
 enforce a law, that no man should do what was not 
 good for him, and that all men should do what was for 
 their good, we should save the world at one swoop. 
 We should have no drunkards ; for we would forbid the 
 first intoxicating glass. We should have no paupers ; 
 for idleness and extravagance should be equally illegal. 
 As it is, the law cannot touch a man so long as he 
 injures only himself, but must wait until he endanger 
 or annoy others ; that is, it lays no hand upon him 
 while he is sowing the seed, but only when the evil 
 harvest stands ready to be garnered, which is gener- 
 ally too late to be of much service to the man himself. 
 There seems here to be a great waste : nevertheless, it 
 is the divine way. Man grants to man no more power 
 to hurt himself than is granted him by his Maker. 
 
 347 
 
348 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 When we long for absolute dominion, when it seems to 
 us that great good would be done if we could force 
 men to work steadily and thoroughly, to spend their 
 wages economically, and lay up money for future 
 emergencies, to train their children virtuousl} 7 , and 
 treat their wives justly, and be generally thriving and 
 respectable, we are obliged to remember that evidently 
 God thought not so. Apparently it seems to him 
 better that men should go wrong than that they should 
 go right, under pressure. More is gained by letting 
 them walk alone, even with much stumbling, than by 
 walling them in on both sides, and holding them 
 upright. 
 
 Nevertheless, when men have carried so far their 
 liberty to stumble and sin, that thej 7 impinge upon the 
 liberty of others, society steps in, and imposes re- 
 straints ; and there is where we have the opportunity, 
 and where, therefore, our duty lies, to practise our 
 theories of inculcating and enforcing right. So long 
 as a man is outside of prison-walls, he must go his own 
 way, right or wrong. He may abuse his advantages, 
 and ruin his chances, both for usefulness and happi- 
 ness, and you can only remonstrate and advise ; and 
 perhaps not even that will be wise. But once he has 
 forfeited his freedom, once he comes into a state of 
 pupilage, and society can wreak upon him its teaching 
 and preaching, not only with a good heart, but with 
 sound judgment. 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 349 
 
 There lias sometimes been evinced a species of 
 sympathy with prisoners, that is neither politic nor 
 sensible. Feelings are attributed to them which would 
 surprise no one more than themselves. Defects of 
 early education, peculiarities of temper or disposition, 
 are brought forward as palliatives of crime. Doubtless 
 the}" are palliatives in the eye of the Maker of us all. 
 Doubtless, at the judgment-seat of the heavens, many 
 an earthly decision will be reversed, and many a man 
 whose deserts are unawarded in this world will be 
 ranked below others who on earth forfeited freedom 
 03* open and dangerous crimes. Still it remains that 
 we do not have to plead in the courts of heaven, but 
 of earth. Our juries are not called upon to decide 
 moral, but legal guilt. Our judges are not appointed 
 to lay bare the secrets of the divine system, but for 
 the defence of society. It may be that a man has 
 committed burglary, because his father trained him to 
 evil courses ; or murder, because his grandfather trans- 
 mitted to him a diseased thirst for intoxicating drinks. 
 All these things may pass in review before the divine 
 mind ; but they do not, and they ought not, to remit or 
 mitigate the penalty imposed by human justice. Legal 
 codes must be founded, so far as may be, on right and 
 wrong. To excuse a man for a wicked act because he 
 has previously done a weak act, is to put a premium 
 on weakness. To pardon a man for criminal violence, 
 
 30 
 
350 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 because his father never curbed his violent passions 
 when a child, would be to encourage parental indolence ; 
 would be to remove one of the methods whereby society 
 attempts to make up for the defects of home-training. 
 
 But when the law has once withdrawn a man from 
 the world, and shut him up in a prison for the good of 
 society, it ought to turn about, and teach and train 
 him for his own good. The freedom of the individual 
 is abolished. Justice has got him under her thumb. 
 It is not enough that the condition of the prisoner is 
 ameliorated, that he is no longer starved and tortured 
 and degraded. The education that he has failed to 
 receive before ought to be furnished him after his incar- 
 ceration. The habits of industr}- which he has never 
 formed should be then imposed upon him. In large 
 measure, this is already done ; but there is room for 
 increased effort. When I hear that a man is sentenced 
 to twenty 3 T ears' imprisonment for midnight burglar}^, 
 I am moved to no pity for him. If I have pity, it is 
 for the man who has lost, in a night, the labor and love 
 of years : it is for the women and children shocked 
 with sudden terror into illness and death : it is for a 
 neighborhood tortured with long alarm, all that one 
 man, or set of men, may live without regular work, 
 upon the regular work of others. So far from mitigat- 
 ing his penal t}^, I would, if possible, make his banish- 
 ment from the world more lasting and more secure. 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 351 
 
 But let another world be opened to him, which shall 
 not be merely a living grave. He has failed in this : 
 there is for him no second trial. A stigma is affixed 
 to his name, which no tears of repentance can wash 
 out ; but in his prison-world let hope beckon, and com- 
 fort and motive not be wanting. When I hear that, 
 of the hundreds in a single prison, only half can be 
 employed, because there is not work enough for them, 
 I am moved with pity. To set a hundred wretched 
 minds preying upon themselves is not punishment : it 
 is unintended and unmeaning torment. Punishment 
 should be absolute, but not vindictive. We may 
 admit that it is not remedial, but preventive ; but if, 
 while it protects society, it reforms the criminal, is 
 harm done? I would have every prison made, so far 
 as is possible, a reform-school for its inmates. Neither 
 society nor the individual may be wilfully guilty con- 
 cerning its brother whom it has imprisoned ; but, when 
 once it has him in its power, it becomes guilty, if it 
 leave any stone unturned for his benefit. He is often 
 ignorant : he should be taught. He has lived in low 
 ways because he knew of no higher : let him be 
 wisely and warily led into the upper regions. He has 
 had no religious instruction ; his spiritual nature is 
 untouched: let the dull and uninteresting preachers 
 prose to what outside ears can be got to listen to them, 
 since outside are many means of grace ; but let these 
 
352 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 imprisoned and dumb lips be touched with live coals. 
 These criminals seldom, if ever, knew how healthful 
 was the process, and how sweet the rewards, of daily 
 tasks well done. "Why should it not be taught them, 
 partly hj enforcing regular work, partly by investing 
 for them the wages of their work, after deducting the 
 expense of their maintenance? The State does not 
 want its prisons to be pecuniarily profitable for the 
 profit's sake. Suppose a man has spent five years in 
 prison. Suppose his earnings over and above his 
 share of the expenses have been for that time a thou- 
 sand dollars. It is a very small thing whether that 
 money goes into the State coffers or not ; but it is not 
 a small thing if the man have acquired a trade, regular 
 habits, and has a capital of one thousand dollars to 
 begin life with. It may be the difference to him 
 between an honest career and a return to evil courses. 
 It may be the difference to the State between a citizen 
 constantly adding to her wealth, virtue, and strength, 
 and a rogue preying upon all. 
 
 Certain cells in a well-ordered State's prison were 
 provided with good kerosene lamps. The keeper said 
 that all prisoners who were condemned for twenty 
 3'ears or more were allowed lamps in their cells that 
 they might read in the evening. This is as it should be. 
 Society often needs that a man should be banished for 
 twenty years ; but it never needs that he should not be 
 
TEE SIGHING OF TEE PRISONER. 353 
 
 instructed and improved as far as possible. So far as 
 he is a criminal, he must be punished ; but, along with 
 that, so far as he is a victim, let him be helped. If 
 intellectual stimulus be an incentive to virtue, let us 
 minister to his intellect. To the imagination of the 
 classes which furnish the criminals, a prison would be 
 none the less terrible because it was a reform-school as 
 well as a prison ; while to those who are actually con- 
 fined therein, it might prove a 'savor of life unto life. 
 It is desirable that criminals should feel the power of 
 law ; but if they can also feel that law is more be- 
 nevolent than lawlessness, a double benefit is gained. 
 If there be any thing in geography, histoiy, science, 
 poetry, in Sunday schools and music and Bible, in 
 politics foreign and domestic, in patriotism and help- 
 fulness and humanity, which is calculated to soften 
 the manners, and stimulate the mind, and purify the 
 heart, outside of prison-walls, it is equally so calculated 
 within those walls. And that the men gathered there 
 have been largely destitute of those advantages is the 
 strongest reason why society should attend to them when 
 they are brought under her absolute control. When 
 a man is imprisoned for ever so short a time, let his 
 intellectual and moral, as well as his industrial, educa- 
 tion be taken up at precisely the point where it was 
 relinquished outside. If he cannot read, let him begin 
 with the alphabet. If he is a scholar, let his scholar- 
 
 30* 
 
354 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 ship come into play. If lie has robbed, let him restore 
 the amount robbed before his return to freedom. Let 
 him learn the value of daily earnings and accumulated 
 treasures by accumulations and earnings of his own. 
 That is, let not societ}^ inflict a purely arbitrary but a 
 natural and logical punishment. He is a wicked man ; 
 but half the value of punishment is lost when we 
 remember only the wickedness and forget the manhood. 
 Just as much is gained by treating criminals rationally 
 as by treating children rationally ; for criminals are a 
 sort of spoiled children. They have violated State 
 law, but we have no right to violate it towards them. 
 No more should we violate or disregard natural law in 
 dealing with them. Cause and effect, motive and sen- 
 timent, have just as full play with them as with outside 
 folk. A violent and desperate fellow entered upon his 
 imprisonment, declaring that nothing should induce 
 him to perform the allotted task- work. When he was 
 brought out with the others, he sat passive. For 
 several days the warden took no notice of him. Then 
 he quietly asked him who he was, why he was there, 
 how long was his sentence, — as if he knew nothing 
 about him, — and then as quietly added that the term 
 of his sentence would be considered to begin from the 
 time when he began to work. The man looked at the 
 warden a moment. A new light broke upon his mind : 
 he went to work at once, and remained, during his im- 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 355 
 
 prisonment, one of the most orderly and well-disposed 
 of all the inmates. 
 
 I wish I could add that after he came out he led 
 a life of industry, honesty, and sobriety, and died 
 lamented ; but that I do not know. I am sure he was 
 more likely to do so than if he had been flogged and 
 "burked" and shower-bathed, and hung up by his 
 thumbs, and kept in solitary confinement in a dark 
 cell. 
 
 Let the sighing of the prisoner come before thee, not 
 that he may be released from prison, but that his soul 
 may be loosed from its bonds. 
 
 An interesting, and at first sight humane custom 
 has sprung up in the Massachusetts State-prison, and 
 perhaps in the prisons of other States. A sumptuous 
 Thanksgiving dinner is given to all the prisoners, — roast 
 turkey, plum-pudding, and the vegetables, sauces, and 
 other luxuries thereunto pertaining. No one can object 
 to this little festival within those gloomy walls ; and, 
 rather than it should fail, private charity would doubt- 
 less step forward, and furnish the necessary funds. 
 For these men, "roughs" and " rascallions " as 
 they are, are also, let us always remember, victims, — 
 victims of the ignorance and brutality of their parents 
 and of society, — victims of evil training, and of their 
 own unbridled passions. To whatever gratification can 
 be furnished them without harm to themselves or to the 
 
356 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 community, they are thrice and four times welcome. 
 Bid them into the circle of human brotherhood ; for to 
 that the}' have a right. Blood-stained it may be, and 
 crime-hardened, still God hath made them of one 
 family with ourselves ; and if by any means they can 
 be assured that they are not without the pale of human 
 sympathy, they are removed one step at least toward 
 reformation. 
 
 But after the dinner there are certain exercises of a 
 more questionable character. The prisoners are as- 
 sembled : the warden addresses them, and announces 
 to a certain number unconditional and immediate par- 
 don, granted by the governor and council. The charac- 
 ter of the crime, the duration of the sentence, seem not 
 to enter into the case. The last newspaper announce- 
 ment I have seen is simply this, omitting the names : — 
 
 "After dinner, Warden C. made an address, and announced 
 the pardons granted by the governor and council. The convicts 
 liberated were A. B., sentenced to the institution from Boston, 
 July, 18G3, for life, for committing the crime of rape, and who 
 is now fifty years old; C. D., sentenced June, 18G8, for life, for 
 committing murder in Worcester, now fifty-two years old; E. F., 
 sentenced June, 18GG, for twelve years, for robbery by force and 
 violence in Boston, now thirty-seven years old; G. H., sentenced 
 October, 18G5, for fifteen years, for manslaughter committed in 
 Boston, and now sixty-two years old." 
 
 This is all. There is no explanation of the act, no 
 presentation of the grounds for pardon. No one inti- 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 357 
 
 mates that a single prisoner was unfairly tried or 
 unjustly convicted. There is no hint of any new evi- 
 dence changing the complexion of their act. There is 
 simply a Thanksgiving dinner, followed by " exer- 
 cises ; " and four men, every one of them guilty of the 
 worst crimes against society, every one of them guilty 
 of force and violence, of the infliction of unspeakable 
 horror, of death, and worse than death, are let loose 
 upon the community, in spite of the law which was 
 brought to bear upon them and the justice which was 
 supposed to be meted out to them. A. B., sentenced 
 for life, for rape, was pardoned after being in prison 
 eleven } r ears, and has still nineteen years of life before 
 him. C. D., sentenced for life, for murder, is par- 
 doned out at the expiration of six } T ears, and has 
 eighteen vigorous }^ears to brandish knife and pistol 
 among his fellows. E. F., for robbery by force and 
 violence, was sentenced for twelve years, and at the 
 robust age of thirty-seven is discharged, after eight 
 years of confinement. G. H. killed his man, and his 
 fifteen years are reduced to nine, leaving him, at that, 
 only eight years to try his hand, according to the 
 allotted age of man. What is the use of all our 
 expensive paraphernalia of law, if its decisions and its 
 sentences are to be thus set aside ? Why should men 
 be brought from their farms and their counting-rooms 
 to serve on jury-seats ? Why should lawyers be clothed 
 
358 SERMONS TO THE- CLERGY. 
 
 with dignity, and judges with power, if the result of 
 their efforts is to be brought to nought by an outside 
 authority ? Do the governor and council know more 
 about the case than lawyers, judge, and jury? Then 
 wh}' be at the expense of lawj^ers, judge, -and jury? If 
 the court is not so well informed as the council, let the 
 court be abolished. If the men whose business it is to 
 examine the case thoroughly, if the men who are liber- 
 ally paid for that, and for nothing else, do not compre- 
 hend it so well as men to whom it is only a side issue, 
 one incident among many duties, why be at the expense 
 of maintaining the unprofitable servants? Either let 
 our courts of law be abolished, or let their decisions 
 stand. 
 
 There is annually published in Massachusetts a 
 Blue Book, in which the governor records for the legis- 
 lature the number of the pardons he has granted and 
 the reasons for which he has granted them. I have 
 never seen a copy of this volume, and I fanc} r it has 
 no very general circulation ; but, from such extracts 
 as I have seen, we could hardly gather arguments in 
 favor of the practice of pardoning. 
 
 The Blue Book for 1875 records eighty-seven pardons 
 during the year 1874. In more than a dozen cases, 
 pardon was granted because the sentence was consid- 
 ered too severe ; in one, because the sentence was 
 illegal ; in one, because the prisoner was evidently 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 359 
 
 insane when his crime was committed ; in one, because 
 the council felt there was reason to believe the wit- 
 nesses against the prisoner were perjured ; in twelve 
 cases, because the prisoner was intoxicated at the 
 time of committing his offence ; two, because a comrade 
 in crime had been pardoned ; one, because his twin- 
 brother, from whom he had never been separated, was 
 to leave prison at an earlier da}', and the pardon was 
 necessary to prevent their separation. In no one case 
 do these extracts show that new evidence had been 
 discovered. Even in those cases where the reasons, 
 had they existed, would have been sufficient, there is 
 but the smallest proof that they existed. Insanity of 
 the prisoner, perjury of witnesses, belong, one would 
 sa}', to law3 T ers, judge, and jur} r , the regularly appointed 
 ministers of justice, who make its administration the 
 business of their life ; not to an outside bocty, with 
 whom it is a mere incidental duty. Many of the 
 reasons alleged are purely frivolous ; and some are 
 immoral and disastrous, calculated to foster, rather 
 than repress, crime. 
 
 Side by side with these festive and fraternal pardon- 
 ings, we read such paragraphs as these : — 
 
 "K. L., the notorious horse-thief, sentenced to the M. State- 
 prison for six years, and pardoned about a year ago, was again 
 arrested at O., charged with the same crime. 
 
 "P. R., the burglar who was captured iu the unoccupied house 
 
360 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 on B Street, Wednesday, is an old thief, and has a history. 
 He was first arrested Aug. 6, 1865, for breaking and entering a 
 dwelling-house. He had, about that time, broken into several 
 dwelling-houses, and carried on his burglarious operations with 
 the aid of two accomplices. The two latter were arrested after a 
 desperate fight. When the case was tried, P. R. and one accom- 
 plice received a sentence of twenty years each ; the other, five. 
 P. P. was pardoned out November, 1872, after seven years' 
 imprisonment." 
 
 Is six years too long a time for a notorious horse- 
 thief to be confined ? Before he was pardoned out, had 
 he made restitution to all the men whose property he 
 had stolen? Did P. R. make airy amends to the 
 owners of the houses he had broken into? Had he 
 atoned for the fright, the anxiety, the apprehensions, 
 which his violence, his fightings, and his burglaries 
 had caused among women and children? What 
 extravagance and folly, what mockery of law, what 
 satire upon justice, is it that rises up in the glow of 
 roast turke} r and plum-pudding, and without an}^ pre- 
 text of new evidence, or any allegation of undue sever- 
 er in the judge, coolly throws open the prison-door, 
 and lets the notorious horse-thief, the brain-rapping 
 burglar, the murderer, and the devil incarnate go forth 
 again up and down the earth, seeking whom they may 
 destroy ! 
 
 The least we can demand is, that the way out of 
 prison shall be as well barred as the way in. If law- 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 361 
 
 yers, judge, and jury are necessary to protect a mur- 
 derer against a community, they are certainly just as 
 essential to protect a community against the murderer. 
 To try the burglar in open court, with law3~ers to 
 defend him, and then to let him out of the prison to 
 which the} r have sentenced him, without giving the 
 community so much as a warning, or any opportunity 
 to protest, is to bring law into discredit. The power 
 to pardon should be taken out of the hands of the 
 governor and council, or should be hedged round by 
 as many safeguards against abuse as is the power to 
 convict and punish. 
 
 Is this a strange theme to introduce into ordinary 
 discussion ? Is it a matter which pertains to profes- 
 sional men, and not to untrained citizens, idiots, and 
 women? Did the children murdered in Boston by that 
 young fiend who was pardoned out of the Reform 
 School belong any less to women than to men? It is 
 only a few months ago that the murder of a woman 
 shocked the whole country. A little New England 
 family was living its quiet, happy, affectionate family 
 life, as so many New England families do. Three 
 women, domestic, industrious, independent, cultivated, 
 and refined, doing their own work, enjoying society, 
 music, literature, passed their gentle, harmless, help- 
 ful days in the midst of a community that loved and 
 respected them. Up to this tranquil hearthstone 
 
 31 
 
3G2 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 tramped a hardened, a dehumanized sot, who had been 
 twice imprisoned for " felonious assault " and 
 " assault with intent to kill," and once pardoned out 
 from a twelve^ears' sentence, after four and a half 
 years' detention, clutched the helpless woman, defaced 
 her delicate and beautiful features, bruised and crushed 
 her tender bod}', tore out her life with such reckless 
 and brutal violence, that even the cold report of a 
 municipal inquest affirms that the lovely face bore the 
 expression of a person " dying in extreme agony," 
 leaving to the unspeakable sorrow of her friends no 
 consolation but that it is all over ; that her woe 
 was past before theirs had begun ; that whatever 
 heaven awaits the pure in heart was hers long before 
 the} 7 knew she had gone from earth ; that, out of the 
 horror of great darkness, she escaped swiftly into the 
 ineffable and all-atoning light. 
 
 The young monster who has infested Boston and 
 vicinity for the last few years made it his amusement 
 to lure little children into by-places, and there torture 
 and mutilate them. He was presently caught, and sent 
 to the Reform School, where, as the supply of small 
 children failed him, he seems to have behaved himself. 
 Thereupon some mischief-maker, wiser in his own con- 
 ceit than seven men that left the law alone, had the 
 young monster pardoned out, and turned loose among 
 the little children again. Naturally enough, he 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 363 
 
 improved his opportunities. With his appetite, of 
 course, increased by long-enforced abstinence from his 
 game, he gratified it to a greater extent, and tortured 
 his little victims to death. Two innocent children, a 
 boy and a girl, are supposed to have lost life at his 
 cruel hands ; and he now stands in custody, awaiting 
 the execution of his sentence, planning meanwhile, and 
 partiall} 7 executing, new crimes ; and social science is 
 baffled to know what to do with him. 
 
 Meanwhile other developments of a similar charac- 
 ter cry aloud to social science. There is said to be a 
 boy in the Reform School at Westborough, who, at 
 eleven years of age, drowned, without provocation, a 
 schoolmate five 3 T ears of age, simply, as he said, " to 
 see the little devil kick in the water." He had diverted 
 himself before with stealing, with throwing stones on 
 the railroad- track, and such pleasant sport, and never 
 could be brought to express regret, or any thing but 
 indifference, to the act for which he was arrested, con- 
 victed of murder, and — sent to the Reform School. 
 
 Then we hear of another case ; and this time it con- 
 cerns the gentler sex. A young girl, Henrietta Wai- 
 bel, fifteen 3-ears old, takes to burning houses, clothes, 
 and particularly little children. She has no other 
 motive or excuse than that she has a mania for it ; and 
 she serenely informs her employer that she has often 
 tried to burn places and children before. 
 
364 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 The metaphysical and perhaps the moral nature of 
 these deeds belong to science ; but the protection of 
 the little children who remain alive belongs to society, 
 — to you, and to me, and to every person. It is not 
 necessary to decide whether a boy inherits his propen- 
 sity from a butcher-father and a butcheiy-witnessing 
 mother ; it is not necessary to describe the exact meas- 
 ure of guilt attributed to him by divine Justice : but 
 it is necessaiy to prevent him from sticking his jack- 
 knife into any more little girls and bo} T s. Many 
 demand that he be hung. Others denounce such a de- 
 mand as brutal. In this they are wrong. The demand 
 may not be wise, but it is not brutal : it is the cry of 
 terror over the danger of littlo children ; it does not 
 spring from brutality, but from fear. 
 
 We may admit, for the time, that Jesse Pomeroy is 
 not morally guilty ; that he has inherited a thirst for 
 blood, and has not inherited a will strong enough to 
 overcome it. He is not, let us sa}^, a fit object for 
 moral indignation, and is only to be restrained from 
 evil deeds. But how? We restrained him once. We 
 sent him to a reform school ; and some interloper forth- 
 with stepped in, snapped his fingers at the law, and 
 Jesse Pomeroy was pardoned out. If we send him to 
 the State-prison for life, he is as sure as statistics to 
 be pardoned out at the end of six years, by which time 
 he will be a man ; and if a youngster kills two, and 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 365 
 
 tortures twenty, before he is sixteen, who can tell what 
 feats of homicide he may perform at twenty-one ? If 
 he is put into a lunatic asylum, the chances are that 
 he will be sane enough to escape, or to lull his keepers 
 into a belief in his sanit}\ 
 
 The creature has a defective organization, and prob- 
 ably has no idea of the real nature of the torture he 
 inflicts. He has no sjmipathy to tell him the frenzy 
 of agony and terror which he enforces upon his 
 victims. If this intellectual deficiency could be helped 
 out by a little experimental knowledge, it would 
 probably sharpen somewhat his moral perceptions. 
 If, for instance, a strong man should stand over him 
 as long as he stood over each little boy, and give him 
 as many cuts with a jack-knife as he dealt out to his 
 victim, — not by way of revenge, but simply to let 
 light into his darkened mind, and show him. how a 
 jack-knife feels, and what pain and dread and terror and 
 helplessness are, — it might be a good thing for him. 
 The old Jewish law, An eye for an eye, and a tooth 
 for a tooth, seems the very perfection of penal law, 
 the most accurate transcript of natural, which is 
 divine, law. But society seems to have agreed not to 
 carry it out, even where it was ^practicable. It is 
 useless to say that we abolish it on account of the 
 Saviour's condemnation ; for we do not in the least 
 accept his alternative, which was non-resistance : so 
 
 31* 
 
366 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY 
 
 that we have now neither the law of the old nor of 
 the new dispensation, but a substitution of our own. 
 Since, then, the lex talionis is not in force, it only 
 remains to do the best we can under such laws as we 
 have. The law does permit restraint, which has been 
 tried, and found not only useless, but fruitful of fresh 
 crime and greater grief. The law also permits and 
 prescribes the penalty of death. 
 
 When Nature turns into the world children so 
 unfortunately constituted as these stabbing, burning, 
 drowning wretches, one feels for them a pity so pro- 
 found that one would never subject them to the vicissi- 
 tudes of this world, — a world which has very vague 
 ideas on the subject of inherited traits and emotional 
 insanity, and contemplates then possessors with horror 
 and hate, — but would send them out of it as speedily 
 and as mercifully as possible. To whatever world they 
 may go, they cannot find one that has less use for them, 
 or is less adapted to their peculiarities, than this. It 
 is done, not to punish the children, but on the ground 
 that Nature has put out a bad piece of work, and we 
 send it back on her hands. Does this seem to be 
 trifling with the sacredness of human life? But the 
 Author of Nature does not, apparently, consider human 
 life too sacred or inviolate. What God seems to be 
 resolved on is to have his own way, to carry out his 
 own plans ; and he does have his own way, and he does 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 367 
 
 carry out his own plans, though thousands fall at our 
 side, and ten thousand at our right hand. Gases will 
 explode, and waterspouts must burst, and gravitation 
 hold good, though families are overwhelmed, and cities 
 perish. I do not quarrel with this. I admit that 
 God's way and God's plans are the best. I only say 
 that always and everywhere he makes individual life 
 subordinate to general law. More than this, he does 
 not consider human life too sacred to be put into 
 human hands. Man gives, and, to a very large extent, 
 man takes away. If poor little Kitty Curran's life 
 was not too sacred for Jesse Pomeroy to take, surely 
 Jesse Pomeroy's life is not too sacred for society to 
 take, in preservation of all the little Kittys who are 
 not yet buried under his ash-heap. Human life, the 
 human soul, is sacred, — too sacred to be profaned by 
 such travesties as Jesse Pomeroy aud Henrietta 
 Waibel and the Westborough reform scholar. If some 
 imperfect, distorted, or mischievous coin comes from 
 the mint, we send it back to be recoined, without 
 misgiving. It is not that we undervalue, but that we 
 rightly value, the worth of money. Through some- 
 body's violation of the law, which is holy and just and 
 good, these unhappy children are in the world, defec- 
 tive, distorted, monstrous, fatal. " They can never 
 have any fair showing here. They are weighted with 
 incapacity and with crime. The law has provided a 
 
368 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 way by which we may make it possible for the divine 
 Being to give them a better start ; and they certainly 
 cannot have a worse one. Divested of the burden of 
 weakness, or vice, or brain-disease which disabled them 
 here, they may be born again in some other world as 
 pure and perfect as the happ}?- infants of this. This, 
 of course, is the merest possible conjecture ; but they 
 should certainty have the chance. 
 
 But the main object is to keep down the crop of 
 little monsters that seem to be springing up in the 
 wake of Jesse Pomeroy. Henrietta Waibel may not 
 have been to blame for her mania ; and we may none 
 of us understand, or make proper allowance, for the 
 powerful nature of that mania ; but if, while we are 
 striving to make it out, it is thoroughly understood 
 that society has a mania for hanging all little girls and 
 bo3's who have a mania for murdering other little girls 
 and boys, we shall be likely to keep the mania under till 
 such time as we shall be able to repress it altogether. 
 I have never been able to persuade myself that the 
 Salem witchcraft was wholly an intentional fraud ; but 
 I do believe, that if the young people whose antics 
 brought it to a head had been soundly punished, with- 
 out reason, or argument, or niercy, every time they 
 showed the first symptom of floundering into fits, 
 instead of being coddled and cosseted, they would 
 have been speedily brought to their senses. Whatever 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 369 
 
 devil was at the bottom of it would have been suc- 
 cinctly driven out ; and good old Rebecca Nourse would 
 have died in her bed, Ml of years and honors. In 
 like manner, while we are, as is proper, investigating 
 the moral status of these young monsters, denning 
 the cause and end of their being, divesting them, so 
 far as may be, of their guilt, and relegating them to the 
 divine compassion, I would at the same time have it 
 deeply impressed upon the public mind that moral 
 guilt and legal guilt are wholly different things ; that 
 children who murder their playmates for fun shall be 
 just as surely hung as if they did it for greed, anger, 
 or revenge ; that, the younger they are when they de- 
 liberately and consciously kill, the more hopeless is it 
 to try to make them over, and the more imperative is 
 it to take the first step to their reform by sending them 
 out of a world where such temptations assail them. 
 
 The right or the wrong, the wisdom or the unwisdom, 
 of capital punishment, does not, however, enter into 
 this question, except by courtesj^. It is a question of 
 the might and majesty of law. It is whether the law, 
 or the opinion of a few persons concerning the law, is 
 the stronger, the more powerful, the more worthy of 
 respect. The time may come when we shall consider 
 capital punishment a relic of barbarism ; but it is not 
 yet so considered. We are to act, not according to a 
 standard of civilization which may be set up a hun- 
 
370 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 dred years from to-day, but according to the standard 
 of to-day. To-day capital punishment, imprisonment 
 for life, imprisonment for longer or shorter terms, 
 are the penalties appointed by our highest legal 
 authorities for certain crimes. There are equally 
 authoritative modes for administering these punish- 
 ments. Are these laws to be executed, or are they 
 to be set aside on purely sentimental or positively 
 immoral pretexts? The severity of the laws is not in 
 question : if it were, we might say that one* assault 
 with intent to kill is enough to condemn a man to 
 restraint for the rest of his life ; that unconditional 
 liberty after a second similar assault is an outrage 
 upon the honest and peaceable ; that it is only, if at 
 all, less than murder in the first degree to send a man 
 who has twice attempted the life of his fellows forth 
 upon the world, after four and a half years of con- 
 finement, to beat down to agony and defilement and 
 death a helpless and unoffending woman. 
 
 It is simply this : if the law has an} r dignity, let it be 
 executed. If it has none, let it be repealed, but let it 
 not be tampered with. Capital punishment may or 
 ma}' not be wise ; but so long as it is the punishment 
 prescribed by the law, for murder, let it be enforced. 
 Imprisonment may or may not be wise ; but, so long as 
 it is the law of the land, let it be inflicted in exactly 
 such measure as the law imposes, and not be curtailed 
 
THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER. 371 
 
 or meddled with by irresponsible agents. Theorists 
 may think, that, because a man is orderly under con- 
 finement, he will be orderly when set at liberty ; but 
 they should be refrained from trying the experiment on 
 their own account. There is no clamor for blood ; 
 there is no frenzy for revenge : but there is the cry 
 of weakness for protection, of suffering for justice, of 
 assailed innocence for the law inviolable and inviolate. 
 
FAIR PLAY. 
 
FAIR PLAY. 
 
 |0 extol the weakness of the strong as strength 
 is as injurious as to make a mock at sin. 
 To overlay Nature with religious phraseology 
 is not to regenerate or to consecrate Nature. 
 
 In a little book published by the Tract Society, 
 called "Lady Huntingdon and her Friends," there is 
 a remarkable commingling and confusion of the fruits 
 of the Spirit and the fruits of the flesh. 
 
 For instance, an extract is made from a letter of 
 the " unhappy Lady Marlborough.' ' 
 
 " Your concern for my religious improvement is very obli- 
 ging. God knows we all need mending, and none more than 
 myself. . . . I have no comfort in my own family; and, when 
 alone, my reflections almost kill me, so that I am forced to fly to 
 the society of those whom I detest and abhor. Now, there is 
 Lady Frances Sanderson's great rout to-morrow night. ... I 
 do hate that woman as much as I hate a physician; but I must 
 go, if for no other purpose but to mortify and spite her. This 
 is very wicked, I know." 
 
 "This, then," moralizes the biographer, "tears 
 away the trappings of wealth and station, and startles 
 
 375 
 
376 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 us by a sight of the bad passions which lie cankering 
 beneath. Let it be contrasted with the freshness and 
 beaut} r of the believer's life. ,, 
 
 ' ' What blessed effects does the love of God pro- 
 duce in the hearts of those who abide in him ! " writes 
 Lady Huntingdon to Charles Wesle}\ ' ' How solid is 
 the peace, and how divine the joy ! " &c. 
 
 But, as we go on in the book, we find that these 
 very hearts display qualities more akin to those of the 
 unhappy Lady Marlborough than this solid peace and 
 joy. The Dissenting churches received the new 
 preachers with indifference and bitterness. Doddridge 
 was severely censured by his brethren. Angry and 
 threatening letters were sent to him from various 
 quarters. Then the new preachers themselves began 
 to quarrel. " The breach widened between Wesley 
 and Whitefield, ,, says the biographer; " for on both 
 sides there were friends and followers who fanned the 
 flame. . . . Their counsels divided, and their ranks 
 broken, there seemed to be a weak betrayal of their 
 Master's cause." "A bitter household squabble,'* 
 the contest is called. When the churches in connec- 
 tion with Mr. Wesley held their twent3 T -seventh annual 
 conference in London, it " gave birth to a controversy, 
 perhaps one of the hottest, and most barren of spoils, 
 in the annals of Protestant theology. It was a kin- 
 dling of the old flames that so nearly consumed the 
 
FAIR PLAY 377 
 
 friendship of Wesley and Whitefield more than twenty 
 years before." Lady Huntingdon took sides " with an 
 honest though hast}' warmth." " However powerful 
 may have been the arguments wielded on either side, 
 tools, also, of a sharper point were freely used. Acri- 
 monious and intemperate expressions were hurled back 
 and forth. Both parties, instead of convincing or re- 
 treating, were driven to the extremes of their own prin- 
 ciples, and made unguarded assertions of themselves 
 and their opponents, the effect of which was to alien- 
 ate the hearts of Christian brethren, . . . and widen 
 the breach between those who really loved the Lord." 
 
 Nor were Lady Huntingdon's differences with her 
 friends limited to theological matters. When Row- 
 land Hill started in his career, she " received the 
 ardent and self-forgetting young man with an open 
 heart, and gave him a cordial welcome beneath her 
 roof. Subsequently a coolness seems to have sprung 
 up between them. Though mutually respecting each 
 other, and mutually wishing each other God-speed in 
 separate paths of usefulness, they do not appear to 
 have wrought harmoniously together." In short, not 
 to put too fine a point on it, Lady Huntingdon abso- 
 lutely refused to let him preach in her chapel. 
 
 Now, I submit that it is entirely unfair to set over 
 against Lady Marlborough's frank and witty badinage 
 the cheap, pious reflections of Lady Huntingdon. I 
 32* 
 
378 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 sny cheap, because tkejr are worth absolutely nothing 
 but the paper and ink they are written with. The 
 proper comparison is not between the bad passions of 
 the world and the freshness and beauty of the 
 believer's life, but between the bad passions of the 
 world and the bad passions of the believer. To take 
 the world at its bad, and the Church at its best, will 
 never give us just views. Yet, so far as we see from 
 this book, it is the only way to give the Church the 
 desired superiority. I cannot see that tearing away 
 the trappings of wealth and station reveals the 
 cankering of worse passions than a tearing-away of 
 the trappings of ecclesiasticism and theology. Lady 
 Marlborough's simple hatred of Lady Frances Sander- 
 son seems no deeper or more bitter than the twenty- 
 years' quarrel of the churches over divine sovereignty 
 and electing grace. Lady Marlborough calls a spade 
 a spade ; while the religious biographer calls it "an 
 acrimonious and intemperate expression." I confess 
 I like the spade best. Can wealth and station do any 
 worse thing than make ' ' unguarded assertions of them- 
 selves and their opponents " ? They would proba- 
 bly call it by the ugiy names of lying and slander ; 
 but it would be very much the same thing at bottom. 
 Lady Marlborough hated Lady Frances, but went to 
 her rout, and, no doubt, spake her peaceably. 
 Whitefield and Wesley ' ' loved each other ; ' ' but 
 
FAIR PLAY. 379 
 
 their "friendship" was "clouded;" and Whitefield 
 wrote in a "recriminating tone," and Wesley took 
 possession of Whitefield's Kings wood School, and 
 drove his "spiritual children" into "a temporary 
 shed " for shelter. One said, I will not, but after- 
 wards he repented and went ; and the other said, I 
 go, sir, and went not. The world's hatred cankers 
 no more than the Church's love. If you are reckless, 
 implacable, slanderous, what difference does it make 
 whether you are quarrelling over divine sovereignty, 
 or ball-room precedence ? 
 
 On one occasion, Lady Huntingdon sent for a dis- 
 tinguished revival preacher to spend a few weeks in 
 her " fields." His reply is any thing but complimen- 
 tary to his flock, any thing but indicative of blessed 
 effects in their hearts. 
 
 " I am determined," he says, " not to quit my 
 charge again in a hurry. Never do I leave my bees 
 (though for a short space, only), but, on my return, I 
 find them either casting, or colting, or fighting, and 
 robbing each other ; not gathering honey from every 
 flower of God's garden, but filling the air with their 
 buzzings, and darting out the venom of their little 
 hearts in their fiery stings. Najr, so inflamed they 
 often are, and a mighty little thing disturbs them, 
 that three months' tinkling afterward with a warming- 
 pan will scarce hive them at last, and make them 
 settle to work again." 
 
380 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Certainly the Duchess of Marlborough does not 
 show off badly against the freshness and beauty of 
 these believers' life. 
 
 No one disputes that Lady Huntingdon and her 
 friends were sincere Christians, and served God, and 
 wrought righteousness, in their day and generation ; 
 and if their biographers would be content with point- 
 ing out the good Vney attained and executed, we would 
 not complain, even though their defects were hidden. 
 But when their imperfections are softened with sacred 
 phrase, and the imperfections of the world set forth in 
 glaring colors, the instinctive sense of justice rises in 
 revolt. Not by such help is the kingdom of God to 
 be advanced. 
 
 Lady Huntingdon and her chaplains, says her biog- 
 rapher, often journeyed during the summer, making 
 their presence a means of religious revival wherever 
 they went. " There is something grand and beautiful 
 in the laborious and unselfish ministrations of the band 
 of preachers who thus went out into the highways and 
 hedges of England, publishing the gospel message as 
 if fresh from Christ and Calvary." One of these jour- 
 neys, "though undertaken for the countess's health, 
 seems really to have been a home-missionary tour. 
 Returning again to society, Lady Huntingdon may be 
 seen journeying through Wales. . . . Is it a jaunt of 
 pleasure, a tour of aimless excitement, a seeing of new 
 
FAIR PLAY. 381 
 
 things for the sake of killing time ? We now find her 
 travelling in different countries, following up with 
 her presence the labors of her missionaries, inspecting 
 her chapels, investigating the doings of trustees and 
 committees, regulating salaries, directing funds, coun- 
 selling, controlling, and encouraging, with an unspent 
 force of mind which was marvellous to behold." 
 
 What we wish to get at, in all history, personal and 
 national, is things as the}' are. That Lady Huntingdon 
 was a woman of remarkable energy, ability, and excel- 
 lence ; born for command, and not for subordination ; 
 of a masculine force of character, not to be suppressed 
 even by English conventionality ; of an executive 
 ability, guided by Christian principle, and seldom sur- 
 passed either in man or woman, — this book indicates, 
 and these journeys illustrate. But that there was any 
 thing noticeably unselfish in the ministrations of this 
 band of preachers, that there was an}- self-denial in 
 these home-missionary tours, that they were, in any 
 respect, not jaunts of pleasure, it is difficult to see. 
 They were something besides pleasure-tours ; but 
 surely the}' were pleasure-tours. The biographer, 
 unconsciously no doubt, uses the common "question 
 fallacy " in the form of interrogation, as if a pleasure- 
 tour and a tour for killing time were one and the same 
 thing. But let us look at Lady Huntingdon's journeys. 
 " The party is large, composed of her two daughters, 
 
332 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 her sisters (Anne and Frances Hastings), several 
 clergymen, and other religious friends." One of these 
 clergymen was Griffith Jones, a popular preacher, 
 whose " very presence was like the ringing of the 
 sabbath-bells for the people to come and hear." 
 Another was Howell Harris, so popular that he had to 
 form his followers into societies. Another of her 
 clique was Whiten" eld, who could hardly make his 
 way along the crowded aisles to the reading-desk, and 
 who had to leave Bristol secretly, in the middle of the 
 night, to avoid the ceremony of being escorted by 
 horsemen and coaches, and whom crowds went to hear 
 so early in the morning that the streets were filled 
 with people carrying lanterns, — a man of remarkable 
 grace, fair complexion, dark-blue e} 7 es, and uncommon 
 sweetuess both of voice and countenance. Would a 
 journey with such a party make a special draught' 
 upon disinterestedness? On their preaching- tours, 
 these men, and such as these, addressed immense 
 crowds from all the country round about. So far from 
 requiring unselfishness, this jaunting was exactly what 
 Lady Huntingdon liked. She had her family, her 
 friends, her ministers ; and she ruled the whole cara- 
 van. She was the mother-superior. She was to them 
 "good Lad}* Huntingdon." They stole her hymns 
 and sang them. They drank her health. They 
 sounded and resounded her praises. They preached in 
 
FAIR PLAT. 383 
 
 her parlors. They took orders from her and reported 
 progress to her. A jaunt of pleasure, indeed ! Im- 
 agine a handsome, high-spirited, well-born American 
 widow, of ample means and fine mind, making up a 
 party to the Yellowstone. She invites, first, her pretty 
 and agreeable daughters ; then her sisters, who have 
 been belles and beauties in their day and are still held 
 in high consideration ; then, let us say, Prof. Barbour, 
 unhappily now of Bangor, to the long lament of 
 Massachusetts ; and Mr. George Field, snatched also 
 from Boston to the benighted realms of Maine ; and 
 Dr. Swing, and Mr. Beecher ; and as many other 
 friends as she likes ; and she keeps them all well in 
 hand : and we talk of unselfishness. They may preach 
 seven times a week, or seventy times seven, and call it 
 a missionary tour, if it so pleases them ; but their rose 
 by any other name is just as sweet. Lady Huntingdon 
 loved large affairs. She loved to organize and super- 
 intend and direct. She loved company and excite- 
 ment and respect and deference. She could not 
 content herself with the quiet, humdrum domestic and 
 social life which occupies most women, and with which 
 many women are forced to be content. Like the 
 resolute, capable, and virtuous, nay, splendid woman 
 that she was, she moulded life to her likings as well 
 as her uses : she found a sphere for her powers : she 
 ordered men about in a way that it is refreshing to 
 
384 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 read of. She fulfilled her mission ; but she fulfilled it 
 exactly as Charlotte Bronte fulfilled hers when she 
 wrote "Jane Eyre," and as Mrs. Siddons fulfilled 
 hers on the stage, and Christine Nillsson hers with her 
 voice, and another woman hers in the forever unveiled 
 seclusion of her kitchen and nursery. I see no more 
 reason for attributing unselfishness and denying pleas- 
 ure to Lacly Huntingdon than to Jeniry Lind. To go 
 off on a journey with her family and friends, and half 
 a dozen popular preachers, all training in her compairy, 
 is a cross which the most selfish woman would gladly 
 take up. We have only to look upon Lady Hunting- 
 don and her people as human beings, who were hungry 
 and thirsty, and gay and gallant, as well as pious ; 
 who were perfectly familiar with the advantages of 
 good birth and breeding, as well as of gospel privi- 
 leges, — and all things become simple and natural. 
 The3 T were no anchorites ; for at Mr. Nimmo's they 
 drank her health every day ; and that means wines and 
 meats and desserts and luxurious living. No doubt 
 the Ladies Hastings " hungered for the living manna," 
 and the preacher's " words fell upon good ground," 
 and Lady Margaret " embraced the truth as it is in 
 Jesus ; " but, all the same, it remains that the preach- 
 er's marriage with the earl's daughter was a very 
 brilliant match for him ; and there is no doubt that the 
 Rev. Benjamin Ingham saw it just as plainly, and 
 
FAIR PLAT. 385 
 
 enjoyed his courtship just as young-manfully, as if he 
 had not been "leading her to the Saviour" while 
 leading her to himself. 
 
 The laborious and unselfish ministrations of these 
 peripatetic preachers do not seem to me one-half so 
 striking, so laborious, or so unselfish, as the minis- 
 trations of those preachers who stay at home. Nov- 
 elt3 r , excitement, irresponsibilit} T , adulation, even op- 
 position, stimulate them. But to stay in one place, 
 among people who are perfectly used to you, and ham- 
 mer away at the same old sins, with the same old 
 truths, and yet strike fire, — that is work. 
 
 Let us call things by their right names. We do 
 what we like, and it is not self-denying because it hap- 
 pens to be beneficial. The choice we make is not 
 unselfish because it pleases others, any more than it is 
 selfish because it pleases ourselves. 
 
 "Lady Huntingdon," says her biographer, "had 
 been exemplary as a wife and mother, and free from 
 the corruptions of fashionable society," even before 
 she became technically a Christian. 
 
 We must not corrupt society, even for the sake of 
 making a foil to Lady Huntingdon's purity. At the 
 age of twenty-one she was married to the Earl of 
 Huntingdon, who is mentioned as " a man of high and 
 exemplary character." "He was sincere, just, and 
 upright: he was courteous, considerate, and chari- 
 33 
 
386 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 table. ... In the stately household, no earthly good 
 was withholden, nor were earthly blessings abused by 
 riot or excess. Dignity, sobriety, and refinement 
 presided over the homes and halls of the earl. Lord 
 Huntingdon had several sisters, whose thoughtful cast 
 of mind made them particularly welcome to his house. 
 In them Lady Huntingdon had found kindred spirits. 
 The earl was a man of unblemished character ; and, 
 though not a believer in the distinctive theology of his 
 wife, he courteously entertained her religious friends." 
 Here then was a whole family (and the only 
 family to whom we are fairly introduced) in the first 
 and most fashionable circles, maintaining as good a 
 reputation as it is possible to find in the most devout 
 of religious circles. Whatever we may say about frames 
 of mind, states of heart, words of the lips, no one 
 can be any thing better than sincere, just, upright, 
 courteous, considerate, charitable, exemplary. As we 
 meet incidentally other members of this same fashion- 
 able society, we are not altogether unfavorably im- 
 pressed. They thronged her house to hear Whitefield 
 preach, and, having heard him once, desired to come 
 again. Lord Bolingbroke was moved, and asked 
 Whitefield to come and see him the next morning ; 
 and " Whitefield used the current compliments of 
 address common to that period, — more fulsome then 
 than now." Lord Bolingbroke " heartily despised the 
 
FAIR PLAT. 387 
 
 gospel, yet affected to reverence it ; " which was cer- 
 tainly good-humored and civil. He also " desires his 
 compliments and thanks to Dr. Doddridge, and hopes 
 he shall continue to deserve his good opinion." 
 
 So it seems he had deserved it. Lord Huntingdon, 
 the son, had a dislike to religion; but he was "most 
 tender, respectful, and kind to his mother," as well as 
 "interesting, elegant, and accomplished" in corrupt 
 society. Lord Chesterfield used a "polished sarcasm" 
 toward the faith ; but he offered his chapel to Lady 
 Huntingdon's chaplain during their summer tours ; and, 
 " at Lady Huntingdon's solicitations, he often contrib- 
 uted to the cause of Christ," though it would seem as 
 if delicac}^ could not have asked him to contribute to 
 a cause in which he did not believe. Surely here 
 the worldly gentleman shows to better advantage than 
 the Christian lady. "He had been the early friend 
 and companion of Earl Huntingdon, after whose death 
 he seems always to have remained on a friendly foot- 
 ing with the countess. Toward the 3'oung earl we 
 find him acting as toward an adopted son, — a circum- 
 stance which Lady Huntingdon is presumed not to 
 have been able to control, and which must have 
 occasioned her no little sorrow." 
 
 Not quite so fast, if you please, worthy biographer. 
 Your facts and } r our presumptions, and your forced 
 inferences, are commingled too precipitately. It was, 
 
388 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 surely, not a bad trait, even in a" corrupt" man, to 
 act the part of father to his dead friend's son. Nor 
 was Lacly Huntingdon, with all her devotion, in the 
 least insensible to the advantages of birth and position. 
 She and Mr. Whitefield were quite aware when the 
 ' ' great ones " heard them patiently. She got her 
 daughter a place at court ; and her subsequent marriage 
 to the Earl of Moira " seems to have given much 
 satisfaction.'' Another daughter's honor, in being 
 appointed one of six to help Princess Augusta bear the 
 train of Queen Charlotte on her coronation day, was 
 sufficiently appreciated to pass into histoiy. Her 
 marriage with Col. George Hastings was much ap- 
 proved by her mother ; and at Paris the eldest son, 
 just become of age, " is warmly greeted by the most 
 distinguished English residents, particularly, intro- 
 duced, as he is, by Lord Chesterfield." With Lord 
 Cnesterfield remaining on friendly terms with Lady 
 Huntingdon all his life, and pa3 r ing her compliments, 
 and at her solicitation, and in most polite phrase, 
 contributing to her cause, in which he had no faith, I 
 see not a particle of evidence that his friendship to her 
 son was to the mother a source of sorrow, or a thing 
 which she had any wish to hinder. 
 
 Other most exemplary friends of Lady Huntingdon 
 in this corrupt, fashionable society seem to have been 
 Lord and Lady Glenarchy, "just returned from the 
 
FAIR PLAY. 389 
 
 gayeties and excitement of a Continental tour," and 
 Lord and Lady Sutherland, of whom Lady Huntingdon 
 says, " Never have I seen a more lovely couple. 
 Although they have not yet been led to « the fountain 
 of living waters,' they may, indeed, with justice, be 
 called the flower of Scotland." 
 
 In short, while we declaim, in general terms, on the 
 frivolity and vanity of fashionable society, a close 
 acquaintance with it reveals about the same proportion 
 of excellence that is found in any societ}\ As we meet 
 its members in these pages, they by no means bear out 
 the charge of corruption so lightly and easily made. 
 
 Let us glance at the societ} r of Lady Huntingdon's 
 liking. " Her princely mansions were open with a 
 tireless hospitality to every one who loved her Lord." 
 But is that the true principle of hospitality ? "If 3'e 
 love them which love 3-ou, what reward have ye?" 
 This is not a strict statement of fact ; but it is as 
 pertinent as if it were. Lad} 7 Huntingdon did open 
 her house to those who did not love her Lord ; but her 
 biographer seems not to think that counts for any thing 
 in the general summing-up. " During the lifetime of 
 the earl, Lady Huntingdon's time was necessarily 
 engrossed by many cares, which withheld her from the 
 friends and the interests which lay nearest her heart." 
 But what right had she, the wife of a man of un- 
 blemished character and chivalrous courtesy, to any 
 
390 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 friends nearer her heart than her husband, to any 
 interests more close than his? A pretty religion that, 
 in whose path a high-minded husband is a hinderance ! 
 u As mistress of his princely mansion, she had duties 
 to general society which could not be slighted. 
 Respect and affection for him controlled her private 
 preferences ; and, without making her dislo}'al to her 
 religious convictions, blended her interests with his 
 own. The tie is now broken ; . . . and henceforth 
 we find unfolding that loft}- cnerg} r of character which 
 has identified her name with the revived Christianity 
 of her day." A revival, it is significant to remember, 
 in which her husband and her son did not share. 
 
 And how did Lady Huntingdon reconstruct society 
 when her husband was no longer alive to restrain the 
 indulgence of her private preferences? Chielly on 
 a basis of preaching, one would sa}\ Certainly the 
 amount she underwent was appalling. Not content 
 with her tours and her chapels, she was constantly hav- 
 ing sermons in her own house. "Ashby Place," one 
 of her homes, writes Whitcfield, "is like a bethel. 
 We have the sacrament eveiy morning, heavenl}' con- 
 versation all day, and preaching all night." There is 
 no disputing about tastes ; but certainly this seems too 
 much of a good thing for a stead}', well-balanced life. 
 Surely any conversation carried on all da}*, and da}' 
 after day, would cease to be heavenly. With "five 
 
FAIR PLAY. 391 
 
 clergymen beneath her hospitable roof," and an indefi- 
 nite number of dear Lady Fannys and Amies and 
 Bettys, they appear all to have been in a state of un- 
 mitigated happiness. Women are good by nature, and 
 clergymen are good by grace ; but it seems as if their 
 religion would have been more nervous, sinewy, and 
 commanding, more effective, perhaps, upon the hus- 
 band and son, if a few brawny sinners had been let in 
 upon them, speaking the language of the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil, and permitting, not to say com- 
 pelling, religion and infidelity to put off their fine 
 array, and meet in a real hand-to-hand combat. But 
 the church sang songs over the harpsichord, and talked 
 heavenly talk all da} r in the drawing-rooms ; and the 
 world indulged in "polished sarcasm" and "severe 
 denunciation ' ' outside ; and both interchanged fulsome 
 personal compliment ; and ' ; Lord Huntingdon died as 
 he had lived ; ' ' and around the dying moments of Lord 
 Chesterfield " the blackness of darkness, accompanied 
 by every gloomy horror, thickened most awfully ; ' ' and 
 Horace Walpole scoffed to the bitter end. 
 
 With a resolute endeavor to have the sheep distinctly 
 arranged on one side, and the goats on the other, even 
 in this world, Lady Huntingdon's biographer tells us, 
 that, in 1773, she " lost two friends with whom she had 
 been long and differently associated, — that indefatiga- 
 ble servant of God, Howell Harris," and, as Wesley 
 
392 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 would call him, that servant of the Devil, Lord Ches- 
 terfield. The biographer is not content to compare 
 the lives of these two men, but dutifully and formally 
 follows the footsteps of Lady Huntingdon, and con- 
 trasts their deaths as an argument regarding their 
 creeds. Let us, therefore, look at it a little more 
 closely. 
 
 " That indefatigable servant of God," writes Lady 
 Huntingdon to Romaine, " Howell Harris, fell asleep in 
 Jesus last week. When he was confined to his bed, 
 and could no longer preach or exhort, he said, ' Blessed 
 be God, my work is done, and I know that I am going 
 to nry God and Father, for he hath my heart, }ea, my 
 whole heart. Glor}' be to God ! death hath no sting : 
 all is well.' And thus this good man went home to 
 his rest. 
 
 "In contrast with the death of Howell Harris stands 
 that of Lord Chesterfield. ' Death ' he declared to be 
 4 a leap in the dark ; ' and dark and dreadful did he 
 find the leap to be. As the pains of dissolving nature 
 increased upon him, and human help was vain, his cold 
 and mocking scepticism could offer neither present 
 alleviations nor future hope. ' The blackness of dark- 
 ness, accompanied hy every gloomy horror, thickened 
 most awfully around his dying moments,' says Lady 
 Huntingdon." 
 
 But what is the biographer's authority for her state- 
 
FAIR PLAT. 393 
 
 ments? and what is Lady Huntingdon's idea of 
 horror? I distrust both as witnesses. Both seem to 
 judge by shibboleth. I find no account of Lord 
 Chesterfield's death-bed shrouded in gloomy horror, 
 except in Lady Huntingdon's letter. Lord Mahon 
 says he "retained his presence of mind to his latest 
 breath. . . . His dissolution had not been thought so 
 close at hand ; and his intimate friend, Mr. Day- 
 rolles, had called to see him only half an hour before 
 it happened ; when the earl from his bed gasped out, 
 in a faint voice, to his valet-de-chambre, ' Give Day- 
 rolles a chair. 1 His physician, Dr. Warren, who was 
 present afterward, expressed himself as much struck 
 at these the last words he was heard to speak. ' His 
 good breeding,' said Dr. Warren, l only quits him 
 with his life.' " 
 
 It seems to me that Lady Huntingdon unconsciously 
 transferred to Lord Chesterfield her own feeling about 
 him, and attributes to him the sensations she imagines 
 she should herself feel, were she, with her convictions, 
 in his situation ; which is not unnatural, but is cer- 
 tainly not biographical. Apart from the fact that he 
 could not frame to pronounce her shibboleth, the polite 
 lord's death-bed does not contrast unfavorably with the 
 Christian minister's. The latter is -chiefly concerned 
 with himself: the former cares for the comfort of his 
 friend. But kindly service is as likely to contain 
 
394 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 the essence of Christian religion as the most fluent 
 self-gratulation. It may be said that Mr. Harris had 
 more cause for self-gratulation than had Lord Chester- 
 field. Mr. Harris was a preacher, and, if we may 
 believe his admirers, was a faithful and effective 
 preacher. Of his private life we know little or noth- 
 ing, nor of his public life any thing not told by his 
 admirers. Lord Chesterfield is held up to view by 
 friend and foe ; yet, in spite of all his faults, we find 
 him in his will, finished on the February preceding his 
 death in June, writing, " I most humbly recommend 
 my soul to the extensive mercy of that Eternal, 
 Supreme, Intelligent Being who gave it me, most 
 earnestry, at the same time, deprecating his justice." 
 I do not find Lord Chesterfield's humility less impres- 
 sive than Howell Harris's confidence. 
 
 For his life-work we are told, that in the outset, in 
 his first embassy to Holland, he displayed great skill, 
 and attained universal reputation ; that his second 
 embassy confirmed and renewed the praises he had 
 acquired by the first ; that Sir Watkin "Wynn, though 
 neither his partisan nor personal friend, said that he 
 " had a head to contrive, a tongue to persuade, and a 
 hand to execute, any worthy action ; " that his career 
 deserves the praise of humane, liberal, and far-sighted 
 polic}'. After the rebellion, while all his colleagues 
 thought only of measures of repression, the dungeon, 
 
FAIR PLAT. 395 
 
 or the scaffold, disarming-acts and abolition-acts, 
 Chesterfield was for schools and villages to civilize the 
 Highlands. His course as Lord-lieutenant of Ireland 
 was brilliantly useful. He was the first since the revo- 
 lution who made that office a post of active exertion. 
 He left nothing undone, nothing for others to do. He 
 was the first to introduce at Dublin the principle of 
 impartial justice. He proscribed no one, and was gov- 
 erned by none. His measures were so able, he so 
 clearly impressed upon the public mind that his moder- 
 ation was not weakness, nor his clemency cowardice, he 
 so well knew how to scare the timid, and conciliate the 
 generous, that he soothed even the turbulence of Ire- 
 land into a greater tranquillity than her settled and 
 orderly periods often show. His administration was so 
 wise and just, that his authority was appealed to, even 
 by those who departed most widely from his maxims ; 
 and his name lives in the honored remembrance of the 
 Irish people, as, perhaps, next to Ormond, the best and 
 worthiest in their long vice-regal line. 
 
 These are the statements of a biographer who has a 
 clear e} T e for Lord Chesterfield's defects, — so clear, 
 indeed, that he impugns his motives, and neutralizes 
 the virtue of his acts by ascribing them all to selfish- 
 ness. Nevertheless, it remains that his public career, 
 with which alone we are concerned, was as honorable 
 as that of Howell Harris, and I think it is not too 
 
396 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 much to say more difficult and distinguished. So far 
 as his life-work is concerned, he would have been as 
 much justified as Howell Harris in looking back with 
 exultation, and forward with confidence. Nor is it at 
 all certain that Mr. Harris was more free from the 
 errors of his profession and position than was Lord 
 Chesterfield from his. Had Mr. Harris been as frank 
 or as penetrating as Lord Chesterfield ; had he been as 
 keen, as analytic, and as fearless ; did we know as 
 much about the private life of the one as of the other, 
 — we should be far better able to pronounce judgment 
 than we now are. Mr. Harris is not to be absolved by 
 reason of his freedom from Lord Chesterfield's sins, 
 but by his power of resistance to his own temptations, 
 of which we know nothing. 
 
 • But whatever mtxy have been the life of these men, 
 their death does not prove, on the one side, the truth of 
 the Christian religion, nor, on the other, the fragility of 
 scepticism. We ma} r admit that they died as they 
 lived ; and it only remains that the minister talked 
 exultantly of himself, of what he had done, and what 
 he was to receive ; and the nobleman was to the last 
 courteous and considerate, — not flippantly and jesting- 
 ly so, like Charles the Second, but with that instinct 
 of politeness which is scarcely to be distinguished from 
 the Golden Rule of Christ. Lord Chesterfield lived in 
 a society which does not think it good manners to talk 
 
FAIR PLAY. 397 
 
 much about yourself, or to display your feelings. 
 Howell Harris lived in a societj' which cultivates ego- 
 tism as a Christian dut}'. Each, in truth, died as he 
 had lived. Mr. Harris may have been the happier 
 man. Self-contemplation may be a more satisfactory 
 thing than consideration for others. Rapturous antici- 
 pation of the glories of the next world is a thrilling 
 and impressive experience, compared to which a quiet 
 performance of the little duties of this is but common- 
 place. To feel that you are deservedly a favorite of 
 the Almighty, and have a reserved seat in heaven, must 
 give a far more jubilant sensation than humbly to cast 
 yourself upon the divine mercy with a sense of ill- 
 desert. So much we can allow. Beyond this we may 
 not go. A conjecture cannot be permitted to do duty 
 as a fact. Edhying as it would be to paint Lord 
 Chesterfield's departure from the w r oiid in the most 
 horrid tints, much as the cause of Christ will lose if he 
 be allowed to depart in peace, we must not gloss over 
 the truth, but measure the gloom and horror of his 
 death-bed from the testimony of eye-witnesses, and not 
 from Lady Huntingdon's imagination. 
 
 The ladies of Lady Huntingdon's clique, we are 
 told, had hard work to hold their own against the 
 strong temptations presented by a- frivolous court, a 
 witty peerage, and a learned bench in favor of a for- 
 mal religion. "Nothing but the 'joy of the Lord' 
 34 
 
398 SERMONS TO TEE CLERGY. 
 
 could have sustained them in such a sphere. Happi- 
 ness in religion was the best security for their holiness. 
 They could not be laughed out of a good hope through 
 grace. . . . Neither the severe denunciations of War- 
 burton or the polished sarcasm of Chesterfield could 
 touch the consciousness of peace in believing, or of 
 enj'03'inent in secret prayer, in the hearts of those 
 peeresses who had found at the cross and the mercy- 
 seat the happiness they had sought in vain from the 
 world." 
 
 As martyrdom, this makes but a poor showing, 
 although it is the nearest the peeresses can get to 
 martjTdom. Polished sarcasms can very well be 
 borne when they are accompanied by hundred-dollar 
 notes for the chapel satirized : at least, Lady Hunt- 
 ingdon's long friendliness with the satirist proves that 
 she thought so. Let us see whether "the severe 
 denunciations of Warburton ' ' were wholly in the 
 nature of persecution, or even of opposition to the 
 gospel, and the enjoyment of secret prayer. 
 
 Mr. Romaine was one of those travelling chaplains 
 whose laborious and unselfish ministrations contained 
 something grand and beautiful. Beautiful they un- 
 doubtedly were to himself ; for not only was he of 
 Lady Huntingdon's party, but Lady Margaret Hast- 
 ings ' ' felt a cordial sympathy for Romaine in his 
 London trials and reverses, and — and generously 
 eked out his small income from her own purse." 
 
FAIR PLAY. 399 
 
 This unselfish, grand, and beautiful Mr. Romaine, 
 travelling with Lady Huntingdon at Lady Margaret's 
 expense, had been guilty of what the world called a 
 shabby little trick toward Mr. Warburton. Mr. War- 
 burton had published his " Divine Legation." Mr. 
 Romaine preached against it a sermon, afterward 
 published by Beltenham. About the time the sermon 
 was preached, Mr. Romaine wrote to Mr. Warburton, 
 and, professing to be his admirer and defender, 
 obtained certain advantages, which, when his sermon 
 was published, excited Mr. Warburton's great chagrin 
 and displeasure. In his indignation, he published Mr. 
 Romaine' s letter, with his own comments ; whereupon 
 Mr. Romaine rushed into print to declare that Mr. 
 Warburton might have made a better use of his 
 capacity and learning than to think u he deserved, or 
 that I meant in earnest, those compliments in the 
 letter." But he, an entire stranger to Mr. Warbur- 
 ton, had spoken to him of u your last excellent book. 
 I had read it more than once with a great deal of 
 pleasure, and had ever admired your elegant style, 
 great learning, and strength of argument, and had 
 been used to hear the same praises from others." 
 What is here to indicate that he was not in earnest? 
 or that, either in writing the compliments, or in deny- 
 ing their earnestness, he was not what Warburton calls 
 him, — an ' w execrable scoundrel ' ' ? Even Beltenham, 
 
400 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 who published the sermon, so much disliked Romanic's 
 retort on Warburton, that, when Romaine took it to be 
 printed, Beltenham replied, that "it was a knavish 
 business, and he would have nothing to do with it." 
 Think of that, and a publisher ! 
 
 Of course, these little doublings and turnings did 
 not prevent Mr. Romaine from being " a warm and 
 intrepid champion of the cross," or Lady Margaret 
 from contributing her own purse to make him comfort- 
 able, or the other peeresses from their peace in believ- 
 ing ; but it ought to make us a little charitable toward 
 poor, rough- tongued Warburton, even if his denuncia- 
 tions were a little severe. And severe, indeed, it must 
 have seemed to these high-bred ladies to hear their 
 "dear Mr. Romaine" called "a blunderbuss" and 
 " a poor devil! " 
 
 It, no doubt, seemed to them severe to be classed 
 with "idle fanatics;" but had not the indignant 
 bishop some reason for his characterization? What 
 were the effects produced by the preaching of the men 
 whom Lady Huntingdon countenanced and encouraged? 
 Mr, Berridge, her especial friend and correspondent, 
 held forth to his congregation till they responded with 
 shrieking and roaring and gasping, like people half 
 strangled. Some fell down as dead. An able-bodied, 
 fresh, healthy countryman dropped down with great 
 violence, shaking the adjoining pews with his fall, and 
 
FAIR PLAY. 401 
 
 lay kicking and stamping, ready to break the boards. 
 Among the children was a boy eight 3-ears old, who 
 roared above his fellows, with a face as red as scarlet, 
 as well it may have been. A stranger, well dressed, 
 fell backward to the wall, then forward on his knees, 
 roaring like a bull. One Thomas Skinner came for- 
 ward, his large wig and hair coal-black, his face dis- 
 torted beyond all description. He roared incessantly, 
 throwing and clapping his hands together with his 
 whole force. Several were terrified, and hastened out 
 of his way. And no wonder. Presently he fell on 
 his back, and lay roaring for hours. "Almost all," 
 says the reporter naively, — ' ' almost all on whom God 
 laid his hand turned either very red, or almost black. ,, 
 These things did not disturb the peeresses ; but they 
 did irritate the bishop, who, though not serene, was 
 sensible. I do not find that he anywhere denounced 
 secret prayer. What he did denounce was public 
 roaring. He was willing to grant peace, but not 
 tumult, in believing. Mr. Wesle}^ condemned pru- 
 dence as the nrystery of iniquity and the offspring of 
 hell, when the question was of preaching against the 
 body of clergy to which he belonged. Is it strange or 
 persecuting, that Mr. Warburton should have pounced 
 upon him for counselling Whitefield that it was impru- 
 dent to publish the letter against himself, or for pro- 
 posing to meet another minister halfway, and offering 
 
 34:* 
 
402 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 never to preach publicly against Mr. G., if Mr. G. 
 would promise never to preach against him? 
 
 Mr. Wesley thought and taught, that true religion 
 did not consist in living harmless, using the means of 
 grace, and doing much good, but in God's dwelling 
 and reigning in the soul. But, if God's dwelling in 
 the soul turns men black in the face, must not the 
 bishop be pardoned, if he preferred the Gospel accord- 
 ing to St. James to the Gospel according to St. John 
 Wesley? The account of Lady Huntingdon and her 
 friends is published by the American Tract Society ; 
 but nine out of ten of the supporters of that society 
 would utter just as severe denunciations of the pro- 
 ceedings in question as did Bishop Warburton — if 
 they knew how. It was not the frivolous court, the 
 witty peerage, the learned bench, that made the 
 strongest temptation to a formal religion : it was 
 the ignorance, the vulgaritj', the boundless license of 
 fanaticism, into which religion lapsed, when, rejecting 
 forms, it rejected also decorum and decency. B}^ his 
 own confession, it tickled Whitefield's vanity to be 
 mobbed ; but the man, who, in making proposals of 
 marriage, could bless God that he was free from the 
 foolish passion which the world calls love, deserved to 
 have dead cats thrown at him.. It is not necessary to 
 suppose that these men were hypocrites ; but, in cer- 
 tain respects, they lacked a perception of the relations 
 
FAIR PLAY. 403 
 
 of things ; and it was this lack, as well as the purity 
 of their doctrines, which provoked opposition. Indeed, 
 Wesle}- himself, in his mellow old age, considering the 
 wrong-heacledness of his earlier years, marvelled that 
 the people had not stoned him. Formalism, minister- 
 ing at the altar in priestly robes, is not religion ; but 
 neither is fanaticism, kicking its heels against the 
 pews, and roaring like bulls of Bashan : and, if peer- 
 esses do not see it, let us be thankful that Chester- 
 fields are raised up to level at it their polished spears 
 of sarcasm, and Warburtons to bring down upon it 
 their huge cleavers of indignation. To call these men 
 hostile to religion because they saw and repelled the 
 vagaries and extravagances of some of the preachers 
 of religion, to condemn them without noticing the 
 weakness and wickedness which elicited their disap- 
 proval, is to falsify history, to misuse opportunity, and 
 make the word of God of none effect by our traditions. 
 Lady Huntingdon and her peeresses were good women ; 
 but they would have been none the less good if they 
 could have been touched by severe and deserved de- 
 nunciation, by polished and rightly pointed sarcasm. 
 A keener sense of the ridiculous, a stronger power of 
 discrimination, would have made them no less single- 
 hearted, and, one would say, more really efficient and 
 influential. It was no credit to their penetration, that 
 they flocked after their preachers through thick and 
 
404 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 thin, bleating as trustfully among the morasses of 
 superstition and sensation and tergiversation as in 
 the green pastures, and beside the still waters, of right- 
 eousness. 
 
 Mr. Venn, an amiable and excellent clergyman, lost 
 an admirable wife, to whom he was much attached. 
 But even in the midst of his tears for his unspeakable 
 loss, so inalienable is the egotism of a certain type of 
 pietj', he had the composure to look through his fin- 
 gers, as it were, and mark how his grief affected the 
 beholders. " For his own cause, I cannot but conclude 
 the Lord does it, since, immediately upon my unspeak- 
 able loss, the opposers cried out, ' Oh ! now you will 
 see what will become of his vauntings of the power of 
 faith and the name of Jesus.' They knew our great 
 happiness ; and they said, ' You will see }'our vicar 
 just like any one of us in the same situation.' But 
 nry God heard and answered." 
 
 That is, the wife died, that the Christian faith might 
 be illustrated by her husband's resignation. Of course, 
 no one can disprove this ; though the overwhelming 
 probabilities are, that Mrs. Venn died in the simplest 
 earthly manner, — of inherited or legitimate^ acquired 
 disease ; but, surely, this habit of posing and living 
 with a view to what other people think of you indi- 
 cates and develops an unwholesome and unnatural 
 character. In course of time Mr. Venn again became 
 
FAIR PLAY. 405 
 
 engaged, and thus wrote to the lady, " Long was I 
 very backward to think of entering again into the 
 marriage-state, though so blessed in my first connec- 
 tion ; but the gracious God, whom I serve, and whose 
 I am, has provided for me one of his own elect." 
 
 Did Mr. Venn suppose that God took any more 
 interest in his love-affairs than in another man's, or 
 that he brought about his marriage in any other way 
 than he brings about all things, — b} r the use of the 
 requisite means ? Is it piety that speaks of the Most 
 High as a match-maker, and man a mere puppet in his 
 hands, not using his own eyes to find his wife, but 
 taking the one provided for him ? How did Mr. Venn 
 know that God had selected this woman to be his wife ? 
 When Whitefield wanted to marry, he wrote to the 
 lady's father, " I write only because I believe it is the 
 will of God that I should alter my state ; but your 
 denial will fully convince me that your daughter is 
 not the person appointed by God for me." Very sen- 
 sible in Mr. Whitefield. A flat refusal from a resolute 
 father is certainly a strong indication of the Lord's 
 will. Whitefield evident^ had less faith in heavenly 
 than in earthly revelations. He might be mistaken in 
 interpreting the one ; but there was no doubt about the 
 other. But this time the divine will was conveyed, 
 not through the lips of the father, but of the daughter, 
 which was even more decisive. If the trumpet of the 
 
406 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Lord ever gives a certain sound, it is from the mouth 
 of a determined woman saying ' No ' to her suitor. 
 After strong crying and tears at the throne of grace for 
 direction, Whitefield married the Widow James of 
 Abergavemry, " a despised follower of the Lamb." 
 Before his child was born, he prophesied that it would 
 be a boy, and become a preacher of the gospel. It 
 proved a boy, but died in four months ; whereupon 
 he philosophized that "Satan had been permitted to 
 give him some wrong impressions, whereby he had 
 misapplied several texts of Scripture." Moreover, his 
 marriage turned out not to be a happy one : so it seems 
 that those who depend upon the Lord for wives are no 
 better off than those who fall in love on their own 
 account. And, on the whole, what reason is there for 
 supposing that God supervised Mr. Whitefield's and 
 Mr. Venn's courtship any more closely than Mr. 
 Smith's or Mr. Brown's? 
 
 Mr. Wesley seems to have been a more manly man 
 than Whitefield, more human, more natural, less vain, 
 worthy, indeed, of a happy domestic life ; yet he fared 
 ill, fared especially and grievously ill, in his fortune 
 with women. The nineteenth century has thus far 
 developed nothing more farcical, more scandalous, 
 more preposterous, than the loves of John Wesley. 
 In his friendship for "Miss Sophy," his heart was 
 deeply enlisted. She was young, pretty, and intelli- 
 
FAIR PLAY. 407 
 
 gent. He was thirty-five, handsome, well bred, and 
 of genial manners. He was passionately fond of her ; 
 and she liked him, and, doubtless, more than liked him. 
 She dressed in white because it pleased him ; and, when 
 he fell sick, she nursed him. It was the nicest little 
 love-affair that could be dreamed of, with nothing in 
 earth or heaven to hinder. But there is a third estate, 
 which always finds some mischief still for idle hands 
 to do ; and, in an evil moment, Mr. Wesle}-, instead 
 of acting out of his own manly, loving heart, pro- 
 pounded the matter to the bishop, and then to the 
 elders of the church, through all of whom God com- 
 manded him, he sa} T s, to pull out his right e}-e, meaning 
 to give up Miss Sophy ; but, hesitating, Miss Sophy 
 pulled it out herself by marrying another man. What 
 pique of pride, what wounds of disappointed love, the 
 young girl suffered, we can only divine ; but poor Wes- 
 ley was sorely driven of the wind, and tossed. After 
 he had incurred Miss Sophy's displeasure b}' listening 
 to the Moravian adversaries, he could not bear the 
 thought of separation from her, and begged her to 
 break her rash engagement with the other man, and 
 marry himself. After her hasty marriage, he could 
 only comfort himself by the reflection, that he should 
 have been so happy with her that he should have given 
 up preaching. Poor dear! One pities him, in spite 
 of all these hundred and fifty years. Doubtless, also, 
 
408 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 it was some comfort, though a trifle spiteful, for him to 
 write that her husband was "a person not remark- 
 able for handsomeness, neither for greatness, neither 
 for wit or knowledge or sense, and, least of all, for 
 religion ; " and " presently God showed him yet more 
 of the greatness of his deliverance by opening to him 
 a new and unexpected scene of Miss Sophy's dissimu- 
 lation." I do not feel so sure of that. Perhaps Miss 
 Sophia would not have dissembled, if mischievous 
 Moravian outsiders had not taken from her the hand- 
 some, great, and wise man whom she loved, and piqued 
 her to fling herself hastily into the arms of a man 
 whom she can hardly be supposed to have loved. At 
 any rate, Mr. Wesley was so hampered by the bonds 
 of his church and his love, that he could neither 
 many her, nor let her alone ; and he was presently 
 defendant in a scandal suit brought by Miss Sophia's 
 husband, from which, after three months of waiting 
 for trial, he escaped by hiring four renegade debtors 
 to row him away in a boat by night. Whether God 
 commanded him to plan this little escapade does not 
 appear. 
 
 Several j^ears afterwards, the movings of the Spirit 
 led him to Grace Murray, who also had nursed him 
 when he was sick ; and again the Most High spoke 
 through his brother Charles and Whitefield, for the 
 excellent reason that she was already engaged to John 
 
FAIR PLAY. 409 
 
 Bennett, one of his lay-preachers, whom she had 
 nursed before Wesley fell ill. His brother and 
 friends counselled her to keep to her engagement. 
 Naughty John Wesley, did God command you to 
 make love to another man's betrothed? He is excused, 
 on the plea of not knowing that she was engaged to 
 Bennett; but after Bennett and Grace wrote him a 
 joint letter, asking his consent to their marriage, he 
 must have suspected that all was not going smoothly 
 with his suit. Still, as Mrs. Murray seems to have 
 changed her mind with each change of lovers, perhaps 
 Mr. Wesley is not much to be blamed for holding on. 
 Doubtless, he thought he had as much right to win, 
 and was as likely to win, as the other man. In the 
 morning she told John Wesley she loved him a thou- 
 sand times better than she ever loved John Bennett : 
 in the evening she promised John Bennett to. marry 
 him. A week after she told Mr. Wesley she was 
 determined to live and die with him, and wanted to 
 be married at once. If Mr. Wesley could only have 
 come up to the mark then, all might yet have been 
 well ; but, madly enough, he wished some delay. 
 Grace said she would not wait more than a year ; and 
 she was as good as her word, for in three weeks she 
 was married to Bennett. Then the defeated one in 
 this game of see-saw thus bemoans himself, " Since 
 I was six years old, I never met with such a severe 
 
 35 
 
410 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 trial." He had forgotten that little operation of pull- 
 ing out his right eye. " I thought I had made all 
 sure, beyond a danger of disappointment. But we were, 
 soon after, torn asunder as by a whirlwind. I fasted 
 and prayed." But what was the good of fasting and 
 praying after it was all over? How much better to 
 have stepped up and married her when she was ready 
 to his hand, and then have had a day of thanksgiving ! 
 for, as she made an excellent wife to Bennett, she 
 would, doubtless, have made an excellent one to 
 Wesley. 
 
 Mr. Bennett seems to have been a perfectly proper 
 match for the lady, being a man of classical education, 
 and superior native talents. It is just possible that he 
 may not have been particularly pleased with this little 
 episode ; and that his subsequent defection from the 
 Wesle} r an ranks, and his opposition to Wesley, may 
 have been somewhat influenced by this bit of personal 
 history. It is to be noticed, that, though Mr. Wesley 
 submitted to the will of God and John Bennett, he 
 was much offended with his brother Charles, who 
 enforced it, and interfered against the match as soon 
 as he found it out. 
 
 Not only without were fightings, but within were 
 fears. When Wesley had no inclination to marry, he 
 had published a treatise in favor of "remaining single 
 for the kingdom of heaven's sake." Now that his heart 
 
FAIR PLAT. 411 
 
 was fully set on marrying, it was necessary for him to 
 explain, that he only meant " to remain single for the 
 kingdom of heaven's sake, unless when a particular 
 case might be an exception to the general rule." 
 Admirable distinction! And his was the particular 
 case. 
 
 He then gathered his friends together, and consulted 
 them, and was clearly convinced that he ought to 
 many; which shows the remarkable reasoning power 
 of his friends. He fully believed he " might be more 
 useful in a married state, into which, upon this clear 
 conviction, and by the advice of my friends, I entered 
 a few days after" 
 
 "But fixed before, and well resolved was he, 
 As men who ask advice are wont to be." 
 
 All this was accomplished in about a year after the 
 whirlwind had torn him from Grace Murray. But I do 
 not mind Grace Murray. She was a widow, and 
 thirty-four, and abundantly able to take care of herself. 
 It was pretty Sophy Hopkey in her white dress that he 
 ought to have married, and kept from breaking her 
 heart and his own in a fit of girlish pique. Such a 
 bright, happy life she would have led him ! 
 
 But there was the slippery bridge, and the sprained 
 ankle, and the Widow Vazeille tying in wait to nurse 
 him ; and it was all over with John Wesley. Surely, 
 
412 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 never had man more need, or less heed, of the warning 
 of Mr. Weller, senior, to his son Sammy. In eight 
 days from the sprained ankle, she and her four chil- 
 dren were married to him. She robbed him ; she 
 wounded him ; she betrayed him ; she secretly spied 
 upon him ; she searched his pockets ; she dragged him 
 about by the hair, and pulled it out by the roots ; she 
 published every thing which would bear a construction 
 unfavorable to him, and accused him of deadly sin with 
 the wife of his brother Charles. Verily, it was not so 
 much of a deliverance, after all, — out of the hands 
 of Miss Sophy into the hands of Mrs. Molly. Was 
 this what the divine Being was aiming at? Verily, 
 Miss Sophy had as much to console her in John 
 Wesley's wife as John had in the contemplation of 
 Miss Sophy's husband. All this did not prevent the 
 wife's tombstone from eulogizing her as a woman of 
 exemplary piety, a tender parent, and a sincere friend. 
 But let us not be too harsh upon the dead lady, to 
 whom her husband used to write, — 
 
 "Be content to be a private, insignificant person, 
 known and loved by God and me." 
 
 1 ' Leave me to be governed by God and my own con- 
 science ; then shall I govern you with gentle sway." 
 
 " Of what importance is your character to mankind? 
 If you was buried just now, or if you had never 
 lived, what loss would it be to the cause of God? " 
 
FAIR PLAT. 413 
 
 "Are you more humble, more gentle, more patient, 
 more placable, than you was? I fear, quite the reverse. 
 I fear 3-our natural tempers are rather increased than 
 diminished." 
 
 One wonders he had a hair left in his head ! 
 
 Suppose, now, after reading such a letter as this to 
 herself, one of the letters she found while searching 
 Mr. Wesley's pockets happened to be this to Mrs. 
 Sarah Ryan : — 
 
 " The conversing with you, either by speaking or 
 writing, is an unspeakable blessing to me. I cannot 
 think of you without thinking of God. Others often 
 lead me to him ; but it is, as it were, going roundabout : 
 you bring me straight into his presence. ... I not 
 only excuse, but love, your simplicity. . . . Upon what 
 a pinnacle do 3 r ou stand ! Perhaps few persons in 
 England have been in so dangerous a situation as you 
 are now. I know not whether any other was ever 
 so regarded, both by my brother and me, at the 
 same time."' 
 
 Being an unreasonable and jealous woman, the 
 wonder is she left him his head ! 
 
 And this Sarah Ityan, whose simplicity was so sweet 
 to him, whose words were an unspeakable blessing, 
 whose presence was the pathway to God, had been, 
 like his wife, a servant. She left service to marry a 
 mechanic who already had one wife. He ran away 
 35 
 
414 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 from Sarah ; and then she became engaged to an 
 Italian sailor. Before the marriage she happened to 
 nurse an Irish sailor named Ryan, with what appears 
 to have been the usual result : she married him. He 
 went to sea ; and she married the Italian until he came 
 back ; and then she returned to Ryan, and lived with 
 him till he went to sea again. He wrote to her from 
 America, wishing her to come over to him ; but she 
 refused. And, with three husbands living, Wesle}' ap- 
 pointed her housekeeper, or matron, in his theological 
 school at Kingswood, and made her his intimate friend, 
 and the confidante of his domestic troubles. And when 
 they were all sitting comfortably at dinner, Wesley 
 with his ministers, and Sarah at the head of the table, 
 in burst the irate Mrs. Wesley upon them, hurling 
 the coarsest insults at Mrs. Ryan, and narrating bits 
 of her personal history to the astonished company. 
 
 A hundred years and more have passed awa}^ ; and 
 it may scarcely be said that stain or speck mars the 
 white fame of Wesley. The vast majority who revere 
 his memory know nothing of his whims or weakness, but 
 only his energy, his zeal, his wonderful effectiveness, his 
 marvellous power. This is as it should be. In this 
 world our treasure must be put into earthen vessels. 
 We are often indignant and disappointed to find it so. 
 A man arises with some gift of song or speech, so bril- 
 liant, so magnetic, that it lifts him above his fellows ; and 
 
FAIR PLAY. 415 
 
 we would fain believe it is the voice of a god, and not of 
 a man. But, in the common affairs of life, we find him 
 sharing the common lot, falling into the same folly, the 
 same mistakes, which have entrapped ourselves ; and 
 we are enraged. We feel ourselves deceived. True ; 
 but it was ourselves deceived ourselves. The greatest 
 eloquence, the most irresistible power over masses of 
 men, will not prevent a man from crying out, when he 
 is drowning, "Help me, Cassias, or I sink!" Our 
 mortal god will shake when the fever-fit is on him, 
 and beg, " Give me some drink, Titinius," as a sick 
 girl ; and, in the fever-fit of love, is not likely to be half 
 so sensible as a sick girl. Our gods are not really any 
 more foolish than ourselves ; but our own follies are 
 acted, not scanned, and no one knows them. John 
 Wesle}* makes a poor figure in love ; and John Smith is 
 very angry with him on that account. But if all that 
 John Smith said and did when he was in love had been 
 published in a memoir, word for word, doubt for doubt, 
 pang for pang, thrill for thrill, would it read any bet- 
 ter? In the case of most of us, the reason we are not 
 covered with blushes for our silly sentimentalisms, or 
 our sillier rejections of them, is, that our obscurity 
 has kept them from being of the slightest interest 
 to the world. If we had made as fine a figure as 
 John Wesley we should have made as poor a one. 
 Being nobodies, we enacted our follies without so 
 
416 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 much as suspecting they were follies ; and when a 
 man comes towering so far above us, that even his 
 weaknesses are learned and conned by rote, we rage 
 as if some strange thing had happened unto him, and 
 not that which is common unto man. But even that 
 is better than to hold up these weaknesses as virtues 
 and graces to be extolled and imitated. Did all this 
 self-examination, this consultation with the elders, 
 this dependence upon divine direction, amount to any 
 thing? These people certainly made no better mar- 
 riages than those who fall in love the natural way, and 
 say nothing about it. Nor do I believe that they got 
 any more happiness or holiness out of their strong 
 crying and tears than an honest lover gets in 
 making love to a nice girl. If the human mind is 
 capable of comprehending the divine will, courting, 
 and not crying, is the Heaven-appointed pathway to 
 marriage. When Whitefield was spreading his letters 
 before the Lord, and blessing him that he was not 
 in love, he was despising the means of grace, and 
 setting up unmanly methods of his own ; and he ought 
 to have had a poor wife, or have been made miserable 
 by a good one. All this backing and filling seems 
 childish. All this talk about the divine direction is 
 worse than childish. Wesley thought the heavens and 
 the earth should come together to decide whether he 
 should, or should not, marry. What does that remind 
 
FAIR PLAY. 417 
 
 one of but the most inflated and exasperating self- 
 conceit ? It is not impossible that a man may many 
 because he thinks it is the divine will that he should ; 
 but, the less he says about it, the better. The world 
 will be sure to think scornfully of him ; and the world 
 is very likely to be right. It is impossible to give 
 credence to a man who brings in the Deity as an 
 excuse for doing what he wants to do. All the saints 
 on earth would not make us believe that God was 
 any thing more than an accessory after the fact. He 
 who falls in love, and marries a woman with simple, 
 straightforward sincerity, because he loves her, is just 
 as much in the path of duty as if he had all the elders 
 of the church to pray over him. Why should a man 
 make a great merit of going around by Robin Hood's 
 barn, when all the world reaches the same place by 
 taking a straight cut across the fields? 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Venn, writing to the lady who was about 
 to become his second wife, says, "I begin to feel 
 more concerned than I at first did, lest my children 
 should give you trouble ; for, just in proportion 
 as I love and value you, I must feel any thing that 
 in any degree may affect you. And I say to nryself, 
 4 How should I be able to bear seeing my dear wife in 
 tears, or void of her sweet cheerfulness and vivacity 
 of spirit, by any of my children, to whom she has so 
 kindly shown herself a friend in need? ' " 
 
418 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Which was certainly amiable in Mr. Venn. But 
 how about the children ? The grown woman was much 
 better able to take care of herself than were the five 
 children under thirteen 3~ears of age to take care of 
 themselves. They were helpless, and had no voice in 
 the matter. She knew what she was about. She went 
 into battle with her eyes open. They could give her 
 trouble ; but she could mar their life. He was to 
 them under the strongest bonds that one human 
 being can be to another. She was to take, or to leave ; 
 and, after all, the decision was in her own hands. 
 Sound sense, accustomed to look at things on all 
 sides, would have had a little anxiety to bestow on 
 the children, and would not have lavished it all, 
 however sweetly, on the mature and independent 
 woman. 
 
 Dr. Doddridge seems to have been a most courteous 
 and agreeable person. Even the bristling "Warburton 
 roared him gentry. But what is that peculiar mental 
 organization which makes it edifying for a man to 
 spend his time in writing out in set phrase, "As a 
 husband, ma}' I particularly avoid every thing which 
 has the appearance of pettishness. . . . May it be 
 my daily care to keep up the spirit of religion in 
 conversation with my wife, to recommend her to the 
 divine blessing, and to manifest an obliging and 
 tender disposition towards her " ? What sort of 
 
FAIR PLAT 419 
 
 tenderness is that which a man resolves upon? How 
 shall he go to work to take care to keep up any thing 
 in talking with his wife ? What elaborate and cumber- 
 some machinery where there should be spontaneity! 
 And if a good man must needs grind out his emo- 
 tions in this laborious fashion, and his biographer 
 cannot conscientiously hush it up, why should he not 
 soften it down by referring it to the pompous custom 
 of the age, and not blindly blazon it as something 
 admirable, and worthy of imitation? No one would 
 divorce religion from the marketing and the house- 
 rent ; but no one wants the marriage-ceremon} 7 per- 
 formed every morning. Self-survey and attitudinizing 
 do not neutralize the excellence of a good man ; but 
 simplicity and self-forgetfulness are better. 
 
 When Lord Dartmouth was rebuked for his tardi- 
 ness in waiting upon the king at a morning ride, he 
 replied, " I have learned to wait upon the King of 
 kings before I wait on my earthly sovereign." Could 
 any thing be more ill bred, indecorous, priggish? Yet 
 the biographer finds heart to say, " May the lofty and 
 uncompromising tone of his religious character ever 
 distinguish the institution which bears his name ! " 
 
 Let not the graduates of Dartmouth College flatter 
 themselves that any president would long retain in his 
 cabinet an attorney-general or a war secretary who 
 could not rise early enough to keep his appointments. 
 
420 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 The probability is, that he would presently find his 
 religious character to be not the only uncompromising 
 thing in the world, and would speedily and deservedly 
 be relegated to that private station where he could take 
 his own time to his devotions. 
 
 Nor does his inflexibility as a devotee seem to have 
 been carried into his duties as a statesman, since the 
 profane historian tells us, that though, in the adminis- 
 tration of his own department, he at first assumed 
 some degree of independence, "he soon betrayed a 
 want of consistency and firmness, which, although he 
 was inclined to good measures, led him to join in 
 sustaining the worst.' ' We are told that there are 
 odds in deacons ; but we would much rather know 
 that Secretary Fish could be depended upon for main- 
 taining the honor of the country intact than that he 
 kept President Grant waiting while he said his 
 prayers. 
 
 Lady Huntingdon wished to build a chapel. 
 
 " Wherein could she curtail ? There lay her jewels, long since 
 put aside for a pearl of infinitely greater price ; and these she 
 determined to offer to her Lord. They were sold for six hun- 
 dred and ninety-eight pounds; and with this she erected a neat 
 house of worship. 
 
 "During her last years, Lady Huntingdon's style of living 
 befitted less an English peer than an heir of glory. Her equipage 
 and furniture were extremely simple ; and, although her income 
 was much increased at her son's death, so ample were her bene- 
 
FAIR PLAY. 421 
 
 factions, that she allowed herself hut one dress a year, — a degree 
 of economy that might well shame many a Christian woman 
 whose adorning consists far more in the ' putting-on of apparel ' 
 than ' the hidden man of the heart in that which is not corrupti- 
 ble.* 
 
 "She maintained the college at her own expense; she erected 
 chapels in most parts of the kingdom; and she supported 
 preachers, who were sent to preach in various parts of the 
 world. This was, indeed, consecration to God. ' Go thou . . . 
 and do likewise.' " 
 
 The real lesson of Lady Huntingdon's energy and 
 beneficence are likely to be lost in this headlong 
 omnivorousness. Such utter confusion of thought 
 would be amusing, as well as amazing, if it were not 
 mischievous. Lady Huntingdon laid aside her jewels 
 for the pearl of greater price. Are the two incompati- 
 ble? From the day when Abraham's pious servant 
 adorned Rebekah with jewels of silver, and jewels of 
 gold, ear-rings upon her face, and bracelets upon her 
 hands, until the day when the holy city, the New 
 Jerusalem, came down from God out of heaven, 
 wholly made up of gold and precious stones, these 
 gems have been held in honor, the type and emblem of 
 all pure and priceless things. Does the Tract Society 
 mean to teach, or does it believe that St. Peter meant 
 to teach, that the young schoolgirl, wearing a gold 
 locket on her velvet ribbon, and a silk bow on her 
 braided hair, cannot be a Christian? Does the oyster 
 secrete a substance that is fatal to piety ? se 
 
422 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 Lady Huntingdon offered her jewels to her Lord, 
 and got six hundred pounds for them. We must not 
 suppose, however, what the language indicates, that 
 the Lord was the purchaser. They probably went no 
 farther than the show-case of a London jeweller. But, 
 if jewels are incompatible with religion, what right 
 had Lad}^ Huntingdon to sell hers ? She ought to have 
 destroyed them. That she wanted to build chapels 
 with the proceeds is nothing to the purpose. Shall we 
 ruin some sotils to save others ? 
 
 Was it right that her style of living befitted less an 
 English peer than an heir of glory ? At the most, she 
 was only an heir-expectant of glory ; but the peerage 
 was a present fact. It was her duty to live in a man- 
 ner befitting her actual earthly rank as much as her 
 supposed heavenly rank. The very best way to pre- 
 pare for the next world is to discharge the duties of 
 this. 
 
 Does the Tract Society mean that the rich ladies of 
 Boston, New York, and Washington, — the wives of 
 the merchant-princes, the great lawyers, the cabinet 
 ministers, — should have no jewels, should ride alwa} T s 
 in horse-cars, should carpet their floors with straw- 
 matting, buy only one gown a .year, and devote their 
 money to building meeting-houses, and supporting 
 ministers? If this is not meant, what is meant? 
 "This was, indeed, consecration to God." Where in 
 
FAIR PLAY. 423 
 
 the Bible, where in the whole realm of reason, can such 
 a doctrine be found ? It is the creed of monasticisin, 
 not of religion. The teaching of the Bible is, that, if 
 a man be just, and do that which is lawful and right, 
 if he have not oppressed any, if he have executed 
 true judgment between man and man, he is just, he 
 shall surely live, saith the Lord God. If a man sell 
 his jewels, and support preachers, and build meeting- 
 houses, he shall be holy to God, saith the Tract 
 Society. If Lady Huntingdon must shame her Chris- 
 tian sisters because she had but one gown a 3~ear, how 
 much more those holy mendicant friars, who have but 
 one sackcloth shirt in seven 3'ears ! 
 
 I do not believe that Lady Huntingdon was half so 
 objectionable a woman as her biographer makes her 
 out to be. Her independence, her strength, her zeal, 
 her grasp and control of circumstances, were altogether 
 admirable. She was not always, but she was often, 
 clear-sighted. Her activity, her vitality, were mar- 
 vellous. But when we are taken to her shrine, and 
 bidden to bow down and worship, we instinctively 
 straighten up so rigidly, that we are in danger of 
 bending backward. We are called upon to admire 
 weakness as strength, to revere tastes as virtues. It 
 may have been wise in Lady Huntingdon to spend her 
 substance in building chapels ; but to point the moral, 
 "Go and do thou likewise," is an impertinence. It 
 
424 SERMONS TO THE CLERGY. 
 
 was no more an offering to the Lord for her to sell her 
 jewels than it is for another woman to wear them. 
 An heir of gloiy may enclose as much sin in one gown 
 a year as in six or sixteen. The woman who never 
 erected a meeting-house in her life, nor ever gave a 
 ten-cent scrip to the Tract Society, the woman who 
 rides in her satin coach, and is draped in velvet, and 
 hung with diamonds, may be as truly consecrated to 
 God as was Lady Huntingdon. What has God done 
 that gold and silver and purple and scarlet and fine- 
 twined linen should not be his now, as in the olden 
 time? Of the temple is left not one stone upon 
 another ; but know }*e not that your body is the temple 
 of the Holy Ghost? Therefore, glorify God in joxxy 
 body. 
 
 Real biography would be the most interesting read- 
 ing in the world ; but that we can seldom, perhaps 
 never, command. Nor is it prohibited to friends and 
 admirers to veil defects. But it is not lawful to sum 
 up character without reference to defects. Still less is 
 it lawful to depict them as beauties. The cause of 
 right living is not to be promoted by such aid. What 
 we want is to see things as they are, not to point a 
 moral, or to support a theory. And any religious 
 society, or any religious person, who wilfully distorts 
 the truth, or who ignorantly mingles good and evil, 
 
FAIR PLAY. 425 
 
 wisdom and folly, in a weak moral mush, and then 
 deals it out as the bread of life, is likely to do more 
 harm by nauseating the healthy than service in feeding 
 the hungry. 
 
 THE END.