1 ipHE SPARKS ) LIBRARY. ^ [AMERICA.] P Collected by ^ J ARED SPARKS, LL.B., J* President of Harvard College. "^^1 ^ Purchased by the Cornell University, • 1872. Cornell University Library ACS .P82 Memoria of the Rev. John Snelllna Pppki 3 1924 029 633 322 ion I olin Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029633322 CAMBRIDGE: PUBLISHED BY JOHN BABTLETT, SSooftselUT to tile UntbevsUS' 1852. MEMORIAL REV. JOHN SNELLING POPKIN, D. D. LATE ELIOT PKOFESSOR OF GREEK iLITEEATITEE IN HARVARD USITKESIT EDITED BY i COENELIUS C. FELTON. HIS SUCCESSOR IN OFFICE. " Mera be TpiTarounii avcurafp." CAMBRIDGE: PUBLISHED BY JOHN BABTLETT, SSaoftaeller to tiie Zln(bevsCts. 1852. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by John Bartlett, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts, CAMBRIDGE: METCALP AND COMPANY, FRINTBRS TO THE UNIVBBSITY. CONTENTS. PAOB BlOGEAPHICAL SkETCH V Thbeb Lectures on Lieebal EDPOATioir. Advertisement 3 Lecture 1 5 Lecture II 27 Lecture m. 51 Selections from Lectures on Greek Literature. I. Homer. — Homeric Composition II. Homer. — The Iliad IIL Homes. — The Odtssbt, Htmns, Bateachomv- OMACHIA, ETC IV. Hesiod. — Cyclic Poets .... y. The Dark Ages aeteb Homeb VI. Lteic Poets VIL Dramatic Liiebatube of the Greeks Selections from Sermons, Published and Unpublished. I. The Death of Washington .... 11. Memory of the Bighteous in. Justice, Charity, Unanimity, in Beligion . rV. Jesus wept V. Thanksgiving for Peace 77 lOU 120 143 163 189 213 237 256 274 321 337 Notes 371 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE REY. JOHN SNELLING POPKIN, C. C. FELTON. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. The recent death of Dr. John Snelling Popkin, formerly Professor of Greek Literature in Harvard University, has reawakened, in the memories of a long line of Cambridge graduates, the sad and pleasant associations of college life. For many years he was the most conspicuous figure among those who constituted what was formerly called " the Gov- ernment " ; and for several years preceding his death, he was the last of the humorists remaining of that ancient and respectable body. The relations between the University Professors and society at large have greatly changed within a period of twenty or thirty years, and the tradi- tional seclusion of academic life belongs not to the present. Social influences now mould the manners and temper the character within the precincts of the University, as much as in the circles of general society. Dr. Popkin belonged to a period of scholastic habits, now gone, and to a condi- tion of society which has passed away, never to return. But his life and labors fill an important chapter in the College annals, and cover an interesting period in the existence of Harvard University ; and certain it is, that no one of the VUl BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. distinguished Professors of his time made a deeper impres- sion on the minds of his pupils. The most retired life has complicated connections. It gradually weaves around itself a web of relations, and be- comes the centre of a circle of social interests. By and by, as time passes on, the web begins to be unravelled, and the ties of life to be loosened. New interests, other men, come up, and one by one the old relations fall away. Friends wander to other regions, or are absorbed in their own concerns, or die. The fire is quenched on the domes- tic hearth ; and, if the man have no heirs to his blood and his name, he finally vanishes from the earth, leaving only the shadow of his personality, in the memory of his influ- ence, or the presence of his surviving works. The life of a man is a tragic poem, if not a tragedy ; it has its be- ginning, its far-oif motive powers, which, like the inexora- ble Fate of the ancients, control its course invisibly. " There 's a divinity that shapes onr ends, Bough-hew them how we will ! " It has a process with unseen but certain springs ; a devel- opment, a catastrophe ; and death at last, either peace- fully or storroily, closes the scene, and harmonizes the conflicting passions of the piece. With this dramatic unity, — this succession of scenes and acts, all bound to- gether, — this certain march of events to a fixed conclu- sion, — this finishing stroke of death, — one is strangely impressed, while examining the posthumous papers of a departed friend, in their regular order, from childhood to old age. No tragedy ever written by man works so deeply on the feelings, touches so nearly the heart. I have felt this interest of the drama of human life excited in me by examining the papers of Dr. Popkin. It was my desire, and that of many other friends, that his memory should not be lost in the narrow circle and fading traditions of the Uni- BIOGRAPHICAL, SKETCH. IX ver^ity. I should gladly have seen another more skilful han^ performing this pious office to the memory of the de- parted. But my connection with him was somewhat peculiar. The Urliest name of a clergyman that I remember is that of Di Popkin. I was born in Newbury during his settle- ment in that town, and, though not belonging to his parish, the antcdotes of his singular character, and the peculiarity •of his name, impressed themselves on my memory. Leav ing N^bury in childhood, I had no personal acquaint ance wi^ him until 1823, when my class entered college, The Grgek examiners on that occasion were a distin' guished trio, — Mr. Edward Everett, Mr. George Baa croft, an4 Dr. Popkin, — two of whom have since repre sented the United States at the Court of St. James. Soon ■after I had entered college, I resumed an independen course of Greek studies, already commenced under my learned and revered teacher, Mr. Simeon Putnam, of the Franklin Academy, in Andover ; and whenever I needed advice or assistance, I did not hesitate, through any fear of the charge of what, in the College cant, was called " fish- ;ing," to ask it of Dr. Popkin. It is needless to say that it was always freely and ably and cheerfully rendered. Thus it happened, that, notwithstanding the reserve of his manner, a degree of acquaintance grew up between us, very unusual in those times between the scholars and the professors. A few years later, I became his assistant ; next, his colleague, as College Professor of Greek. When he retired from the service of the University, I was ap- pointed his successor ; and to the end of his life I was his friend. And I was one of the few of his old associates who knew of his death soon enough to pay the last rites of respect and honor to his name, by attending his funeral. :From these circumstances, the office of preparing this slight X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. memorial seemed naturally to fall upon me ; and though multiplied engagements occupied my time, I could not hesitate to undertake a duty so accordant with the feelings of respect I shall ever cherish for the memory of ny in- structor, predecessor, and friend. The name and ancestors of Dr. Popkin came :o this ■country from Wales, by way of Ireland. In an anusing paper found among his manuscripts, he says there was a tradition that the family " were proprietors of some es- tate, and, by the courtesy of England, styled gentlemen and esquires. By the courtesy of New England, we are all gentlemen and ladies." " The old Boston folks al- ways called us Popkins, but we have always rejected the sibilant letter. The ancient Saxons are not acquainted with the true Kymri. We are a very ancient people, who derive our descent from Noah, and thus from Adam, by Gomer, the first-named son of Japheth, thus : Gomerim, Hebrew ; Kimmerii, Greek ; Cimiri, Kymri, or rather Kumbri, or ratherest, Kimiori, Latin ; Kymri, or Kimri, Cambria, and Cumbria, modern Welsh or British. I write the word Kymri as I have seen it written, for we have not retained the language in our peregrinations. Where Washington Irving picked up his Alderman Popkins, in the Tales of a Traveller, I know not ; but his Italian host has the name more correctly, though he has somewhat Italicized the title : Milor Almanno, Aldermanno Pop- kin:'' The parents of John Snelling Popkin were John Popkin and Eebecca Snelling, both citizens of Boston, where they resided mostly, till her decease, about 1794, and where he was born on the 19th of June, 1771. His father served as an officer of some distinction in the army of the American Eevolution. He entered the service at Cam- bridge in 1775, as a captain of artillery, and continued BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XI until the close of the war in 1783, having attained the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the Massachusetts regiment. After the war, he removed to Bolton, in Worcester County, and invested his property, consisting of public securities, in a country store, and afterwards in a farm ; both of which proved unsuccessful speculations. Having lost his wife by death, he afterwards married Mrs. Sarah Sargeant, a niece of the Rev. Eliakim Willis of Maiden, and soon removed to that town, where he resided till his death, in 1827, in the eighty-fifth year of his age. " He was remarked," says Dr. Popkin in the paper already referred to, "for walking mostly to Boston, and returning, nearly every day in the year, except Sabbaths. The distance is about three miles. He was an inspector of the customs. This duty and exercise he continued till after he was eighty-four years old. He kept a horse and chaise on the farm, and sometimes rode to and from Maiden Bridge, about a mile, but more commonly walked all the way. He had been weakly in his youth, and unwell in his mid- dle age, but more healthy in his old age, and he lived nearly eighty-five years. His daily walk, under Provi- dence, probably improved his health. His walk, I think, would compass the globe more than once." The son was placed, when six years old, under the charge of the Rev. Eliakim Willis, who taught him the rudiments of Latin. He committed to memory Cheever's Accidence, with the list of irregular verbs at the end ; a nomenclator in Latin and English; then the Syntax of Ward's Grammar in Latin. " These were dry morsels," he remarks, " but haply wholesome and nutritive. I had a quick and tenacious memory ; and my master, when he had company, used to call me up to answer questions from the Bible and other sources." At this early period, his Strongest inclination was for scientific studies, — such as XU BtOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. algebra and gedmetry, in which he iflade some, profi- ciency out of school. Six years later he was transferred to the North Latin School, in Boston, where he remained until his father re- moved to the countly. In the country he grew up a tall farmer boy, and began to swing a scythe. On returning to the city, Mr. Popkin, having become satisfied that his Son was a boy of uncommon promise, and learning that there were funds at the disposal of the University author- ities for the assistance of poor scholars, replaced him under the care of Mr. Davies of the Latin School, who superin'- tended his studies until he was prepared to enter college. He was admitted at Cambridge in 1788, at the age of seventeen, and, having dlsfinguished himself above all his competitors, took his Bachelor's degree in 1792. He states that his favorite studies were history aiid mathe* matics ; but in college he was alike eminent in every depafrtment of literature and science included in the required eourse. The papers preserved from this pisriod show extraordinary industry, and a range of reading ver^ uncommon with college students. There is a book, com- menced in 1789, and containing over one hundred page^ of themes, essays, translations, notes of lectures, critical Observations oti passages from the poets or on single Words, and general reflections. Among othfer like dis' cussions, there is a criticism on ol&a. The followintr pas- sage, under the head of " Reflections on Myself," will give an idea of the style and manner of thought of the young student. " A few days since, all nature wore a gloomy aspect. My friends appeared to have become bitter enemies. Every thing thwarted me ; every thing was fenced with msurmountable difficulties. I could not master a single exercise. Not one proposition in Enfield was penetrable ; BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XIU not one seemed to be demonstrated. My prospects were all shrouded in darkness ; my hopes were all dashed to the ground. What brought me to this melancholy situa- tion r One or two performances had not been applauded in my hearing. I supposed they were not well received. In addition to these mighty evils, I was accused of a fault of which I did not suspect myself guilty. Weak fool ! You could not recollect that it is the duty of a friend not to inflame our natural vanity by flattering us to our face. You think, that, because you have performed one or two things passably, it is impossible not to hold the summit of perfection. Rather think, that, if ever you produced any thing worthy of attention, it was the effect of chance. " Two or three days after, a friend gave me some slight intimations that my performances were not despicable. It is more than probable he had observed my dejection, guessed the cause, which, perhaps, the real state of facts rendered it easy to divine, and said as much as he could consistently with his conscience to restore my drooping spirits. What was the effect ? The world assumed more than common gayety. Every thing around me was light, joy, and hope. The propositions of Enfield, so incomprehensible before, were clear as the day. Still weaker fool ! to be thus elated by an act of pity towards you ! to be thus driven up and down by'the least puff of wind ! Let this caution you for the future to do your duty without regard to praise or dispraise ; and then, whether it be bestowed or not, you will perhaps behave more consistently. Let this reflec- tion dispel the cloud which again rises from your spleen, swollen by a small disappointment of the same kind. " One remark of a different kind occurs. This weak- ness of the intellect, arising from dejection, is a strong instance of a proposition which I have heretofore advanced, namely, that it is a great bar to one's advancement in science to have a constant conviction of his weakness. Hence I inferred that it was a great disadvantage to the cause of literature to oblige every one in a university to attend to studies in which he could not make any pro- gress." His public performances, of which he speaks with hu- morous disparagement in one of the notes to his Thr.ee XIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Lectures, are marked by maturity of thought, and a free, flowing, and eloquent manner. " At taking my first de- gree, in 1792," says he, " I bawled like a calf for France and Liberty." I give a short passage from the valedictory oration delivered by him on that occasion. " That thraldom which had long depressed the greater part of mankind to the rank of beasts, and that indignant spirit of freedom which now hurls ofl^ the disgraceful yoke, would engage our warmest attention, had it not been for years the theme of every masterly pen. With transport the benevolent mind sees the great body of man- kind rousing from the lethargy of ages, and maintaining their native equality with those whom hereditary igno- rance had taught them to view as a superior order of beings. Although we lament that our great allies are at present challenged to defend their liberties at the expense of their lives, we trust that they will easily rise superior to the last agonizing struggle of expiring tyranny. We may felicitate ourselves that our remaining part in the cause of freedom is to maintain that independence of sentiment and conduct which is the sole support of public liberty. " But what is this independence so necessary to render a person truly respectable and dignified.?- In its genuine character it has nothing inconsistent with the mild virtues and graces of benevolence. On the contrary, the same magnanimity which elevates the soul above the pursuit of interest or favor by mean compliances and servile imita- tions, would teach it to scorn those arts which gratify a haughty indifference or a groundless sense of superiority. " The uncivil, the resentful, and the imperious, however they may flatter themselves with the idea of being inde- pendent, little deserve a title so exalted. Life derives almost all its happiness from the kind attentions and the mild, forgiving disposition, which humanity inspires. Most of the animosities and the rankling hate which embitter the intercourse of men arise from incidents which a mind truly independent would not deign to notice. Such a mind would not be appalled by the charge of a cowardly want of spirit ; which is, perhaps, the principal source of that high sense of honor which many affect to display. " By this gentle, accommodating temper is not meant BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XV the low art of pleasing, which is taught by men of the world. The latter is the effect of selfishness, and its in- struments are every species of meanness and flattery, which is not too gross to be concealed. The former flows from a bosom warmed with the love of mankind ; it is the unaffected effusion of generous nature, corrected by a manly sense of duty." After taking his degree, he continued in Cambridge the greater part of the time for a year and a half, receiving a portion of the Hopkinton foundation.* During three months of this time he taught a school in Woburn, and afterwards gave private instruction in a family in Cambridge. The following year he passed at home, in Boston, and in Jan- uary, 1795, he received the appointment of Greek Tutor in the College. He took the degree of Master of Arts the same year. He held the office of Tutor until the Com- mencement of 1798. The reputation he enjoyed, and the ability and fidelity with which he discharged every duty, will be seen from the following sketch of him at this time, for which I am indebted to the friendly interest of the Hon. Daniel A. White, of Salem. " Dr. Popkin was just five years before me in college, and also in age. When I entered the University, in 1793, he was a resident graduate in the study of divinity. His manly, erect form and dignified air distinguished him at once ; but what fixed my attention upon him was his celeb- rity as a scholar. He had the reputation of being the first scholar, not only of his own class, but among all the Har- vard graduates since the Revolution. It was commonly reported that President Willard regarded him as preemi- nent above all others who had been graduated in his day. Nor was he less esteemed for his virtues than for his tal- ents and learning. The late Dr. Pierce, who was one year after him, used to say, that through his whole college life he looked up to Popkin as his model in all excellence. * A fund left by Mr. Hopkins, then consisting in rents from certain lands in Hopkinton, — a town named in honor of Mr. Hopkins. XVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH'. " My recollection of Mr. Popkin, at this period, is very- vivid and distinct, though I had no personal acquaintance with him till after he was appointed Tutor. In my Soph- omore year, at the end of the winter vacation, February, 1795, 1 first met him, — most gladly, too, — as our Tutor in the Greek department. He was then but twenty-three years old, and had not yet attained to his Master's degree; But no one exceeded him in manliness and dignity .of character. Though he was exact and critical at our reci- tations, he inspired much respect and affection by his mild and courteous, yet firm manner, and the impression he gave of superior excellence in his disposition as well as in learning. He was, indeed, so affable, kind, ready to com- municate, and pleasant in answering inquiries, that we soon felt at home in his recitation-room. Although he made no display of his learning, yet he would occasionally enter- tain us with brief comments, or remarks, alike ingenious and instructive, and often enlivened by touches of his pecu- liar simplicity and humor. There was, generally, nothing repulsive in his disposition or manner ; but he was of too lofty a spirit to bear from the students the least approach to insult without instantly and indignantly- rebuking it. In this, however, he was actuated by a high sense of duty quite as much as by personal feeling. He was never betrayed into the exhibition of any petty passion or un- worthy resentment. His devotion to duty was manifestly the master-principle of his conduct. Such a spirit as this, you know, is sure to render a college instructor ultimately popular, as well as respected. He may have to pass through scenes of severe trial in his intercourse with the students, but he will come out as gold purified in the fur- nace. This was strikingly the case with Tutor Popkin. He had very early to encojinter what his brother Tutor, Barron, used to call ' fighting with the beasts at Ephesus.' And I am sorry to say, that in his case these were of my own class. But we were Sophomores. " Within a few weeks after Mr. Popkin's arrival among us our public examination came on. This, as was then cus- tomary, was conducted in the presence of the Corporation and Overseers, by the Professors and Tutors in their re- spective departments, — the whole class being together the BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XVll whole time. During part of my college life I kept a brief diary, and am thus enabled to relate more particularly some circumstances illustrative of Mr. Popkin's character- as a tutor. " On the morning of our examination, Tuesday, April 7, 1795, at breakfast, the whole class, excepting four or five, left the Commons Hall before thanks were returned, and Mr. Popkin, who sat at the head of the Tutors' table, fined them all five shillings each, naturally supposing their conduct the result of a combination. It had been usual for any student to go out at breakfast or dinner time, upon looking respectfully to the head Tutor, and, with obeisance, taking implied leave. As we were directed to appear in the Philosophy Chamber an hour earlier than usual, be- tokening, as we thought, a stricter examination, some one of the class at breakfast started the idea of quitting the hall in a body, to show our want of time, and this was so promptly circulated, that nearly all took and obeyed the impulse. Mr. Popkin as promptly obeyed his impulse of duty, and inflicted the fine immediately. This produced a great commotion in the class, which, fior the time, over- came all respect for dignities, and caused an abundance of queer mistakes in construing Greek at the examination. ' Blunders were so ingeniously made as to move even the risibles of the Corporation. We were kept nearly two hours in reading about a hundred lines.' " The next day, as the Tutors were retiring from the hall, some of the Sophomores hissed ; and upon a repe- tition of the insurk on the following day, Mr. Popkin, turn- ing a little back, ordered the Sophomores, with such en- ergy of spirit and manner, to depart from the hall, that they instantly obeyed, and marched off before him. But on the next occurrence of the scene, they refused to move in a body, every individual remaining till he was person- ally addressed. This was too tedious a process to be again repeated. " Notwithstanding the unwarrantable conduct of the class at their Greek examination, the College govern- ment remitted the fine inflicted by Mr. Popkin. On an- nouncing this to the class, he observed that, in justice to himself, he must say that he was opposed to it, and that b XVIU BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. he Still thought the punishment deserved. Many of the class were ready to applaud him for his firmness and con- sistency, knowing that he had good cause for inflicting the fine, though they had so earnestly beset the government to take it off. One of the most distinguished of the class exclaimed on the occasion, 'After all, Popkin is the no- blest fellow among them.' He certainly rose in the esti- ■mation of the class in consequence of these difficulties. The energy, and spirit, and noble bearing, and manifest sense of duty, which marked his conduct throughout, in- spired them with the highest respect and regard. " I find connected with the original account of these matters the following remarks, written many years since, — so long ago that I had forgotten them : 'Mr. Popkin was a high-minded, noble-spirited man, intent upon doing his whole duty fearlessly and faithfully, and had held the first rank in scholarship and general excellence of char- acter ; and he could not brook the petty, mean, and dis- honorable insults offered to him, and his indignation led him to notice them in a manner which more experience taught him to improve. He finally became highly popu- lar, — popular from the respect he inspired by his learn- ing, integrity, single-heartedness, purity of character, open, frank, yet tender and affectionate manner of treating all with whom he had intercourse, whether for encouragement or discipline. At this time I did not know Dr. Popkin as he became known to me afterwards. I have never met with a nobler combination of pure principles, pure feel- ings, pure benevolence, and pure motives, with true piety, virtue, and learning, than I have found in him.' Mr. Pop- kin, as you know, resigned his Tutorship immediately after Commencement, in July, 1798." As it was Mr. Popkin's intention to consecrate his life to the Christian ministry, he devoted that portion of his time which was not occupied with official duties to the study of theology, under the direction of the Eev. Profes- sor Tappan of Cambridge, and the Rev. Dr. Eliot of Bos- ton. He began to preach a short time before he resigned the office of Tutor. After the Commencement of 1798, he BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XIX supplied the pulpit several months in Londonderry, N. H. Mr. Jabez Kimball, a classmate of Judge White's, and the young man who uttered the exclamation mentioned in the passage just given, — then and during the remainder of his life one of Mr. Popkin's most ardent friends, — was now a law student in Londonderry, and doubtless the means of his being engaged to preach there. With this gentleman he occasionally corresponded. After Mr. Kimball's death three letters from Mr. Popkin were found among his pa- pers ; the first is dated May 19, 1798, in answer to an ap- plication to preach there. The second was written from Boston, and dated January 7, 1799,. while he was preach- ing to th^ Federal Street Society, and before his settle- ment. It is chiefly taken up with the exciting political subjects of the day. " I have of late," he says, " been somewhat in company with men of news and information, but do not recollect any very profound political discussion, or important intelligence. There seems to be a general pause, an anxious and silent expectation of the communi- cation of the President relating to 'France, and the meas- ures which will be taken in Congress on this all-absorbing subject. The speech of the President, which wCjadmired together, for its moderation, wisdom, dignity, firmness, and energy, is not sufficiently warm for some of our ardent spirits. But it appears to me, that, while he shows himself desirous of peace, he says and proposes as much as the most violent threats of hostility would contain, and with much greater effect." The letter concludes with, " My love to all the ladies." About this time, he supplied the pulpit several weeks in Wenham. Mr. Charles Saunders, to whom I am indebted for many pleasant and characteristic reminiscences of Dr. Popkin, some of which will be introduced in their proper place, says : — XX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. " My first recollection of Dr. Popkin dates from the summer of 1798, the time when I entered College. He examined our division in Greek, when his appearance attracted our good opinion, on account of his straight- forward manner, and his good temper and leniency to our deficiencies. I did not meet him again until about two years after, when I called upon him, by the request of the parish committee of Wenham, to supply the pulpit made vacant by the dismissal of the Kev. Adoniram Jud- son. He agreed to go, and preached there several weeks, affording much gratification to the most intelligent of his hearers, by his liberal, pious, and able discourses, and by his social intercourse with their family circles. My father and mother were particularly pleased with him, and never ceased to remember fiim with friendly feelings as long as they lived My mother related to me, that when preaching in Wenham one Sunday, during the afternoon service, a violent wind, accompanied by rain, lightning, and very loud thunder, occurred. Near the close of the sermon, the noise was so loud that he left reading and sat down. After it subsided, h^ finished his discourse, and in his closing prayer alluded, in a sublime and most touching maaner to this war of the elements, and to Him who walk- eth upon the wings of the wind, and rasiketh the clouds his chariot." Mr. Popkin was ordained as pastor of the Federal Street Society, in Boston, on the 1.6th of July, 1799, succeed- ing Dr. Jeremy Belknap. He sustained the ministerial office here three years. The society was a highly intel; lectual one, and Mr. Popkin, whose modesty led him always to underrate his own abilities, soon began to fancy himself misplaced. Some of the eccentricities of his character and manners here displayed themselves more prominently than they had hitherto done. His preaching, however, was very impressive ?ind acceptable to his pa- rishioners, and is still remembered by some of the older members of the society. The following letter, writteij before the close of the first year of his ministerial life, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXI Contains a vivid sketch of one of his painful experiences, and an intimation of the state of his mind with regard to his position in the city. "Boston, Becember 3d, 1799. "DfiAB Sir, — "I confess myself tardy in answering your very oblig- ing and agreeable letter. A press of business, whicn ill-health and inactivity render laborious, and a variety of engagements, which my new connection with the society renders more frequent than common, I hope will procure indulgence. I ought sooner to have expressed my sym- pathy with you in your multiplied and severe distresses, which, I pray, a Christian philosophy may enable you to sustain and improve. A firm and rational belief in a Divine Providence is the only anchor of the soul Which is sure and steadfast. And why should not He who made these worlds, and whose presence pervades them, regulate all their affairs, and that according to infinite perfection .' " I attended your unhappy friend Bates * in his last sickness. It would have been too sad a spectacle for you to bear. A noble mind in ruins ! The raging of delirium, and the unintelligible sounds of idiotism were all that re- mained of a bright intellect and an amiable soul. His sickness was a nervous fever, brought on, as his father believes, by excessive anxiety concerning his studies and success in the world. Prom the time that he applied to the study of the law, his fkther remarked this extreme solicitude, and disinclination to amusement or sociability, and fear of losing a moment. When he studied divinity, he had the same anxiety lest he should not be adequate, or obtain a situation favorable to his views. This is his father's opinion. I asked him whether lie appeared to be oppressed with religious affections after he began to study law. He said. No ; but he thought his great concern, in every case, was to be eminent in what he undertook, and that this was the state of his mind while studying divinity, and the cause of his leaving it. Whether his father judged ifightly, those who had a more intimate access to * A classmate of Mr. Kimball, and a very proMising yoiing man. XXU BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. his mind can best determine. I am induced to believe that this whole melancholy affection, though it operated in various directions, took its origin from that first strain which was given to his nerves in College, by the rack of his gloomy tormentors. You will excuse me for calling up to your recollection these sorrowful ideas, because I thought I possessed particular information on a subject very dear to you which you might wish to receive. " Concerning ourselves, you say you droop in obscurity. I wilt in the meridian sun. We ought to change places. This town agrees neither with the health of my body nor the turn of my mind. Derry is much too witty and shrewd for me. I ought to have some plain place, where the people are content with knowing fair weather from foul. In the mean time, my people are very worthy and friendly. They do every thing in their power to make me happy ; and since these things are so, I must do every thing in my power to serve them. If you are not yet in so public a station as I am, I trust you will rise to one more public. " Yesterday I helped make a Tutor of our friend White. I wish him more ease and satisfaction than I had, and doubt not he will obtain them. I am sure he deserves them. " Brother Pipon has a call at a congenial place, Taun- ton, which I understand he is to accept next Sabbath. The famous John Foster was their last minister. On some difference, he told them he would serve them worse than ever the Devil would ; that is, he would leave them. "Please to give my respects to Mr. Prentice and his family, and to all my friends. I shall always be happy to hear from you, and to see you, if it be possible. " Accept my best wishes for your happiness. " John S. Popkin. " Mr.. Jabez Kimball." In 1802 he was dismissed, at his own request, having become persuaded, in the modest and humble estimate he placed upon his own qualifications, that he was not fitted to discharge, as they should be discharged, the responsible duties required of a clergyman in such a community. It BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXIU ought to be added, that his parishioners did not share in this opinion, though they yielded to his earnest desire to withdraw from the society. In his letter requesting a dis- mission, he dwells upon the broken state of his health. He says also, " I received a strong impression that I could no longer hope to be useful to the society, even with the enjoyment of health and tranquillity I apprehend that, under existing circumstances, I could not resume the work of the ministry with you to mutual satisfaction and advantage You will now permit me to declare that I feel, and ever have felt, a sincere esteem and friend- ship for the society, and a lively gratitude for your kind- ness and candor. If there have been any contrary ap- pearances, they have arisen from bodily infirmity, and extreme anxiety concerning my services I can- not conceal the mortification that I suffer, when I consider that my ministry with you has proved such a disappoint- ment." Mr. Popkin continued the study of the classics while in Boston with great zeal, and had the same scholarly pas- sion that distinguished him through life for the Greek. This gave rise to a whimsical suspicion. He was fond of walking his chamber and reading aloud, or repeating, ore rotunda, long passages from his beloved Homer. The worthy man at whose house he lived, more familiar with the dialect spoken on 'Change than with the Epic hexam- eter, heard from time to time, as he passed through the haU or happened to be in an adjoining room, these strange, and to him outlandish sounds. As he listened from day to day, he began to fear that all was not right with the min- ister, and dropped startling hints that such inexplicable sounds could not come from a man who was in a sane state of mind. " So much I got for my Greek," said the Doctor, when he related tlie anecdote, many years after. XXIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Mr. Popkin had a brother, William, about twelve years younger than himself. He was graduated in 1803, stud- ied divinity, and preached ; but occupied himself chiefly with teaching school. He died in the spring of 1827. This mention of William Popkin is made to introduce in this place two letters, written from Boston in 1800. They will be found interesting, not only for the good sense and good advice they contain, but for the picture they present of one side of college life, and of the aca- demical principles, prevailing at that time. I believe little or nothing of the kind exists at present in the relations between the students and Professors. "Boston, September 19th, 1800. " My deak Brother, — " I was made exceedingly happy by the account which my friend and yours, Mr. Hedge, gave me of your tri- umph over the absurd and disorderly conduct of your class. Depend upon it, that it was the triumph of reason, I doubt not that your reason approves it ; and I am confi- dent that those who now, perhaps, insult you, will approve Conduct like yours, when they come to the mature use of that reason of which they appear to be bereft by the puerile, but daring, opinions and practices of the College. You will readily perceive that I allude to your denying yourself to their mob-like attendance on one under sen- tence of government, and appe&ring first in your place at the lecture. Though this action of yours might not be fully understood nor appreciated by those who are not acquainted with the state and customs of a college, yet I, who have had a long experience of them, and know the difficulty of standing firm against the mad impulse and clamor of almost a whole class, pronounce it to be a great and a manly action. I know it to be as difficult and trying in your situation, and to manifest as firm and con- scientious a disposition, as those more important actions of Statesmen who undauntedly pursue their duty, unmoved by the popular tumult and resentment. ' " Do not think, then, that 1 give you unkind advice, or BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXV enjoin upon you too hard a duty, when I exhort you to persist, with firm, undeviating step, in the path of reason, rectitude, and honor. I am aware that this steady, virtu- ous course may sometimes expose you to the resentment of those who, from passion and prejudice, despise what- ever deserves esteem. I am apprehensive that you may at present be assailed with this persecution. But is the opinion of such persons worth fearing or courting ? Is the applause of thousands for doing wrong to be weighed against one whisper of your conscience that you have done right ? If you are attacked by the enmity of those rash, inconsiderate youth, be satisfied with the esteem of the wise and the virtuous. If they attempt to destroy your peace, take your consolation in the approbation, love, and sympathy of your father, your brother, and your judicious friends. Surely, your conscience, your friends, and the favor of the wise and good, are sufficient to support and comfort you under any difficulties which you may have to encounter ; and to prompt you to take without hesitation the side of duty and honor, whenever any new occasion shall try your independence. Habitu- ate yourself to act always from reason and conscience. To them resort for advice, and abide firmly by their de- cisions. Treat them with due respect, and they will guide you to the right in every case, and will amply reward you with safety and satisfaction. The very con- sciousness of obeying their dictates, of having your re- sources and government within yourself, gives an eleva- tion, strength, and tranquillity to the mind, which enable it easily to repel all reproach and contumely, when they are not deserved. The path of duty, though it may some- times lead to arduous toils, is the only path of safety. But he who is weak enough to seek his peace and happi- ness only under the reign of that capricious tyrant, popu- larity, has subjected himself to a slavery which will con- tinually demand new sacrifices, and reward them only with shame. " While you think and act for yourself, you can still be courteous to all who will admit your courtesy. And while you keep yourself in order, I would not assign to you the hopeless task of setting up for a reformer of the XXVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. opinions and manners of the scholars. If there should be any considerable tendency to good order and decency, you can safely add your influence, so far as it may be of weight. But till that is the case, it will be best to avoid contention and abuse by prudence. Give no offence, do your duty, and do not suffer yourself to be grieved by the malevolence and taunts of those who vs^ould call you a good fellovr, if you were less deserving of a good name. Let such principles guide you ; and whatever present trouble they may cost, you will find abundant solace and compensation in your own bosom and in the bosoms of your friends, of whom I have the pleasure to style myself, " Your affectionate brother, "John S. Popkin." "Boston, October 17th, 1800. "Dear Brother, — " I am sensible that the good conduct which I have advised you, and which, I doubt not, you are inclined to preserve, may expose you to the opprobrious epithet, fishing. You undoubtedly understand, by this time, the meaning of that frightful term, which has done more damage in college than all the bad wine, and roasted pigs, that have ever fired the frenzy of Genius ! The meaning of it, in short, is nothing less than this, that every one who acts as a reasonable being in the various relations and duties of a scholar is using the basest means to ingratiate himself with the government, and seeking by mean com- pliances to purchase their honors and favors. At least, I thought this to be true when I was in the government. If times and manners are altered, I am heartily glad of it ;but it will not injure you to hear the tales of former times. If a scholar appeared to perform his exercises to his best ability, if there were not a marked contempt and indifference in his manner, I would hear the whisper run round the c\ass,fisMng. If one appeared firm enough to perform an unpopular duty, or showed common civility to his instructors, who certainly wished him well, he was fishing. If he refused to join in some general disorder, he was insulted with fishing. If he did not appear to despise the esteem and approbation of his instructors, and BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXVU to disclaim all the rewards of diligence and virtue, he was suspected ot fishing. The fear of this suspicion or impu- tation has, I believe, perverted many minds which, from good and honorable motives, were better disposed. And it has, I fear, too general an influence on the manners, characters, and pursuits of the scholars, making them sac- rifice their honest principles and wishes to the capricious and lawless idol. Popularity. Some, who are most for- ward to show their contempt of government and honor, might spare themselves the trouble. I used to think, when I met such persons, ' You need not be afraid of coming to honor; your common appearance will save you from it, without any particular efforts.' But the fact is, that, being conscious of not deserving it, they wish to make it appear that their want of it is the consequence of their own choice or refusal. And the misfortune is, that these persons, being the most noisy and the farthest from modesty, too often give the tone and impulse to the whole society. I would not extend this reproach to many of the scholars. I would rather believe that the majority are oppressed and overpowered by the fear of the reproach of this Jacobinic minority. But I blame them for submitting their own reason to the others' passions. " Now, to apply the antidote ; it is a first principle by which we ought ever to be governed, the only principle of safety and satisfaction, that no motives, however forci- bly addressed to our feelings, or fears, or desires, should be permitted to impel us to deviate for a moment from our duty ; that duty which we owe to God and to our own character and happiness, as his rational and accountable creatures. Compared with this principle, how are the sneers or flatteries of a mad multitude worthy of the least regard .' Shall we have less respect for our benign Crc ator than for those who disgrace and endanger themselves by offending him .' Shall the still, small voice of reason be less persuasive than the clamors of those who appear to have renounced their reason .? Surrounded by the strong rampart of duty, we may firmly, and nobly, and easily repulse the irregular hosts of folly and vice. We may promise ourselves not only security, but felicity, from the laws and the will of the Supreme Governor. It XXVm BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. is impossible to find either of them in departing from the line which he has described. And it is surely his will, it is the injunction of reason, to promote, as far as we hav& power, (and that power extends, at least, to our own con- duct,) the order, the honor, and the good effects of the so- cieties in which we are placed ; and to make the best use of the means of improvement in knowledge and virtue with which we are privileged. Conscious of rectitude, and satisfied with the testimony of a good conscience, we may be content, even if others attribute our honest actions to dishonest motives. For, in the court of opinion, Fn-ror often sits judge. Sophistry is attorney, and the Passions are the jury. Here, what can avail the pleas of modest Reason ! " But, further, there is no dishonor in wishing to de- serve the approbation of the judicious. The love of praise is a strong principle of the heart ; it bespeaks a mind capable of improvement ; and though, when it is separated from the love of duty it is a dangerous traitor, yet when it is under this just command, it is a powerful auxiliary. It is a love of false praise which is the source of most of the mistakes among the students. A love of true praise Vould make them as honorable in their con- duct as they are distinguished in their advantages. A desire of rational commendation implies that we love the good conduct for which we are willing to be commended. If those approve in whose judgment we can confide, it confirms and encourages the proceedings in the court of conscience. If I know myself, or any one else, I can advise you to have this confidence in the government, that, while they feel it to be their duty to discourage, and, if possible, to reform the vicious and indolent, they are ever ready and anxious to discern, to esteem, and distinguish the deserving. They cannot always discover what a scholar is or does in private ; but they are not slow to discern characters ; and you will not doubt that they are good judges of what appears. I should not dissemble that I wished for their approbation ; and I should wish it more for its own value than for any consequences which may (or may not) follow. " I will try to explain myself a little on this last sen- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXIX tence. When the government approve one in any consid- erable degree, they commonly show it by the honors of college. Novr, it is a laudable ambition to desire them. But it is more laudable to desire them as testimonies of their approbation than as marks of distinction ; because their approbation is proof of your good conduct. And it is more commendable to wish to do as well as we can, than to be over-anxious to do better than others. The great principle must be, to employ our utmost faculties in the pursuit of knowledge and virtue, for the sake of duty and usefulness, and then, if honors come, they may be received with satisfaction, but without vanity ; if they are not bestowed, we may find satisfaction in the higher prin- ciple of having done our duty. This should be the pri- mary, though the love of honor may advantageously be a secondary, consideration. The ambition of holding the first place may produce great effects. But it must be strictly guarded from generating envy. But if we cannot he first, it is weak to give up every thing in despondency and indifference, as is frequently done by ambitious minds. We should still strive to make the greatest progress to which our powers can attain, and we shall not fail to be useful and respectable, and to gain and fill with content- ment and gratitude the place which Nature, or her Author, has assigned. For we have, or ought to have, a better motive than comparison with others ; it ought to be a comparison of our performances with our duties and abilities. " I shall not often tire you with so long a letter, but I intend that you ^ shall occasionally hear from me, and I shall be happy to hear from you. " Yours with affection, "John S. Popkin." In 1804 Mr. Popkin accepted an invitation from the First Parish in Newbury, over which he was installed on the 19th of September in the same year. Here he re- mained until 1815, the object of the respect and affection of a rural, but very intelligent society, the surviving mem- bers of which cherish his memory with the liveliest interest. XXX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. But the learning and eloquence of Dr. Popkin attracted a large number of the most cultivated families and indi- viduals in Newburyport, who entertained, not only the highest opinion of his abilities and scholarship, but re- tained ever afterwards the warmest feelings of regard. Fortunately for me, and for the other friends of Dr. Pop- kin, the Hon. Judge White, from whose letter I have al- ready quoted, was one of them, and has furnished me in the same letter the following careful, and excellent sketch of this period of his life, and of the publications which he was induced to give to the world. " It was chiefly in his clerical character that I had better means than you of knowing Mr. Popkin. It so happened, that when he was installed over the First Church and Society in Newbury, September, 1804, I had just settled at Newburyport, in the immediate vicinity. Though not within the limits of his parish, I could not hesitate a mo- ment to join the society, and become one of his permanent hearers. I knew him well enough to appreciate the priv- ilege I -should enjoy, and the more I knew him and the longer I enjoyed the rare privilege, the more dearly was it appreciated. His sound, intellectual, impressive, and truly Christian preaching drew many occasional hearers ; and his well-known character as a man and a scholar, as well as minister, induced a number of respectable families in Newburyport, with several professional gentlemen, to become his parishioners. Excepting these, his society was composed principally of substantial farmers, with a few mechanics and seafaring men intermixed, but gen- erally a very intelligent and well-informed people. The Eev. Dr. Tucker, their former pastor, was one of the ablest and most liberal divines of his day ; and his instructions and influence prepared their minds and hearts for the sym- pathy and enjoyment of such a man as Mr. Popkin. He could not, I believe, have found a congregation of people better suited to his habits and turn of mind, or more dis- posed to a just appreciation of his worth. Assured, as he soon was, of their entire confidence and aifection, he felt BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXXI no restraint among them from the peculiarities of temper- ament which he was so conscious of possessing, hut en- joyed the utmost freedom in his social and parochial visits. Daily exercise in walking and on horsehack, which these visits induced him to take, invigorated his health and spir- its, so that he appeared to have a true relish for the pleas- ures of society among his people, and with his friends in Newburyport and the neighboring clergy, by all of whom he was held in high estimation. He had, moreover, with his habits of industry and strict temperance, leisure to pursue to some extent, almost every day, his favorite stud- ies, especially in the Greek and Hebrew languages, which had the greater zest for him from being so intimately con- nected with his highest duties. There seemed to be noth- ing wanting to complete his happiness, but that blessing without which no man can be truly happy, and for which his tender, affectionate feelings, with his high appreciation of woman, so richly qualified him. " Mr. Popkin had too sensitive a conscience, and too nervous a temperament, perhaps, to have felt satisfied in any congregation with the success of his ministerial labors, whatever it might have been. On this account, doubtless, he was the more ready to exchange his parish for a Pro- fessorship at Cambridge. But the people at Newbury val- ued him for his work's sake, as they loved him for his virtues, and their gratification from both was as complete as it was heartily felt. I can truly say, that I have no recollection of even a momentary feeling of dissatisfaction during the whole eleven years of his ministry^ or of hear- ing a single expression of such a feeling from any of his people. Here I may be permitted to refer to a letter of mine, written to his friend. Dr. Hedge, and now in my hands, dated September 28, 1815, as expressing more truly than 1 now might express the feelings of his people upon being called to part with him. The following is an ex- tract : — " ' We, the good people of Dr. Popkin, are in great af- fliction at the prospect of parting with him for your sakes. Judge March, an aged and respectable member of his church, can hardly sustain it. He has lost one child after another, till he is nearly stripped ; but this, he says, is the XXXll BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. greatest loss of all. He says, " The demand made upon us is. great, and I can compare it only to that made upon the young man in the Gospel, — to give upall that he had." Yet we have most cheerfully concurred in a mutual coun- cil, and agreed to accept their result. Our affection and attachment to Mr. Popkin are so great and so sincere, that it is not in our hearts to thwart his wishes, though to com- ply with them costs us the most painful sacrifices. I be- lieve his separation from us will not diminish the friendship of this people to him. He has been reaUy improving and growing upon us in ministerial excellences, and our es- teem and affection for him have been proportionally in- creased, till it has become a settled habit of thinking and feeling with us, that he can have no thought, or feeling, or intenticm which is wrong. It gives me great satisfaction to find these people so properly impressed on the occa- sion, and that our friend can yield to his wishes in going to Cambridge without suffering as he would by any oppo- sition. I feel the expected loss most sensibly, but I think you will find him a great acquisition to the University, and this is my best consolation.' " By what means, it may well be asked, did Mr. Popkin get such possession of the hearts of his people ? KUs ministerial gifts were not of a popular cast, nor did he ever appear to think of popularity, or of making any dis- play of his gifts. The true answer is, that he did what those of the most popular talents often fail to do ; — he consecrated himself tq the service of his people with a fidelity and disinterestedness that gained him their con- stant approbation, respect, and gratitude. And the beau» tiful consistency of his whole life with his sacred office, and his perfect integrity and singleness of heart in all his relations with them, raised their confidence and affection to the highest degree. The duties he had assumed on entering the ministry were in his view of infinite moment, and in discharging them he manifested, especially in the pulpit, a deep and conscientious feeling of responsibility, which touched the hearts of his people with sympathy and reverence. Nor were these intrinsic qualities of a good minister unattended by exterior advantages. His wholq appearance in the pulpit was prepossessing. His fine per- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. JCXXlll son, clear, manly voice, natural, simple, yet dignified anid impressive manner, attracted attention at once, while his fervid sincerity, tender, affectionate sympathy, and earnest interest in his subject and in his hearers, fixed their atten- tion, and added greatly to the effect of what he delivered. His printed discourses, therefore, valuable as they are, give but a faint impression of his excellence as a preacher. " In the communion service no one ever appeared to me to exceed him. Yet he uttered the fewest words pos- sible, except in his prayers, on the occasion. His usual manner was to read from a small Bible in his hand St. Paul's brief account of the Lord's Supper ; then, laying his Bible aside, to pour out his soul in prayers so fervent and appropriate, so full of sentiment, devotion, and pathos, as to bring the Saviour most touchingly before us, with feelings of deep interest in bis dying love. "Dr. Popkin was, in truth, a model minister, as he had been a model scholar. His pastoral duties, in season and out of season, were performed with a most hearty fidelity. The sick and the poor were never forgotten by him. His darling studies could not detain him a moment from any call to them. In all his parochial intercourse, he was so kind, sympathizing, and generous, -^so frank, pleasant, and apt in his remarks and interchange of good feeling and good humor, — that he was a most welcome guest with every class of people, and made to feel that he was wel- come, not only as their minister, but as a friend and com- panion. " Among Dr. Popkin's many excellent qualities, he pos- sessed two exalted virtues, or rather traits of mind and character, which raised him above most men whom I have ever known. First, his devotion to duty as the ruling principle, I might almost say the ruling passion, of his life ; secondly, and growing out of the first, his devotion to the Bible as the source and standard of his Christian faith. " You will remember his admirable lecture to the stu- dents, — the third of those published, — in which he says: ' A sense of duty, and a submission, or rather a devotian to it, is thpt which forms the man of worth, and virtue, and honor, and, commonly, of success, This is the only rul- XXXIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ing passion which will rule us with wisdom and discretion.' This sublime doctrine he exemplified in his own life. " In his Farewell Discourse at Newbury, he says, what in some form or other is stated in almost all his discourses : ' We should search the Scriptures daily, and seek and be willing to know and receive the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' In this, also, he was an illustrious example of what he taught. "As a theologian, Dr. Popkin was almost self-taught; yet, in all essential respects, he was admirably well taught. He needed no further aid in his studies than what he found at the University, under the direction and infl\ience of the excellent Dr. Tappan, HoUis Professor of Divinity. What was his course of study or exercises with the Professor I am unable to say. I remember listening with some inter- est, in my Freshman year, to a theological dissertation from him in the College Chapel, one evening after prayers ; which 1 suppose was a customary exercise for resident graduates who were students in divinity. There might have been several other theological students with him, but I have no remembrance of them. The influences of his 'education were conducive to the freedom from all sectarian .bias for which he was so remarkable, and which naturally sprung from his innate love of the truth and his reverence for the Scriptures. He really believed that God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, as he was not in Socrates, Plato, or Confucius ; that the Gospels were something more than the Memorabilia, and that the Bible was a holier book than the Shaster or the Koran. And he devoted his best powers to the study of the sacred Scriptures in the original languages, to ascertain their true meaning for himself, and to enable him to unfold it to others. He was just so much of a Calvinist, Arminian, Socinian, Hopkinsian, or other sectarian, as an honest, un- biased search of the Scriptures made him, and no more. He could not, of course, raise the colors of any sect or party. Christ was his Master, the Author and Finisher of his faith, and he could not assume a name which would seem to imply that he followed another. No uninspired men, as he thought, had authority to form a religious creed, except for themselves ; it being the right and the duty of BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXXV every one to seek the truth for himself. The exclamation of Peter, — ' Lord, to whom shall we go ? thou hast the words of eternal life,' — was often repeated with hearty sympathy by Dr. Popkin. Some of his admiring, well- meaning friends, who could hardly conceive of a Christian minister without some sectarian name, were troubled to know what was his. And it is true, as you have related, and as I was told by himself, that he once replied, ' I am a Popkinsian.' This, too, was no mere play upon words. It conveyed an important lesson to all who would be con- sisteht followers of their rightful Master. Nor was it with- out good precedent, though original, doubtless, with Dr. Popkin. The learned Huet said of himself : ' If any ynan ask me what I am, — since I will be neither academic, nor sceptic, nor eclectic, nor of any other sect, — I answer that I am of my own opinion, that is to say, free ; neither submitting my mind to any authority, nor approving of any thing but what seems to me to come nearest the truth.'* " Dr. Popkin was as desirous that others should think, reason, and judge for themselves, as he was determined to exercise this noble privilege himself. In illustration of his truly liberal spirit, I would recur again to his Farewell Discourse. ' In giving opinions,' says he, ' I have sought •to give reasons for them, rather than to save myself and you the trouble by sole and positive assertions.' No man, indeed, was farther from dogmatizing, or indulging in airy speculations. ' If we attempt to be wise above what is written,' he says, ' we only prove that the Author of the Word and of the mind is the best judge of the extent and limits of our understanding, and of what is best adapted for our instruction and government. We should wish to understand the Scriptures, and to employ our best faculties upon them, and to seek wisdom of God, with docility to receive his truth and his guidance.' Much as he loved the truth, and earnest as he was to maintain and ditfuse it, he had no fondness for controversy. ' The spirit of party,' he thought, ' is not the spirit of truth. Violent contention is not the most expedient way of investigating the truth.' Life of Richard Watson, Bishop of LlandafiC, p. 118. XXXyi BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. ' Even "if we have some sincere love, and some good knowledge lof tbe truth, yet heated controversy mingles pther objects and other motives with our better views and feelings, and thus obscures and perverts them.' ' I should venerate the man,' he adds, ''who could perceive and ao- knowledge the just force of the arguments of an antagonist ; or whp could impartially collect the real arguments on all sides, and »llow their just weight, and fairly draw the le- gitimate anii proportionate conclusion. I should venerate his spirit and his ability And I should still more venerate the man, who, in the midst of a controversy, could willingly yield to a sufficient force of reason, and frankly ssurrender a contested and untenable position. If I could ,be willing to call any man master, I could be almost will- ing to (Sail such a man my master.' '" I know not who could be better entitled than Dr. Pop- kin himself to such veneration. Certainly I never knew a man whom I shpuld be more willing to call my master. I should be sure he would only lead me, and in the best mann^, directly to our common Master. To draw men rto Christ, and imbue them with his mind and spirit, and make them enlightened, conscientious, earnest, practical Christians, was the burden of his prayers, the aim and effort of all his preaching. ^' I must here give you one more passage from his last discourse to the people at Newbury: 'My friends, i ihave often humbly commended you to God, unworthily, but sensible " whence cometh our help " and our hope. In the trying and. affecting duties of the ministry, con- 'scious of insufficiency, fearful of delinquency, knowing our dependence, and believing in mercy, I have often com- mended you and your friends to God ; not' only in those broken effusions of the heart, which you have heard by the aide of a sick friend, but in retiring, in secret, in the silent agony of grief, and contrition, and supplication.' " Dr. Popkin's humility as a Christian minister was as deep and sincere as his erudition was profound. ' I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit Incid proof T^t he is honest in the sacred cause.' BIOGBAPHICAL SKETOHi XXXVU I did not till this moment think of recurring to Cowper's description of ' a preacher, such as Paul, Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own.' It is so applicable to our late venerated friend, that I must transcribe the whole : — ' I would express him simple, glare, sincere ; In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste. And natural in gesture ; much impressed Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too ; affectionate in look. And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men. Behold the picture ! ' What painter ever drew a more perfect likeness ? " I do not know hpw I can better answer your question, as to which of Dr. Popkin's published sermons would be of most' interest to his old acquaintances and friends, than by taking a slight notice of them in the order of their pub- lication. The first he pubUshed, — ' A Discourse deliv- ered in Haverhill, March 22, 1805, at the Funeral of Jabez Kimball, A. M., Attorney at Law,' — was, I know, particu- larly interesting at the time of its delivery. At the request of Mr. Kimball's friends, among whom he ranked himself, he went to Haverhill, though at very short notice, to preach at his funeral. It appears to me very fitting that some portidn at leagt of this discourse, both for the author's sake and that of his friend whose memory he thus honored, should accompany a memoir of Dr. Popkin. I therefore send you two or three extrfictg. " The discourse is introduced as follows : — ' These funeral rites, this mourning gloom, lead us to meditate on the mortality of man, the separation of friends, our own spee.dy depayturei. Must I press upon your atten- tion, by a multitude of wprds, the. brevity, the uncertainty of life, the inevitable approach, of death, the promiscuous attacks of the destroyer, and the vanishing slmdes pf hu- man happiness.' Alas! our friend tljere, where he lies; low before you, speaks to,, you in a language which the. preacher cannot express, till he descend to the same lowly XXXVIU BIOGRAPHrCAIi SKETCH. Station. Pause, and consider it in the silence of the miiid. To-day, you look pensive and dejected on this couch of death. To-morrow, it may be prepared for you. To-day, you behold yourselves as in a glass. To-morrow, you may go your waySj and forget what manner of persons you are. " ' Ah, no ! The friend we lament cannot be torn from the afflicted memory of his friends. The man we esteemed cannot be forgotten by those who knew his worth. The deep interest which now holds this assembly cannot be wholly left in the house of your solemnities. I will hope that you can think, that you can feel, that you can lay this sad case to your hearts. To the near and most deeply affected friends I will not do the injustice to say, Mourn no more. He was worthy of your tears. Nature, friendship, virtue, demand and excite your grief. Indulge these just aiffections. I would not resist their course. I would only help you to sorrow after a godly sort.' " 'Those who were connected with this our deceased brother by the strong ties of nature and of friendship are particularly called to listen to the truths and consolations of religion. This is no common loss, which they may bear with unconcern. This is no common event of Prov- idence, which they may regard in tranquillity. The dead, whom they now bury out of their sight, had qualities to engage a warm esteem and friendship, and to secure an affectionate and lasting remembrance.' " ' Thou bereaved parent, who with a mother's care, from his earliest days, hast watched his growth, his sick- ness and his health, the progress of his mind, his hopes and his reputation ; ye near relatives and friends, who have witnessed and enjoyed his worth, his virtues, and his affections ; ye can read his character and history writ- ten in your hearts, in stronger, and warmer, and more durable lines than could be traced by the power of genius, prompted by the esteem which I sincerely cherish. For I, too, have known the man, the scholar, and the friend; have been his instructor and his companion ; and never have I known one more friendly, more complacent, more attractive of friendship ; with most pleasant ease combin- ing soundest sense and knowledge ; with an honest civility BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. XXXIX tempering an apt and ready invention ; with a discrimi- nating judgment correcting a quick apprehension ; with a keen perception of mankind preserving a steady and active regard to their welfare, to honorable and virtuous principles, to well'-tried maxims and institutions of public utility. Ye who have been admitted to the secret of his soul can declare the honor, the correctness, the ardor, the manly tenderness, of his sentiments. Ye who have been associated with him in constant intercourse can witness to the undisturbed pleasantness of his life, the instructive ingenuity of his conversation, his unaffected preference of another's to his own enjoyment. Ye have seen him with firm and modest step, rising through the successive grades of life, — from happy presages, from academic honor, advancing to public respect, to useful station, to hopeful prospects. Ye have seen him arrived at the maturity of life and of mind, presenting copiously the fruits of a strong and vigorous intellect, enriched by culture, and corrected by expe'rience. But he was seized in a vital part by a secret destroyer. You saw him sinking by a gradual, but irremediable decay. You felt his sufferings, and lamented his untimely decline ; but you heard not him complaia. You were comforted by his patience, and cheered by his hope and resignation. The curtain of death is now drawn, and ye shall see his face no more ! But his memory will not perish. His image will be preserved in your hearts. Let his virtues live in your lives.' " In the same year, 1805, Mr. Popkin published one of his most valuable and interesting sermons, entitled, ' An Attempt to recommend Justice, Charity, and Unanimity, in Matters of Religion.' It is an admirable discourse, from Rom. xii. 16, 'Be of the same mind one toward another,' applicable to all times and all conditions of so- ciety. The first sentence is characteristic of the author'* manner of saying much in few words : ' Discerning men have often observed, that a principal cause of the differ- ences and disputes of mankind is, that they do not under- stand one another; sometimes not even themselves, or their subject. And a great cause of this misunderstand- ing is, that the will operates more than they are aware of, oflen more than reason.' The whole discourse, while it exhibits the genuine spirit of Christianity and the mutual Xl BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. obligations of Christians, illustrates the atrthot's own mind and spirit, and is a true picture both of Protestantism and ' Popkinsianism.' " 'A Sermon preached May 4, 1806^ the last Time of Assembling in the . Old Meeting-House in the First Parish in Newbury,' contains interesting notices of that ancient society, and the worthy predecessors of Dr. Popkin, from the foundation of the church in 1635, and must always be valuable for its excellent sentiments as well as for its bio- graphical sketches. The curious historical appendix con- tains more copious details of the old ministers, and is full of antiquarian interest. I am tempted to copy from it a sentence or two respecting the first minister. Rev. Thomaa Parker (born 1595, educated at Oxford, arrived in New E'ligland in 1634), for the sake of an anecdote told in Dr. Popkin's most laconic style : ' He was a man of a Very charitable and liberal mind, and at the same time fervently pious, and engaged in the duties of a minister. He taught a school in this Newbury, of about twelve or fourteen scholars, and took no pay but such presents as were freely sent him. When he was blind, he could teach Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. There is a report, of which I have no written vouchers, that some ministers, being dis- satisfied \with his opinions, came to reason with him on those subjects. They addressed him in English, he re.i plied in Latin ; they followed him in Latin, he retired to Greek, and to Hebrew ; they pursoed, but in Arabic he Stopped them. He then refused to be examined by them.' " The ' Sermon preached September 17, 1806, at the Dedication of the New Meeting-House of the First Parish in' Newbury,' is one of Dr. Popkin's best and most ani- mated discourses. Here, too, I think we may see how evangelical were his views, yet how far they fell short of modern Orthodoxy ; * how truly he preached the Gospel, * Dr. Withington, in his funeral sermon quoted later, says, in en- tife accordance with what is stated here by Jildge White : " If you ^k me, however, if he was a believe'r in New EnglaBd Orthodoxy, in its current interpretation, I must say I suppose he was not. He was too cautious a man to embrace any thing vevf bold or decisive ; he was fiiU as remarkable for saying nothing that was false, as all that was true. He did not so much deny as doubt." BIOSRAPHICAL SKETCH. Xli constantly enforcing his sentiments and reasoning by ap- posite passages from Scripture. His most orthodox views were expressed by such passages. He had little respect for human orthodoxy. " ' A Sermon on the Seasons, Time, and Eternity, preached December 12, 1813, in Newbury, First Parish,' is another of his most evangelical, yet most practical dis- courses. It is a good sample of his most solei!nn and impressive style of preaching ; never so solemn as to fail of being sound and rational, as well as Scriptural and alto- gether Christian. This sermon was thought to have more than his usual solemnity of tone. It made a deep impres- sion on the hearers, and was therefore solicited for publi- cation. A note appended to the discourse is worthy of some attention, as showing his prevailing solicitude that his people should examine and judge for themselves, not only what he preached and wrote, but even his quotations from the Bible. After speaking of the importance of reading such quotations in connection with the context, in order to a right understanding of them, he says : ' A serious and sincere writer would wish the reader to examine and think for himself; if he have erred, to correct or avoid the error ; if he have uttered truth, to perceive and feel it, and follow its direction, to search the Scriptures,' &c. ' To search the Scriptures of divine truth,' he adds, ' may be an exercise tending, not only t® correct the errors, but to remedy the failures Mid supply the deficiencies, of human compositions.' "Dr. Popkin published two Tbianksgiving IHscourses, both remarkable for the discussion of great principles, rather than occasional and transient topics ; both, there- fore, possess a permanent interest and vallie. " In the ' Sermon preached in Newbury, First Parish, on the Day of Annual Thanksgiving, November 25, 1813,' are presented, in a striking view, the blessings of Chris- tianity to society ; to man in his civil, politicalj social, and temporal interests and relations. ' Take away all knowledge and influence of religion, and what will re- main of virtue ? Take away all virtue, and what will remain but a chaos of confusion and misery .' No free- dom could be enjoyed where no security, order, or right xlii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. could be maintained. Indeed, despotism would be the result, and would be a refuge ; but a miserable refuge } an incessant struggle and war between competitors for empire, or an iron yoke of bondage which would hold the people in subjection to stern and oppressive power.' " ' If, therefore,' he again says, ' we wish to contribute the most surely and abundantly to secure and perpetuate the noble character and privileges of freemen, we must diligently cultivate the virtues, and the principles, and the influence of the Christian religion.' " At the very close, the war which was then raging is thus alluded to: 'As to our public affairs, which are mostly affairs of war, they are the subjects of continual discourse and publication. I shall only say, that I cannot rejoice in the calamities of my country, even if they are deserved ; nor in her successes, unless I am satisfied that the cause is good.' " The ' Discourse delivered on the Day of National Thanksgiving for Peace, April 13, 1815,' is one of Dr, Popkin's most spirited and eloquent discourses, presenting in their true light the evils and the authors of war, as well as the blessings of peace. It contains sound views on all kindred topics of public interest, and is full of instruction to people and rulers, suited to all times and places. " A short ' Sermon oti an Afflictive Occasion ' was pub- lished in 1814, by particular desire of several bereaved families who had felt. and appreciated its consoling power. " ' Two Discourses, delivered on the Lord's Day pre- ceding a Removal to Harvard University, in Cambridge, October 8, 1815,' remain to be mentioned, making ten in all. I recollect no more. The unanimous vote of the parish is prefixed to these, soliciting copies for the press, and expressing in the strongest terms their appreciation of Dr. Popkin's ministry among them, with their sincere re- spect, affection, and gratitude, and their fervent prayers for his future usefulness and happiness. " Dr. Popkin, in a preliminary note, observes : ' The first of these discourses was not prepared for the occasion, but composed some time previous. In the second, some passages, personal and relative, are not published ; and perhaps others of the kind might better have been omitted. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xliu But in a farewell address, in mutual good-will, it might seem improper to say nothing occasional.' Had the whole been published as it was delivered, the discourse would have been still more interesting and characteristic. " The first of these discourses is an admirable exposition of the great truths and blessings of Christianity, from 2 Cor. ix. 15 : ' Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.' I will make but a single extract : ' When we consider the Hfe of Jesus, when we contemplate his words and actions, we think that man could not have imagined such a char- acter. From any thing that was known of human nature, or understood of human virtue or duty, so singular and perfect a character could not have been delineated or con- ceived. It could be drawn only from the life. It is above all parallel and comparison. It is perfectly consistent, " without blemish and without spot," divinely good, sub- limely great and that without effort, yet " meek and lowly in heart." These remarks would admit, and require, a large expansion, a copious illustration. But the inference that I draw from them is direct and ooncise ; and that is, the Truth of the Character and the Doctrine. The life of Jesus commands the belief and the admiration of the right and sensible mind ; and ought, as far as possible, to command our imitation. This is another singular excel- lence of the Gospel, that it exhibits a perfect and animat- ing example of the virtues which it inculcates.' " The second, or Farewell Discourse, I have already noticed, and extracted several brief passages. Appended to it is an account of the proceedings of a mutual council called by Dr. Popkin and the parish, which are alike hon- orable to both parties. The whole of this discourse is excellent, and particularly valuable for the beautiful illus- tration it affords of Dr. Popkin's mind, and heart, and min- isterial character. " In this very compressed notice of the published dis- courses, it has been my aim to select such passages as might be characteristic of the author and his manner of writing, while they expressed some of his best thoughts and sentiments. If, therefore, you should have nothing better or more appropriate, this imperfect sketch may be acceptable as an accompaniment to your memoir of him. Xliv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 'His discourses,' as you have observed with equal truth' and brevity, ' are models of excellence, both in matter and manner.' They were the genuine product of his own mind, and so far original, and all the more valuable for the various knowledge, human and divine, with which his mind was so richly imbued^ His style, too, was his own, though savoring not a little of the purest old English dic- tion. " Dr. Popkin's life and ministry at Newbury were too peaceful, quiet, and happy, to furnish any nnore striking incidents for biographical notice than the various publica- tions which I have thus cursorily reviewed. But his atten- tion could not be confined to the limited sphere of his pro- fessional duties. His heart expanded to the interests of humanity everywhere, and he was always alive to the wel- fare of the community around him, and ready to assist in any good work for promoting it. As I remember him at this period, he was not, to any remarkable degree, op- pressed by. diffidence in the pulpit, or in performing any duty before the piiblic. Nor did he apparently suffej? much restraint in his social intercourse from that shyness and reserve for which be was so noted in later life. He certainly appeared to have a true relish for the pleasures of society, especially among his friends, and was far from being averse to the society of ladies. " Two instances of public service, in which I was asso- ciated with Dr. Pppkin, now occur to me, and may here be mentioned. He was for more than fifteen years a very faithful member of the Board of Trustees of Dummes Academy. And he was appointed by the Legislature a member of the committee, of whibh the late Justice Story was chairman, for distributing the State's bounty of ten thousand dollars among the poorer sufferers by the great fire at Newburyport, in 1811. He took a lively interesti in this benevolent service, and was punctual and constant in his attendance upon it at the various meetings of the Committee. " To you I would not speak of my own' estimate of Dr.- Popkin's learning ; but I may be allowed to say, that our late friend, John Pickering, no incompetent judge,: held it in the highest estimation, and often alluded to hiin as one of the most profound scholars of the country." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xlV To the preceding ample and admirable review of eleven years of Dr. Popkin's clerical life I will add a few more illustrations, furnished me by his successor in Newbury, the Rev. Dr. Leonard Withington. The following is an extract from a letter which Dr. Withington kindly wrote, in answer to some inquiries I took the liberty to address to him : — "His preaching here is still remembered by a few. He left the impression on ^he minds of the people, that he wished to say more than he did say ; not, indeed, from timidity, but excessive caution. He preached a series of sermons on Predestination, and gave the arguments and the Spriptural proofs both ways, and left the people to judge. The consequence was, they hardly knew which way to decide ; they said it was a great and dark subject, and that perhaps was the very itppr^sion hs intended to make. Some of his replies are still remembered. Dr. Spring called on him one day, and found his room in some con- fqsion, and said to him, ' Why, brother Popkin, don't you get a wife to put these things in order ? ' ' The reason is, Ppctor, I am too much your disciple ; I have too much im- partial benevolence to narrow down my affections to one.' With all his modesty, he could be decided when the occa- sion called for it One of the boatmen, who brought wood down the river, happened to be a preacher in some separatical school ; after selling him wood, he asked him how long it took him to prepare his sermons. ' Some- times a week, sometimes a fortnight, and sometimes three months.' ' Three months ! ' said the astonished Cicero ; ' why, I can prepare a sermon at any time in ten minutes,' ' Very likely,' said Dr. Popkin ; ' but remember, I preach to people of sense.' He was always talking of his own unfitness, which never injured him here, though I believe it did in Boston. He would visit the sick, and sometimes be unable to speak a word, and only sit by the bed and weep." I also extract a characteristic passage or two from a manuscript sermon preached by Dr. Withington after Dr. Popkin's death. •xlviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. eralists claimed to be the party of order and law^ and dreaded the prevalence of French partialities; they dis- trusted French principles ; and opposition to the policy of the government — universally admitted to have been a policy unwise and ineffectual — drove them to an ex- treme, in palliating the conduct of England while they justly condemned the course of France. ' The declaration of war at the moment when it was made was ^doubtless premature. Had the government de- layed it a few weeks longer, it would have beeff unneces- sary, and all the treasure squandered and the lives lost might have been saved. It found the country not only divided, but unprepared ; it was waged with little pru- dence on the part, of the government, and less administra^ tive skill ; distress, deep and universal, pervaded the land ; and when peace was made, the most extravagant joy burst forth from every quarter, even before the conditions were known, and in the midst of the universal delirium no in- quiry was made whether all or any of its alleged objects had been gained. In point of historical fact, a single letter from Mr. Webster to Lord Ashburton has done more towards adjusting the most difficult and irritating point in the controversies between us and England than all the fighting and bloodshed of three years accomplished. Cedant arma toga. No other benefit resulted from the conflict than the indirect influence of our land and naval victories in giving us a higher militaiy character through- out the world. Some of our generals showed skill and conduct ; our soldiers fought bravely, and our sailors breasted the shock of the fleets of England. Those who value this kind of reputation will think it worth the bloody price we paid, and compensation enough for the public disasters and private suiFerings we endured in gain- ing it. Those who agree with Franklin, that there never BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xUl Was a good war, nor a bad peace, will take a less favor- able view of the war of 1812. It is well known that the late Samuel Dexter, one of the first men for abilities and fame then in the Federalist party, dissented from the course pursued by his friends. In 1814 he was taken up by the Republicans as their candidate for Governor, in opposition to Caleb Strong. He was in Washington when the nomination was made. He wrote a letter, dated February 14, 1814, to the electors of Mas- sachusetts, in which he explained his views very clearly and ably, coinciding wholly with neither of the parties into which the country was divided. He disapproved of the system of restrictions on our commerce, adopted by our rulers, and stated his objections against it in the most pointed and forcible manner. He differed with the gov- ernment, also, as to the time and manner of conducting the war ; but he thought " the British Orders in Council were a flagrant violation of our rights and our national honor, and consequently were a just cause of declaring war." He found himself "^ unable to reconcile some of the leading measures of the Federalists with the funda- mental principltes of civil society, and the indispensable duty of every citizen in all countries, but especially in the American republic, to hold sacred the union of his country It is a fundamental law of every civil society, that, when a question is settled by the constituted authority, every individual is bound to respect the decision. The momentous question, whether war was just and neces- sary, has been thus settled. Peace can only be restored by a treaty to which Great Britain shall assent, and rea- sonable terms are not to be obtained from her by proving to the world that we are unable or unwilling to maintain our rights by the sword. The privilege of every citizen to examine the conduct of rulers is unquestionable, thora^ d 1 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. in speaking to his country he may be overheard by her enemies." After pointing out the consequences of abusing this privilege, and the disasters that would ensue upon the severance of the Union, he proceeds ; " On such occasions, regret for the refractory principle of our nature, which scatters through nations the misery, crimes, and desolation of war, will rend the bosom of the benevolent man ; but if he be also magnanimous and just, this will not tempt him to violate his duty or repine at the arrangements of Heaven. The history of civil society proves that it is a terrible ne- cessity, and man must submit to his destiny. Still greater evils are produced by pusillanimous shrinking from con- formity to the mysterious law of his present condition." After some further comments, especially upon the errors of the government in declaring war, and at the same time drying up the only productive source of revenue ; in ask- ing for a loan . of twenty-five millions, while ruining the commercial parts of the country ; in laying odious taxes, and yet not raising a sufficient revenue to relieve the pub- lic necessity ; and in prosecuting a useless and hopeless invasion without men or money or credit, and with a disgusted people ; he closes thus : " The resources and energy of a powerful nation ought not to be wasted in the wilderness, but thrown on the element where our wrongs were inflicted, and our brave countrymen have already repeatedly triumphed. They are adequate to teaching our enemies to imitate the justice of Jupiter, while they affect to scatter his thunderbolts." The opinions of Mr. Dexter, and this appeal to the people of Massachusetts, created an immense sensation in both parties. Among Dr. Popkin's papers are several manuscript articles, copies of which had apparently been published in some of the political journals. I have alluded to this subject, ?ind I select a few passages, to show that. BIQGRAPHICALi SKETCH. U retired and scholastic as were his habits, he was by no means an indifferent spectator of the contest. He was a thorough Federalist, and did not hesitate to declare his opinions in the way he thought proper on questions which affected the welfare and honor of the country. He was well informed on political subjects, and wrote with great earnestness and vigor. The address of Mr. Dexter was reviewed by him, frdm the Federalist ground, in an article entitled, " What were the Causes of the War, or what were not the Causes ? " He discusses with ability the conduct of France and that of Great Britain, showing that the former had been the more aggressive ; he then takes up the Orders in Council, the Embargo, the im- pressment of seamen, &c., and argues that the pretexts alleged were not the real motives of the war. " Gouvemeur Morris, in his oration, informs us that it is confessed that great statesmen keep their deep counsels to themselves, but must throw out some specious pretences to the people to satisfy or to manage them ; and this precious confession is made for the purpose of justification. It is made to justify or defend the understanding, and implies an admission, that the pretences are indefensible and ab- surd, though they may answer their purposes, and that the authors are ashamed of them. But how does it justify their character, their conduct, their integrity .' It sacrifices these to the pride of understanding ; and perhaps it may be thought an easy sacrifice. We are not inclined to dis- pute the concession. We have other evidence of it, and of these matters and manners, in present and former times» But we quote Mr. Morris as a respectable authority. We do not believe that a truly great and upright statesman, like General Washington, would allow himself to propa- gate vain pretences, if he might think it necessai7 to re- tain some truths ; especially to offer such pretences to support measures of vast and wasteful consequences, which on their real ground would admit no colorable justi- fication. Indeed, he would not be the author of such lii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. measures. The pretences are gravely made to the peo>- pie, and to the people they must be gravely answered; because, with an equal share of natural understanding with others, they may not have equal means of informa- tion. But it is a curious situation to be gravely argu- mg against propositions which one neither believes, nor supposes the authors and chief supporters to believe, to be any thing more than mere shadows, men of straw, set up and dressed out to count with, the people^ We pre- sume to think and to say, that men of information have never supposed that the pretended were the real causes of the war. They do not believe that there were any good and sufficient causes for it. They believe that the difficulties might have been easily and reasonably settled and arranged, and were settled by Mr. Monroe. They think, that, if there be wrongs committed, there ought to be some proportion between the evils and the remedies ; that it is out of all proportion and reason and right in respect to ourselves, for some abuses that rise out of a state of universal and most violent warfare, to plunge our- selves irrto all the destruction and miseries of such a war, waged in such a manner as the present. They think the war not necessary, not impartial, not just, relatively to other nations, and enormously wrong and ruinous to ourselves. The partisans of the war, and even the opponents, do not appear to take the wrong to ourselves into sufficient consid- eration. It seems to be supposed that the only question is, whether there be some color of right against Britain ; and to be admitted, that, for any small cause, or for no cause but our own will, we have a perfect and unqtiestionable right' to ruin and destroy ourselves, with an unmeasured waste of life and property, to deprive multitudes of the eitizens of all their living, and to impose immense taxes and debts on present and future times, to lie as a heavy and endless bond and mortgage on all the persons and estates in the country. If we think measures unjust, or if we think them only unwise, inexpedient, we have a right, and are under obligations, to oppose them by all constitu- tional means, while we submit to all constitutional laws. If we disapprove of measures, and of their authors and abettors, we the 'people, the electors, or those of us who BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. liii disapprove, must endeavor to change, to displace, or to reject them, not only by a silent vote, but by the freedom of speech and the press, showing cause to others, if we please, why we think they should disE^jprove and reject them. Our liberty of election goes further, and rests on our individual sovereign will and pleasure, for which we are bound to give account to no man, but to God only^ and to bim we are most seriously accountable. But we are speaking now of solemn duties, as well as of essential rights. These rights are guaranteed to us by our Consti- tution, and by the essential principles of liberty. If we resign or lose these rights, the liberty of speech and of the press, we are slaves." In another article he says : — " Every man ought to feel himself solemnly engaged to do his duty on these occasions, on which the public interests and the government depend. Were I sure that every vote given in the State would be given for Governor Strong, I would have the honor of giving mine. But only one thing is certain, that we cannot be sure till the election is over. I would walk tern miles, if necessary, or farther, travelling through mud and mire, in all the con- scious dignity of a freeman and an elector, bearing in my breast an essential and no insignificant portion of the pub- lic interest and public sovereignty. I should prefer this honor to travelling three hundred miles through mud and through mire, ' thorough brush and thorough brier,' ' thor- ough flood and thorough fire,' to Canada " Mr. Dexter thinks that there was just cause for de- claring war. The government have declared it is just and necessary, and it is their office to decide. The neces- sity being thus settled in his mind, he argues from it that we ought to submit to it, and concur in it, and bear out the consequences with magnanimity. On the contrary^ we, being under the constant impression that the war was neither necessary nor just, very naturally construed a de- mand of submission and cooperation as a demand made in favor of an unjust and unnecessary war, and of co'^.'"^® any war of this nature, and any measures, which we thmk unjust or injurious. We admit that we must obey laws liv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. and requisitions that are not inconsistent with constitutional principles, nor with moral laws. But we maintain the right of opposing, in constitutional modes, and endeavoring to alter, measures which we think wrong or inexpedient, ■by our votes and our voices, by elections, by declaring our opinions and sentiments, individually or in public bodies, to the people or to the government. " We still think the complexion of his discourse, and his notions of submission, irreconcilable with the princi- ples and the preservation of regular freedom, and more fitted for a despotic government than for republican con- stitutions. ,We still think his notion of necessity, whether resulting from the acts of government or the condition of human society, would operate, if allowed, to deprive us of the right of endeavoring to obtain a change of measures which we account injurious. His argument seems to be. War is declared, and you have nothing to do but to help to carry it on. We say, War is declared, and we are sorry for it ; and we would have a peace speedily, if we could effect it regularly, and on reasonable terms. If we could vote down all the authors of the war to-morrow, we would do it, and place men in their stead who, we thiflk, would make a just peace as soon as possible. He may say, for our comfort and encouragement. This is the state of man and civil society, to be often at war ; it becomes men to bear it manfully. We say, It is the state of man, an unhappy state ; and we wish to avoid it as much as possible, and recover ourselves from it as soon as pos- sible." The following sketch of the two parties is character- istic of the spirit of the times. " With all due deference to the knowing ones, it does appear to me that one of the most artful contrivances of the Jefferson party, and one of the most dangerous alarms to the Washington interests, is the nomination of Mr. Dexter to the office of Governor. The names of Wash- ington and Jefferson are taken as the most just distinc- tions. To pass over the times of Shays's insurrection, the first remarkable division was that of Federalists and Anti- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Iv federalists ; the Federalists were supporters of the new Constitution of the United States, the Antifederalists were opposers of the same. With the opening of the French Eevolution, the Antifederalists eagerly seized and hoasted the name of Jacobins, and bore it without having their title disputed. This name becoming too unpopular, they assumed that of Republicans, to which name they are least of all entitled ; for they are the supporters of arbitrary power, whether it be in France or in America. The Federalists, the friends of the Constitution and of Wash- ington, are the true republicans. Holding the principles, let them hold the name of Washington, Washingtonians. The other side boast, of Jefferson, and follow him as the first head and leader of the party. Let them bear his name, Jeffersonians. " These denominations will be, as they have been, the most just and steady distinctions through all the changes of times and circumstances. With the Washington side are now associated the interests of peace, commerce, and the commercial States, and general prosperity, and essential rights and liberty. With the Jefferson side are associated, identified, war and violence, and taxation, and the destruc- tion of commerce and of the commercial States, and of essential rights and liberty, violence in our land, wasting and destruction on our borders. An act of military vio- lence has been committed in the town of Newbury, which ought to be known throughout the continent, and corrected, if necessary, by the posse of the county and the power and authority of the Commonwealth. A child of about fourteen years old had been enlisted, and his father took him away, and took him home. The house was assaulted in the night by force and arms by soldiers ; and the father, the child, and a son-in-law carried off to the rendezvous ; and it is affirmed ihat the child was severely whipped, and sent off to the Castle in Boston harbor. If this be not true, let it be denied. Will it be said this was not the act of government, but of inferior servants .' Be it so. It shows our danger. Are we to be thus dragooned ? Are we prepared to bear it ? Are we prepared for martial law, and military execution ? If we are, we have most shamefully degenerated within forty years. But there is a lawful redress." Ivi BI06BAPHICAL SKETCH. In the year 1815, the Coltege Professorship of Greek in Harvard University was offered to Dr. Popkin. He re- signed his pulpit, and, by the advice of a mutual council, his resignation was accepted by his people, though with re- gret. This professorship, the unostentatious duties of which were entirely consonant to the modesty of his tastes, he held until 1826. In the mean time a Professorship of Greek Literature had been founded and endowed by the liberality of the late Mr. Eliot ; and Mr. Edward Everett, having completed his career of study in Europe, was made the first Professor on the new foundation. After five years of brilliant service, Mr. Everett was elected to represent the Middlesex District in the Congress of the United States, and the College Professor was transferred to the vacant chair. Dr. Popkin continued to hold the Professorship of Greek Literature for seven years, and resigned it in 1833. During the period of his service as College Professor, the College was subjected to several periodical scrutinies on the part of the public and by the superior boards. Harvard College has been treated, in this respect, in a manner unknown to any other literary institution in the country. The theological discussions growing out of the HoUis Professorship of Divinity have been one cause of occa- sional outbreaks of hostility ; and the partial connection of the College with the State government, exposing it to the influences of the changes in parties, and to the suspicions, prejudices, and dislikes of contending factions, has been another. This is not the place to discuss the utility or uselessness of this tie, continued after the State has with- held all material aid, in either sense of the phrase ; but one effect of this relation — that of drawing the affairs of the College into public discussions by, and before, those who know nothing about the College or its affairs — has often been apparent. All mstitutions for the education BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. IvU of the young are marked by numerous imperfections ; and it is easier to find fault than to devise a practical remedy. The fault-finding has been the chief benefit bestowed on the College by its political supervisors, while the officers who bear the brunt have been left without help. The most extravagant ideas are thrown into circulation, from time to time, threatening to involve the institution, professors, and Students in one common ruin ; and then, sweeping meas- ures of change and imaginary reform are vehemently urged. Little or no benefit results to tiie College from these unsteady, and generally unenlightened, movements. But a crisis arrived about the year 1821, which created considerable alarm. The condition of the College was not in a satisfactory state to its best friends. There seemed to be a moral decline, and the discipline had become re> laxed to a certain extent, though by no means so fearfully as was asserted or imagined in various quarters. A long and severe investigation took place. Series of questions were addressed to the Professors, and a body of reports was prepared in reply, of remarkable ability. The most elab' orate was that of Dr. Popkin. In it he considered, at great length, the state of the College, as to discipline, instruc- tion, and morals ; he pointed out the actual evils, and suggested remedies ; he showed how exaggerated many of the public statements had been, and explained the prog- ress made and making, especially in the classical depart- ment The whole document was written with such temper- ance and moderation, that it probably had a strong influence in quieting the fears of the friends of the College. Besides the answers to specific questions, the paper contains many wise and profound general reflections, tersely and pointedly expressed ; but they are so interwoven with topics of tem- porary interest, that it is not easy to present an extract which would be interesting out of its connection. Iviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Similar inquiries were addressed to the Professors in the following years. One question, long discussed, related to the expediency of making the College studies partly or wholly elective. Dr. Popkin's report on this subject bears date June 8, 1826. He had great fears of the consequences of adopting such a measure. ' It has been found by expe- rience that the danger is not that students will choose their studies in such a manner as to do the smallest amount of work, but precisely the opposite, with some individual exceptions, that they will overtask themselves by attempt- ing too many and too difficult studies. But the view taken by Dr. Popkin and others was not unnatural before an actual trial had demonstrated its fallacy. The general reasoning of this paper, however, is so able, and so well suited to the questions of education in all time, that, in justice to the subject and to Dr. Popkin, I must present an extract of some length. " The reasons for the preparatory studies are not so obvious and well understood. But there is a system and circle of studies which judicious men of learning and en- lightened statesmen have deemed requisite and essential to a public and liberal education. The ancient languages, particularly Latin and Greek, have been regarded as an indispensable introduction ; and, indeed, as continual at- tendants and objects of learning. Mathematics and natu- ral philosophy and astronomy are of acknowledged prac- tical utility ; and they contribute greatly to form and to correct the mind, and to supply it with the means of use- ful operations and enlarged and elevated contemplations. Intellectual philosophy, the science of the mind itself, we should think ought to be esteemed as highly important and interesting. Though it may be difficult and subtile, yet the knowledge of ourselves, our powers, our faculties, our affections, recommends itself by the very description. If it be difficult, it is the better exercise of the mind, and a preparation for exertions that may be necessary in the in- tercourse and contentions of mankind. If the mind dwell BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. lix only in the delights and delicacies of literature or imagi- nation, it may become too enervated and fastidious for vig- orous and wearisome exertion. Of moral and political philosophy or knowledge the great utility and importance are undisputed. They enter directly and essentially into the business and duties of life and society. " It seems evident, at first sight, that a person who is publicly and liberally educated, for the highest intellectual purposes of the community, ought to be introduced into all these departments of knowledge, that he may be made acquainted with the elements and principles of them, and may be prepared to use them, or to proceed further in them, as he may find occasion and opportunity. The well-known observation of Cicero on the connection of the arts or sciences is, I believe, proved by long successive time and experience. Natural and intellectual philosophy are connected ; intellectual and m6ral ; moral and politi- cal ; and language with .all of them. The philosophy of language is particularly and intimately connected with the philosophy of the mind. The operations of the mind scarcely have a form or a name but by the instrumentality, or rather the investment, of language ; and certainly with- out it they have little or no expression or communication. A knowledge of several languages greatly enlarges these intellectual stores and materials, and facilitates the use of them. We see in them the different modes of thought in different places, and thence may enrich our own literature. The knowledge of the ancient languages, which are com- monly studied, is peculiarly conducive to this intellectual and literary instruction. They are rich in thought and expression, in moral sentiment, in historical and political information ; and in eloquence and in poetry they are still the great masters. They cannot be translated. Matter of fact, or of reason, may be translated or transmitted ; but a work of genius, or the genius of a work, cannot be translated. It is, as before observed, intimately combined with the language ; it is meditated and produced in that language. Change it, and something of the substance may remain ; but the texture and the color and the beauty- are gone. Something of art or of genius may be substi- tuted, but the original genius cannot be replaced. be BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. " Further, the study of the ancients opens a way or a view, through the world, from the beginning to the present time, and exhibits mankind in various periods, positions, and ciiaracters, and some of them very interesting and in- structive. If they be neglected, our views will be very much narrowed, and the horizon will be closed down with clouds and darkness at no great distance. And they will in a great part be. neglected, if they are not req^uired in a system of public education. " Many more reasons might be offered for the study of the ancients, and of all the sciences that have been stated, and for their connection and combination. But to do any thing like justice to the subject and the occasion would be a greater work than could now be duly performed, and more- than could with propriety be presented in this time of public business. " We would only observe, on this topic, that the present tendency appears to be strong to.natural and material ob- jects and science, which are unquestionably estimable for the use and convenience of life, and for the exercise of the mental powers. But it is the knowledge of man, of society, of history, of life and manners, and moral and po- litical principles and sentiments, and the imbuing of the mind with correct, and just, and good, and honorable, and patriotic, and Christian principles and sentiments, which form the proper character of man, — the moral, social, civilj and religious man and community. On this topic, as well as others, the Rev. Dr. Channing's Kemarks on Milton are of high excellence and authority, and deserve great consideration. To this purpose all the studies recom- mended are in different ways and degrees conducive, but particularly that which is distinctively called Literature, ancient and modern literature, together with moral and re- ligious works, and, above all, the Holy Scriptures. " Here it must be observed, that modern literature, especially our own or English literature, is confessedly of primary value ; but it has not been urged at present, be- cause it has not been questioned. It is sought and pursued with an avidity, tending to the exclusion or depression of other, and ancient and various, knowledge. Perhaps it must necessarily, from the nature of things, remain the BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixi object of private study, and cbuld not well be made the subject of pi*blic exercises, but it may admit of an mtelli- gent direction. "• Now, some may inquire. What is the need or use of this various knowledge ? May not a person study one language, or art, or science, according to his desire or want, without the necessity of going round the whole circle ? Or, is it possible to study the whole with anfy advantage ? "• We may answer, that we are not treating of particu- lar cases, nor of the people at large. We are considering that which is properly called a liberal and public educa- tion, and that comparatively small number who are sep- arated and set apart mostly to be prepared for those offices and duties which require various and extensive knowledge, and the cultivation of the higher faculties of the soul. It would be superfluous, on this occasion, to show that this cultivation and knowledge are highly conducive, and in- deed essential, to the public welfare. But we may ob- serve that the experience, observation, and judgment of the well-informed and judicious have regarded the estab- lished departments of education as the foundations of this cultivation and knowledge, and of general information, and public welfare. The want of one of them would be per- ceived and felt ; and men who, by their own efforts, have attained the highest eminence in some branches, have by their own efforts of choice afterwards made themselves acquainted, with others. Doubtless they would have found it convenient and agreeable' to have had an earlier oppor- tunity for these subsequent studies. All scholars cannot be expected to acquire all knowledge, but they may be introduced into the principal departments. They may bend their attention in life chiefly to one pursuit, but by a various preparation they have more enlarged views and feelings, more means, more materials, more resources, more powers, more comprehension, more illustration, and can turn themselves to more various objects. The fresh- ness of their early studies may have faded, but their fruits and effects remain, and have influence, and they may be revived. It may be alleged, that some of them are not acquired in a degree sufficient to be of any utility, or are not very useful when acquired, and that other studies Ixii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. might be more usefully pursued. These accounts one is sometimes tempted to regard as the testimony of con» science more than of experience. But these objects are acquired by many in a degree that is considerable, if not in perfection ; and if the words and forms escape, the principles and effects remain. If the studies are imper- fect, it is the duty of literary institutions to endeavor to improve, rather than to relax or remit them ; and to up- hold rather than to abandon them. There appears to be an obligation on them to labor to sustain the great princi- ples of education, and to send forth young men trained in them as fa'r and as well as may be practicable, in the va- riety of circumstances, intellects, and dispositions. If the course be left to the choice of the youth, it is quite proba- ble that the greater part will be abandoned by them ; and ■that they will go forth into the world, under the name of a university, with little that is proper to a universal or gen- eral education. Thus the scale and measure of learning will be greatly lowered and narrowed in the community, and probably some parts almost wholly neglected. " It is replied, that public opinion will duly regulate these matters according to its wants and demands. We should think that the best-informed should endeavor to regulate or to influence public opinion ; and we acknowl- edge that those who are engaged in the various relations of society have advantages for judging which are wanting to those who are limited to an academical seclusion. In free states the public opinion, with some fermentations, may be expected often to work itself or to settle itself clear. But it is not always correct at all times and in all places. In obvious public interests it may be formed more correctly than in those of the deeper erudition. In the more recon- dite nature and effects of learning, while the great body of the people receive the benefits, they may not perceive the causes and the operations ; as the waters rise invisibly, which afterwards descend in showers, and streams, and rivers. " It is true, that literary institutions ought to hold some way with the progress of knowledge and improvement ; not to settle down at their ease, rusting in exploded error and antiquated prejudice. ' But all innovation is not im- BIOGBAFHICAL aKETCH. Ixlii provement.' Nor is every thing that is ancient for that cause obsolete, unless the Sacred Books be obsolete. On the other hand, there ought to be some stability in these institutions, that they may not be driven about by every wind of opinion, nor made the victims of every notion of empiricism, trying new practice every year and retracting it before the end of the same, unless, perhaps, some bold or rash experiment prove fatal, and it be too late for re- pentance. " Another reason for the variety of collegiate prepara- tion is found in the obvious remark, that a youth knows not what he may choose, or what he may follow, or to what he may be called, in his future life. We will sup- pose, that most of the students of a college are intended for the learned professions, or for literary or public charac- ters. If a few others desire a liberal education they ought to have a liberal education, and not to obstruct or divert the course from its main and great purposes. Let us sup- pose a youth, intended for the study of law or medicine, and neglecting Greek, for instance, as tedious and super- fluous and wasteful of his time. We say not, that for simi- lar reasons or pretences he might neglect mathematics, metaphysics, natural philosophy, and even moral philoso- phy and theology, and every thing of learning or science, ancient and modern, but his mere profession. But let us confine the supposition to Greek, which is most in ques- tion ; and suppose, further, that such a one may take a turn to study theology, or find it convenient to instruct youth in a school, academy, or college. He will then be destitute of a most important and essential preparation, and he will most probably continue destitute, or he must seek a partial supply, at a great expense of the time and labor which are pressingly wanted for further pursuits and engagements. The great danger is, that this primary prep- aration will in consequence, and in the common haste of advancement and of settlement, be generally neglected in the Church, the college, and the school. The clerical character will be deteriorated ; it will want the foundation of knowledge and judgment; it will lose respect and moral influence ; religion will suffer, morals will suffer, society will suffer ; every thing will give signg of degeneracy from Ixiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. the character and institutions of our venerable ancestors. I am, indeed, but of yesterday in this country ; but it is the country of my birth and my love, and of my father, and he is an old soldier of the Kevolution. I speak of the venerable fathers of New England. " But it may be asked. Must all other scholars be sac- rificed to the interest of the clergy and the Church .' Sac- rificed to what ? we may ask in turn. Sacrificed to their own highest interests ; sacrificed to religion, to morality, to peace and good-will on earth, to the hope and the life of heaven, to the supreme perfection. Every one who has the opportunity, we humbly think, ought to be able to read the, Gospel in the original, with good intelligence, for his own sake, as an accountable being ; and these men commonly become men of influence, and activity, and in- terest, throughout the community, in the very serious and often ditficult concerns of parishes, churches, and minis- ters ; and it is very desirable and advantageous that they should have the best attainable qualifications for conduct- ing those affairs, or conducting themselves in them, with sound knowledge and discretion. " Besides, it would be no damage to a lawyer to be ac- quainted with the great models of Grecian and Roman eloquence ; nor any loss to a physician to understand the language of his profession, though Hippocrates and Galen- may be obsolete or superseded. In fact, the Greek is at this day the technical language of all learning, arts, and sciences, and business, and pleasure. These languages are still the great original fountains of eloquence ; and they are peculiarly rich and happy in poetry, in taste, in senti- ment, imagination, and expression. A liberal infusion of them into modern style is of great benefit and efficacy, to strengthen and embellish it, to correct and preserve it from vain conceit and wild extravagance. The Latin is not much disputed, and with reason. The Greek meets all the shock of war. Yet the Greek is the most philosophical of languages, the most finished and polished, the most acute, versatile, various, and universal ; and it contains the great- est authors. Grammar, philology, and rhetoric may be most advantageously explained and illustrated by the me- dium of this language. It contains at once the finest ex- BIOQRAPHICAL SKETCH. IxV amples, and the best original treatises of rhetoric. There are, indeed, or there may be, translations ; but they are translations, or rather transmutations, of gold into inferior or baser metals. Above all things, the Greek language ccrtitains the original Gospel of salvation.*' The system of college education prevalent in this coun- try has grown up among us, and is well adapted to our con- dition and our wants. The professions have been honor- ably filled, the public affairs have beea ably administered, literature has been cultivated in. its various branches, and science has been advanced of late years in the United States scarcely less efficiently than in the Old World. Our system easily admits of changes to adapt it to the changing cwcumstances of the times ; and the colleges, whatever narrow-minded men may say to the contrary, have never shown themselves slow to adopt any real improvement. But there are certain vague and impracticable notions abroad, which lead unreflecting people to fancy that the colleges fail to keep up with the progress of the age. Such persons forget that, whatever progress the age may make, the fundamental sciences and the eternal monu- ments of literary taste remain unchanged. These must- always be the subjects of study, in any real system of education. There is no way of dispensing with algebra, geometry, and the calculus, let science make what prog- ress it will; there is no way of setting asi^e classical studies, however great may be the increase and the impor- tance of modern literature. Now, if a man is to be liber- ally educated, the foundation of his discipline must be laid in these essential branches. He cannot reach the heights of science or letters without first toiling at the base. Pre- cisely these essential things our colleges aim to teach ; and when these have been accomplished, a liberty of Ixvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. choice, to some extent, is given for further studies. What is, needed, however, is the addition to the present college course of two years of free study in literature and philol- ogy. This improvement is sure to come before long. Free studies in science are already well provided for at Cambridge by the Scientific School recently added to the University. The enemies of classical study have supposed that, if it were made elective, it would soon disappear ; and the friends of this pursuit have feared this result would follow. Both appear to have been in error. So long as liberal education, a cultivated taste, shall be held desirable among men, classical learning, in the very nature of things, can- not be dislodged from its present position. When Latin and Greek were made elective at the close of the Fresh- man year in Harvard College, the whole Sophomore class chose them. The introduction of the modern languages, so far from diminishing the love of classical studies, has, in my opinion, proved a signal benefit, by giving students a clearer conception, founded on comparison, of their true position in the world of letters. The opposition made in some quarters to this modification and extension of college' studies has proved, I think, to have been grounded on a misapprehension of the real state of the case. Dr. Popkin shared, to sdme extent, these apprehensions, but with no bigoted adherence to old ideas. The habitual caution of his mind naturally suggested doubts and ditfi- culties, when serious changes were proposed ; doubts and difficulties that deserved, as they always' received, the most respectful consideration of the higher boards of the University. But when a change was determined on, he offered no factious opposition ; on the contrary, he did his best to make it successful. From 1833 to his death, which took place in the even- BI06KAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixvii ing of March 2, 1852, Dr. Popkin led a very retired life, occupying himself wholly with his books and his domestic affairs. Dr. Popkin was by no means deficient in practical skill in the management of his business concerns. He had accumulated considerable property by his professional earnings, and understood well how to take care of it. He was one of the original subscribers to the stock of the Charles River Bank, as I am informed by Mr. Dana, the cashier, and continued to be a depositor there, to a large amount, until his death. He usually had (wonderful to relate of a Professor) about two thousand dollars on de- posit. Once or twice in the course of twenty years the sum was reduced to one thousand ; but he would imme- diately become uneasy, and call in funds from other quar- ters to raise it to the usual amount, for fear that some- thing might happen, and the money should not be ready for the current expenses of his household. Mr. Dana says : " In all his basiness transactions with me, I noticed that he always had a very strict and peculiar regard or deference for the rules of propriety, order, and integrity. He often drew checks at the counter of the bank for the purpose of paying little bills, and he made it his uniform practice for the last two or three years of his life to draw the money for them, preferring, as he told me, to fake this trouble on himself rather than subject the tradesmen to the risk of losing their checks. All the Doctor's transactions with me were marked, in his peculiar way, with an un- common degree of scrupulosity, and I regard him as one of the most just and honest of men." Mr. Charles Saunders relates : " ^hout the year 1830, Mr. Whipple, one of the assessors of Cambridge, called upon me to give him a statement of my property for tax- ation. I asked him if it was the fashion here to disclose Ixviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. the whole truth. He answered, that he feared not ; but he knew one geiatkman who, he was convinced, did, and named Professor Popkin. He had been waited upon on one occasion, and had given as he supposed the whole amount of his property j but soon after thei assessors left him, a toice was heard calling from the door, with the informa- tion that he had forgotten one note of a thousand dollars." Notwithstanding the Doctor's carefulness, he could boast of having " had his losses." He told Mr. Saunders on' one occasion, that he had suffieient for has comfort at pres- ent, but knew not how long it would last, as every one who borrowed of him became bankrupt. " Why," said he, " if I should lend a thousand dollars to Billy Gray, it would be sure to break him." The wealth of the late William Gra.y was proverbial throughout the country. " As rich as Billy Gray " was the popular New England saying for the classical phrase, " As rich as Croesus." I add in this place a few more characteristic reminis- eences, furnished me by Mr. Saunders. " He was a classmate of the late Willard Peele of Salem, who entertained a strong friendship for him, al- though they had been ardent competitors for the first rank in the class. Dr. Popkin obtained it, but he told me that Peele deserved it. Mr. Peele once remarked to me, that Dr. Popkin had mistaken his vocation ; that he should have entered the army, and would have made a distinguished ofRcer. This remark I related to him ; he observed,, ' Peele is mistaken, for I was always a coward.' Here I think he was wrong " At the dinner in University Hall, given on the occa- aon of President Quincy's inauguration. Dr. Popkin pre- sided at the elevated table in the north hall. Among other distinguished guests was Commodore Morris, who sat nearly opposite to him. When the wine began to circulate, a large body of undergraduates, who sat be- low, became noisy, and the Doctor endeavored in vain to keep order; he finally addressed the Commodore, BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixix and said, ' What shall I do with these noisy boys ? ' ' Why, Doctor,' answered Morris, ' when it is play-day ia the navy, we let them have it their own way.' ' Then i suppose,' said the Doctor, * I must strike my flag,' and desisted from further efforts. " About the year 1830, be was in the habit of eating his meals in his room in one of the College halls, brought from some distance. I remarked to him, that he must be indifferent about his food to live in such a way. * On the contrary,' said he, ' I am as fond of good eating as any body ; but I very seldom get it. What can an old bache- lor like me do ? ' Mr. Whitney, the contractor for com- mons, observed to me, that, if the Doctor would take his meals in the dinaer-hall, as he once did, he would cheep- fully give him his board, on account of the respect borne him by the students in preserving good order at the tables. " I mentioned to him that Tutor had had his win- dows brokeja the preceding night, and I hoped his would not share the same fate. ' I have no fear of that,' said he ; they sometimes call me Old Pop, but they never break my windows.' " Within a year or two I inquired of him where he at- tended church. He answered, ' At the Episcopal.' I said my impression was that he went to . ' No,' said he, ' I cannot go "with either of the extreme parties, and have therefore taken a sort of middle ground, in medio tutissimus iJis.' " A little greenhorn of a Freshman, reciting Greek to him, was corrected by the Doctor in regard to a particular word, but did not feel disposed to yield his opinion, and hecame somewhat pugnacious. ' Why,' said the Doctor, ' young man, you may be right ; but I have spent more time on that word than you have in learning your whole " After he vacated his professorship, he built a house on the North Avenue, .and amused himself by cultivating a garden. During a visit I made him, he showed some parts of the house, and accompanied me to the front dooi^ Before taking leave, I said to him, ' You have a very good house.' ' Yes,' he replied, ' this is the house that Jack built.' " During ray visit, I inquired of him what he thought of IXX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Wolf's opinion, that the Iliad was the work of different authors. He replied, ' I have for many years been a dili- gent student and a delighted reader of that poem, and I never could discover the places where the different parts were joined together ; but, to speak seriously, no book has been written which bears stronger evidence of having been the work of one man, than Homer's Iliad.' " Speaking of his father, who was an able officer in the war of the Revolution, he said, that, like most fathers, he had an extravagant opinion of his son's abilities, and be- fore he graduated had engaged a place for him in the office of a distinguished lawyer, and was much disap- pointed at his refusing it, adding, ' If you will take that course, it is not improbable you may become President of the United States.' * " I observed to him, that during his leisure I hoped he would prepare some work for the public. He replied, 'I have made some attempts that way, but I believe thje pub- lic do not relish my writings.' " The abilities of Dr. Popkin were of a high order ; but he avoided all display. There was in him a simplicity, integrity, and benevolence rarely equalled. To me he was a very interesting preacher ; his prayers were unpre- meditated ; he would often hesitate, and sometimes come to a stand, but was sure to end well. The little touch of eccentricity in his character rendered him more interest- ing." : So simple are the main events in the life of this un- pretending, but distinguished scholar. The events are rather thoughts than external transactions, and for this reason I have quoted freely from his writings, hoping to present a tolerably complete view of his character and life. In his manners there was a singular shyness and self-distrust. From his return to College until towards the end of his life, he passed his days a solitary man, and he was never married. Yet there was a tradition long * Mr. Popkin was a Revolutionary soldier, and fancied that can- didates for the Presidency would be selected for merit and ability. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixxi current in College, that, in the circle which Mr. Popkin occasionally frequented in his youth, there was an amiable and accomplished person to whose attractions he was not insensible. But whatever of a feeling warmer than friend- ship may have found a place in his breast, it probably re- mained a secret to all but himself, and was only a matter of inference with the spectators. Half a century after- wards, on the death of an estimable and venerable lady, Dr. Popkin, contrary to the long fixed habits of his life, attended her funeral, and followed her, in his carriage, to the grave. Perhaps some lingering memory of an early dream of romance, untold at the time, but unforgotten afterwards, may still have dwelt in that lonely heart. Highly as Dr. Popkin was esteemed by both of the par- ishes with which he had been connected as a clergyman, his , unconquerable diffidence was not only a source of great distress to himself, but hindered him from exercising that influence upon the general affairs of society to which his learning and abilities would justly have entitled him. It is probable that the suffering he endured in appearing be- fore the public, from which he always shrank with nervous apprehension, was one of the strongest motives that impelled him to abandon the pulpit for the professor's chair. The melancholic turn of Dr. Popkin's temperament seems to have shown itself very early, as we see in the extract from his commonplace book. During the period of his life passed in Newbury, he appears to have suffered from it less than before or afterwards ; but the cloud no bigger than a man's hand afterwards grew, and darkened and overshadowed his life. He had the abilities of a great man, and the moral qualities of a good man ; had they been blended in different proportions, and tempered differ- ently, he would have appeareda gre at man to the world. In person, Dr. Popkin was of a tall and manly figure. IxxSi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. His walk was upright, and his step was firm and vigorous. His brain was large and massive, and his head well-pro- portioned and grand. The character of his face strongly resembled the old prints of John Dryden. No one could approach him without feeling the power, as well as the singularity and antique simplicity, of his presence. His physical vigor remained unbroken until the last years of his life ; and his sturdy and venerable form was seen and familiarly known in his daily walks through the streets of Cambridge. But Time, the conqueror, after many inef- fectual attacks, gradually undermined his strength, and as he approached the age of fourscore, his figure bowed imder the load of years, and his former Achillean tread was now supported by a staff; — "Bnt he whose spring of life is spent, His leaf ali-eady sere and shent, Three-footed wanders, man no more, A day-dream on a lonely shore." For the following account of Dr. Popkin's last illness, I am indebted to Dr. Morrill Wyman, his physician : — " Dr. Popkin enjoyed a good degree of health until the month of February, 1844, when, while at family worship in the evening, he suddenly became unable to articulate distinctly, and in a few minutes lost his consciousness. From this state he recovered much sooner than at first seemed probable, but with that peculiar intellectual con- dition in which the individual has distinct ideas, but is un- able to express them correctly either orally or in writing. The fact, that this condition was a matter of curious specu- lation to him, well illustrates the philosophical tendency of his mind. He frequently remarked, * How singular it is that I cannot express in words what k so clear in thought, and yet that I know that I have used the wrong word the moment I have uttered it.' In the following May he was again attacked, and again lost his consciousness, but recov- ered sooner than before. By my advice he about this time made a decided change in his habits of life, giving up to- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixxiu bacco entirely, which he had before used only in small quantity,* and increasing the amount of his exercise both in walking ajid in the care of his garden, in which last he took much pleasure. In the course of the ensuing sum- mer he had, in a great measure, recovered his usual health. He was able to express himself correctly, but his memory, especially for the names of persons, remained impaired. During the following four or five years he bad occasional, but much slighter, recurrences of the attack of 1844. His sleep, also, was irregular, or, as he expressed it, he could not read b«t he would sleep, and be could not sleep but he would wake. He had inverted day and night, but otherwise he enjoyed a comfortable degree of health ; and even at this time had not omitted the daily study of the Scriptures in Hebrew. " In the spring of 1851 he began to complain of palpita- tion of the heart and difficulty of breathing, when ascend- ing stairs or walking ; and about the same time the cere- bral attacks diminished in frequeacy, and in the summer ceased altogether. It was obvious he was suffering from organic disease of the heart. In December he had pain in the left breast and arm, at times very severe ; yet he bore it with great fortitude, sometimes saying he should be glad of relief if it could be obtained, but if there was no relief to be had, he must try and bear all as patiently as possible- In January, 1852, the attacks of difficult breathing be- came more frequent and more severe, at times coming on suddenly, or in the night, and occasioning great distress. During the following month the usual effects of his disease began to exhibit themselves in effiisions into the cavity of the chest and into other parts of the body, diminishing his * The Doctor was as peculiar in regard to smoking as in his other Iiabits. To avoid the possibility of excess, he used to walk to a shop at noon and evening, to bay a single cigar, and no more. When asked why he did not save himself this trouble by purchasing a whole box at once, he said, that, if he had them at hand, he should be smoking all the time. For many years one of his old friends used to visit and smoke a cigar wirii him on Sunday even- jngs ; but he always carried two, because the Doctor never would buy any thing on the Lord's day. Ixxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ability to move about the house, and making his respiration more constantly laborious, while he still suffered from the sudden and violent palpitations of the heart with which the illness commenced, [t was also noticed that his mind wavered, and was frequently clouded with fancies which were not easily dispelled. In the latter part of the month his mind was almost constantly wandering, and seemed to be busied at times with the studies of his youth, or with scenes described in the works of his favorite authors. Once, when sitting in his sick-chair, he rose slowly to his feet, and, disregarding the kind entreaties of his friends to spare his strength, drew himself up to his full height, and, looking earnestly and intently forward, said, with an air of deep solemnity, ' I am about to witness the perform- ance of the sacred rites of the Theban mysteries.' * But the disease which had now invested the living citadel cut off one by one the communications with the outer world ; his Words became more and more incoherent, and during the night of the 2d of March he calmly passed away." Dr. Popkin was an admirable classical scholar, after the old fashion. In his day, the modern schools of German philology had not taken the commanding position, either in England or the United States, which they now hold. Bentley and Person held undisputed supremacy, and Per- son's famous epigram on Godfrey Hermann was still quoted with damaging effect' upon the reputation of the great German. Dr. Popkin's acquirements, judged by the standard of his time, were large and liberal ; he studied " the authors," as he used to call the Greek writers, with singular care and delight. His knowledge of the Greek * It is probable tbat reflections upon his approaching death mingled, in the mind of Dr. Popkin, with reminiscences of his early- studies. He had been thinking, perhaps, of some remarkable expres- sions of Isocrates on the great Eleusinian Mystery, — that those wlto were initiated in it had sweeter hopes of a future life. The substitution of Theban for Eleusinian was only an instance of the phenomenon of confounding words involuntarily. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. IxXV language was minute and critical ; though perhaps in the Subsidiary and collateral branches of the study of antiquity, which have in recent years thrown so broad a light upon the languages and literature of Greece and Rome, his reading would now be considered somewhat deficient. It has been seen how strong his early taste was for mathematical and historical pursuits. The latter he never abandoned. His knowledge of history was extensive and accurate. His manuscripts also show that he had early in life acquired a very critical acquaintance with the French language ; and at a later period he learned the Spanish. His Greek studies during the last years of his connection with the College embraced the ecclesiastical authors ; but it does not appear that he left any of the results of these studies among his writings. He had also given some at- tention to the modern Greek, as appears from an illustra- tion in one of his Lectures. It is true that he was singular and solitary, and mainly occupied with subjects remote from the studies of nature and the business of the world ; but still, in his lonely musings, he was an earnest lover of nature, and not deficient in the power or the habit of care- ful and accurate observation. He left several papers con- taining notices of striking phenomena, and ingenious spec- ulations upon their causes and character. As a college teacher, he was faithful and thorough, though laconic in his direct personal instruction. His nervous dislike of the appearance of display not only re- strained him from pouring out the copious flood of illustra- tions which the more showy tastes of the present age tend to run into, but led him to the opposite extreme of dryness. In all points of grammar he was rigid and punctilious ; and the drift of his teaching was rather to make exact verbal critics than enthusiastic lovers of scholarship. In this, his method shared the defect of the system of instruction then IxXVi BIOGEAPHICAli SKETCH. prevailing. His own view upon this subject is briefly given in the following seditences fratn one of his reports : — " I have always been ready to communicate wfcat I can, and have attempted it very freely. But it does not appear to be so well received as it is intended. They are apt to take remarks as censures, and the best scholars seem to be am- bitious of escaping a remark. To escape censure, or to acquit themselves of their duty, or to acquire honor and character, seem to be rather (to objects of perhaps most of them, than to acquire the learning that is prescribed. I suppose that most of them would prefer what is called reading." The eccentricities of Dr. Popkin's manners were doubt- less owing, in a great degree, to the diffidence of character which he never overcame. They were nrarked and strik- ing, and in the course ©f time acquired for him an odd •kind of celebrity. There was a singularity in the Doctor's daily demeanor that always attracted attention, and frequently caused amusement. He had a peculiar way of speaking, hring- ing out his words with a nervous impulse, and ending with a whistliiHg sound through the comer of his mouth. At recitation he generally sat before a small table, and at the close of a sentence, or to give emphasis to a remark, he would frequently pass his left hand rapidly up and down the shin of his right leg. These little peculiarities often raised a smile, and were common subjects of the jc^es and imitation of the students. The familiar nickname. Old Pop, never expressed the slightest feeling of disrespect. The Doctor sometimes humorously limited the right to call hira by this name to College men only. One day, as he was walking with a gentleman, some person rudely shouted from a wmdow, " There goes Old Pop." " What right has he to call me Old Pop," exclaimed the Doctor, " he was never in College." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixxvii He was a mortal enemy to translations, " interliners," 'and all such subsidiary helps in learning lessons ; he classed them all under the opprobrious name of ^ facili- ties»" and never scrupled to seize them as contraband goods. When he withdrew from College, he had a large and valuable collection of this species of literature. In one Cff the notes to his Three Lectures he says : " I have on hand a goodly number of these confiscated wares, full of manuscript innotations, which I seized in the way of duty, and would now restore to the owners on demand, without ikevT proving property or paying charges." Amusing anecdotes, some true and many apocryphal, were handed down in College from class to class, and so far from being yet forgotten, they are rather on the in- crease. One of these mythical stories was, that on a cer- tain occasion one of the classes applied to the Doctor for what used to be called, in College jargon, a miss, i. e. an omission of recitation. The Doctor replied, as the legend ran, " Ye ask, and ye receive mot, because ye ask a-miss." Many years later, this was told to him. " It is not true," he exclaimed, energetically. " In the first place, I have not wit enough ; in the next place, I have too much wit, for I mortally hate a pun. Besides^ I never allude irrev- erently to the Scriptures." His simplicity, and the occa- sional oddity of his appearance and bearing, sometimes exposed him to the tricks of mischievous students, but never lost him their respect. His unaffected modesty, his ability, his solid learning, united with sturdy honesty, commanded the good-will and respectful deference of the most frivolous. Dr. Popkin hardly ever journeyed far from home. His tastes were too quiet, and too averse from bustle and change, to make travelling agreeable to him. But in the summer of 1827 he made a journey through the western part of Ixxviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. New York, in company with one of his sisters who was re- turning home to Cincinnati. I find no other notice among* his papers of this unusual event for him, except a letter to his sister, written after his return, from which I give an extract. ■ " My journey was as comfortahle as full stages and full houses could make it. But it is pleasant to see those countries and towns. The travel is very great ; the lands for the most part level, especially cpmpared with Berkshire, or almost any part of Massachusetts ; but the roads are miry after rain, and the rain had been abundant. There are farms along the whole extent of the road, mostly occu- pied in the cultivation of wheat ; the buildings are yet mostly those of first settlers. But every few miles we come to a considerable village ; and pass through not a few considerable towns, having many well-built houses, — Batavia, Canandaigua, Geneva, Auburn, &c., — and by the northern extremity of several beautiful lakes, from one to five or six miles wide, and from fifteen to thirty or forty miles long. We passed through the Oneida Town, or Cas- tle, as it is called, of Aboriginals ; but saw no castle nor ' town, nor any thing but a few scattered huts and a few natives in the road, who looked inactive and drooping, and a number of children, who ran like young partridges after the stage for cents. " A few miles below Utica, we crossed the Mohawk and its meadows, and came down on the north side to Schenec- tady Bridge. We could see the river only at intervals ; and the shallow, hidden stream, by the side of which we sailed up on the canal, had become by the rains a full, strong, and respectable river. Indeed, all the streams, of which we could see little but the channels as we went, were now full of rapid water. " At Albany I tarried but about six hours in the night ; and at the stage-house and tavern they seemed to know that I must come on, and to treat me accordingly. There was a sort of a runner, with whom I had contracted a friendship when I went on, and I now met him everywhere, and took one of my notions, that he prepared people duly for my reception. Such was my self-importance. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixxix " The journey from Albany to Northampton was more troublesome than the journey from Northampton to AU bany. We had not the rude driver again. They were more decent. But we had a family of four small children, and those not the most quiet. I could not complain. The mother had the greatest trouble, and she was besides in affliction. We came later than before to the dining place, and there found no preparation. We had before found some pie in a private house, where the stage stopped. That is a wearisome piece of road, with its long and steefi hills, and want of accommodations. " From Northampton we had civil and good drivers, and good room and companions. I say we, meaning the stage company. On the last day I found some acquaintances and scholars." I have received some acpount of this journey from one of the gentlemen in the company on the last day of it. The election between Adams and Jackson was pending at that time, and party spirit ran high through the country. The company in the stage-coach consisted of several gen- tlemen from Boston, two students returning to Cambridge after vacation, to take their degrees at Commencement the next day. Professor Popkin, and a comic actor named Keane. The actor amused the company by getting on the top of the coach, and trying the temper of the farmers at work in their fields, by shouting alternately " Huzza for Jackson ! " and " Huzza for Adams ! " as the coach drove by. The farmers echoed the shouts, or pelted the coach with stones, and pursued the passengers with abusive wordsj, according to their political predilections. This was kept up during the whole day, so much to the entertainment of Professor Popkin, that he was completely hoarse at night with incessant laughter. As the stage-coach approached Boston, the Professor re- quested the coachman to deviate from his route, and leave him with the two students at Cambridge, as it would save ixXX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. thetrii the necessity of going from Boston to Cambridge late at night. The coachman consented, if the other passen- gers made no objections. They readily agreed. When the coach arrived at the College, the Professor and the stu- dents having alighted, he turned to his remaining compan- ions of the way, and said, " Grentlemen, we are very much obliged to you for your politeness ; and as for you. Sir," ad- dressing the player, and at the same time taking off his hat and swinging it in the air, I say, " Huzza for Jackson ! " During the greater part of Dr. Popkin's official connec- tion with the University, he occupied a College room, and had his meals sent from some boarding-house, as has al- ready been mentioned in Mr. Saunders's communication. la his early life he was not unsocial, but was always gladly welcomed in the small and unpretending society of the town. But after his return, and reestablishment as Professor in the College, he seems to have grown more reserved, and perhaps the changes which had taken place in the old families dishearteited him from: generailly renew- ing his old habits, or frequenting his old haunts. Some- thing, too, may be attributed to the growth of the moody temperament inherited , from his father, a reserved and silent man, and from his mother, a woman of keen, ner- vous susceptibilities. At any rate, whatever may have been the cause or causes, during that period of his life when I knew him he could rarely be tempted to mingle in the society of Cambridge j but when he did venture within the dreaded circle, the blended singularity and dignity of his appearance, the vigor of bis conversation, the rich quaintness of his wit, and the wise simplicity of his thought, drew immediately the interested attention of the company. In his room, so long as he continued to live within the College walls, and afterwards at his home, he received the friends and former pupils who came to see him, and of BIOORAPHICAL SKETCH. Ixxxi ■whom he retained the most exact remembrance, — recall- ing at once their names, characters, position, and rank in College, — with the cordiality of the olden time, and en- tertained them with conversation full of amusing reminis- cence, quaint humor, wit, and learning. Sometimes he would offer to restore an interlined copy of the Grseca Majora, which he had captured from his visitor years be- fore, in the recitation-room. I was in the habit of calling to see him in his study, and never without receiving amusement, delight, and instruc- tion ; and I now regret that I made no effort to preserve a record of the rare peculiarities of his genial conversation. I will mention, however, one incident of the olden time that occurred in a visit of mine to the Doctor, which will be understood and relished by those who knew him. Some friend had sent me a few bottles of Greek wine, labelled, •EXXijwkoi Oivor. Thinking the Doctor might be pleased to see and taste the long-descended offspring of the grape of Anacreon, I took one of them with me, and called at his house, telling him what I had brought. He examined the label curiously, repeated the Greek words several times, walking all the while rapidly round the room, as if he almost fancied himself transported back to the Heroic Age, then went to a closet and brought out a rusty cork- screw, with two old-fashioned wine-glasses. Having drawn the cork with considerable difficulty, he filled the glasses, handed one to me across the table, on which lay an open volume of the Iliad, and, standing at his full height, gravely proposed, " The memory of Homer." The toast to the old Ionian was drunk standing, with a hearty good-will, in the presence of his portrait, and many editions of his works, — perhaps the only time such a ceremony has ever taken place this side the classical ages. There was another peculiarity of Dr. Popkin, which Ixxxii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ought not to be passed over, though his general excellence makes it our duty to treat it tenderly. He sometimes, though very rarely, brooded over real or imaginary slights or wrongs with singular tenacity, and his manner at these times reminded one of the Shade of Ajax, who, meeting Uljfsses in Hades, " disdains to stay, In silence turns, and sullen stalks away." These actions were rather the freaks of a distempered state of body than the natural outflowings of the heart. They were human imperfections, shading, and only shading, the nobleness of his character, — a kind of inconsistency that compels the best of men to fall short of perfection. It must not be inferred, from what has been said of Dr.. Popkin's shyness and reserve, that he was on any occa-- sion afraid to perform his duty. His timidity was a dis- trust of his own intellectual ability, as compared with that of others. When preaching in Boston, he felt that he was undertaking to teach wiser men than himself; and he shrank from the seeming presumption. But in the per- formance of duty he knew neither partiality nor fear. The distrust and shyness of the intellectual man vanished from the man of action. During his long college life, he did his full share of the unpleasant work of maintain- ing order and enforcing discipline ; and college men know that this always requires firmness, and sometimes no little courage. In administering censure, which as chairman of the committee within the walls he was often obliged to do, his words were few, but directly to the poiat, and his manner impressive ; — " imrpo-j^abqv ayopcvcv JIavpa ftiv, SKKa /juSiKa Xiyias • iwel ov iroKvfiv&os Ou8' a ate cause of success, peace, and happiness to a nation. These blessings may arise from his good administration of those high and extensively im- portant duties which often rest upon his discre- tion and energy. We are also warranted by the Scriptures to believe, that when the Almighty has elevated a mortal to this station of supporting his country's welfare, if he conduct worthily of his wide and exalted sphere, he will reward him by special favor and protection to the nation which he loves and serves. The first of these positions, that a nation's good often rests in a great measure upon the conduct of one or a few individuals, which is so very clear from Scripture, is equally clear from reason. 16 242 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. When a man is raised to high command, what a degree of power has he in regulating the desti- nies of mankind ! It is true that he is not in- dependent of the Divine government. But it is the will of God to permit human affairs, of the greatest magnitude, to be mostly influenced by- human agency ; watching over them at the same time, as we believe, and controlling and directing them, where their impetuous and blind course would deviate from his wise purposes. It is also true, that the wisest and best men cannot always control the course of events, nor the passions of mankind, and insure the success of their meas*- ures. But how much may be done by a wise and Upright government, to extricate itself from threat- ening conjunctures, we may learn from history and our own observation. What a strength of mind, a sagacity of perception, a clearness and rectitude of judgment, a caution and patience to examine, a power of decision to determine, mo- mentous questions encompassed on all sides with difficulties, and a religious fortitude to obey his reason and conscience, undaunted by clamors and untempted by applauses, are requisite to the char- acter of a good and able governor, of one who takes upon himseli' the weighty charge of a great people. In him, want of judgment or of infor^ THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 243 mation may lead him into errors of fatal and destructive' consequence ; corrupt passions may impel him to turn the power of the community into the bane of its welfare and existence. The evils which a weak or corrupt ruler may occasion are greater than the benefits which one who is wise and upright can confer. One rash step may introduce calamities, which it shall not be in the power of wisdom to remedy. And it is always easier to do evil than good. The evil may be the certain result of a single action. But the good intended may meet with a thousand ob- structions. Yet the good and great ruler may be the author of inestimable advantages; by avoid- ing errors and evil designs; by averting or re- pelling dangers ; by repressing crimes ; by pro- moting and faithfully executing good laws; by encouraging virtuous men ; and forwarding use- ful institutions. Numberless are the blessings which flow from a wise administration. There are times when the fate of a nation seems to turn upon a single question ; and he who has the right and power to decide it, and executes his trust to the general advantage, well deserves the title of the Saviour of his Country. There are times when all a nation's interests are hazarded in war, when all the might and rage of men are 244 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. called into action ; and here the dreadful question may be determined by the abilities of a single commander. It is the ordinance of God, and the state of mankind requires, that there shall be government, which must in general necessarily be exercised by a few. Those who are legally raised to this command, who are qualified for its duties, and who discharge them with wisdom, may be said in some sense to be appointed by the Supreme Ruler to a sphere of existence superior to that of their fellow-men ; they have a more extensive cir^ cle of objects and duties ; they are indeed intrust- ed, not as other men, with their own happiness and that of their friends, but with the happi- ness of millions of their fellow-creatures. For the judicious and conscientious execution of their sacred trust, they richly deserve the amplest re- ward of gratitude, praise, and affection. Great are their dangers, their labors, anxiety, and respon- sibility ; and great are the advantages which their brethren derive from their faithful exertions. The reverence which we have for them is natural, and justly their due. They are indeed our fellow- mortals; and they return to share with us the equal lot of citizens. But when they are clothed with the public authority, as they necessarily at- THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 245 tract our peculiar attention, tbey are fully entitled to our peculiar esteem; to all that respect and confidence which are due to great benefactors, which are essential to the effectual perfotmance of their duties, and to the encouragement of talents and virtue in this most beneficial exercise. If their services have been singularly eminent, the demon- strations of regard and attachment should be such as to do them justice. It is, as we have said, the ordinance of the De- ity, that our brethren should be selected from us, raised above Us, and vested with the power of regulating our greatest temporal interests. But those who enjoy the right of selecting men to these stations of trust and honor are under a most solemn duty to choose with serious consid- eration, without passion, or undue affection, those who are distinguished for wisdom, and immova- ble in their integrity. For they ought well to con- sider themselves, as giving their sentence for the prosperity or misfortune of their nation. Never did more of a UEttion's happiness depend upon one man ; never was more effected by one, than by that great and beloved man, of whose death the past week brought us the sorrowful ti- dings. He was truly our Joshua ; for he answered all the meaning of the name. He was, under the 246 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. Almighty, the saviour of his country. Like him, he gave early indications of prov^^ess, zeal, and prudence in the service of his people. Like him, he led our armies against a nation greater and mightier than we, a nation at whom the powers of the earth trembled ; he led us to victory and peace, and to the quiet possession of a fruitful land in the enjoyment of sovereignty and inde- pendence. Under his auspices we became settled under a government and laws. His example and authority have highly recommended to our atten- tion the fear and service of God; and if he has not had the same power to enforce them upon us, that Joshua had under the immediate government of God ; yet, so far as the powers committed to him extended, he has strictly observed and maintained those principles of righteousness which are essen- tial parts of the law of God, and which are ne- cessary and generally effectual to preserve inter- nal order and external peace. Our chief has left his abode in the midst of his brethren, called, as we trust, by his guardian God, to a more exalted sphere of action and en- joyment. We follow his rising spirit with min- gled grief and consolation. We resign him with tears, but we resign him with hope, to his Almighty Father, who has ever been his friend and shield THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 247 on earth, and will be his exceeding great reward, and his portion for ever. It is a melancholy pleasure to trace the actions, and to view the to- kens, which are left to us, of dear, departed, re- spected friends. Though the deeds and the vir- tues of our patriot are alive in every breast, though all can recount his history from their grate- ful memories, yet love, gratitude, and admiration seek their solace in dwelling upon the affecting and glorious theme. Behold him in his first essays to serve and de- fend his country. Here his early prudence and skill saved the remnant of an array, whose haughty commander despised the cautions of his sagacity. Here he gave a presage of that masterly address, by which he was destined to save his country from a superior foe, with a little band of her al- most deserted heroes. WJien he was called by her distressful voice to this arduous and dismay- ing post of danger, he took it with equal promp- titude and modesty. Diffident of his own abili- ties, he undauntedly hazarded the result of a contest extremely dubious, or rather where cool reason would expect a defeat. He exposed him- self as the first victim to despotic vengeance. He devoted his life with patriotic zeal to the right- eous cause of his country, relying upon that God 248 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. who loves and protects the righteous. This reli* ance he ever strikingly manifested. A Divine Providence illumined all, even the darkest of his communications, we believe it reigned in his heart, and we know that it guided and blessed all his measures. Uniting the almost incompatible qualities of prudence and decision, of sagacity in counsel and energy in action, with a small army, ill appointed, ill fed, and ill clothed, he baffled his numerous, insulting foes, he besieged them in a strong fortress with inferior numbers, and while they dreamt of fierce assaults and the thunders of war, he darts across the continent with the swift- ness of an eagle, and seizes a prey sufficiently strong to break from the grasp of any other assail- ant. Nothing but his powers could have sus- tained the war, under every embarrassment and deficiency. Nothing but the esteem, veneration, and confidence which his character commanded^ could have bound together the crumbling frag- ments of a battered army, or the sinking ' divisions of a quaking continent. God had adapted and prepared his talents for this unequal struggle. Talents so great, and so singularly united, scarcely appear in the extent of the world, or the records of time. He who had appointed him to this contest gave him glo- THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 249 Ifious success, gave him to triumph in the freedonl of his country, not only as the effect of the pow- ers with which he had endued him, but, we may rationally believe, as the reward of his sublime vir- tues, his pure patriotism, his sincere religion. He proved the uprightness of his heart, the pu- rity of his zeal, his disinterested love of his coun- try, by his eagerness to renounce the splendor of command, the ways of ambition, and to seek in the bosom of his family, in the mansion of peace^ a repose for his mind fatigued with incessant en- ergies, and the tranquil participation of the bless- ing which he had vindicated by his sword. Again he quits his loved retirement, again he obeys his suffering country's voice, to secure by laws those blessings which he had purchased by arms. Again he relinquishes his pleasure, and assumes the un- sought labor of government, elevated by the affec- tions of his people to a station which kings may envy, but Washington only endures. If he was great in conducting war, he was greater in preserving peace. Adequate to every office to which he is called, to every duty which human nature can pei;form, he rises equally with his station ; every step augments that honor which was already deemed complete. And when he de- scends from the chair of rule, and returns to the 250 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. pleasant vale of life which at our desire he had forsaken, he still rises in our admiration. Though we follow him to his retreat with regret, yet we venerate the man who can resign with satisfaction the highest object of ambition. In the storms of nations he is the lightning; in peace he presides as the sun, diffusing everywhere his animating beams; in private life his influence descends as the rain, and distills as the dew, to fertilize the rejoicing fields. The head of a free people, intelligence guided his mind, and rectitude formed his heart. On the deepest and most intricate subjects, he appeared to see the truth and right by intuition, by a glance of his penetrating sight ; and by a word he flashed light upon the minds of a nation. This was the jeffect of the habit acquired by a sound under- standing and an honest heart, exercised in contein- plating important truth, and making judicious ob- servations. We saw and enjoyed the fruit of his integrity and wisdom in his puljlic measures. Su- perior to all partial, to all local or national preju- dices, his guide was justice, and his object his country's good. Sagacioi^s to discern her inter- ests, and firm to pursue them, his conduct has re- ceived cordial approbation, and has been more cer* tainly approved by its events, by the peace, pros- THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON.. 251 perity, and order which we enjoy, in the midst of a general confusion and destruction of the politi- cal world. Even those who could not approve the measures respected the man. Few presumed to impeach his spotless virtue, and if any assailed this fortress of truth, their strokes recoiled upon their own heads. But if any of his countrymen should ungratefully attempt to attach a stain to his character, the world would rise up to defend him. For the world is full of his praises. It can exhibit nothing so worthy of admiration ; and his unconscious glory has spread its rays to the remot- est regions. It was an arduous task to preserve peace in the midst of an overwhelming war;* but peace his principles and measures have preserved, and with it independence and honor. And when he sought it for himself in bis domestic shades, he again gave his name to maintain it by his valor, if it should be denied to justice. Talents so great and universal, virtues so pure and humanly perfect, supported by a religion sin- cere and constant, and employed in services the greatest which man can bestow, could not fail to engage our ardent attachment while they were • To preserve the peace of the United States, while Europe was conrulaed by the wars growing out of the French Reyolution. — Ed. 252 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. present, and to leave us in deep mourning, in heartfelt sorrow, when they departed. Washing- ton is gone! the sad sound groans through our cities, and spreads its hollow plaints over our wide- extended fields. Our temples are shrouded with gloom, our abodes are houses of mourning, and our hearts are depressed with affliction. The voice of mirth has ceased, and the viol and the harp are no more heard in our land. Yet these are light expressions of our sentiments, and of his "worth. The sentiments which are impressed up- on our minds will remain while memory contin- ues, or gratitude has a name. It is his peculiat character to be amiable as well as respectable. All his words and actions bear conviction of his goodness, as well as of his greatness. May they not only remain the objects of our love and rev- erence, but may they be the models for our imi- tation. Let us sincerely thank our Creator for giving las a leader so entirely calculated for the great, uncommon, and various series of events in which he was engaged ; for his unexceptionable conduct in them ; and for the inestimable advantages aris- ing from his execution of his divers offices. Let us especially acknowledge his influence in indu- cing us to fear and serve the Lord, the source of THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 253 all our happiness, to observe his laws, the princi- ples of justice and virtue. His example in his conspicuous situation must be attended with no small persuasion. His invariable adherence to the principles of rectitude made them in a degree the national character. And his parting advice gives them a new force and recommendation. Let us preserve constantly in our view, and imprint upon our minds, this sum of political and moral wis- dom, as the rich bequest of an affectionate friend. Heceiving them as the instructions of a father, as the rules by which he was guided, we shall be powerfully incited to take their sage direction. Let us especially remember, that his experience has pronounced, that of all the dispositions and Jiabits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are the indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriot- ism, who would labor to subvert these great pil- lars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. While we receive this afflictive act of Provir dence with all humility, we may be thankful that some of the elders, the fathers of our independ? ence and of our nation, who possess the principles of our leader, are continued to us, and preserve among us those laws of righteousness which God 254 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. ehjoins, and which the test of experience proves to be of Divine appointment. We may be thank- ful that the successor of Washington is one whom he approves, and who. is worthy to fill the office which Washington has held. Late may he be called from his important duty. And may these men be the standards of our choice, and may we fear to disgrace the honor which they have sus- tained. We would hope that when this generation, who have seen the great works of the Lord, shall be gathered to their fathers, we shall not forsake the wise maxims which they have labored to estab- lish. A succession of younger men arise, who stand forth the defenders of our rights, the framers of good laws, and the supports of order, peace, and strength, who profit by the knowledge and ex- perience of the elders, who acquire knowledge by their own industry, and who have ample sources of experience in the incessant changes which agitate the world, and leave not our country in repose. But great danger arises from the decay of religion, which our great patriot assures us, and which we must acknowledge, is the only support of national morality and political prosperity. What the present aspect of our affairs portends is not for me to prophesy. It would look too THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 255 much like the figment of a weak and gloomy im- agination to apprehend that a sudden death, which might easily happen in the course of nature, was designed to take away the friend of his country, that, like Josiah, he might not behold the evils brought upon his native land, "Whatever we may indulge to imagination or to feelings, we may pro- ceed thus far upon sure ground ; that if we observe the principles, follow the advice, and copy the character of Washington, we shall take the direc- tion of one who was in all things approved by the blessing of his God, by the voice of his fellow- citizens, and of the world ; one to whom gratitude and every ingenuous motive persuade to give all our attention. II. MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS* THE RIGHTEOUS SHALL BE IN EVERLASTING REMEMBRANCE. — Fs. cxii. 6. These words require not an explanation, but jnay, I think, be usefully and religiously improved. I shall therefore proceed to consider, first, the truth of the sentence in several instances ; and secondly, the effect which it does or should produce. 1st. Let us consider the truth of the sentence, that the righteous shall be in everlasting remem- brance. This remembrance we must view as accompa- pied with favor. For a very wicked man may be remembered, through long periods, with execration. But, as Solomon says, the memory of the just is blessed. He is remembered with respect and love, and blessings are annexed to his name. * Preached in Boston, Dec. 14, 1800. MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 257 When we speak of remembrance and. memory, we generally refer to some who are no longer seen and present; some whom we can no longer behold on the earth. But the Psalmist, in the passage cited, appears to be speaking of the secu- rity and benefits which the righteous shall at pres- ent derive from fearing the Lord, delighting in his commandments, and trusting in his protection, " Surely he shall not be moved for ever; the right- eous shall be in everlasting remembrance. He shall not be afraid of evil tiding : his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord." He will in general experi* ence the Divine presence and favor in the bless? ings and stability of his life. For it is proved by experience, as a general truth, that he who walketh uprightly walketh surely ; that he who walks with God finds that Divine wisdom commonly leads him through paths of peace and pleasantness* But if at any time his steps should slip, if the storm beat around him, and his feet sink in the miry clay, he may trust that his God will uphold him, while he holds fast upon his covenant and promises. For " the steps of a good man are or- dered by the Lord, and he delighteth in his way. Though he faU, he shall not be utterly cast down : for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand. I have been young, and now am old; yet have 17 258 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." Though all his views may for a season be dark and dismaying, yet he may be confident that his benign and omniscient Fa- ther, who for this moment hides his face, holds him in everlasting, in unceasing remembrance. He is never out of His presence and protection ; and none of the terrors of life, nor of death, can sepa- rate him from His love. He may hope that he shall soon be delivered from his trouble ; that though sorrow may endure for a night, yet joy will come in the morning; that the darkness, when scattered, vv^ill but increase the rising joy. Unto the upright there ariseth light in the dark- ness. Even if the gloom be protracted beyond expectation, yet a ray of light beams from heaven to console and guide him. Even if it should en- velop all this short, mortal life, yet will the splen- dors of the heavenly mansions be seen beyond, as a friendly star to direct his lonely way. There will he find, that he has not been forgotten, nor forsaken ; that the remembrance of him is truly everlasting, not only continual, but enduring for ever ; that God has so remembered him as to make him forget his sorrows; and, though long in the trial, yet that they will not make a spot in the brightness of his whole immortal existence. MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 259 But on this occasion I would dwell mostly on the memory of the righteous dead. 1. Let us first consider them in their family re- lations. With what tender affection do we re- member our deceased friends. Even when the softening hand of time has allayed the first parox- ysms of grief, they frequently recur to our minds, and diffuse over them a melancholy at once painful and pleasing. If we knew not how duly to prize them, if we never thought how necessary they were to our happiness, yet the loss of them brings to our recollection all their virtues and their worth, and awakens all our latent, unconscious affection. The ties of nature often seem to be strongest when they are broken. If we enjoyed with them the conscious glow of mutual love, the buried em- bers retain their warmth when the flame is extin- guished. If any thing in them gave us offence, or abated our esteem, they have carried it with them to the grave, while we remember only that part which is worthy to be immortal. And when their living virtues were worthy of high esteem, then are the portraits which they leave in our hearts most precious relics, on which we gaze with pensive delight, and whose value is increased, as the features are mellowed, by time. A family fondly and reverently cherishes the memory of one 260 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. of excellent merit, whose good name only lives among them. Their esteem is inherited through successive generations, and the descendants look up with a virtuous pride to a respectable father. Nor is it, i.n generaj, merely a pride of kindred and ancestry. For though there are too many in- stances of degeneracy from a virtuous lineage, yet there is a good probahility that these virtues will be impressed upon the family by education and example ; and the respect which is paid to a good progenitor will tend to preserve the children in virtue, and to restrain them from a sudden and total departure. 2. The remembrance of a righteous man is com- monly not confined to his immediate connections. He is known, and revered, and remembered, in a larger circle of society. The death of such men calls up their merits to public view; and the fre- quent recurrence to past times consecrates their names to admiration, A number of such charac- ters contribute greatly to keep up the tone of vir- tue in the community ; for we cannot read or hear the records of them without warm approba- tion. They excite the generous mind to desire to supply their vacated places, to perfprm their useful offices, and tp deserve their well-earned reputation. Adhere a people are generally virtuous, their pos- MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 261 terity will not immediately sqnander this best in»' heritance ; the principles received by so fair a title^ and with such security, will not be soon lost ; and the love of our country, the sense of national hon- or, and the name of Father, are strong motives for their preservation. When worth no longer excites envy, when op- posed interests cease to provoke enmity, and hu- man failings to give license to derision, then we can join in contemplating only the estimable parts of a character. Excellence humbled to the dust becomes an object of a kind of compassion ; preju- dice being removed, justice returns ; and there is candor enough in the human heart, to wish to cast a veil over the faults of those who can no longer offend. Washington, the most faultless of men, had opposers and censurers in his life ; but his death converted them into friends and ad- mirers. 3. Therefor^ we may remark further, that if a righteous man's motives and conduct have not been duly estimated while he was engaged in ac- tion, death and time and posterity will probably do him justice. This is generally found to be the fact ; and it may seem strange, that the most im- partial verdict should be given, when the means of information are diminished. But it can be ac- 262 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. counted for by the obstructions of partial and prejudiced views ; and by the opportunities which posterity have of reviewing the whole tenor of a man's life, and judging it as disinterested specta- tors. Therefore, if a man is unjustly suspected or censured, or not duly accredited, at present, he may hope that he shall receive his due in that fu- ture period, which men appear to regard scarcely less than their lifetime. 4. Those who are eminent in public stations or fame have peculiar need of this consolation. They are held up to general observation ; all feel themselves interested to watch them ; and many from various motives are impelled to misrepresent them. They may be sure that their characters will be thoroughly sifted ; and if they are found .•righteous, future days will not be unjust, if the present are ungrateful. Their rectitude and wis- dom may be handed down through the long series of history, and enlighten and animate the ages through which it descends. Public men will be held in remembrance, while others of great private merit may be unltnown. Their characters have great influence on society. Their good principles, sup- ported by good conduct, will be spread abroad to all the people, to whom they might not other- wise have occurred; and will have some beneficial MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 263 effect upon their opinions and elections. It is of vast importance, therefore, to appoint righteous men to these very influential stations ; men whose names we may repeat with blessings ; whose last- ing benefits will often recall their remembrance. 5. But if the best characters and best actions are ungratefully forgotten, and their examples un- wisely neglected by men, as may not unfrequently be their reward on earth ; yet they are not forgot- ten by God, for their true reward, their most inter- esting remembrance, is eternal. In this examina- tion they have an impartial, but a merciful Judge ; who does not, indeed, determine their state exactly by their merits, but who, having manifested his mercy by his Son, cannot be influenced in judg- ing them by any thing but the purest righteous- ness and goodness. This should be their great aim in life ; to this they should refer all their ac- tions, by it they should regulate all their conduct. The opinion of men is often false, and their mem- ories may be treacherous. But here is a true and indelible record of their virtues, even of those that are unknown or misrepresented. It is a remem- brance which will never be obliterated, and of which they will not fail, and will never cease to receive the blissful tokens. In commending them- selves to human applause, they may be diverted 264 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. from the strait path of rectitude. But in fixing their ambition upon eternal approbation, they are sure, that it will be gained by no other pursuit than by the inflexible and satisfactory observance of duty. This immortal prize, duly weighed and kept in constant view, is sufficient to fortify them against all the seductions and calumnies of mortal tongues ; its worth is infinitely superior to all the exertions and the temporary sacrifices and suffer- ings that it may require. 2d. I have in part anticipated the second general , head of discourse, which is to consider the effects which are or should be produced by the remem- brance of the righteous. And 1. Of the effects upon others. When the heads or other members of a fatnily have been respect- able for virtue and wisdom, it lays a great obli- gation on the several branches to strive with all their power to follow their safe and happy direc- tion. " Their father's merits hold them up to view, And make their virtues, or their faults, conspicuous." To become the degenerate branches of a noble and a true -stock, incurs a reproach as deep as it is deserved, a condemnation far greater, in the sight of God and men, than those suffer who only fol- low blindly in the courses in which they have MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 265 been unhappily and ignorantly led. Every ingen* uous, grateful, and affectionate motive concurs to inflaenoe the descendants of a good parentage to support the true honor of their families. To dis- r^ard and degrade it is a great offence against God, because he has given them every advantage of tender persuasion, of generous incitement, of pious instruction, and of attractive example. The same obligations lie upon a community which has been blessed with eminently good citi* zens, especially which looks up with reverence to generally piows ancestors. If a nation can violently break through these strong ties, we cannot calcu- late the excesses to which they may proceed. In every nation their ancestors have been held in high veneration; and distance of time sanctifies their names, while it conceals their imperfections. In the first ages of every nation many patriotic and noble virtues appear, and deserve to be re- tained, not only in remembrance, but in strict ob» servance. These, with the eminent characters which appear in all ages, excite a national honor, and should excite a filial attachment to their prin»- ciples and institutions ; and to the country which once enjoyed their love, received their services, gave them her blessings, and now embosoms their ashes. Their cherished memory will frequently 266 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. recall their sons from the declining propensity of human society. No nation, perhaps, has more rea- son than ours for this honorable pride ; and yet I know of none that has less national attachment. It is the fountain of honor and patriotism at home, and of strength and respectability in the face of foreign nations. The founders and great legislators of nations have ever been held in the highest veneration, and their injunctions have ever been esteemed sacred, and in some instances as more than human. And they deserved this respect. For what on earth can be more beneficial to man than good laws ? and what can better secure their benefitsj than a sacred, fixed, and permanent regard ? This reverence is due in all its force to our founders, because none have left names more venerable for wisdom and virtue. Above all men is it due to him who rescued us by his genius, and estab- lished us by his authority. We scarcely require any other proofs or obligations to any principles and measures, than that so Washington thought, and thus he desired. But more of this hereafter. 2. We will speak of the effect which the hope of remembrance should have upon ourselves. The desire of posthumous fame, that our char- acters may live in esteem after our bodies are de- MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 267 ceased, is often as strong as any desire that actu- ates the mind. It may seem unaccountable that we should have so great a concern for that which we can no longer enjoy. But so it is ; and it is proved by numberless facts, in the lives of all men who think of any thing but the present moment. The aged man, who has passed through the vari- eties of the world, and is on the point of bidding it farewell, is anxious to leave some testimonies to perpetuate his name, and preserve affection. Many deny themselves present ease and pleasure, so desirable to the mind, naturally impatient of delay in its enjoyments, that by extreme indus- try and exertion they may acquire a name and a praise which shall be inscribed, and viewed with admiration, in the annals of the world ; that they may leave something, which shall continually pre- sent to the world the picture of their talents and merits. Is it the sole object of this laudable and useful ambition, to raise the hum of applause dur- ing a brief existence? This would not satisfy their expanding desires ; and they would be mor- tified to believe that an attention, however flatter- ing, would cease, when th.ey should cease to in- vite it. It is but little that they personally receive, and this while they live suffers many deductions ^nd embittering portions. This they know, and 268 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. often repose themselves upon the slow |ustice of future times. It is not denied, that duty is a pri- mary motive ; but neither will it be denied, that reputation is an unfailing second. This appears to be an inseparable principle, implanted by our Author for valuable purposes; designed to make us serviceable to that world whose good opinion 'we wish to secure. It is adduced as a natural proof of the immortality of the soul, with how much reason I cannot determine. It is thought that we should not be made to reach forward with so great earnestness to something beyond the present life, if death were the end of our exist- ence. The moral use which we should make of these speculations is to endeavor so to live, that these natural and rational desires shall not be disappointed. A man should be stimulated to make the greatest exertions, by rendering himself useful, to make himself remembered with respect. And he should ctoefuUy shun all those, faults and weaknesses, which would abate his estimation at the impartial tribunal to which he appeals; It was a custom of the Egyptians to judge the dead, &nd, according to their past lives, to determine their sepulture. Sotnething like this should we deem the judgment of those who may isurvive us. That was a powerful engine of mo- MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 269 Jality ; and so may this be, if we could steadily pursue what we earnestly desire. There is no one, however small may be his sphere, who can be indifferent to the esteem in which hia friends will hold him after he has acted his part. But besides his personal wishes, if he love his friends, he will be desirous to leave their hearts in possession of a character which they will con- template with satisfaction ; which will not put them to shame, but which will animate them to virtue, and instruct them in its precepte. A great part of a man's diligence is employed that he may leave some property to his children; but surely a virtuous character and example is a more valuable and honorable inheritance. If a man have public influence, the motive is increased with the extension of his name. Ifia conduct is of great importance to many. It will be critically scanned by many. Its defects will, not be spared, and its excellences will have their full share of approbation. His conduct may have great influence upon the welfare and the charac- ter of the public, and upon the principles and measures of rulers. Therefore should he look with the greatest respect to that decision which will determine the respect due to him. Next to a religious sense of duty, this appeal 270 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. to fatnrity will be the best gaard against present temptations to seek a dishonest, but short-lived fame ; the best support, if honest motives and sound principles are misunderstood or misrepre- sented. It will lead a man steadily forward in the plain path of duty. He will be convinced that this alone can lead him to a secure reputation ; that all deviations will be detected ; and that his firm perseverance will be finally confessed and admired. This day calls our minds to the melancholy, but proud, remembrance of a righteous man. We trust this remembrance will be everlasting ; that it will last while the earth endures, and till the heavens are no more. This day, marked with the death of Washington, is a dark anniversary in the American calendar. But though he is cut off from the earth, he cannot be erased from our hearts. May our hearts be worthy to retain his image. May we never presume to associate it with principles and feelings which his soul would have abhorred. May it be encircled there by the whole choir of amiable and noble virtues which he loved and revered, and which have received new honor and power from his esteem. All that can be said of unfading memory and command- ing example is applicable without reserve to our MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 27l departed chieftain. Neither the space nor the busy, shifting scenes of the year have removed him from our thoughts, nor made any alteration in our affection. One year ! it degrades his praise to mention one year. Through the long series of years his name will rise with increasing splendor ; and distant ages will gaze upon it as the steady and brilliant star of the virtuous and glorious founder of a mighty nation. May it ever be the star that guides their course, and, under God, presides over their destinies. But it will be in- gratitude to him to remember, and to pretend to revere, only his name, if we forget the great ac- tions and great qualities which that name im- plies ; if we do not so cordially remember them as to feel their governing influence. Let us remember his unconquerable love of his country, to whose welfare he freely sacrificed all his happiness ; for whose honor he repeatedly hazarded his reputation ; in whose danger he braved the sword of the mighty, and the more fearful poniard of slander ; in whose service he expended all his years of vigor, years in which events of vast magnitude were his daily occupa- tions. Yet nothing abated nor diverted the ardor of his patriotism ; and he died while his wounded country was leaning on his arm. Remember his 272 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. inflexible regard to truth and duty, which subdued all passion, which quelled all fears when the bold- est hearts would have quaked ; which fixed him immovably to the principles of right and the die- tateS of conscience, and forbade the suspicion of an improper motive. Remember his piety, which constantly referred to. the Almighty all his suc- cess, and reposed on him all his hopes and the Ji6pes of his country; which has placed upon this foundation all the virtue and happiness of a peo- ple. Remember his profound wisdom, unbiased by any prejudice, which seemed to seize the truth by a native affinity, and to display it with; a force of conviction which superseded all argument. Re^ member his services to his country, than which never were greater performed, nor more worthy of every expression of gratitude. I cannot call all his merits to remembrance ; but your own minds do not, I trust, require this dffice. You will read them often in our history, and in their unparalleled effects. "We should often retrace them, not merely to admire, but to follow them, though with unequal steps. For we cannot con- fide in a better judgment, nor in purer integrity. We should love our country the better for having had such a leader. Our love and reverence for this great man and his associates, who established MEMORY OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 273 our independence and our nation, should be a strong bond of union, a powerful spring to the love of their and our common country. The same undeviating regard to what he es- teems to be right, we believe, actuates the mind of his successor ; and we trust that future times will acknowledge the rectitude of his character, and associate him with his illustrious friend. In these great men with whom we have been blessed, we should view the gifts and the provi- dence of the Almighty Ruler. To him should we return our highest gratitude for all the ben- efits of which they have been his instruments. We should remember their wisdom, and their good conduct, as his instruction. And it is our consolation in their loss, that we can hope that they will be remembered by Him, for eternity, in that day when he makes up his jewels. 18 III. JUSTICE, CHARITY, UNANIMITY, IN RELIGION* BE OF THE SAME MIND ONE TOWARD ANOTHER. — Bom. XU. 16. Discerning men have often observed, that a principal cause of the differences and disputes of mankind is, that they do not understand one an- other ; sometimes not even themselves, or their subject. And a great cause of this misunder- standing is, that the will operates more than they are aware of, often more than reason. I am in- duced to believe, that the precept chosen for our text relates more to the will than to the under- standing ; as the original words appear to signify • Printed at Newburyport, in 1805, with the following title: — " An Attempt to recommend Justice, Charity, and Unanimity, in Matters of Religion; in a Sermon, preached in Newbury, June 10, 1804, and to the First Congregational Society of Newburyport, March 3, 1805. Published at the Desire of the Hearers.'' JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 275 rather a disposition than a judgment of the mind. Amidst the variety of faculties, education, habits, examples, and situation, it cannot be expected that we should all be of exactly the same opin- ions. But under the moral discipline of the Gos- pel, in some diversity of opinion, we may preserve an equal fairness, candor, and friendliness of dis- position and of conduct. The precept may be thus explained : — Cherish the same feelings one toward another; the same spirit of charity and mutual accommodation, in which you may agree ; and which is the very spirit and life, the great end and work and fruit of the Gospel. Endeavor to agree, rather than to differ, in your opinions. But if this union cannot be completely effected, let not a difference in your views of the truth de- stroy your peace, and mutual love, and mutual edification. Love to God and to Christ are pri- mary Christian sentiments ; but since " God is not worshipped as though he needed any thing," these principles must be considered as producing their beneficial effects in love to our neighbor. If the strong bias of the will were removed, we should probably have a much greater similarity in judgment. The truth is one and uniform, though our views of it may be many and discordant. Were all obstructions removed, we should doubt- 276 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. less receive from it similar impressions. But as we are, at once weak and presumptuous, presump- tuous in proportion to our weakness, it is very possible that we are all wrong in some points ; though I believe we agree tolerably well in the main and most essential doctrines. It is rather bold to hint, that apparently opposite creeds may possibly be right in some respects ; but that, view- ing the object on different sides, we have different perceptions ; and our narrow minds cannot com- bine them, and comprehend the whole great system. We read, that there were divisions in the time of the Apostles. One said, I am of Paul ; and another, I am of ApoUos; and another, I am of Cephas.* There might have been some difference in their manner of preaching, or of expressing their thoughts ; else, why should the disciples have adhered to one in preference to another ? Yet undoubtedly they agreed in all things essential, better than we can at this distance of time and knowledge. But what said St. Paul to these con- tentious brethren ? Did he say. If ye prefer those others, ye can have no fellowship with me, ye cannot belong to Christ? No; he modestly dis- claimed all particukr honor and authority with * 1 Cpr. i. 12. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY, 277 those to whom he bad himself first cawied the Gospel. " Is Christ," said he, " is Christ divided 1 Was Paul crucified for you ? Or were ye bap- tized in the name of Paul ? " " Therefore let no man glory in men : for all things are yours ; wheth- er Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, — all are yours; and ye are Christ's ; and Christ is God's." * Other divisions and questions there were in those days, which I have not time to notice ; but I cannot leave unnoticed the advice of the Apos- tles relating to these subjects. " But why dost thou judge thy brother? Or why dost thou set at naught thy brother? For, we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ." " For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink ; but right- eousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." f " Fulfil ye my joy, that ye be like-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves." ^ Here, the same mind is explained by charity, forbearance, peace, and hu- mility. " Now the end of the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart, and of a good con- science, and of faith unfeigned ; from which some * 1 Cor. i. 13j iii. 21-23. f Bom. xiv. 10, 17. t PUl. ii. 2, 3. 278 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. having swerved, have turned aside unto vain jan- gling." * "The questions which then gendered strife had probably less foundation and importance than those of the present day ; but the Apostle appears plainly to prefer godly edifying, and exercise un- to godliness, and doctrine according to godliness, to "doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmis- ings." f St. Peter, after commending St. Paul's wisdom, says that in his Epistles " are some things hard to be understood, which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest, as ^hey do also the other Scrip- tures, unto their own destruction." J He does not, surely, intend to dispraise this eminent and learned Apostle ; but to correct those who wrest or pervert his doctrines. He may refer, among other views, to the question about faith and works, which was begun in those early days. No one insisted more strongly than St. Paul, that good works are a ne- cessary effect and part of true faith. " Do we then make void the law through faith ? God forbid : yea, we establish the law." "What then ? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but un- der grace ? God forbid. Know ye not, that to * 1 Tim. i. 5, 6. t 1 Tim. vi. 3, 4. ^ 2 Peter iu. 16. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND rNANIMITY. 279 whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey ; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteous- ness?"* 'It is probable that, some abusing this doctrine of grace, St. Paul and other Apostles, and particularly St. James, labored to correct this abuse. Though their instructions must perfectly agree, when they are properly explained, yet, as they use different expressions in writing for differ- ent purposes, they are sometimes set in opposi- tion. Many disputes, at this time, and at all times, dividing the Church of Christ, let us hum- bly endeavor to follow the Apostle's exhortation, that we " be of the same mind one toward anoth- er." In hope of promoting this good end among ourselves, and in humble reliance on Divine grace, I would offer to your consideration the four fol- lowing propositions. I. That we may and ought to agree in charity, if we cannot in opinion. II. That in several points we may agree more in fact, or in effect, than we do in words. III. That the most difficult points cannot be the most essential. IV. That the most influential truths are suffi- ciently plain to the serious and diligent inquirer. * Kom. iii. 31; yi. 15, 16. 280 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. I. We may and ought to agree in charity, if we cannot in opinion. 1. For we have equal rights and duties in relig- ion. Why should we contend, excepting in the way of amicable discus^on, desirous equally to impart, and to receive, light and improvement? In a land of civil and religious liberty it is under- stood that the rights of one should not impair those of another. Argumeats cannot make this truth clearer than it appears in the simple state- ment, that one has the same right, and is under the same duty, as another, to pursue religious knowledge. Yet this simple and self-evident truth has seldom been allowed by those who had power on their side. But it has always been perfectly clear to those who were oppressed. In this coun- try we are restrained from corporal persecution. But we gnash our teeth, and bite our chains, and give reason .to suspect that we should "bite and devour one another," if we were let loose to obey our passions. We can hold and enjoy our own opinions in the way which we think to be light, without tak- ing offence at our neighbor, and causing him trouble, because he thinks another way to be his duty and advantage. We really injure him, we wound him in a very tender part, in his feelings, JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 281 in his hope of that good-will which we all prize, ■wliich we all owe, when we permit him to hear of hard speeches that we have uttered against fcim for sentiments in which he is probably very conscientious. Measures so iincandid break the bands of society, embitter men against each other, bring on a state of general defiance, and drive men to a wider and more resolute dissension. There are actions, and there are opinions, or pre- tended opinions, so opposite to the common rea- son and conscience of mankind, and so hostile to their welfare, that open disapprobation appears to be a part of the correction and judgment which our Maker has provided. But on articles where men apparently equal in goodness, where the best and greatest men, have not, after diligent inquiry, been able to think alike, we should be content to think for ourselves, and to show respect and good- will to those who appear to be sincere, and who prove their sincerity by the good fruits which our Saviour has made the test of truth and soundness. From such appearances, which cannot be denied, it is probable that the soundest and most impor- tant part of the truth is holden on all sides, and produces its just and happy effects, without much impediment, or assistance, from the appendages which the inventive mind of man has affixed. 282 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. 2. Suppose that we are convinced that certain opinions are pernicious errors, detrimental to the Charch, to society, to mankind, for all of whom we are bound to consult, or contagious to those for whose happiness we are more particularly- bound to provide. In this case St. Paul has taught us a better method of proceeding, than that which we are apt to prefer. " The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness in- structing those that oppose themselves ; if God peradventure will give them repentance to the ac- knowledging of the truth." * This was prescribed as the duty of a minister toward those who op- posed the truth declared by inspired teachers. Quite as much is it the duty of other Christians, at the present time, toward those who do not de- ny the Gospel, but only, as is supposed, err from some important truths. This method will surely be more persuasive than angry contention and severe invective. The latter course provokes the passions, which are the sharpest disputants in na- ture, which all the reason in the world cannot con- vince. When these are brought into the cause, they fail not to set men at greater variance than * 2 Tim. ii. 24, 25. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 283 could be the result of cool reasoning. An amia- ble character, a blameless conversation, and a con- ciliating temper are excellent arguments of the soundness of our principles, and they tend power- fully to draw and assimilate men to our senti- ments, or to abate the acrimony of their opposi- tion. But if there be no other peaceable remedy, we can endeavor to fortify ourselves, and those upon whom we have influence, by " sound speech that cannot be condemned." This is our duty, and in doing it we may hope for a blessing. 3. -What shall we do, if persons of different opin- ions be so connected, as to obstruct each other's pursuit of the truth and edification in the Gospel ? Is such an obstruction absolutely necessary ? What would be the harm of mutual accommodation ? Few connections, religious, civil, or social, can subsist without some concessions. A contrary spirit would dissolve all religious institutions. Those which at one time are most harmonious may expect to have some " roots of bitterness springing up " among them, unless there be a gen- eral disposition to " follow after the things that make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify another." * There are twenty edifying truths * Bom. xiv. 19. 384 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. which we may enjoy in common, for one where the enjoyment of some would cost the dissatisfac- tion of others. And the faithful and wise stew- ard would endeavor, in exercising himself to have always a conscience void of offence toward God and toward men, to give to every one his portion of meat in due season.* The commandment of God is exceeding broad ;t and he who studies the whole compass of his duties will not confine his attention to a single point. Surely it is a less evil to yield on one or two points, and to study them in private, than to break down, and lay waste, and divide to separate fires, the Church of Christ. Our civil institutions, and the reason of things, teach us who may be expected to yield ; though it is admitted, that the rights of a minor- ity, as far as is practicable, ought to be respected. Amidst the dissentient opinions throughout our land, this is the only principle, in human conjec- ture, which can maintain our religious institutions, and public worship, and private piety and virtue. The prospect is discouraging to ministers and to people. We have no hope, but in the Head of the Church. 4. If we duly attended to his Gospel, studied • Luke xii. 42 j Acts xxiv. 16. f Psalm, cxix. 96. JUSTICE, XJHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 285 the whole of it, and confiiied ourselves to it, these difficulties, I trust, would in a great measure be removed. We should either receive more concordr ant impressions, or should endeavor to satisfy our- selves concerning the truth with more concordant feelings. The design of the Gospel is to produce peace, and holiness, and love. K these are pro- duced, may we not conclude, that an effectual faith, a sufficient unity of faith, may subsist among those who have some diversity of apprehension ? And if these are not produced, may we not equal- ly conclude, that faith, however strenuously main- tained, has not its just effect in the minds of those who are prone to dissension ? We read, indeed, of a unity of faith and of knowledge.* But we do not see it perfect among those who have equal claims to credit. Who now shall decide for all, which of the variety of creeds all ought unitedly to receive ? To whom has the Maker of us all given that marked preeminence, that he appears commissioned to explain his will with unquestion- able authority ? Let it be granted, and I see not how it can be denied, that there is but one se- ries of true doctrinest The question remains. Who holds theija? One has a full assurance that he • Eph. iv. 13. 286 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. knows the truth. Has not another an equally firm conviction, and, so far as we can judge, upon equally good grounds ? To whom, then, shall we go to obtain the knowledge of the truth ? " Lord, to whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life."* There is no possible solution of this case, but that each one should go to the Di- vine Word, and " search the Scriptures " with all the light that he has, and can obtain from others, and with earnest prayer for the guidance of that Spirit of Truth which will lead him, who sincerely seeks, into all necessary truth. We are account- able to God, but not to man, for the use, or abuse, or neglect of these talents. What appears to us to be true, we are obliged firmly to hold, and faithfully to observe. " As we have oppor- tunity," as our station and ability may prescribe, we are commanded " to do good unto all men, especially to them who are of the household of faith." t This general precept may be applied with peculiar force to the duty of assisting oth- ers, as we are able, to attain the knowledge of the doctrines of salvation. But this duty, to be effectual and Christian, should be performed with fair argument, not with vain pretensions ; with * John vi. 68. t Gal. vi. 10. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 287 friendly exhortations, not with uncharitable and unjust reproaches. Since the results of many humble and diligent inquiries are not that unity of faith and knowl- edge which we might desire and expect, and since there is little probability at present that we can consent to any one standard of explanation, may Iwe not reverently hope that He who " knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we are dust,"* will have ^mercy on the sincere disciple who may fall into an involuntary misapprehension ? Such mercy our Lord showed on great errors of his immediate attendants. Error arising from indif- ference, neglect, passion, or will, is certainly not to be justified. But who is the judge ? If my fellow-man charge me with sinful error, when I am conscious of sincerely seeking the truth, I might, as a man, — but, as a Christian, I would not rashly, — retort the charge. Let him prove my error. The passage of the Epistle to the Ephesians, which speaks of the unity of faith, appears to denote, not only a charitable accordance, but also a progression in knowledge : " Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge * Fsalm ciii. 14. 288 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." * Progression implies imperfection. Most of the similar passages imply imperfection, chari- ty, and progression. Charity might unite us in the common faith without a perfect uniformity; and would very probably carry us on to a greater union of understandingi And this appears to me to be the only way in which it can be expected, and to be agreeable to the teaching of the Apos- tles. At least, they cannot teach, that abhorrence and detestation which, are not allowedi even, against a professed enemy. ^ The: Gospel is given to establish peace and righteousness in the hearts of men, and to pre- pare them for the love and joy of heaven, *' Blessed are the peacemakers ; for they shall be called the children of God." " Be of one mind, live in peace, and the God of love and peace shall be with you." f " Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among you ? Let him show out of a good conversation his works with meekness of wisdom. But if ye have bitter en- vying and strife in your hearts, glory not; and lie not against the truth. This wisdom descend- * Eph. iv. 13. t 2 Cor. xiii. 2. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 289 eth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devil- ish. For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace." * On this subject of peace and charity, meekness and low- liness, bearing and forbearing, I might read to you, and I would earnestly recommend to you the whole Gospel. Love is the fulfilling of the law, and love is the commandment of Christ. This is the instruction which mankind most need ; the spirit for which they were made, for which they were redeemed, from which they are most distant ; which would be a most pleasurable source of all duties, a most copious source of all happiness. The want of it is the origin of most of the oifences and infelicities of human nature. It is a most noble and grateful princi- ple ; it is worthy of a Divine revelation and a Divine Mediator. 5. One argument of great weight requires to be more enforced, before I quit this head of discourse. * James iii. 13-18. 19 290 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. St. Paul will furnish it. " Why dost thou judge thy brother? Or why dost thou set at naught thy brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ." * " Who art thou that judgest another man's servant ? to his own master he standeth or falleth. Yea, he shall be holden wp ; for God is able to make him stand." "j" Is not this latter part of the verse an indication that God may approve those whom men condemn ; that he may approve those on both sides, who are too ready to condemn each other, unless by an uncharitable spirit they show they have not his approbation ? The Apostle speaks, here of such as actually differed in opinion, and he jus- tifies both parties in following their own sense of duty, but not in condemning others for the use of the same privilege.. " Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." $ That we are all amenable to the Supreme tri- bunal is a conclusive reason, a silencing reason, a reason of awful majesty, against assuming the Divine prerogative of judging others in matters of conscience. It is also a most cogent reason for eatJh person to seek with all diligence to know the Divine will, the truth that is revealed, and * Bom. xiv. 10. t Eom. xiv. 4. J Eom. xir. 5. JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 291 the duty that is required. It would therefore be a great wrong in any way to molest him in at- tending to this high obligation, unless he infringe upon the right and duty of others. Being thus equally bound to our Sovereign, we have the strongest motive to serve him 'together, each ac- cording to the light which is given him by con- science, by the "Word, and the Spirit. Thus com- posed, we might greatly aid each other in study- ing the truth, and obeying it. We should not imagine that religion consists in contention ; nor that love to God implies hatred to man. II. The second general head proposed is, That in several points we may agree more in fact, or in eflFect, than we do in words. This may be thought a bold assertion. But there have been many long disputes consisting of mere words ; and I have for some time thought that I could perceive something of the kind in religious disputes. Some real difference, I sup- pose, there is in the objects of belief ; more, in the forms of expression ; but less, in the practice of sober believers. It will not be expected, that in these deep and intricate matters I shall give a very complete solution of difficulties that have perplexed the wisest or the deepest heads. ] would only attempt to throw out some cursory 292 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. hints, which may tend to the object of the dis- course, to persuade men that they may " be of the same mind one to another." 1. With this view let us firstly consider the doctrine of human depravity. Few serious minds, I think, will deny the sinful state of mankind. The Scripture has concluded all under sin. And when they compare their hearts and lives with the law of God, or the light of conscience, they will be compelled to acknowledge many sins, and much propensity to evil, much aversion to good, especially to the sentiments and duties of piety. They will be more sensible of these evil propen- sities when they attempt a reformation. They will find them often prevailing over their resolu- tions, and seeming to make a more violent strug- gle as their dominion is more firmly attacked. We agree better as to the fact than the cause of pur condition. We ought to be willing and de- sirous to know the whole truth, to" know the worst pf ourselves. My present business is not to de- cide, but, as far as possible, to reconcile. Now the most important question is, not how we fell into this state, but how we may escape from it. If your house were on fire, you would not delay your exertions, nor refuse the assistance that was kindly offered to extinguish it, till you could as- JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 293 certain in what manner the fire was kindled^ Nor would those who wished to help you refuse their aid till you could determine, whether it were occasioned by your carelessness, or by a fault in the original structure of the house. I presume that most men who have thought of their ways are sensible of their sins and their danger ; that they feel themselves guilty before God, and liable to his righteous judgment ; that they pretend to no hope of pardon, peace, and amendment, but in the " grace of God, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, and by the renewing of the Holy Spirit." These appear to be the most influential parts of the doctrines of depravity and salvation ; they aiford sufficient reasons and mo- tives for repentance, faith, and reformation ; and in the different systems that are formed, these are the leading principles which produce the de- sired effects. Whatever we may be able to deter- inine concerning the origin of our sins, those which we have wilfully committed should un- doubtedly occasion the deepest penitence ; and a great cause of offence toward our Sovereign, and a great reason for grief in ourselves, is, that we neglect the grace of the Gospel, which was given to restore the ruins of the human mind. Is there not good reason to hope, that there are believers 294 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. on both sides of this dark question whose re- pentance, faith, and obedience are sincere and accepted? At least, it becomes those who are together sinful and ignorant to be humble, mod- est, and tolerant. Again, we differ as to the measure, or descrip- tion, of depravity. I imagine that the difference is chiefly in the choice of words. Some actions are manifest violations of the laws of God. Con- cerning these there is no dispute. They are evi- dently sinful. Other actions, in the matter of them, are not opposite to the laws of God, but are correspondent to his requirements. Such are those of tilling the ground, and providing for a family. Now, it is a question whether these are sinful in a person who has not the true, relig- ious. Christian principle. And why are they called sinful? I have supposed that the reason given is, that they are not performed upon the right principle, which is love of God. We shall a* knowledge that we ought to be governed by a love and reverence of the Deity, and, we will add, by a faith in Christ. The only question is, whether, through the defect of first principles, an action is to be deemed sinful which is performed upon other motives, inferior, though not opposite, but agreeable, to the will of God. We have JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 295 nearly the same views both of the man and of the action. I think we shall agree that it is bet- ter for any man to till his ground, and take care of his family, than to be wholly inactive for fear of committing sin. We shall also agree, that it is the duty of man frequently to contemplate the perfections and commands of God, and to cherish the sentiments which these perfections require; that in our fallen state, faith in Christ is the in- dispensable method of attaining acceptance with God, and a life of true religion ; that these prin- ciples should dwell and rule in our hearts, and often occupy our thoughts, should influence and direct our actions, leading us to inquire, whether we are doing the will of God, trusting in him for the event, and submitting sincerely to his deter- mination. We shall agree further, that man, as he is found, is " alienated from the life of God," a life acceptable to God ; that he " forgets and for- sakes the God that made him " ; often fearlessly transgresses his laws ; and that in actions which are not direct transgressions, other motives occupy all that regard which is primarily due to Divine authority. And, I doubt not, we shall generally agree, that we have no hope of escaping from this condition and its consequences, but by the mercy of God, as it is displayed in the mediation 296 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. of Jesus Christ. It appears to me, that our real views of human nature, our knowledge of facts, must be nearly the same ; and that we differ only concerning the terms which are most proper to express our condition. But why should we differ about a word, or a degree of depravity, when we are conscious of depravity enough to require a deep repentance, an earnest desire of amendment, and a humble reliance on Divine grace ? We should obtain the most correct and salutary views of our state by attending to facts, rather than to general and vague descriptions. By learning from the Divine Word what we owe to God, and learn- ing from our consciences wherein we come short of our duty, we shall probably feel a more sincere and effectual repentance, than in any general con- fessions of sin, in which we may not perceive our particular transgressions. 2. We will next humbly consider the doctrine of Divine decrees. This is an awful subject, and should be treated with caution and fear. We should be willing to leave this to Him, whose right it is, satisfied that he decrees infinitely more wisely and justly than we can reason. Yet on this very high and unsearchable subject, which is involved in the thick darkness that He makes his pavilion, we are too apt to be presumptuous and JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 297 positive, and ready to condemn those who are of a diflFerent opinion. On a subject so far above our reach, it would be reasonable to be most hum- ble and candid. We generally believe, that un- limited foreknowledge of all events, and of the condition of all creatures, is essential to infinite perfection. Some think, that this foreknowledge necessarily implies a predestination, especially of the spiritual condition of mankind. Others, again, think that foreknowledge may be consistent with liberty of action in the creature, if the Creator saw fit to form him free and accountable. And if he is accountable, they think that he must in reason and justice be free. Now this question of the distinction between foreknowledge and fore- ordination is extremely subtile and incomprehen- sible. It turns upon knowledge, which the mind of man cannot apprehend, upon the infinite knowl' edge of the Deity. Can we believe, that his sal' vation turns upon his solution of this inaccessible question? I think we should all be ready to hope and believe that salvation is proposed to mankind as to free beings, unless we thought that the Scriptures teach a different doctrine. There are strong expressions in the Scriptures concerning predestination and election. Different explanations are given of them. I cannot see, 298 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. why they are not all solved by the expression of St. Peter, " elect according to the foreknowledge of God," or that of St. Paul, « whom he did fore- know, he also did predestinate " ; according to the foreknowledge of their conduct under the advan- tages with which they are favored. But whether we believe that the election is conditional, or un- conditional, the effect and the proceeding must be nearly the same in sound minds. Consider any number of persons, who have not yet ground to hope that they are partakers of the redemption which is in Jesus Christ. Now it appears to me, that their situation, in their own minds, and in their hopes, is the same, whether the doctrine of particular election be true or not. How can any of them know whether they are to be saved, or rejected, but by the influence of the Word and the Spirit in their hearts and lives? Thus they will be disposed to attend seriously to the call of the Gospel, and to the Divine threatenings and prom- ises. They will feel a concern on account of their sins, " a repentance toward God, a faith toward the Lord Jesus Christ," an anxious desire of par- don and renovation. They will be led, in reliance on Divine grace, to renounce their sins, and to " walk in newness of life " ; " that, denying ungod- liness , and worldly lusts, they may live soberly, JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 299 righteously, and godly in this present world, look- ing for that blessed hope, and the glorious appear- ing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." Something like this, I presume, is the process and evidence of a saving work upon sup- position of the doctrine of predestination. And this, I think, is the process in the minds of those who cannot believe that doctrine in the strictest sense. In both cases to all appearance we stand as probationers ; in both cases we proceed by the use of our faculties and opportunities. Since, then, we must agree in that which belongs to us to per- ceive, why should we be at variance on account of that which belongs to God alone. There is indeed a question remaining on this subject, of some apparent importance, whether we can do any thing towards attaining to a Christian faith and life. But if any think they cannot, they would not, probably, judge it the best and most safe way of salvation, to neglect the word and the institutions of God, and to continue accumulating known sins without restraint, till they shall be ir- resistibly seized and compelled to a new and bet- ter life. This being granted, we shall not greatly differ. It is sometimes said to be a great consolation to believers, to be assured that they are elected 300 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. unto everlasting life. But it is not peculiar to one belief. If a man have experienced a gracious change of heart and of life, he may equally take the comfort of it, whether he believe that he was elected to it, or that he was brought into it by the operation of the Spirit on the free mind. On the other hand, if one, who has thought that he had great evidences in himself, should continue in gross and allowed sins, and should conduct in a manner utterly unworthy of the name he has ta- ken, would any man in his right mind say, that he has reason for comfort and assurance ? No, it may be answered, he was never truly converted, and does not give good proof of his election. Well, then, the proof rests not only on the exer- cises of faith, but also on their influence over the life, producing a solid piety and a substantial vir- tue. Here we all place it. And the pleasure and benefit of it we can equally enjoy, though we have different apprehensions of the holy decrees of God. 3. We will now proceed to the long-contested question of faith and works. Here I see no ground for difference. If there be any, it must be made by a misunderstanding. Neither does one party plead for a faith without works, nor the oth- er for works without faith. I speak of the sober- minded and sincere believers, who really wish to JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 301 know, and receive, and obey the truth. What, then, is the difference ? In my view it is very much like other diflFerences, chiefly in the way of speaking. " We are justified by faith without the deeds of the law." So says St. Paul ; and so, I think, we are all ready to say, when the doctrine is rationally and Scripturally explained. We are not justified by the law, because we do not obey it. We are "justified freely by grace, through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ." " He gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." This purpose is effected "through sanctification of the spirit, and belief of the truth." These truths are objects of faith. When our faith is so strong, when, by the Spirit, the truths of the Gospel are so deeply im- pressed upon the mind as to produce a conviction of sin, an earnest desire and consoling hope of mercy through the Redeemer, and to lead us to a new life of godliness, goodness, and purity, then it may be deemed a faith by which we are justified, or rather, a faith through which we are saved by grace. This, we believe, is such a faith as St. Paul intends, and such as serious and sound minds on both sides maintain. While some hold, that we are justified by faith, they mean a faith which 302 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. is proved by a good life. While others say, that a good life is necessary to salvation, they view faith as the principle of that life. These are only different modes of stating the same doctrine. The only question is, whether the justification is to be attributed to the faith considered abstractedly from the works, or to the faith considered connectedly with the works. This subtile and useless question bred great dissension in the early days of the Ref- ormation. And it appears to me to be the prin- cipal difference on the subject at the present day. But why need we perplex ourselves and others with these subtilties, when it is agreed on all hands, that faith and works are intimately connect- ed, that faith without works is dead, as St. James says, and that our works without faith are insuffi- cient for justification, as St. Paul teaches ? These inspired writers, unquestionably, agree in doctrine ; and it is through our weakness, if they appear to us to differ. St. Paul undoubtedly means a faith which is attended with the proper effects of faith ; and St. Jaines, in order to correct mistakes, de- clares that no faith is sound, but that which is at- tended with these good effects. " In the Church," says the Apostle, " I had rath- er speak five words with my understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than ten JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 303 thousand words in an unknown tongue." Yet a criticism on a passage of St. James appears to be so apposite to the present subject, that I cannot omit it. " Show me thy faith without thy works, and I will show thee my faith by my works." * In the original, precisely the same words are used in both members of the sentence, only they are differently arranged. I will give you a translation of them, word for word, and in the same order in which they originally stand : " Show me thy faith by thy works, and I will show thee by my works my faith." The sense I take to be this. You in- sist upon faith; I insist upon works. We have no reason to disagree. Let your faith be shown by your works ; and by my works I will show my faith. The doctrine is exactly stated in a subse- quent verse of the same chapter. " Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect." Faith was the principle, works were the proper effect and proof. It can hardly be doubted, that sober believers essentially agree in this article. Surely, we mis- take each other, when on the one side we suspect others to imagine that faith, without regard to * Jamea ii. 18. The preposition ex is used in both clauses. It commonly signifies by or Jrom, as in the phrase, " being justified by faith." Witliout is expressed by x<»pis, Svev, e^a. 304 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. works, or a virtuous life, " can save them " ; and when on the other side we charge the first with expecting, ■ that their virtues will merit salvation without regard to mercy and the Divine dispen- sations. Yet there may be danger on both sides. We may dwell so entirely on our faith, as to neg- lect that attention to our conduct which faith and grace require, as to exhibit many things in our lives opposite to the life of Christ and the spirit of the Gospel. And, on the other hand, by resting en- tirely on our morality, we may not feel those sen- timents toward God and Christ which are neces- sary to salvation ; we may not feel those motives and aids which are necessary to perfect our vir- tue ; finding how little we attain, we may be in- clined to reduce the standard of virtue to a very low degree, to a degree little consonant to the law of God and eternal life. 4. We will humbly attempt to consider the doctrine of regeneration. The influence of the Holy Spirit in the work of renewing the hearts and lives of mankind is, I think, taught in those passages which speak of being " born of the spir- it," and " led by the spirit of God," and " sancti- fied by the spirit of our God." The end and effect of it is understood to be a change from a state of sin a'nd offence toward the Holy God, and of ex- JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 305 posuxe to his judgment, to a state of pardon and favor, of growing holiness, and of the hope of heaven, through the mediation of Jesus Christ, We have, reason to be devoutly thankful for the assurance, that we are not left comfortless and without help in this important work. And we ought to be content with those promises and doc- trines which are given in the Gospel, to teach ua our dependence, and animate our hopes. Bl.it the curious mind of man, ever more intent upon sub- tile questions than upon plain ahd important du- ties, runs perpetually into those minute distinc* tions aoid descriptions concerning the unsearchably works of the infinite and invisible God, which are not so much warranted by his revelation, as in treatises, which appear to be designed to explain more particularly what in the Scriptures is de- clared in general, but forcible expressions. The Scriptures appear to inculcate a general sentiment of dependence on tie influence of the Spirit. But we have raised several questions and doctrines on the subject ; as, whether the mind be active on passive in conversion ; whether conversion be in- stantaneous or gradaai It may be observed, in passing, that we find in the Bible few of those terms with which we contend, and encumber re-* ligion, and bewilder ourselves and others. 20 306 SELECTIONS OF SEHMONS. Concerning the active or passive state of the mind, whether we can or cannot do any thing toward believing and obeying, I should say at once, that the Deity gives us power, and requires us to use it ; he gives us means, and requires us to employ them ; and I should appeal to all those passages, which call upon us to hea;r, to ask, to strive, to receive the Gospel and obey it, and those that " condemn men for loving darkness rather than light." But if it be believed that we have no activity nor choice of our own in the work of regeneration, there is not the vast difference that may be imagined in the real perceptions and pro- ceedings of the mind. For the work of the Spirit proceeds by the natural faculties of the mind, en- lightening the understanding, governing the will, alarming our fears, raising our hopes, turning our affections from sin to godliness. Now this pro- cess, these perceptions, this consciousness, will be the same, whether it be true that the work of the spirit excludes, or admits, our freedom and moral agency. On the supposition that we have no choice, that the Spirit is the sole agent, I presume it will be allowed by all sober minds, that the ap- pearance will be that of acting rationally from the influence of powerful motives. To admit our free choice does not imply that we are sufficient for JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 307 our salvation without the power of God. And while we trust in his power, we must unavoidably act on the plan of free agency. Sometimes it is said that, if men think they cannot do any thing as of themselves, they may continue too careless of their conduct, and of the means of grace, before they obtain a hope of sal- vation ; and that they may continue too careless, also, after they have obtained this hope. But this is not generally the case of those who have any concern for their salvation. They do attend to the means. They attend to the word of God, and to the public offices of religion ; they think of their ways, they desire to be saved by grace through faith, they often seek this happiness with prayers, or silent aspirations of the heart. And when they have ground to hope that they have found grace, they watch and guard their conduct, that it may not darken their hopes. For if their lives are not agreeable to the end of faith and of the Gospel, they must in reason and conscience apprehend that their conversion was imaginary. Now these are the ^ery means to be used, the very course to be pursued, by those who believe in the free agency of the human mind. In regard to the mode of conversion, experience would teach us that it may be various. I sup- 308 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. pose that all who have the faith and spirit of Christianity can well recollect, that they have been brought to serious reflection, to sincere re- pentance, to the earnest prayer of faith fot the re- mission of their sins; and that they have some consoling evidence, that the grace of God has taught their souls to live. The question concern- ing instantaneous conversion is rather curious than necessary. In some the preparation has been more, in others less progressive. But the most sudden conversion requires some time and means. In the more gradual, it may be remembered, that there was a time when the Christian life was more particularly begun. If it be allrimportant to be- come Christians, the sooner it is effected, the more blessed is our condition. And no one would hes- itate to exhort and encourage men to apply them- selves without delay to repent, to believe, and to practise according to the Gospel, To conclude this head of discourse, we may in- fer from what has been said, that we agree in fact sufliciently to live together in peace, and to be edified together as Christians. But we are apt to lay the greatest stress on subjects the most difficult to be solved, least susceptible of proof, and leasii promotive of "righteousness and true holiness." We seeni to think that religion consists rather in JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 309 settling and defending matters of " doubtful dis- putation," than in maintaining a Christian tem* per. Christian virtutee. Christian sentiments, which are love to God, to Chrisit, and to mankind. We are ready to say, I am of Paul, and I of ApoUos, and I of Cephas, when we ought all to say, I am of Christ. "We are informed that one is our Mas- ter, even Christ, and all we are, or ought to be, brethren. But we choose our master among men, and are zealous to follow him through tangled thickets and bottomless sloughs, over cloudcapt mountains and down tremendous precipices, while we neglect to cultivate the fair and open, the pleasant and fruitful fields of Christian love and duty. These doubtful dispufeations have harassed the Church through all ages. Synods and Coun- cils have met, and have decided them with clam- ors and threats, an oppressed minority being ter- rified and silenced by an overbearing majority, or by powerful chiefs, armed with the sword of the magistrate. And in proportion to the doubts and darkness attending the questions have the decis- ions been enforced as the most fixed and indis- pensable truths, so indispensable as to supersede all claims of conscience. On these subjects we contend with greater zeal than against our own or others' vices. Hence it is justly called polera' 310 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. ical divinity, hostile religion ! The Gospel of peace is made by the passions of men to bring " a sword upon the earth." The religion of love is soured and corrupted with the " leaven of malice." When this is the case, is there not room to suspect that the will and the passions influence the judgment, as much as the reason and conscience, of men ? Is there not reason to believe, that, with more meekness, humility, and honest desire to receive the truth, as we find it revealed, we should derive more uniform sentiments from that Scripture, which "is given by inspiration," and is designed to be profitable to all " for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness " ? At least, we should be more pacific in our pursuit of those doctrines which are wrapped in awful mys- tery ; and should be more unitedly attentive to those practical principles and rules which form the life and soul of Christianity. These observa- tions, whether just or not, are made upon human nature, and I cannot acquit myself of my portion. III. We come now to observe, that the most difiicult points cannot be the most essential. The faith of an ancient writer ran very high, when he said, I believe, because it is impossible. Faith is a word often used, but the description of it is long and various. One notion of it is, the JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 311 reception of doctrines incomprehensible by reason. Truly, we may consent to receive doctrines clearly expressed and supported by Divine testimony, al- though the reasons of them may transcend our finite understanding. But if they may be under- stood in consistency with the Divine Word, there is no necessity of throwing over them an impervi- ous veil of mystery, for the sake of exercising our faith. The feeling of Naaman the Syrian was not unnatural, when he would more readily have done some great thing, than obey the simple com- mand to wash and be clean. But there is enough to be done in becoming a Christian, enough to occupy all our thoughts and efforts, in learning and applying to ourselves, under Divine influence, those plain principles and precepts which are given to form the heart and life of a Christian. The mind may be diverted from these clear, but most important truths, when it is wholly " exer- cised in great matters." When we consider those " high things " as the most essential, we may be too much disposed to neglect the practical senti- ments and duties, which . are the only conceivable ends in this world for which the Gospel was given. Our aspiring minds are flattered by endeavoring to penetrate into intricate subjects ; while those truths which may be easily understood are too 312 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. uninteresting to us to exdie attention. The more abstruse inquiries may indeed be pursued with huraiMty and caution, to exerdse and enlarge the mind in the knowledge of iJie ]>ivine revelations. But they should ever be tjonsidered as less neces- sary to religion *han those plainer truths which are most (effectual to influence and direct the mind ; and especially, they should never be employed to Bupersesde and defeat the main end of our holy re- ligion, the benevolence, the virtues, the piety of believers. How can it be imagined, that the salvation of mankind should be made by a gracious Creator to depend on their view of doctrines, which have tried the best faculties in their best exercise, on which men who appear among the best and wisest of our race have formed very different judgments ? How can the perfectly correct decision of them be required, upon the greatest penalty, of the great body of mankind, who are so occupied in neces- sary cares and duties, that their judgment on these subjects must be formed almost implicitly upon that of those who have more means of examin- ing and establishing systems. It will probably be said, that the knowledge of the truth is inwrought by a Divine influence ; that we shall readily receive the truth, when we are truly "taught of God." JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 318 We hope the Spirit of Truth, which guided the first publdshers of the Gospel into all truth, will even now help the hurable and sincere disciple into all that is necessary to his spiritual wel- fare. But who shaU claim this guidance as a pe- culiar privilege ? One man may bold it as con- vincing proof to himself. And another may trust and declare, that he has the same evidence for diflFerent doctrines. They may be satisfied for themselves ; but this argument wiU not satisfy others, who know the nature of man and the rights of conscience. All who know the history of relig- ion know that this argument has been often em- ployed to support every kind of tenets which we should agree in thinking wild extravagances. There is, therefore, no safe way of seeking the truth, but by studying the word which God has given us, with the understanding which he has given us for this purpose. In doing this with sin- cere attention and dependence, we may hope to be blessed with Divine guidance. " The secret things," said Moses, " belong unto the Lord our God ; but those things which are re- vealed belong unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law." The things here mentioned, as belonging to the people, are their duties. The subjects on which 314 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. we pore and differ most are among those secret things which belong to the Lord our God. They relate to his essence, decrees, and operations. The Scriptures do not appear to be designed to gratify our curiosity by a full disclosure of things which probably our feeble minds could not comprehend ; but rather to give general and constant impres- sions of the Divine presence, providence, govern- ment, and grace ; and to inculcate general senti- ments of dependence, fear, love, and confidence ; and thus to animate us to the performance of the things that belong to us. I doubt not, that it may be shown that some diversity of thinking, or of speaking, in regard to the secret things of the De- ity, may issue in the same effect in the evident duties of man, repentance, faith, and obedience. And we may humbly hope that a merciful God will not make our trial turn upon perfect and ade- quate ideas of his unsearchable ways and incom- prehensible perfections. The inspired Psalmist said, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty ; neither do I exercise myself in great - matters, nor in things too high for me." And the whole verse, in which the text is, stands thus. " Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low es- tate. Be not wise in your own conceits." JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 315 IV. The last proposition is; that the most influ- ential truths are sufliciently plain* to the serious and diligent inquirer. Says the prophet Isaiah, " And an highway shall be there, — and it shall be called the way of holiness ; — the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein." " For this commandment, which I command thee this day, it is not hidden from thee, neither is it far off: — But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it." This passage is applied by St. Paul to the word of faith which the Apos- tles preached : " That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." The effect of believ- ing in the heart is explained in the next verse. " For with the heart man believeth unto righteous- ness ; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation." " The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple." But religious dis- putes sometimes make wise men mad. Is it not altogether reasonable to suppose, that what is en- joined upon all men, of every description, of every difference of opportunity, to believe and practise, should not be subject to great and perplexing doubts, nor require long and laborious investiga- 316 SELECTION'S OF SERMONS. tion? There are certain general truths and im- pressions, in ^vhich those who study the Gospel are very much united, to which our hearts and minds generally respond, and which are the prin- ciples that produce the good efiects under the various systems. We generally confess that we are sinners, for we 3?ead it in the word, and feel it in our conscien- ces. We can receive with joy the declaration, that mercy is offered through the -Redeemer ; we can receive it, trust in it, and pretend to no other • hope, although we may not be able to comprehend all the counsels of the Divine Mind. We gener- ally learn from the Scriptures to acknowledge a dependence on the power of the Most High for all the goods, not only of the body, but especially of the spirit. We are sensible of the necessity of repentance, of being converted from sin, and of living in obedience to the Divine commands. It is our duty, confessed by all, to worship and obey the Almighty, to fear and love him, to larusi/ in him, and submit to his will. It is our duty to regard the Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of God and the Saviour of men, who has given himself for us a sacrifice for our sins ; to listen to him as our Teacher," to foUow his example, and to rev- erence him as our Judge. None will deny, that JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 317 the service of God, and the faith in Christ, re- quire the observance of justice and charity, truth and purity, and all those relative and personal du- ties which the Scriptures copiausly teach, and reason cannot refuse to approve. As the end of these doctrines and duties, the Divine oracles place beyond a douibt a future life, a future judgment, a future state of revirard and punishment. These great motives are calculated to render us satisfied with our present lot, patient in tribulation, firm in temptation, and chiefly intent on faith, hope, and charity. These priaciples and duties, which are men- tioned briefly, and in general terms, open into a wide field for contemplation and practice. They are worthy of aU the attention that can be be- stowed on them, for their important nature and beneficial efiects. They are the highest subjects of the most enlarged minds. They are plain and level to all minds, who attend to them as they de- mand. They place the privileges and abilities of men more on a level than they can be in any other respect. For he who most diligently seeks them will most certainly find them. These plain truths do indeed appear to comprise the practical part of religion. For what is the practical design and effect of religion ? What can we suppose to 318 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. be the will of the Father, the object of the Re- deemer, in the revelation of the Gospel ? Is it not, to make men pious, and virtuous, and happy ? Now the study and practice of these plain truths is piety, and virtue, and happiness. The study of difficult questions must be considered, not as the end of religion, but' as a means of promoting the practical ends; and it may be so pursued as to obstruct the essential and real exercises. If an attention to the more arduous subjects have a ten- dency to lead us to pious sentiments and to the practice of duties, still it is useful principally on account of this effect ; and therefore the greatest importance should be attributed to the practical consequences, rather than to the instrumental spec- ulations. And if with some diversity of opinion," or some want of satisfaction on high points, dif- ferent men may attain to equally good, and pious, and Christian lives, as experience often testifies, we may conclude that it is not absolutely neces- sary to pursue to a decision matters which often escape the strongest research. It is a deep impres- sion of the Divine government which generally influences the mind, and not a particular knowl- edge of the Divine proceedings. And this impres- sion, these sentiments of submission, of trust and hope towards God, through Christ, may exist un- JUSTICE, CHARITY, AND UNANIMITY. 319 der different forms, and modes, and articles of re- ligion. Since, then, good and reasonable men agree so well in the sentimental and practical truths of Christianity, while they apparently differ much in theoretical opinions, have we not hence reason to conclude that the former are the instructions which were principally intended to be conveyed to us by the Gospel, and that the latter may serve at once to excite and humble our inquiries ? And do we not here discern the true ground of Chris- tian charity and unity ? Is not this the uniform!-- ty of faith and practice which we should be most desirous to maintain ? Is not this a sufficient uni- formity to hold us in peace and concord, in friend- ship and fellowship? While each one may in- dulge a humble and religious desire to look into the deeper subjects, as he has opportunity, he should consider that the attainments which con- stitute him a Christian, and a fellow and friend of Christians, are the graces and virtues of that character. This is the bond which might hold particular churches and societies together. This might hold different churches in harmony. This, I believe, does unite in reality, though not in ap- pearance, the invisible Church of true believers on earth. And this it is which will visibly and 320 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. perfectly unite them hereafter in the heavens. " Charity never faileth ; but whether there be prophecies^ they shall fail ; whether there be tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be knowl- edge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part; and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. For now we see through a glass darkly ; but then face to face : now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of the^ ia charity.'* IV. JESUS WEPT* JESUS WEPT John xi. 35. The Gospels are full of the compassion of Jesus. This part of them, which relates to Lazarus, is one of the most affectingj as well as of the most miraculous. Our Lord had a great friendship for this family. The Evangelist says, Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. The broth- er was sick, and the sisters sent to Jesus to in- form him of the sickness of him whom he loved. But Jesus abode two days still in the same place where he was. He said, " This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby." Afterwards he said to his disciples, " Our friend Lazarus sleep- eth; but I go, that I may awake him out of • Preached at Newbuiy. 21 322 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. sleep." They not understanding him, he said plainly, "Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe." His knowledge of distant and fu- ture events, and of the thoughts of men, is so frequently and familiarly mentioned, that it scarce- ly strikes us here as remarkable. Yet it is won- derful. He then went to Bethany, where the family lived, and arrived when Lazarus had lain in the grave four days. He found the sisters mourning, and many Jews, who came to comfort them. From this attendance, and other circum- stances, it appears that they were a family of some eminence. We read after this, that they made a supper for him, and Mary anointed his feet with a very costly ointment of spikenard. As we read several times of his going to Bethany, and from Jerusalem to Bethany, to pass the night, it is altogether probable that he was entertained with his disciples by these friends. When Je- sus, therefore, saw Mary weeping, and the Jews also weeping who came with her, he groaned in spirit, and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They say unto him. Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Be- hold how he loved him! And some of them said. Could not this man, who opened the eyes JESUS WEPT. 323 of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died ? Jesus, having called upon the Father, that those who heard might believe, said with a loud voice, Lazarus come forth I And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes. Then many of the Jews which saw believed on him ; but some went and told the Pharisees. The chief priests and Phari- sees gathered a council, and from that day they took counsel to put him to death. The narrative, that we have abridged, we trust is known to all who read or hear the Bible. But it appeared necessary to introduce a discourse on the words, "Jesus wept," as the thoughts suggested by this short sentence are connected with the history. This is a touching instance of our Lord's com- passion ; of which there are many other instances recorded by the Evangelists. But in this case there is something peculiar ; and we are prompted humbly to inquire concerning the tears of Jesus, which he shed at the time when he was going immediately to give great and surprising joy to his mourning friends, to increase the faith of his disciples, to make other believers, to glorify the Father, and to show forth his personal glory. 1. We may see in this strong and tender emo- tion the sympathy of Jesus. The friends were 824 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. weeping, the Jews were weeping, and be Wept with them that wept, though he would soon have occasion to rejoice with them that rejoiced. He had the finest feelings of nature. He felt our affections and bore our afflictions. We have not an high-priest who cannot sympathize with us. "We are even informed that he was tempted like as we are; but without sin. In all good feelings and affections he was preeminently sensible and affectionate. In so good and pure a mind, so free from the sins, and superior to the vexations, of the world, the best sensibilities must have operated in their most intense power and perfec- tion. The mind of man is hardened by sin and by selfishness ; and it may become rigid and cal- lous by chafing against the asperities and the iniquities of mankind. If we are determiJied to hold fast our integrity, and to preserve a principle of benevolence, still we may find it convenient to moderate our feelings, and to fortify ourselves with a firm rectitude of intention. But a mind so superior to provocation and to temptation as that of Jesus could sustain all the sensibility, together with the principle, of goodness. He could bear the contradiction of sinners with meek- ness; the infirmities and afflictions of his friends with sympathy ; and his own sufferings with res- JESUS WEPT. 325 ignation and devotion. So far is tenderness from being weakness in itself, that it appertains to a great and good mind at once to feel, to endure, and to act with steady wisdom. It was the same Jesus who wept with his friends, and at the same time called the dead forth from the grave. If we must restrain our feelings, that we may perform our duty, or endure our trials, it is because we want that exalted tone of mind that would bear out our principles and our affections together, in an equal tenor, or rather in a just proportion and harmony. Yet, if we must re- strain our feelings, let us not relax our principles. And yet, again, if we are destitute of feeling, there is danger that we shall be at least deficient in principle and in duty. The springs, the active powers of the soul, would be wanting. There is a medium, a just balance, to be observed or sought ; and good principles and affections, and the measure and the operation of them, are to be. chiefly learned from the word, the life, and the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. He undoubtedly was touched with the griefs of his friends, though he knew that he should speedily relieve them. Their sorrows and their complaints touched the strings of his tender heart in unison. Both the sisters had said to him, 326 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." He felt their grief. He might be touched also with this expression of their esteem, and of their confidence in his power. He might be touched with the gentle insinuation of his delay; with their anxiety, and wonder, and dis- tress, that their Lord had delayed his coming, when he whom he loved was sick. He might be affected with the pains of his sick and dying friend; with his longing expectation of the power- ful friend that could relieve and heal him. All their state, and all their thoughts and sorrows, we believe the Lord Jesus knew afar oif; but they knew not, or remembered not, that he could heal the sick, if he saw fit, afar off as well as at hand, and could raise the dead to present life. Before this time, I think, he had given proofs of all these powers. But it was common to his disciples to be unable to contain in their thoughts all his mighty works, and to draw all the just conclusions. Yet he could participate in their griefs, and compassionate their infirmities. The Lord Jesus is the example of all that is good, and amiable, and honorable in human nature; or for which human nature was formed, and to which it may be raised. He was the perfect ex- ample, and mankind at best must be very imper- JESUS WEPT. 327 feet, certainly very inferior to this heavenly pattern. But he has given us an example, that we should follow his steps ; and, though with unequal steps, yet we should follow him. He has honored the kind and tender feelings of the heart by his own most amiable and admirable kindness and ten- derness. Indeed, they are honored among men. If we sit down to draw a good character, these traits must enter into the description. Our Ma- ker has formed our hearts for compassion, and some traces of these original touches of the Di- vine hand remain amidst the disorders of man- kind. We are affected by scenes of distress. There are occurrences, and there are thoughts, which seize the heart and overcome it. Kindness and compassion are called humanity, by which name it is indicated that they properly belong to human nature. Those who are destitute of such feelings or dispositions, and hardened against them, are called inhuman, as being destitute even of the common feelings of human nature. Our Author has formed us for them, that they may be ready motives to the mutual benevolence and assistance which are necessary for the comfort and happiness of mankind. He has formed us to find our best pleasure, our noblest joy, in commiserating and alleviating distress. He has 328 SELECTIONS OP SERMONS. made us to imitate his goodness. We do not imagine that he is subject to human passions. But he is purely and essentially good, and he is divinely merciful; and he has made us in our nature and station humbly to imitate his good- ness and mercy. He requires it of us, and en- joins it upon us, by the hope of his mercy and favor, and our present and future happiness. The Son has shown us a perfect goodness and compassion in human nature, and has taught us how we may be followers of God, in being fol- lowers of his beloved Son, jn being kind one to another, tender-hearted, and walking in love, as Christ has loved us, and given himself for us. These affections are most effectually promoted by his Gospel, by studying and following his ex* ample, his precepts, his doctrines, and being led by his Spirit. They are especially fruits of the Spirit, Christian virtues and graces. We may remark further, that from the com- passion of our Lord, the humble, the afflicted, or the anxious mind may derive great consolation. The sympathy which he showed on the earth affords a great hope of mercy and compassion in heaven ; a great evidence that God is merciful, and the Son is a kind and compassionate Saviour. God is just and holy, and abhors sin, and has de- JESUS WEPT. 329 olared his awful judgments against impenitent sinners ; and the Saviour has sometimes expressed his holy indignation against impenitent, obduratCj and malignant sinners. But when the soul is bowed down with sorrow, with concern, or contrition, and is sincerely anx- ious to find mercy, and submit itself to God to be ruled and saved according to his will, there is, to my mind, in the character of Christ, and in the manifestation of Divine love by him, a strong and tender invitation to repose our hopes and our sorrows on that great and gracious friend who has borne our griefs in his feelings, and our sins in his sacrifice. 2. We may observe that our Lord was moved with compassion, not only for his friends, but also for his enemies ; not only for his disciples and followers, but also for unbelieving and contra- dicting sinners. This is one of the highest proofs of compassionate goodness. The observation is pertinent to the present occasion. Of the Jews who attended the mourners, some were convinced, and others were hardened. Some said, "Behold how he loved him ! " Others said, with a kind of half belief and half doubt, and in the language of reproach, " Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man 330 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. should not have died?" When he had raised the dead, many of the Jews, who saw the miracle, believed on him. But some went away and told the Pharisees ; doubtless with no good intent and affection. The chief priests and Pharisees took the alarm, and called a council, and said, " What do we ? for this man doeth many miracles. If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on him; and the Romans shall come, and take away both our place and nation." Then, from that day forth, they took counsel together to put him to death. They also consulted that they might put Lazarus to death ; because that by reason of him maay of the Jews went away, and believed on Jesus. They acknowledged his miracles ; they saw many of them, and could not deny them. Yet they determined to put him to death. The fear of the Romans on his account was a pretence, with which they deceived men, and perhaps them- selves. A peaceable, unambitious teacher in Ju- dea could not have alarmed the suspicion of the Romans. Had he been such a prince as the Jews desired and expected, he would soon have drawn upon them the Roman legions. But if he had raised an insurrection, with any proba- bility of success, the Jews with their chief priests and Pharisees wOuld have eagerly thronged to his JESUS WEPT. 331 standard. Their pretences were far from their real motives, which were founded in the opposition between his character and doctrine and theirs. Yet the Saviour could weep and mourn for them, even for those whom he reproved and re- buked with just and holy severity, against whom he threatened the most dreadful judgments. He could pray on the cross for those who caused him to be crucified, and were exulting in his cruci- fixion. He could weep and mourn over Jerusa- lem, which killed the prophets, and them that were sent to her, and would kill him, who came forth from the Father. On the present occasion we may consider Jesus as weeping and groaning for the unbelief, the ob- duracy, the malignity, and the misery of many of his nation. Of those who saw the astonish- ing miracle, some were still hardened against con- viction, or persuasion ; and went away to inform his bitter enemies, as we think, with a malevo- lent design. Those bitter enemies were still more embittered and enraged by a miracle, by which all opposition and resistance ought to have been subdued. It is not only written that Jesus wept, but also that he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled ; and we may think that this trouble and grief of mind might arise in part from his 332 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. knowledge of the inflexible unbelief and atrocious wickedness of his countrymen, and the judg- ments that were impending upon them. He could lament for the miseries that were coming upon them, though by their sins they deserved them ; he could lament, that by their sins they deserved these judgments ; and it might be a painful thought, that the mighty act which he was going to perform, by which all ought to be convinced and secured, would operate on the per- verseness of many, to harden them in unbelief, to increase their opposition and enmity, their guilt and condemnation. It is a fearful, and almost desperate case, when the means of grace become to men the means of hardening the heart, and increasing its ungodliness. But a good mind, like that of our Lord, could mourn over the sins and miseries of those who, he knew, would go on till they met their condemnation. He could be grieved for them, while he knew them to be objects of righteous indignation. It may be sup- posed that he could feel both this grief and this indignation. And though to such a mind and such a Saviour they might still be objects of pity, yet they could not be saved by mercy, they could not be saved from condemnation, without repentance, unless they should repent and believe JESUS WEPT. 333 the Gospel, put away their sins, and obey the truth. 3. We may believe that our Lord was affected by an enlarged view of the sins, and sorrows, and miseries of mankind. His deceased friend, we believe, was a sincere disciple ; he was soon to be raised again ; and, if he were not to be raised again to this life, he would be happy in the other, the heavenly life. But he had his lot and portion in our common nature, and common mortality. From the first sin of man the sentence of death had been pronounced, and had been fulfilled with but two or three extraordinary exceptions. To this must be added a long train of diseases and pains, troubles and afflictions, which distress the human race. More and greater than these are the evils which arise from the sins and crimes of mankind ; and in the view of a good mind these sins are in themselves the greatest evils of the world. Beyond these, the punishment of sin in futurity would occur to such a mind in immedi- ate and painful connection. To him who came into the world to save men from sin and con- demnation, it would be most deeply afflictive to consider how great a proportion of mankind would not partake of this salvation ; how many would refuse or neglect it ; how many would oppose the Saviour, and their own salvation, — would, like the 334 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. Jews of old, resist the counsel of God, and the wonderful methods which he has appointed to reclaim and save men. We may believe that it would be most deeply afflictive to the heart of Jesus to consider how great a proportion of man- kind would remain insensible to his works and sufferings, and to the holy and merciful purposes for which he would suffer ; would reject the in- structions of Divine wisdom and love, and the benefits which he offered in the agony of his soul ; and would aggravate their sins and increase their condemnation through the very means, the miraculous means, which Divine wisdom has ap- pointed, and the Son has executed by his own bitter death, for the salvation of men. It is a most melancholy, and awful, and mysterious con- dition of human nature which is exhibited in this view ; that the transcendently great dispensations of Divine wisdom and goodness, the miracles, the instructions, the warnings of the prophets, the judgments of the Lord, and especially the mighty works, the heavenly words, the glorious character, and the extreme sufferings of the Saviour, should not have produced greater effects than are wit- nessed upon the minds, the happiness, and the hopes of mankind. 4. The Lord Jesus may be humbly supposed to have anticipated his own most painful death, JESUS WEPT. 335 when he was contemplating the death of his friend, the unbelief of the Jews, the malice of his enemies, and the wide-spread miseries of sin. He plainly appears to have suffered in his death, and before his death, more than mortal pains. He suffered for sins; he bare our sins in his own body on the tree; he was made sin for us, who knew no sin. We believe, we have seen, that he had the most intense and perfect sensibility. Doubtless he could feel all the pains of the cross, and he could anticipate them. But we believe, also, that he expressed far greater agony than his sublime mind would have expressed in the apprehension, or the feeling, of the common pains, or the most severe pains, of mere mortality. The effect attributed to his death, his suffering for sin, a sacrifice for sin, indicates a far greater suffering than that of common mortality, or even common crucifixion. The thought of this painful death was nearly connected with the death and restora- tion of his friend. He was to die that he might give life and salvation to his friends. And it wag this amazing act of his power which imme- diately provoked his enemies to conspire to put him to death. Even then, it may be said, he bare our sins in the trouble and anguish of his heart, and expressed his grief in the cries and groans of his spirit. 336 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. Finally, from the compassion of Jesus we should learn to be compassionate ; and if we have not, or cannot have, all his sensibility, we should at least learn to be benevolent, charitable, and ready to relieve and assist the distressed. By his compassion, also, the afflicted and contrite heart may be encouraged to hope in Jesus, and in the Divine mercy. His pity, his grief, and his prayers for his opposers and enemies, should teach us, by his example, as he has taught us by pre- cept, to be charitable to our enemies, and to those who may be opposed to us. It gives us to hope, that those who are alienated and enemies in their minds by wicked works may be reconciled, if they throw down their opposition, and humbly yield themselves to a merciful Saviour. But the un- belief and the enmity of the Jews, and their aw- ful fate, are solemn warnings to us, not to reject, not to neglect, the offers and the calls of Divine mercy. The melancholy state of the world in re- gard to religion and its blessings, or sin and its iniseries, instead of satisfying us, as being in the same condition with many or most others, ought to excite us to fly to Christ and his Gospel for refuge and salvation. And his love, his doctrine, and his death offer to those who humbly and sincerely come to him, and follow him, the great- est hope of mercy and salvation. V. THANKSGIVING FOR PEACE* COME, BEHOLD THE W0EK8 O! THE LOBD, WHAT DESOLATIONS BE HATH MADE IN THE EARTH. HE MAKETH WASS TO CEASE UNTO THE END OF THE EABTH ; HE BBEAKETH THE BOW, AND CTTTTETH THE SPEAK IN SUNDER : HE BURNETH THE CHARIOT IN THE FIRE. — Psalm xlvi. 8, 9. The present is a period of wonders ; I had al- most said, of miracles. Certainly it is a time for fervent admiration and thanksgiving. Little more than a year ago, and for many years previous, the earth was overwhelmed with a general war, de- struction, and desolation. Now wars have ceased to the ends of the earth. Two short months ago, most of us were expecting a summer of violent and exasperated warfare ; and were in a manner • Printed at Newburyport, in 1815, with the following title: — " A Discourse delivered on the Day of National Thanksgiving for Peace, April 13, 1815. Published by Request." 22 338 SELECTIONS OF SERMONS. arming ourselves, to fight for our land, our homes, and our families. Now we are here before the Lord, to render to him our thanks for the restora- tion of peace, and that we can dwell in quiet hab- atations. There is, indeed, a remnant of war with a pirat- ical power ; and at another time it might appear considerable, as it may be and is distressful to some of our brethren. But, comparing it with the wars that have ceased here, and in other parts of the earth, we can scarcely regard it as an ex- ception from the general pacification. We very naturally think our own times and our own affairs the most interesting and impor- tant. But really I think our own times, the period of the last twenty years or more, the most extra- ordinary that have passed in the late thousand years ; and the conclusion not less extraordinary than the progress. I might have excepted the great Reformation ; but I was speaking of the po- litical state of the world. All this vast commo- tion and revolution, after its commencement, was carried on by one man ; whose fall was as signal as his elevation. The French power was rapidly