68 
 P73 
 
 
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 opy 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 THE 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 OFFICERS AND MEMBERS 
 
 
 
 
 or THE 
 
 
 
 
 Ijl^moutl) ^oricfg of |\rouri, 
 
 
 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 ORATIOJf AND POEM 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 
 
 
 CELEBRATION OF FOREFATHERS' DAY, 
 
 DECEMBER 22d, 1858. 
 
 
 F 
 
 ^8 
 
 
 ^73 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 ♦-^ 
 
 i 
 
 KEOKUK: 
 
 DAILY GATE CITY OFFICE PRINT. 
 
 1858. 
 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 • 
 
THE 
 
 OFFICERS AND MEMBERS 
 
 pipcutlj ^arirfg 0f ^eokuk, 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 ORATION AND POEM 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 CELEBKATION OF FOREFATHERS' DAY, 
 
 DECEMBER 22i), 1858. 
 
 KEOKUK: 
 
 DAILY GATE CITY OFFICE PRINT. 
 
 1868. 
 
H- 
 
 jii^y 
 
 r/,^- 
 
 •^7^ 
 
OFFICERS. 
 
 EDWARD KILBOURNE, 
 
 PRESIDENT. 
 
 RUFUS HUBBARD, 
 
 R. F. BARTLETT, 
 
 O. C. HALE, J- Vice Presidents. 
 
 A. BRIDGMAN, 
 
 A. B. CHITTENDEN, J 
 
 F. W. SWIFT, Secretary. 
 
 R. F. PATTERSON, Treasurer. 
 
 STEPHEN WEBB, Jr., Auditor. 
 
 MEMBERS. 
 
 BARTLETT, R. F. 
 
 N. H. 
 
 BARKER, J. n. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 bridges, S. G. 
 
 " 
 
 BRIDGES, BRAINERD, 
 
 " 
 
 BRIDGMAN, A. 
 
 " 
 
 BILLINGS, D. C. 
 
 Conn. 
 
 BILLINGS, J. B. 
 
 " 
 
 BILLINGS, J. JI. 
 
 " 
 
 bissell, L. R. 
 
 " 
 
 BROWN, JAMES, 
 
 Mass. 
 
 BRIGGS, J. R., JR. 
 
 " 
 
 BRIGGS, E. L. 
 
 Vt. 
 
 BISBEE, JOHN M. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 CONNABLE, ALBERT L. " | 
 
 CHITTENDEN, A. B. 
 
 Conn. 
 
 CRAM, DANIEL, 
 
 N. H. 
 
 COMSTOCK, G. 
 
 JtASS. 
 
 CURTIS, nOSMER, 
 
 Conn. 
 
 CLINTON, J. B. 
 
 " 
 
 DAVIS, B. W. 
 
 N. H. 
 
 DENNY, E. W. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 DENNY, R. B. 
 
 " 
 
 EATON, S. DWIGHT, 
 
 " 
 
 E.MEH.SON, C. H. 
 
 " 
 
 EVAN.S, LEWIS G. 
 
 " 
 
 FOOTE, R. B. 
 
 Conn. 
 
 GILLMORE, H. R. 
 
 VT. 
 
 GIFFORD, G. T. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 GRAY, D. B. 
 
 " 
 
 HALE, 0. C. 
 
 Vt. 
 
 HUBBARD, RUFUS, 
 
 Maine. 
 
 HUMPHREY, D. F. N. H. 
 
 HUTCHINSON, A. C. CoNN. 
 
 HALEY, E. D. Maine. 
 
 HOWE, LOWELL, Vt. 
 
 HAYNES, SIMEON, Maine. 
 
 INGERSOLL, L. C. Mass. 
 
 kilbourne, d. w. conn, 
 cilbourne, edward, " 
 kimball, j. p. 
 marcy, p. p. 
 mears, g. wash'n, 
 
 MOODY, B. P. 
 MERRIAM, B. S. 
 PATTERSON, R. P. 
 POND, S. P. 
 PERRY, C. H. 
 RICKER, S. A. 
 RICE, W. A. 
 SMITH, E. F. 
 SEARLS, IRA, 
 SLADE, DANIEL, 
 SNOW, WILLARD, 
 SWIFT, P. W. 
 SHORES, JOHN, 
 TAYLOR, G. W. 
 THORNDIKE, W. P. 
 THURSTON, G. H. 
 WEBB, STEPHEN, JR. 
 WHITNEY, L. 
 WILLIAMS, C. 
 
 Vt. 
 
 Mass. 
 Maine. 
 
 Mass. 
 Maine. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 Vt. 
 
 Maine. 
 
 Mass. 
 
 N. H. 
 
 Mass. 
 Conn. 
 Mass. 
 
 Vt. 
 N. Y. 
 
ORATION. 
 
 BY J. R. BRIGGS, JR. 
 
 There seems to spring instinctively within the hu- 
 man breast, a love for the land whereon our eyes first 
 opened to the light. Patriotism is a natural and im- 
 portant sentiment. Upon it depends the defence of 
 the State, the welfare of society, and the safety and 
 happiness of the individual. The foundation of patri- 
 otism is local attachment, — a fondness for one's kind- 
 red and neighborhood. My friends, we should be less 
 than patriots, less than men, did we forget that spot 
 of earth from whence our wandering feet departed. 
 This is why, though we are true and loyal to the Great 
 Republic, our hearts yet turn to our New England 
 homes, faithfully as the trembling needle to the pole. 
 This is why, as grateful children, we are met in mem- 
 ory of the men who gave us a home and a country, 
 upon the day when first they stood upon the soil of 
 the strange, new world. 
 
 We of New England, without disparagement of 
 others, may indulge a just and honest pride in the stock 
 from whence we have sprung. Our fathers possessed 
 a force of character, with distinguishing and enviable 
 traits, which has moulded and fixed forever the spirit 
 and tendencies of the community which they planted. 
 In what the peculiarities of that character consisted, 
 and how it chanced to seek the new world as the the- 
 atre of its display, are topics to which we will briefly 
 turn. 
 
 Our fathers were Puritans. The Pilgrims to the 
 new world were the Puritans of the old. And who 
 
and what were the Puritans 1 Not, I think, a class of 
 men of whom Republicans and free inquirers need be 
 ashamed. Early in the liistory of England there were 
 found in the church sincere and pious men who pro- 
 tested against its superstitions, and to what seemed 
 to them its tyrannical conduct and its worldly greed. 
 They wished to render it stainless, and wholly spirit- 
 ual ; to weed out error, to correct abuses, and to 
 guard against the encroachments of spiritual tyranny 
 and worldly ambition. Their primary motive was un- 
 exceptionable and commendable. They were no en- 
 emies to the church. They were its truest and sin- 
 cerest friends. They had no desire to impair its influ- 
 ence or to limit its just authority. They sought, by 
 establishing and maintaining the spirit of reform, to 
 perfect the one and extend the other. But in the ex- 
 ercise of this pious and commendable spirit, they were 
 unconsciously commencing in the bosom of the church 
 a struggle wliich was to be prolonged for centuries, 
 and finally to terminate in the grandest results, not 
 only to the Church and State of England, but to the 
 world. They cannot be greatly praised or greatly 
 blamed. Their motives and their aims were good. 
 But they had no consistently-digested scheme, and 
 were not consciously rendering themselves parties to 
 a long-continued contest. They simply acted as good 
 and zealous men with clear understandings will always 
 and every where act, — spontaneously, from a sense of 
 right and justice. They were not designedly initiat- 
 ing a contest for the vindication of truth and purity. 
 It was simply an expression of sentiment and an ex- 
 ercise of influence uttered and exerted in the pres- 
 ence of what was, or seemed to be, error and abuse 
 in the body of which they were members, entertain- 
 ing a common interest. In the presence of error and 
 wrong, men will always divide, and incline to this 
 side or to that, as conscience or interest or under- 
 
standing prompts. They took position, as others take 
 it. That is the extent of their merit, or their offence, 
 from whichever point of view their conduct is exam- 
 ined. It was their merit, as I beheve. But, con- 
 sciously or unconsciously, designedly or undesignedly, 
 a struggle was actually commenced in the church 
 which was to grow in depth and intensity with the 
 lapse of time, developing and defining principles and 
 dividing its members, until it was found both undesir- 
 able and impossible for the two opposing parties to 
 which the contest was substantially narrowed, to re- 
 main within the pale of the same communion. In 
 fact, principles and sentiments became so sharply 
 defined, were found to be so pointedly opposed, and 
 were so zealously defended, that one party would 
 not remain, while the other excommunicated them in 
 scorn. The progress of the movement, with the grad- 
 ual development of principles and the clear division of 
 parties, from its first inception to its ultimate issue, 
 is at once interesting and important. But it is the 
 province of the historian, and not of the casual review- 
 er. The party of reform, who sought to correct abuses 
 and resist usurpation, from the nature of their consci- 
 encious objections were called Puritans. During the 
 controversy, they were led on from point to point in 
 examination and discussion, until the grounds and na- 
 ture of authority and prescription in Church and State, 
 the elements and character of Christian truth and dis- 
 cipline and of theological dogmas were passed in re- 
 view and sifted to the botttm. The final and fixed 
 opinions of the Puritans, and the spirit which prevailed 
 among them, I will endeavor to define. They toler- 
 ated no ceremony unless it was specially enjoined by 
 the word of God. They were zealous advocates for 
 the independence of the churches. They admitted 
 no authority but the Bible. The Bible alone was 
 their fixed and infalhble rule. They read it for them- 
 
8 
 
 salves, and would allow neitheF Parliament, hierarchy 
 nor King to interpret it for them. They maintained 
 the equality of the clergy. They scouted the doctrine 
 of the divine riglit and superior authority of the bish- 
 ops. Formal garments and signs they rejected, be- 
 cause they were badges of a party they opposed, signs 
 that autliority was to prevail over reason and to con- 
 trol inquiry. This was the true spirit of the great 
 continental Protestant movement. And the Puritans 
 were the true and effective champions of the Protest- 
 ant cause in England. Nay, their own movement, in- 
 dependently begun and contemporaneously fought out, 
 would have been conducted to the same result, sooner 
 or later, had Luther never lived, or Germany never 
 revolted from the Catholic Church. It is not too 
 much to say that it is due to the Puritans that the 
 English people became Protestant. But the same 
 spirit which formed their religious convictions, deter- 
 mined the tendencies and fixed the character of their 
 political sentiments. They led the party of the peo- 
 ple. They become the opponents of kingly as they 
 were of ghostly tyranny. The established church sus- 
 tained the prerogatives of the King, and the kingly 
 order. They mairttained the doctrines of divine right 
 and ])assive obedience. The Church and the King 
 were at one. On the other hand, the Puritans became 
 the guardians of popular liberty. They left their im- 
 press not less marked and permanent upon the British 
 laws and constitution, than upon the religious feeling 
 and policy of the times. If they rendered it impossible 
 for the English Church to fall back into Papal subor- 
 dination, and to continue in the belief and practice of 
 many prominent requirements of the Church of Rome, 
 so they exploded forever in the British mind the doc- 
 trine that the King could do no wrong, and they made 
 it a part of the national undestanding, that Parlia- 
 ment, the People, or the Commonwealth could rule as 
 
9 
 
 truly by the grace of God as a crowned and titled mon- 
 arch. Since their day it is conceded that upon great 
 occasions Parliament can lawfully change the succes- 
 sion, or declare the throne to be vacant, while passive 
 obedience has become a term that requires the consul- 
 tation of history to understand. How much that is 
 good and true in the religious Hfe of the people of Eng- 
 land, how much that is just and enduring in the public 
 law and political sense of England, which sprung from 
 the reflection, the resolution, and the power of the 
 Puritans, the historian delights to display, for it is a 
 theme over which his heart can expand and his pen 
 grow eloquent. They had their extravagancies of 
 conduct and sentiment, and their ludicrous side, it is 
 true. And so had their opponents. The hterature of 
 the times has embalmed it all. But who now turns 
 with least delight to the record of the former, or finds 
 less to forgive in the latter ? 
 
 But there came a time in the development of sen- 
 timent, in the formation of opinions, and in the decis- 
 ion of conduct, when the protesting Puritans, equally 
 obnoxious to the priestly and the kingty power, were 
 no longer safe and free under English rule. Their 
 thoughts were denied expression. They were forbid- 
 den to worship God, except after an established form. 
 Their congregations were broken up. Their ministers 
 were executed, imprisoned, or exiled. A month's ab- 
 sence from the service of the establishment, subjected 
 them to interrogation, to suspicion as non-conformists, 
 and to the menace of exile or death. They could do 
 nothing that they would. They were compelled to do 
 that they would not. A colony went to Holland, from 
 thence to Switzerland, and finally returned. In the 
 year 1602, near the close of the reign of Elizabeth, a 
 congregation in the north of England, under charge 
 of John Robinson, despairing of such reforms in the 
 national church as their consciences required, formed 
 
10 
 
 themselves into an independent body. The record of 
 their decision is simple and sincere. Hear it : They 
 resolved, " whatever it might cost them, as the Lord's 
 free people, to join themselves by covenant into a 
 church state." They were Calvinists in faith, but 
 they refused to wear any human name. They reserved 
 the perpetual liberty of modifying their faith and prac- 
 tice according to the light they acquired. And they 
 took the Bible as their sole authority. Men of New 
 England ! mark the words, give heed to the spirit, and 
 watch the wanderings of this little flock, for it is the 
 seed from which you have sprung. They were per- 
 secuted, like their brethren. They were " harassed 
 by imprisonments, search-warrants, and trivial prose- 
 cutions." At length, weary of persecution, longing 
 for rest, they resolved to seek the free worship of God 
 in a foreign land. They turned their eyes to Holland, 
 where others of the brethren had previously found 
 peace. William Brewster, a ruling elder in the 
 church, had resided as a diplomatist there, and many 
 common sympathies with that people led them to se- 
 lect the Low Countries as their future home. In 1607 
 they made an attempt to emigrate thither. But they 
 were not permitted to leave. The officers of the law 
 arrested and detained them. Another attempt was 
 made in 1608, which was successful. By previous 
 and secret arrangement, they met at night on a lonely 
 mocr, and under cover of darkness, in the midst of a 
 raging storm, they escaped from an oppression that 
 denied them the poor privilege of voluntary exile. 
 They landed at Amsterdam. From thence they re- 
 moved to Leyden. There they remained eleven years . 
 They were years of harmony and happiness. They 
 enjoyed their religion undisturbed. They commanded 
 the esteem of the community in which they were lo- 
 cated. Even the nuncio of Rome spoke of them with 
 respect. The fame of their Pastor and the hberty of 
 
11 
 
 his people attracted new members to the church from 
 England. But notwithstanding all this, they were 
 unsatisfied. The language and manners of the Dutch 
 were unpleasant. They disliked the climate. The 
 dissolute habits of the disbanded soldiers employed in 
 the late wars, was corrupting to their young. Nor 
 were they content to occupy so subordinate a position. 
 They were conscious of qualifications for a higher 
 rank and a wider influence than was open to them in 
 a foreign land. And besides, they were Englishmen, 
 and wished to live where English laws, language and 
 customs prevailed. They thought of the new world, 
 and resolved to plant a colony in America. After 
 much difficulty in the arrangement of preliminaries, 
 they finally procured two vessels, the Speedwell and 
 the 3Iayflower, in which, on the 22d of July, 1620, the 
 greater portion of their number embarked at Delft- 
 Haven. They arrived at Southampton, where they 
 remained several days, leaving on the 5th of August. 
 The Speedwell suffered damage, and they put into the 
 port of Dartmouth for repairs. Remaining in port 
 eight days, they sailed again. When fairly out of 
 sight ol land, afloat upon the high seas, in a new and 
 almost untraveled path, the Captain and company of 
 the Speedwell, dismayed at the enterprise, feigned 
 further damage, and they returned again to Dartmouth. 
 Then the little band was winnowed of all waverers. 
 The timid were left in the harbor with the Speedwell. 
 The resolute and strong-hearted all went aboard of 
 the Mayflower, and on the 6th of September one hun- 
 dred and one human souls bade adieu to their native 
 land forever. They had a long and tedious voyage. 
 For sixty-three days their little vessel was tossed up 
 on the billows of the Atlantic. Their design was to 
 land in Virginia, but they lost their position, and on 
 the 9th of November they entered the harbor of Cape 
 Cod. Spending some time in the exploration of the 
 
12 
 
 coast, they finally, on Monday, the 22nd day of De- 
 cember, two liiuidred and thirty-eight years ago this 
 day, entered the bay of Plymouth. The season was 
 dreary, desolate and forbidding. Without it was 
 stormy, and gloomy, and cold. But it was warm, and 
 tranquil, and cheerful within. Leading their wives 
 and carrying their little ores, they waded through 
 the chill December waters, to a rocky shore, sheeted 
 with ice and snow, where, dripping with wet, tinkhng 
 with new-made icicles, uncovering their heads to the 
 winter wind, on bended knees they thanked Almiglity 
 God for his exceeding love. Such was the unpromis- 
 ing advent of the Pilgrims to the land upon which their 
 sufferings, their virtues and their achievements have 
 shed an enduring renown. They have been called 
 zealots and enthusiasts. But it should be borne in 
 mind that they were not an ignorant and intellectually 
 undisciplined company ; they were not inexperienced 
 young men and maidens in the glow of life ; they 
 were men of learning, of experience in the world's 
 rough ways, of grave and considerate deportment, who 
 had brought their wives and their families, well appre- 
 ciating the toils and the trials that laid before them. 
 Removed from the possibility of human succor, should 
 perils overtake them, short of provisions, with no 
 shelter to cover their heads, thoy looked out upon a 
 wintry desert with unquailing hearts and unmurmur- 
 ing lips. Surely the enthusiasm that sustained such 
 men, under such circumsiances, was an enthusiasm 
 that the good and the brave might envy and admire. 
 
 Before leaving the vessel, a complete political or- 
 ganization was effected, satisfactory to all. A con- 
 stitution, or bill of rights and declaration of purposes, 
 was agreed upon, committed to writing and subscribed 
 by all. That declaration, in its comprehensiveness 
 and spirit, is a model for any age, and a marvel for 
 that. In the true and just sense ol a constitution, re- 
 
13 
 
 ceiving the sanction of all and recognizing the rights 
 of all, this was the first. It rested uDon the broad basis 
 of "equal laws" for the " general good." In the cabin 
 of the Mayflower popular constitutional liberty was 
 born. John Carver was unanimously chosen Gover- 
 nor for the year. Their old Pastor, the pious and 
 faithful Robinson, did not sail with his flock. He was 
 intending soon to follow ; but ere preparation was 
 complete, he departed upon another voyage for a 
 brighter shore. The church was placed under the 
 care of Bradford and Brewster. So that, so far as 
 organization and concert of action was concerned, in 
 ail that related to their civil and religious life, every 
 thing was complete, perfect and satisfactory, when the 
 Pilgrims encamped upon the snows of New England. 
 The winter which followed was long and severe. The 
 building of houses at that inclement season was dif- 
 ficult. The constant exposure created colds and con- 
 sumptions, and but half tlic little colony survived un- 
 til spring. Their provisions soon dwindled away, and 
 it seemed for a period as though death by starvation 
 was inevitable. At one time they were reduced to a 
 pint of parched corn, which gave to each individual 
 five kernels. Still their cheerful trust in the mercies 
 of Providence remained unshaken. But the winter 
 passed. The summer came. The earth yielded its 
 fruits. Necessities were provided for, and happier 
 prospects and brighter days broke upon that little 
 band. They labored long, and diligently, and they 
 found what they thought was success. They were at 
 peace. They worshiped God in their own way. But 
 at the end of ten years the colony had not increased 
 to above three hundred souls. However, it was a vig- 
 orous germ of the new civilization. Others of like 
 sympathies were attracted hither, in a few years, and 
 the career of the Puritans in the new world opened 
 upon a broader scale. 
 
14 
 
 There are two topics to which I here desire to di- 
 rect attention, for they furnish the key to the general 
 spirit which has prevailed in New England from the 
 landingof the forefathers to the present day, and u hich 
 will continue to prevail so long as the seemingly ine- 
 radicable influence of the fathers exists. I mean the 
 particular and authentic basis of the poHtical and re- 
 ligious organizations established by the Plymouth col- 
 onists. 
 
 The nature of their primary constitution, I have al- 
 ready alluded to. It recognized no distinctions in 
 community. All were equal before the laws, in res- 
 pect of rank, of rights, and of power. A Governor 
 was elected annually, by universal suffrage. He was 
 powerless, except he acted by consent of a council, 
 first of five, afterwards of seven, who were selected as 
 his advisers and assistants. In the council he had two 
 votes. For more than eighteen years "the whole body 
 of the male inhabitants" constituted the legislature ; 
 and when at last extent of territory rendered this prac- 
 tice inconvenient, the representation of the people was 
 large. Supreme power was lodged in the hands of the 
 people. Not only were the judges elected directly by 
 them, but when they chose, as they generally did, upon 
 important occasions, both executive and judicial ques- 
 tions were decided by popular vote. Such were the 
 character and guaranties of popular civil liberty in the 
 Old Colony. 
 
 The character of their theology was equally free, 
 within the recognized limits of authority. The foun- 
 dation of the Government, was human rights. The 
 foundation and sole authority of the Church, was the 
 Biblo. The charge of Robinson, as he bade adieu to 
 his flock at Delft-Haven, on the point of sailing, ex- 
 plains their position specifically and clearly. Let me 
 read an extract from it : "I charge you, before God 
 and his blessed angels, that you follow me no further 
 
15 
 
 than you have seen me follow the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 The Lord has more truth yet to break forth out of his 
 holy word. I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition 
 of the reformed churches, who are come to a point in 
 religion, and will go at present no further than the 
 instruments of their reformation. Luther and Calvin 
 were great and shining lights in their times, yet they 
 penetrated not into the whole counsel of God. I do 
 beseech you, remember it, — 'tis an article of your cov- 
 enant, — that you be ready to receive whatever truth 
 shall be made known to you from the written word of 
 God." 
 
 It was in such a spirit and upon such a platform 
 that the Old Colony commenced the settlement and 
 civilization of New England. The colony at Plym- 
 outh, however, did not long comprise, either wholly 
 or mainly, the Puritan population of New England. 
 The sentiments and influences which make up the sura 
 of New England character did not all sprincr from 
 them. But the colonies which succeeded, were 
 prompted to emigrate by the same spirit which they 
 had been, partially quickened thereto by the accounts 
 which they had transmitted to their friends in England, 
 of their peace, their quiet progress, and the hopes be- 
 fore them. The regulations among their neighbors 
 were not in detail identical with their own. Yet they 
 were nearly so. And whether in the religious faith 
 and spirit or in the political notions and practices of 
 New England at the present time, we should endeavor - 
 to recognize the precepts and regulations of one col- 
 ony or another, we should be equally successful. 
 What New England became, in civil and religious 
 life, was not so much the consequence of a compro- 
 mise among separate colonies, as of a similar spirit per- 
 vading the whole. Therefore, though it is in partic- 
 ular honor of the settlers at Plymouth that Forefath- 
 ers' Day is kept on the 22nd of December, — the anni- 
 
16 
 
 versary of their landing, — in the few remaining remarks 
 which I have to make.. I shall comprise among the 
 fathers all the early settlers who gave life and form 
 to New England character. 
 
 The general spirit of their civil and religious life I 
 have stated in stating that of the Plymouth colonists. 
 They were jealous of the centralization of political 
 power, and of the effect of delegating it for long pe- 
 riods. Therefore they shared the executive power 
 between a nominal executive and a council elected 
 both for the purpose of restraint and advice. This 
 will explain tlie office, anomalous to many, which still 
 exists in most or all of the New England States, none 
 of those earliest formed feeling at all inclined to part 
 with it. Therefore, too, the annual election of all the 
 officers, — a practice which is still continued with res- 
 pect to all those in whom the least political power is 
 lodged. And therefore the resumption and exercise 
 of supreme power by the people on all occasions 
 where the importance of the principle or the extent of 
 the popular interest rendered it desirable. The polit- 
 ical institutions are still as simple as they can possi- 
 bly be rendered. The legislative representation is 
 still larger than in any community in the world. And 
 so much of the original spirit has been preserved, — so 
 deeply was it planted, — that there is no inclination to 
 extend the term or enlarge the extent of delegated 
 power, or to limit the ratio of representation faster than 
 the increase of population absolutely demands. The 
 governments originally were, and still are, as near to 
 being absolute democracies as circumstances render it 
 possible. And I may also add, they still are, as they 
 originally were, the most just, satisfactory and stable 
 governments that ever were instituted among men. 
 All this is the work of our fathers' hands. They 
 bequeathed us the institutions. They transmitted the 
 precepts upon which they are founded, — the spirit 
 
17 
 
 which breathes through them. Theirs is the merit. 
 Is it not rare and great ? Were they not true and 
 sagacious men 1 That school of English turmoil and 
 revolution, terrible to human fortitude and human sen- 
 sibilities, had not tried and tempered and taught them 
 for nothing. In them it bore peaceful and precious 
 fruits. Is it not with ample cause, considered from 
 the political point of view alone, that we revere their 
 memory and perpetuate their fame ] But they were 
 as jealous of the centralization ot religious power, as 
 they were of civil. The church was no less a democ- 
 racy than the state. Sole and supreme power resided 
 in tlie whole congregation of believers. Nothing was 
 done without their authority, and all business was 
 transacted in open meeting, by free discussion and 
 equal suffrage. Each church was an independent 
 body. They were watchful of the usurpations of the 
 priesthood. The clergy were not permitted to exer- 
 cise the least authority not specially reposed in them. 
 No clerical association was tolerated. Every thing 
 that looked to associated or concerted effort on the 
 part of the clergy was rigorously prohibited. Even 
 associate meetings for mutual counsel and improve- 
 ment were looked upon with so much suspicion that 
 the few attempts to establish them were speedily 
 abandoned. Their policy was effectual. The people 
 remained masters of the church as well as of the 
 state. That may be right, or it may be wrong. I 
 was taught to believe it right, and the reflect! jns of 
 my manhood have strengthened the teachings of my 
 childhood. But that is a paint I am not here to argue. 
 I simply state the fact. There either were no Christ- 
 ian churches in New England, or the people were the 
 rulers thereof. 
 
 And in this connection, it is proper to speak of 
 the religious intolerance imputed to them. The charge 
 is true. They were intolerant. I do not deny it. 
 
18 
 
 It would be folly to deny the record of their official 
 acts. They passed laws expelling those who disa- 
 greed from them in religious opinion, and punishing 
 them if they refused to leave. I know the defence 
 is set up for them that they came here to enjoy their 
 peculiar religion. That they desired no member to 
 join their community who did not agree with them in 
 matters of religious faith. That they wished merely 
 to be let alone. And it is true. They were simply 
 intolerant,— they did not persecute. They sought not 
 to compel people of another faith to receive their own. 
 They never punished for opinion, as such. They only 
 sought to exclude from their asylum such as disagreed 
 with them. But the argument only amounts to an 
 excuse. It is not a defence. At home they preached 
 toleration. It underlaid the whole argument which 
 they spread before the world. They were bound to 
 practice their own precepts, or recant. They had no 
 right, in nature and in reason, to establish a free civil 
 community from which people were to be excluded on 
 account of religious sentiment. We do not enter the 
 civil state aione from choice. We are born into it. 
 But whether we enter it voluntarily or involuntarily, 
 our rights as citizens are independent of our peculiar 
 religious tenets. So our fathers taught. And they 
 practised otherwise. But besides the excuse I have 
 adverted to, there are two others which may be given 
 in their behalf. First : They lived in an intolerant 
 age. That I am aware of, full tolerance, at that time, 
 was granted no where. Quakerism was not yet devel- 
 oped, and Pennsylvania was not yet founded. It is 
 true that perfect religious toleration is claimed to have 
 been established in Maryland. But in that colony 
 people holding the sentiments of those who are wont 
 to worship in this house, were by law liable to exe- 
 cution. For the sentiments which I entertain, my 
 own head mijrht have been rolled from the block. 
 
19 
 
 They were in error. But they only shared the com- 
 mon error of the times, — an error from which the hu- 
 man mind had not then fully escaped. Nay, from 
 which it has not yet escaped, except in some small 
 degree. Second : They were practically tolerant of 
 all opinions except towards those who made them- 
 selves unreasonably offensive. A man might enter- 
 tain any opinion he chose, might worship God in any 
 way agreeable; if only he conducted himself decently 
 and orderly, he was undisturbed. The case of Roger 
 Williams, a Puritan of the Puritans, is not an excep- 
 tion to this statement. I esteem his position right. 
 I honor him for his adherence to it. But it was not 
 for the indulgence of consciencious opinions that he 
 was expelled. If he did not form an exception to the 
 rule, much less did those people called Quakers, who 
 suffered at the hands of our fathers. In point of fact, 
 they were not Quakers. The doctrines cf Fox, Bar- 
 clay and Penn were only just making their way over 
 here. These people accepted them, with little knowl- 
 edge of their character, and less appreciation of their 
 real spirit. Their conduct was scandalous, inexcusa- 
 ble and provoking. They cried to the magistrates and 
 ministers in the streets, from windows and doors. 
 They derided the institutions of the country. They 
 denounced New England worship as an abomination. 
 They interrupted public worship. They ran naked 
 through the streets. For this they wt^re warned to 
 leave. If they had left, they would have gone unpun- 
 ished. Even after tlie sentence they had their choice 
 to leave or suffer. Only such as these suffered. Nay, 
 not all of these, but only four ; for the infliction of 
 capital punishment upon these four, much as they 
 had done to provoke it, and little as was the sympa- 
 thy to which they were entitled, roused the feelings of 
 the people, brought them to a realizing sence of their 
 attitude, and made an end of all penalties for relig- 
 
20 
 
 ious opinion. This was the answer our fathers made 
 to the charge of intolerance. Carried to its end, 
 they saw the inevitable consequences of intolerance. 
 They shrank from them. They admitted the error 
 and repealed the laws. In fact, it was only in part of 
 the colonies that intohrance existed at all. Connec- 
 ticut, in particular, an offshoot from Plymouth, and 
 Rhode Island of course, were always free from it. 
 This is the extent of our fathers' offence. Not great, 
 indeed. But does not the blemish seem greater from 
 its appearing upon so spotless a character] 
 
 They were men of sterling virtues. Religion was 
 the chief topic of their consideration. And it was a 
 matter of personal concern. The requirements of 
 the Bible were the law of their life. They sought 
 to regulate every act, every thought, every emotion 
 thereby. What saith the scripture 1 was a question 
 forever on their lips or in their hearts. Since the 
 days of the Apostles, no men have lived who consulted 
 the commands of the Lord Jesus more faithfully and 
 perpetually than they. And the profundity of the re- 
 ligious sentiment left its impress upon their private 
 character and the social state to a wonderful extent. 
 It is written, " one might live there from year to 
 year and not see a drunkard, or hear an oath, or meet 
 a begfifar." 
 
 They are too often thought of as a stern and hard- 
 browed race. But it is an error. It is true, they were 
 rigorous and exacting, of themselves and others, in the 
 performance of every moral duty. They set their 
 faces resolutely to the conquest of the world, the flesh, 
 and the devil. Their spirits were high and strong. 
 Their aims uncompromising as they were elevated. 
 But they were a benevolent and affectionate people. 
 Their hearts were alive to all the nobler impulses and 
 finer feelings of mankind. Family attachments were 
 strong. The punishment of the vicious was mild and 
 
21 
 
 reformatory. The slave-trade was forbidden on pain 
 ofdeatli. Even cruelty to animals was a criminal 
 offence. When they could not assist their suffering 
 brethren, at home or abroad, by a contribution of 
 means, they held fasts and offered prayers in their 
 behalf. Their sympathy with the weak, the suffering 
 and the erring was keen and lively. But it was not 
 a morbid sympathy, — the sympathy of weaklings and 
 sentimentalists. It was an intelhgent and manly 
 sympathy, — as robust as it was hearty and human. 
 In all the softer graces and amenities of life, they 
 were no more deficient than in the homely and rigo- 
 rous virtues. 
 
 They were the friends of universal education. To 
 their minds, education was the handmaid of religion, 
 and the surest support of the state. They did not ex- 
 pect to maintain the religion that they loved and the 
 state they established, without enhghtening the un- 
 derstandings of those to whom they were to be en- 
 trusted. With supreme power, both in secular and 
 sacred affairs, residing in the hands of the people, 
 they appreciated the great importance of popular edu- 
 cation. As intellectual beings, also, they set a true 
 value upon the acquisition of knowledge and the devel- 
 opment and discipline of the mind. Among their 
 earliest enactments it was provided that " none of the 
 brethren should sufier so much barbarism in their 
 families as not to teach their children and apprentices 
 60 much learning as may enable them perfectly to read 
 the English tongue." And it was ordered in all the 
 Puritan colonies " that every township, after the Lord 
 hath increased them to the number of fifty household- 
 ers, shall appoint one to teach all children to read and 
 write ; and where any town shall increase to the num- 
 ber of one hundred families, they shall set up a gram- 
 mar school ; themasters thereof being able to instruct 
 youth so far as they may be fitted for the university.'' 
 
22 
 
 This was the foundation of the free school system, 
 which has spread over the land ; which has attracted 
 the attention of the civilized world, and extended itself 
 to other lands. Puritanism raised the ofRce of the 
 People, and their notions of the necessity of popular 
 education were correspondingly elevated. 
 
 In a few words we may sum up their character, as 
 friends of free government, free schools, a free church ; 
 lovers of virtue and good order, of industry and frugal- 
 ity ; believers in the inviolability of reason and con- 
 science ; equable, serene and resolute men, who dealt 
 justly, loved mercy, and walked humbly with their 
 God. They rest from their labors. The soil of New 
 England covers them. But their example and their 
 spirit survive. The 21,200 persons comprised in the 
 Puritan emigration now number as their descendants 
 one-fourth of the white population of this country. In 
 six millions of American people they live again. It 
 might be at once our merit and our pride to imitate 
 their virtues and share their Jame. 
 
POEM 
 
 BY ALBERT SUTLIFFE. 
 
 The Streams which flowed from Pilgrim founts, 
 Do they still make our borders green 1 
 
 The old war-beacons on her mounts, 
 And can they yet be seen ] 
 
 The nerve that steeled those Mayflower men, 
 
 The courage of old Bunker Hill, 
 Say, are they with us now as then, 
 
 Still moving, living still J 
 
 Still handed down from sire to son, 
 
 To hearth-fires blazing far away. 
 How does their influence mould and form 
 
 The Yankee of to-day ? 
 
 The Yankee ! what strange visions rise ! 
 
 What mighty thoughts my soul engage ! 
 Before me stalks, in comic guise. 
 
 The Yankee of the stage. 
 
 With figure lean, and nasal speech, 
 
 And breeches brief as brief can be : 
 So brief their striped beauties reach 
 
 Scarce past his pilgrim knee ; 
 
 With face of awlul longitude. 
 
 The features soiled, and pinched, and thin, 
 Yet to some strange expression screwed, 
 
 'Twixt idiot smile and grin, 
 
 He asks you, where? and when? and how ? 
 
 And«j/iosc? and which? and why? and what? 
 
24 
 
 And don't you think you'd better, now ? 
 And don't you think you'd better not ? 
 
 He makes his wares and vends them well ; 
 
 Nice hams his native forests grew ; 
 Pure spicery, only made to sell, 
 
 And always I'resh and new. 
 
 He buys, he sells, he makes, he mars ; 
 
 Is priest, or layman, as you will ; 
 Makes pills, or speeches ; pettifogs ; 
 
 Does nothing well nor ill. 
 
 He travels ; sees St. Jarnes, St. Paul's ; 
 
 " Guesses" what some old master means ; 
 In Paris cafes gawks, and calls 
 
 Aloud for pork and beans. 
 
 He clambers up Vesuvius ; 
 
 The lava billows fall and rise ; 
 With legs hung o'er the abyss he dreams 
 
 Of home and pumpkin pies. 
 
 He seeks the Nile's far distant springs ; 
 
 He roams the desert simoom-blown ; 
 He hails across the Russian steppes 
 
 The Czar upon his throne. 
 
 He roams the eastern hemisphere 
 From far Cathay to sunny Spain ; 
 
 He grasps, without a thought of fear, 
 The British lion's mane. 
 
 He questions every one he meets, 
 French savans none can understand, 
 
 He asks its riddle of the Sphinx 
 Among its wastes of sand. 
 
 He beats you down a sou in price ; 
 
 Gives bogus coin in charities ; 
 He offers on the Paris Bourse 
 
 Western securities. 
 
25 
 
 Does all things stupid, all things mean ; 
 
 Says every thing mal-a-propos; 
 Is sometimes sharp, is always green, 
 
 Is all the world's bon iiiot. 
 
 The footlights vanish from my sight ; 
 The Yankee of the stage is gone ; 
 Around me falls the pleasant light 
 . Of the fair mid-day sun. 
 
 I see instead before me rise 
 
 New England homes, New England hills ; 
 Above, her blue Italian skies. 
 
 Below, her silver rills, 
 
 The snow-white church among the trees, 
 The school-house by the village green, 
 
 The clover field hummed o'er by bees, 
 The mountains dimly seen. 
 
 1 hear her many sounds of toil ; 
 
 The muffled axe in valleys deep ; 
 The distant city's wild turmoil 
 
 That breaks the forest's sleep. 
 
 Her water- courses fierce and strong. 
 Her million spindles whizzing free. 
 
 And, mingling ever with their song, 
 The grand voice of the sea. 
 
 That sea which bears with wave and wind 
 Her handiwork to distant lands ; 
 
 Which links her to the farthest Ind 
 As if with iron bands. 
 
 The toilsome sea, which nerves with steel 
 The hardy tars that plough its wave ; 
 
 The chainlcss sea, which teaches well 
 Its lessons to the brave. 
 
 New England homes, in valleys deep. 
 Or on your hill-tops maple-crowned. 
 
26 
 
 Whether the June skies o'er you sleep, 
 Or winter howls around, 
 
 Still are ye happy, still serene ; 
 
 The summer can not give more joy, 
 Nor fierce December, blowing keen, 
 
 Your inward peace destroy. 
 
 For, O, those long close-curtained eves, 
 In which the soul of comfort dwells, 
 
 I find on memory's well-worn leaves 
 No picture loved so well. 
 
 'Tis winter ; such a night as this ; 
 
 The darkness slowly settles down 
 On field, and grove, and wilderness, 
 
 And busy-peopled town. 
 
 Now o'er some quiet country home 
 The thickening shadows peaceful lie ; 
 
 The roadside poplars, straight and tall. 
 Stand up against the sky ; 
 
 The timid fowls are sheltered well. 
 The cattle stalled and amply fed : 
 
 Fuel, to last till ten o'clock, 
 
 Brought from the well-filled shed. 
 
 The hearth is swept, the tea is drawn, 
 
 The table set for the repast. 
 A Yankee kitchen — it is years. 
 
 Since, friends, you saw one last. 
 
 The pleasant firelight cheers the room ; 
 
 It lights the nicely-sanded floor, 
 The ceiling, dark with time and smoke, 
 
 The quaintly-paneled door. 
 
 Those hifrh-backed chairs which ancient dames, 
 Berufl^ed and powdered, used to fill ; 
 
 You think that by these flickering flames 
 You see them sit there still. 
 
27 
 
 The bookcase with its volumes worn ; 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress, Baxter's Rest, 
 The Book of Martyrs, somewhat torn, 
 
 A novel — but a guest. 
 
 The old king's-arm that saw the wars 
 Distant, shines dimly in the blaze. 
 
 With simples culled for winter use, 
 And bunches of the maize. 
 
 The dresser on the mantle-piece 
 
 Throws back the light with conscious pride; 
 A tall brass antique candlestick 
 
 Stands upon either side. 
 
 That stately clock, a century gone 
 
 It saw a great grandfather dead. 
 It saw the flash of British steel, 
 
 It heard the whiz of lead. 
 
 The meal is o'er, the table cleared. 
 They gather closer round the light ; 
 
 The father reads some tale aloud. 
 The children's eyes shine bright. 
 
 Or if they con the morrow's task, 
 The mother, knitting all the while. 
 
 Upon their rosy faces looks 
 With quiet, hopeful smile. 
 
 Perchance a neighbor comes to bring 
 Some news he at the village learned. 
 
 John Smith, the spendthrift, left last spring, 
 Has just this day returned. 
 
 They fetch from out the winter's hoard 
 The walnuts gathered in the fall ; 
 
 The red-cheeked apples, nicely stored, 
 A ready feast for all. 
 
 'Tis eight o'clock ; the children gone, 
 The parents sit the fire before. 
 
28 
 
 And think of what the past has done, 
 And of the future's store. 
 
 They talk about the neii^hborhood : 
 " 'Tis sad that Deacon Brown is dead ; 
 
 No deed of his were well undone, 
 Nor word of his unsaid. 
 
 "The peddler marries Sallie Jones, 
 
 That any one could plainly see 
 Since he went with her on the night . 
 
 Of Higby's apple-bee. 
 
 " The widow Clark's old cow is dead; 
 
 The ways of God are hard to tell ; 
 I think we'll give her brindle, now ; 
 
 'Twill do almost as well." 
 
 The clock strikes ten ; the house is hushed ; 
 
 There's nothing but the stars alight, 
 Or the huge log upon the hearth 
 
 That smoulders through the night. 
 
 New England housewives ! I would fain 
 Essay your virtues rare to paint ; 
 
 My humble muse before the task 
 Sinks woe-bcgone and faint. 
 
 For, startled at my elTort rash, 
 
 From twenty thousand Yankee tombs, 
 
 Full twenty thousand matrons rise. 
 All armed with mops and brooms. 
 
 A rocky mount of pantaloons 
 
 Before my wondering fancy springs. 
 
 With splendid patches on the knees. 
 And good enough for kings. 
 
 Ten pyramids of pork and beans. 
 Fifty square miles of pumpkin pies, 
 
 A mighty lake of apple-sauce 
 Before me next arise. 
 
29 
 
 A vast array of spinning wheels, 
 And yarn enough to reach as far 
 
 As ten times to the sun, and twice 
 To the remotest star. 
 
 And from these twenty thousand ghosts 
 A voice upon the wind doth swell, 
 
 Which slowly grows articulate : 
 " We darned and mended well !" 
 
 We gather from our homes to light 
 Our memories' torches at the blaze 
 
 Which cheered, that cold December night, 
 The pilgrims with its rays. 
 
 We see again the ancient rock 
 
 First pressed by footstep of the free ; 
 
 Dear rock ! stand firm against the shock 
 Of that wild winter sea. 
 
 We hear the solemn, deep-voiced prayer; 
 
 The grand, and slowly-swelling hymn, 
 Rousing the wild beast from his lair 
 
 Far in the forest dim. 
 
 The silent night is all around ; 
 
 The closely-curtained sky o'erhead ; 
 For couch, the hard, snow-covered ground, 
 
 Which nature's hand hath spread. 
 
 And if some heart in anguish turned 
 Backward across the wintry foam. 
 
 And through that solemn darkness yearned 
 For some dear English home ; 
 
 Or if some strong man bowed and wept, 
 With earnest thoughts, too sad to speak. 
 
 Silently wept, while others slept, 
 O, do not think it weak. 
 
 Great hearts ! they hewed the forest well. 
 And laid the earth bare to the sun ; 
 
30 
 
 Reared sons and daughters for the task, 
 And slept when they were done. 
 
 Brought a new era, whose great truth 
 
 Was thought, free thought to all mankind ; 
 
 The old world found anew its youth, 
 Before so weak and blind. 
 
 Great hearts ! true heroes ! sinless 1 no ! 
 
 The world hath known no perfect man, 
 Yet greater than the age before, 
 
 Truer to God's great plan. 
 
 How seem we by those ancient men 1 
 How great, how small, how good, how mean 1 
 
 And are we worthy of such sires, 
 True as the world hath seen ] 
 
 New England sons, O, keep the thrift 
 Of those who founded mighty states ! 
 
 They held their threads of destiny ; 
 You hold your future fates. 
 
 O, found your cities on a rock ! 
 
 And build your fortunes slow and sure ! 
 Tliat they may bide the tempest's shock, 
 
 And to the end endure. 
 
 Make homos, to which a century hence 
 Your children's children still may turn, 
 
 And see, through all the mists of time, 
 Their holy watchfires burn. 
 
 New England daughters, mothers now, 
 Your mothers were not dressed so fine ; 
 
 Have you forgot to take that stitch 
 Which saves the other nine 1 
 
 Have you still kept that wondrous art 
 
 Of rarest skill and wisdom too. 
 That makes the oldest dresses look 
 
 Almost as good as new ? 
 
31 
 
 New Engiand daughters of the West,' 
 'Tis yours, that task of heart and brain, 
 
 Tu make your homes and firesides blest. 
 To live those lives again. 
 
 For yonder through the parted clouds, 
 Ail brighter than the mid-day sun. 
 
 Those angel-mothers wait to say, 
 " My daughter, 'tis well done." 
 
 Brothers and sisters ! common ties 
 And common memories bind us fast ; 
 
 Upon the threshold of the year 
 We stand and view the past. 
 
 Before us lie our lives of toil, 
 
 Behind us dimly stretch the years : 
 
 O, let us glean and gather well 
 Those harvests sown in tears. 
 
 And sow broadcast our own good deeds. 
 For distant times in joy to reap ; 
 
 When we have, in our peaceful graves, 
 Been centuries asleep. 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
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