CONTRIBUTIONS
TO
HEROGRAPHY.
BY
THE AUTHOR.
ROCHESTER:
PUBLISHED BY ERASTUS DARROW,
CORNER MAIN AND ST. PAUL STRKETS.
1850.




Entered according tp Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by
ERASTUS DARROW,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Northern District
of New-York.
SHBPARD & (REVES, Printers, 22 Statstraej,
Rcchester, N. Y.




CONTENTS.
THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN,                       5
THE TUB-TENANT, -    -         -             33
THE LIGHTNING KING,   -               
THE WORLD CHAMPION, -   -   -   -  -   -     7








THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.
NINETY years ago, an infant's piteous birth-cry told the
anxious inhabitants of an humble Ayrshire cottage, that a
new pilgrim had with pain just made his entrance upon the
sad, cold journey of human life. That cry was a renewed
utterance of Nature's voice, that "man was made to
mourn;" and that new-born weeper was Robert Burns,
the poet of tears.
It is good to remember a great manrs birth. It reminds
us of natural equality and universal brotherhood; since
from the same goal we all begin the race of life, we must
have been companions once, howe'er we afterwards diverge. Hence should we learn a tender sympathy. We
were the same and we shall be the same. What matters
that we differ now?  We are brothers in birth and in
death.  " Let us love one another."
Robert Burns was the son of a poor man. His father
William was an industrious and frugal farmer, and his
circumstances of extreme indigence made it impossible for
him to ruin his children's physical or mental constitutions
by the enervating indulgences of luxury. Robert, his eldest son, shared the lot of honest poverty; was plainly, aye,
and thinly dressed, coarsely and perhaps at times scantily
fed. A naturally vigorous constitution was thus early and
2




6          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
strongly fortified, and laborious exercise at the first possible
age also assisted to perfect an. athletic frame, worthy its
animating soul. Early labor, so far from being unprofitable
and oppressive, is in a temperate degree the greatest blessing
of young years. Happy is that boy or girl, whose parents'
necessities compel him or her, during a considerable por.
tion of the time, to work.  Hard work is, 1 know,
unpopular, and for two most obvious reasons: First,
because all men are naturally sloth-loving: Secondly,
because we have inherited a silly feudal prejudice against
the pursuits of mechanism and agriculture; a prejudice
which, the sooner we attack and dig out from our hearts,
the sooner shall we be free from  a pestilential and
consuming rot which threatens to gangrene and result
in the death of all true republicanism.  I do not mean to
assert that Burns' poverty was an unmingled benefit. On
the contrary, it is proballe that it was the first exciting
cause of that morbid melancholy that rendered gloomy his
whole after life, and tinged with a sombre hue the fierce
fire of his genius.  Precocious in his intellect and sympathetic ill his disposition, Robert felt deeply for his father
laboring under crushing disadvantages; and doubtless his
excess of sensibility, operating upon an immature strength
of endurance, prompted to improper toil and produced
habitual despondency.  His father, notwithstandi ng his
numerous thought-demanding embarrassments, discharged
conscientiously.the duty of a faithful parent, in the careful
education of his children. He was not forgetful, as many
seem to be, that a decent education is indispensably necessary to the maintenance of a respectable social position,
even for a poor man's offspring. Accordingly, at the age
of six years, Robert was sent to a small school at Alloway
Miln; and when soon after it was broken up, Mr. Burns,




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.                7
with four of his neighbors, engaged a private tutor, whom
they supported from their not very abundant means.' Robert Burns and his younger brother Gilbert, were noted as
the most intelligent and studious of this little class.  But
what may excite surprise, Robert was never considered,
when compared with his brother, the genius of his father's
family.
It is difficult, indeed, if not quite impossible, to foretell
from the first indications of childhood, what is to be the
future character of the man.  Often have the most promising boys ripened into an idiotic maturity, while as frequently, reputed dunces have grown up to a gigantic
intellectual stature.  The poet himself, retrospecting in
after life this early portion of' his.history, remarks: " At
those years I was by no means a favorite with any body.
I was a good deal noted for a retentive memory, a stubborn,
sturdy something in my disposition, and an enthusiastic
idiot piety.  I say idiot piety, because I was then but a
child."
Let us pause to remark, that predominence of the religious temperament is ever characteristic of high poetic
genius.  I shall be pointed to examples of unbelieving
poets, as proof of my mistake in this assertion.  Unconvinced, I reply that even these are not exceptions to the
general truth of my observation. Even they will, by an
analysis of their character, be found, if I mistake not, to
manifest an extraordinary development of the religious
sentiment.  " God is love," and before his nature-pervad.
ing spirit, every poet-soul bows with an intensity of
devotion unknown to common men.  I can conceive of
nothing like genius unattended by an humble prostration
before the great soul of Universal Being, uninspired by
the God-essential fire of life.  Opinions, the children of in



8          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPUY.
tellect, may differ in their features, and if the legitimate
children of independent minds, will differ. I acknowledge
no Procrustean creed decapitating non-conformity. But
the heart beats alike in all bosoms where it lives and is hot,
and its out-gushings from a deep fountain are ever Heavenward.  That man who has no religious feeling, no matter
how orthodox his speculative opinions may be, is a moral
iceberg.  We shiver in his chilling presence.  He whose
glowing heart-altar sends up an instinctive incense, it matters not towards what star the perfume rises, is a true bard
of Nature's own anointing; and though words may not
have bodied forth his yearnings for the infinite, thev have
none the less thrilled one bosom with the divine poetry of
worship. Burns was a genuine bird of paradise, and his
early childhood was, as he says, remarkable for an enthusiastic idiot piety. I would, that such an idiocy characterized a few of the brilliant boys, and even some of the
marvelously gifted young men, of our highly-favored cities.
We might le'rhaps occasionally hear a really rational, remark without a single ornamental oath. As it is, were the
language of profanity banished, many most popular loafers
would become quiet as ghosts, only replying when spoken
to, in the shortest monosyllables.
The early years of Burns' life, like those of most, were
undistinguished by many striking incidents.  At the age
of sixteen he commenced attending a dancing-school, inopposition, as he confessed, to his father's wishes. Rigid
religionists were then, as now, violently opposed to many
innocent and healthful amusements-entertaining the ascetic notion that true piety demands an entire abstinence
from any thing like physical gratification; a notion finding no support in Nature or Revelation, originating in
constitutional morosity of disposition or a hypocritical




THIE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.                9
pha;isaism, and readily imbibed from others by those whose
weak brains shrink from  independent reflection.   That
any one ever reasoned himself into a belief of the sinfulness
of dancing, without a previous prejudice against it, I do
not believe: that any man or woman can present a single
objection to the amusement, deduced from its necessary
effects, physical, intellectual or moral, I unhesitatingly
denv.
About the same age, our poet first experienced the in.
toxicating influence of love; a passion which he continued
to feel through life; which, to a great extent, controled
all his subsequent conduct, and to which is attributable no
small portion of his most rapturous inspiration.  Burns
and Byron are, par excellence, the poets of love; the
former presenting its common, the latter its sentimental
phases.  Byron loved and sang with the fiery aestro of an
amorous fiend; Burns glowed with a more human though
perhaps not less ardent flame.  Ile says of himself, that
his strongest impulse was " un penchant pour l'adorable
moitre du geure humain."  No instinct is so potent as that
impelling together two kindred hearts, inhabiting respectively a manly and a tender bosom. Humanity krows no
such adoration as of the beloved one:
" Earthly life has nought
Matched with that burst of Nature, even in thought;
And all our dreams of better life above
But close in one eternal gush of love."
It is not uncommon to speak lightly, and to smile with
ridicule, at the mention of changeless, sentimental love.
I doubt not it is a rare emotion, entirely above and beyond
the capacity of the vulgar beaux and beauties of either
country or city.  But that it does somewhere exist in its
2*




10         CONTRIBUTITONS TO HEROGRAPRY.
purity and perfection, I would not willingly disbelieve, for
I must then detest humanity.  The painted belle and the
perfumed fop of fashionable society are doubtless as incapable of real affection as the coarse romp and the shallow
rustic of more plebian circles. But that a woman's heart
may not cling with a faithful grasp to the man on whom
its choice is fixed, and that a man may not ever cherish,
with undiminished tenderness, the object of his first deep
passion; a thousand instances of freezing hearts and broken vows will not convince one who so ardently desires as
I do, to think well of human nature. " Truth and fervor
and devotedness" too often find no worthy altar in this
frigid world. Yet are they glorious proof that man has not
quite lost the image of his Sire. Love is a holy passion
and near akin to piety; its disinterestedness is characteristic of that holiness that so sublimes the soul. Its existence
makes so far heroic. Instead of smiling on the poet-lover,
I would bid him by all means cultivate his sentiment, so far
as governing reason will permit.
Three months after their father's death, which occurred
in 1784, Robert and his brother Gilbert leased a farm in
company, upon which they remained four years, during
which he composed the greater number of his best poems,
-conceiving and completing while behind his plow in
the field. His example would prove, if we had no other
reason to suspect, that open air and muscular exercise are
highly favorable to mental activity. Doubtless every one's
experience has convinced him of this truth. We are never able to exert our intellect to its utmost power, except in
a healthful state of the physical system; and to perfect
health abundant exercise is absolutely indispensable.
Burns was from necessity accustomed to daily toil, and he
did not fail to reap the health and strength which Provi



THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.             11
dence has ordained as the poor man's recompense for his
ever-exacting and ofttimes painful labor. The farm, although industriously cultivated, did not prove so profitable
as expected.  It was of a cold, barren soil, and was
perhaps not so exclusively attended to as it might have
been by a man whose thoughts never wandered from his
temporary occupation to higher subjects.
It is indeed seldom that a highly poetic temperament is
united to great business talent or industry; and in this
again we behold the justice of Providence, in so constituting men that those who are able to revel in all the
luxury of high imagination, and to look down as from a
super-cloudy elevation upon other men, often suffer from
their defective pecuniary prudence, while the sordid golddigger, whose concentration of soul upon his dirty work
ensures success therein, is deprived of those higher joys
which he is sometimes fool enough to despise.
It was also during this period of his life that our poet
became somewhat heterodox in his religious opinions.
The extravagatnt severity of Scottish Calvinism was so
repugnant to his loving soul, that he found a rebellion
unavoidable; and, never guilty of halfheartedness, that
most common and meanest of crimes, he wrote certain
satirical pieces, which, while they were. highly admired
and applauded by many, involved him with peculiar odium
among the bigots at whom -his stinging shafts were aimed.
Space is wanting to quote and comment on these productions: suffice it to remark, that in them the poet exhibits
a freedom of soul such as invariably characterises true
greatness. Such is not found among the superstitious
commonalty of any country-no, not even-our own: for
even here, where truth hath free course and is unrestrained




12           CONTRIBUTIONS TO HERd;RAPHY.
by the intrusive hand of law, she is quite as dreaded a
guest as elsewhere.
By his liberal notions on religious subjects, so imprudently expressed, Burns injured the good opinion previously
entertained of him by many of his less enlightened neighbors, and acquired the damning reputation of heresy; a
reputation ever shared by all free-speaking free-thinkers in
religion. Theology, however, never so engrossed his
mind as to banish love; and it was during his Mossgiel
residence that he wooed and won his Mary Campbell, who
died soon after their betrothal, while on her last antenuptial visit at home. The loss of this cherished object of
his affections was a dreadful blow to so fond a heart, and
called forth two of the finest and most thrilling of his
melancholy songs.  The first, entitled " Highland Mary,"
describes his last inteiview  with his chosen heart-queen,
and touchingly alludes to her untimely decease. Every
reader will be pleased with its introduction:
" Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drunilie!
There simmer first unfauld her robe,
And there they langest tarry,
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
" Wi' monie a vow and locked emibrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder:
But, Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.                   13
" 0, pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly I
And closed for ay the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly;
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary."
The other poem, " To Mary in Heaven," was written
several years afterwards.  It delineates the  memorial
emotions of an affection as intense and deathless as the
genius of him who entertained it:
" Thou lingering star with lessening ray,
That lovest to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O, Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast I
" That sacred hour can I forget t
Can I forget the hallowed grove,
Where by the wandering Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love?
Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports pastThy image at our last embrace!
Ah! little thought we't was our last.
" Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green;
The fragrant birch, the hawthorn hoar,
Twined amorous round the raptured scene:
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till soon, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaimed the speed of winged day.




14          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
"Still o'er those scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care;
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear."
Who can read such outgushings of tenderness and not
feel a sad sympathy with the noble sufferer. Who can
love purely and deeply, as did Burns, without acknowledging, in his own nature as well as in that of his adored,
something truly divine? "' Let the dead bury their dead,"
said Christ, and they only do so. The love of a deepliving soul embalms its object for an immortal life. Burns
could not forget her, when green was the sod and cold the
clay that wrapped his Highland Mary.
" Hers was a form of life and light,
That seen became a part of sight,
And rose upon his spirit-eye
The morning star of memory. "
And shall we who have laid our loved ones in the tomb,
shall we forget the breathless sleepers? Three lovely
sisters have bidden me farewell. I see their pale brows no
more: their mild-beaming eyes are extinct stars in the
galaxy of home.  But Mt. Hope is a sweet resting-place
for the weary ones; and when its wild-wood is all brilliant
with the life of spring, and the moon looks down with her
love-breathing lustre, making night holy, I love to stand
alone on that hill of death, and gazing upward,
" Think that the dear ones lost may dwell
In that fair orb I love so well."
I see my hovering seraphs brighter than all earthly dreams
of beauty, their eyes intensely radient with the love-light
of their spirit-home:




TkE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.               15
" O, weep not the departed,
But keep the bitter tear
For him who, broken-hearted,
Is doomed to linger here. "
There are ever those of our fellows who mourn over a
new-made grave. May our brother Jesus say to such,
"' He-she —is not dead but sleepeth." May the tears of
bereavement be but a shower of sweet dew-drops, to keep
a loved " memory green in our souls." Our affection for
the departed is the purest sentiment of depraved humanity;
and when, amid the persecutions of life, its cup becomes
full bitter, the hope to redmbrace our old friends again
shall smile at the malice of our foes, with Dante's glorious
boast, ".Ye can not doom me not to die."
The loss of his early idol was never forgotten by our
poet, but it did not entirely destroy his future susceptibility.
HIe becanme, subsequently, deeply enamored with Jean
Armour, and the consequences of this mutual passion were
disastrous in the extreme.  Deeming himself not in proper
circumstances to A:ssume the cares and responsibilities of
married life, Burns determitned to leave his native land
and find a refuge and a new home in America. In
accordance with this determination, he made arrangements
to set sail, but wanted means to procure a suitable outfit
and to pay his passage money. In this emergency ho
began to look about for somne resource whence he might
procure the indispensable amount'; and at last the thought
was suggested, of publishing in a collected form some of
the poems which he had fro'n time to time composed, and
which had given general satisfaction to such as had heard
them recited.  He therefore made arrangements with that
view, and in 1786 his first volume made its appearance.
It was greeted with universal applause, and excited wonder




16         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
as well as admiration. Here was a plowman making his
debut as author, in a collection of poems many of which
evinced the highest order of genius. Poets, critics and
the literati generally, looked up with surprise at the new
orb that, meteor-like, had. risen upon them. *Many were
astonished that a rustic could write readable verses at all;
all were struck with their transcendent beauty and infinite
superiority to the pedantic puerilities of his learned cotemporaries. From the furrow, by a single bound he stood
upon the topmost round of Fame's lofty ladder, and calmly
surveyed, with no vertiginous uneasiness at his novel
elevation, the tumultuous cloud of ascending admiration.
The most eminent men of his times and country hailed
him as a member of the fraternity of intellectual nobility.
Exalted -mind is'not the peculiar tenant of elevated place,
nor the result of finished artificial culture: it is often the
child of poverty and toil.'A man who is daily engaged
in the most fatiguing labor and of the lowest kind, may,
behind his sooty face, conceal the sublime imagination of
the beggar Homer, the philanthropic philosophy of the
servile Terence, the melting tenderness of the plow-boy
Burns.  Hence let us learn a lesson in democracy, Ihat
rank or fortune is not the man; that humanity is nobility;
that thought is treasure.  Poor is a gilded fool: rich was
a starving Chatterton.
Robert Burns was a genuine son of a right generous
soil. His poetry hath the strong, racy flavor, of the first
fresh fruit from a new, fertile field: it sprang up spontaneously in its proud luxuriance-was not tesed forth by
assiduous tillage, by exotic elaboration. Such a genius as
he possessed needed no star upon its master's coat, to shine
forth a luminary of the first magnitude in any galaxy.
No sooner were his Sybilline leaves thrown to the wind




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.              17
than all Scotland arose to do him reverence, and even the
critical great bears of England pointed to this Northern
$Sar.  And now commences the most brilliant portion of
our poet's life. No sooner had he become known to the
world than a very general interest in his favor was excited,
and the admiring literati of Edinburgh were impatient to
see him removed to that Athens of Scotland.  Dr. Blacklock, particularly, encouraged him to come thither and
republish a large edition of his poems, which were every
where demanded with unparalleled avidity.  Burns was
too well pleased with the prospect of shining as a son of
song in the metropolis of his country, to resist these invitations.  [He " posted away to that city," according to his
own expression, "without a single acquaintance or a single
letter of introduction."  It seemls indeed as though 1" the
baneful star that had so long shed its blasting influence
upon his zenith, had at length made a complete revolution
to the nadir."  Arriving at Edinburgh,ie found several
of his old Ayrshire neighbors, and for a while gave up his
time almost exclusively to their society.  He emitted however without delay, a prospectus for his second edition,
which Creech, the qincipal bookseller in the city, undertook to publish on the recommendation of the Earl of
Glenclairn. Many of the most eminent men of his country
sought and cultivated his acquaintance. Among them may
be mentioned Dr. Blair, Dugald Stewart and the Hon.
Henry Erskine. Under such auspices, and with such patronage, his subscription list was filled up with very little
delay, and his prospect for the future seemed as brilliant
as his present entre. Lockhart justly remarks, " It is but a
melancholy business to trace among the records of literary
history the manner in which most great original geniuses
have been greeted, on their first appeals to the world, by the
3




IS          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
cotemporary arbiters of taste." It is by contrast the more
pleasing, to see a warm, full-hearted, love-inspired bard
like Burns, hailed from every side with the hearty welcome
of a nation's outgushing affection. Such a reception was
not lost on his generous temper. An ardent love of fame,
which is one of the predominating passions of all noble
souls. made the expression of their good opinion, from such
worthy men, intensely grateful to one who had not presumed to expect a tittle of the consideration which was so
heartily bestowed.   Praise is a true poet's atmosphere:
even a small breath is grateful: who can appreciate the
ecstasy of riding on its whirlwind! Upon a weak mind
nothing has so pernicious an influence as undissembled comp)liment.  It is the most intoxicating of drinks, and will
soon turn a head containing any ordinary brain. That he
bore a friee potation with graceful and undiminished modesty,
is a most conclusive proof of his real magnanimity.  His
perfect freedom and self-possession, in all the new positions
in the social woit which he was called upon for the first
time to assume, exhibit a soul removed to a serene elevation above the littleness of fashion; whose uninstructed
dictate was politeness; whose manifestations in the minutiae of conduct were the scintellatlis of a shining orb.
On his broad brow Nature had written, in her largest
character —A Man.  From his heart boiled up these noble
words:
"'T is not for honest poverty
To hang its head and a' that;
The coward slave we pass him by,
We daur be puir for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
Our toil,'s obscure and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.                  19
What thoe' on hamley fare we dine,
Wear hodden grey and a' that;
Gie fools their silks and knaves their wineA man's a man for a' that.
For a''that and a' that,
Their tinsel show and a' that,
The honest man, though e'er sae puir,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see ybn birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts and stares and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that;
For a' that and a' that,
His ribbon, star, and a' that,
The man o' independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.
A king can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke and a' that,
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa' that;
For a' that and a' that,
Their dignities and a' that,
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth
Are higher ranks than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth o'er a' the earth
May bear the gree and a' that;
For a' that and a' that,
Its comin' yet for a' that,
That man to man, the wide warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that."
Yes, indeed, and when a thousand lordly names of his
cotemporaries are dead, and buried, and rotten in oblivion,
Robert Burns shall live in the deathless spirit of his yerse
-the cherished friend of humanity.




20          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
Not for his poetry alone was Burnis an extraordinary
man.  He equally excelled in colloquial talent.  It is not
always, indeed not generally, the case, that such as have
the greatest power in deliberate composition are also highly
gifted with the ability to express themselves readily and
forcibly in extemporaneous conversation: a quite different
talent is called into exercise, and men seldom possess a
great number of distinguished powers.  Burns was one of
the few who, mighty in their slower and solitary movements, were also quick and strong in their unpremeditated
activity. His conversation is described by his biographers as
singularly energetic and beautiful.  All social circles which
he honored with his presence, whether of the high or low
in rank, were delighted eien to amazement, with the facility and grace with which the most eloquent and profound
remarks, on all conceivable subjects, were emitted, as
from an exhaustless reservoir of brilliant, flowing thoughtcrystal: scholars and boors, judges and draymen, lords
and boot-blacks, equally paused to listen as to an inspired
oracle, and when he had spoken were ready to enquire,
" Whence hath this man wisdom?.'
Oh! genius is an inspiration truly divine. Ile whose
lips have been touched with a live coal from off an heavenly
altar, will speak and men can but listen, and their hearts
will burn within them as his lava words come rushing in a
glowing stream from their volcanic fountain. When a
great soul looks out from under its high, calm  brow, and
breathes forth its vivifying breath, sweetening the grateful
air, men may hate but they must respect. Mind is the
true sovereign, and though maltreated by rebellious subjects, it is still glorious in its regal dignity. Little men
may spit at great ones, but they feel very little when they
do it.




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.               21
Robert Burns had but to appear in any society and speak,
and the thought-king stood revealed, the hero was acknowledged; and men's prejudices, however stiff-necked, must
bend with a bow of reverence to intellectual greatness.
Yet, though every where a welcome guest, a certain suspicious apprehension, the result of pride, that he was less
respected in proportion to his real merit, than the puppet
dignitaries of artificial society, made him prefer the company of those who could claim no tinsel superiority to himself. And among these friends of his own condition he
was prone to conviviality, relishing with infinite gust the
sweets of social intercourse, including, alas! the mountain-dew of bacchanalian celebrity. Poets, from Anacreon to Tom Moore, have sung the praise of alcoholic
drinks. They seem as a race to have an innate affection
for that source of a temporary ecstasy somewhat resembling their more peculiar and more ethereal intoxication.
It is a lamentable predisposition, but not perhaps indicative of a very black depravity. Burns was particularly
exposed to temptation in this respect, by reason of the eagerness with which his company was sought on all'hands,
and his own preeminently companionable disposition. He
spent, at this period, a far greater portion of his time in
social assemblies than he had ever before been in the habit
of doing. He also participated very freely in the nectarian refreshments so common among his roistering countrymen. No inconvenience was the immediate result,
while his brilliant volubility was doubtless increased by
the brain-quickening draught. But the end was not yet.
The second edition of his poems put our bard in possession
of a greater sum than he had ever before called his own;
and with a poet's prudence he resolved to expend it in visiting the classical scenery of his beloved land. With this
3.*




22         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPet.
view he bade farewell to the scene of his temporary tri'umph, and on the 6th day of Aay, 1787, began his patriotic pilgrimage. A gladsome period was spent among
scenes where, as has been said, "Every field has its battle
and each rivulet its song."
I cannot think Burns was unwise in undertaking this
poetic tour. I would that all men would oftener lay aside
for a time the cares of business and give their minds a
Sabbath-month-a month of relaxation-of travel-of comrn.
munion with nature and of social interchange. From such
a change of action and of scene, from a contemplation of
other than the features of his counting-house, office, study,
workshop, or farm, from at least an annual respiration of
other than the confined air of his own town or county, I
should anticipate the acquisition of a new elasticity of soul,
a continued expansion of intellect and a general growth in
practical wisdom.  It seems to me that the mechanism of
business life hath great need thus to be broken in its opera.
tion, that the'working mind may not grow to its tread.
wheel, revolving with the same regularity and sooi with
equal thought. The rock-bound oyster knows no elevantion in the scale of being, and the human shell-fish, secure
in his impervious coat of provincialism from all approach
of out-door influence, is as unlikely to see or feel anything
beyond the limits of his own narrow cove. Doubtless, the
greatest want of civilized society at the present day is a
systematic arrangement of its dissipations. " Dulce est dew
sipere in loco," is not a heathen but a human sentiment.
That severer duties must divide our time with those of a
lighter character, no sagacious observer of moral phenomena ever doubted; that we should totally abstain from
amusements, no wise man ever taught. Now I dare not
say that there is too little of this indispensable dissipation 




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.              23! rather agree with the graver portion of community that
there is far too much, and would therefore that men were
enlightened on a subject of so great importance, and would
learn to afford themselves that portion of time which might
be profitably given to travel and society, and not waste
valuable hours in a manner which entirely unfits them for
laborious exertion in the appropriate time for labor.
But to return to our. poet.  After visiting many of the
spots famous for natural beauty or consecrated by human
heroism, he returned to his home at Manchline, Where for
once a prophet found honor in his own country.  His
friends and neighbors opened wide the arms of their affections, to clasp the returning friend of Scotland and of man,
feeling themselves honored by the reflection of his glory.
Only six months before, he had left them poor and unknown.  He came back, his brow  resplendant with a
bardie crown imposed by the most noble hands.  His brief
campaign had been an Alexandrine conquest. I-Ho was now
the undisputed monarch of Scotia's Parnassus. And vet
the cordiality of his reception and the enthusiastic expressions of his neighbors' regard were not quite grateful to his
somber temper, and he writes to a friend: "I never
thought mankind capable of any thing very generous;
but the stateliness of the patricians of Edinburgh and the
servility of my plebeian brethren, (who perhaps formerly
eyed me askance,) since I came home, have put me out of
conceit altogether with my species. I have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually about me, in order to
study the sentiments, the dauntless magnanimity, the intrepid, unyielding perseverance, the desperate daring and
noble defiance of hardship in that great personage, Satan.
The many ties of acquaintance and friendship I have, or
think I have, in life, I have felt along the lines; and,




24         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
damn them, they are almost all of them of such frail texture that I am sure they would not stand the breath of the
least adverse breeze of fortune."
Burns was prone to suspicion, and often thought he saw
some lurking baseness where perhaps there was really
nothing but the most noble sentiment. A man of genius,
conscious of his own superiority to the pigmies around him,
and accustomed to be misunderstood and insulted, is very
much exposed to the danger of falling into a morbid misanthropy, disposing him to suspect humanity of the meanness justly chargeable upon many of its wearers; and thus
our divine nature is disgraced with the greatest and best,
by the detestable misconduct of the littlest and vilest.
Having completed his peregrinations, our poet returned
to Edinburgh, where he spent the ensuing winter; and we
regret that historical fidelity requires us to add that he did
not lead as exemplary a life as was desirable in one upon
whom so many eyes were turned in admiration. Such as
occupy a conspicuous position in society should pay for
their envied eminence by more strenuous exertions in the
cause of virtue than is demanded from the obscure, and by
a less fiee indulgence in those innocent pleasures which in
their weaker brethren lean towards vice, than will readily
be granted by public opinion to other men.
Burns was, as has been previously remarked, of an eminently social disposition, and the consequence of unrestrainedly gratifying his taste for convivial entertainments
was, that he gradually slid into an intemperate indulgence,
which continued to tarnish his otherwise reproachless character. Meanwhile, his pecuniary circumstances became
so embarrassed, and the prospect before him so dismal, that
he found himself forced to think of some more reliable
means of support than was presented by his poetic reputa.




THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.              28
tion alone. He finally decided to and did apply for a commission as exciseman, hoping, by the scanty salary awarded to such a functionary, to avoid absolute starvation, if he
might not expect the comforts of life. Through the influence of his constant friend, the Earl of Glencairn, he ob —
tained the solicited appointment, which he continued to
hold during the remainder of his life.
Upon a settlement with his publisher soon after, he unexpectedly found himse!f in possession of ~500, and in
consideration of his increased opulence resolved to take a
farm, as he had long desired, and to marry the mother of
his four children; an act of justice which he now for the
first time had the ability to perform, with any other prospect than that of certain and immediate ruin. According.
ly he hastened.to Mossgiel and was immediately united in
wedlock with Jean Armour, fcr whom he had long cherished a true and daep affection.  It is strange that in announcing this event to his correspondents, he seemed to
consider some apology necessary for his conduct; but it is
true that he troubled himself to prepard several elaborate
vindications.
There exists a prejudice in the minds of many young
men against marrying; a very singular prejudice, but not
so singular as silly. They seem to feel as though it were
a weak and foolish thing to choose a woman for their life.
companion. Whence may have originated this feeling I
know not, unless it be from the trifling manner in which
marriage is generally spoken of among young persons.
Each would not, for the world, confess his or her intention
to marry as soon as circumstances will conveniently permit. Oh, no! that would be a manifest indelicacy; and
therefore the most interesting and necessary of relations
is alluded to by its trembling expectants, as an inexhausti.




26          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
ble subject for derisive merriment. A young man or woman has so often laughed at the whole affair and expressed
a perfect abhorrence for the galling chains of wedlock,
that either can but blush to own that he or she has at last
come to the conclusion that matrimony is not all a humbug, at least that the dubious experiment is to be tried.
And therefore it is that the initiatory ceremony is made a
thought-killing frolic, and the most solemn of vows assumed with an embarrassed nod, as though the parties were
ashamed of themselves and each other. I'would that this
stupid nonsense were obsolete; that all appreciated the
dignity and blessedness of a most holy, God-ordained union,
and dared to talk like rational beings on a subject of the
utmost importance and of the highest interest to us all.
Then would no man, like Burns, excuse himself for doing
his most honorable duty; then would no young lady, with
a mean and foolish falsehood, announce her resolutions of
eternal celibacy.
Having sufficiently deprecated the ridicule of his correspondents, Burns entered upon a period of his life, the most
happy, as he afterwards avowed, that he had ever enjoyed.
His wife was just the affectionate, trusting, clinging being
calculated to make a noble and warm-hearted, independent
man truly blessed. Among the sweets of domestic intercourse he might, forgetting the hardships of his past and
the gloomy prospects of his future life, breathe deeply in
the bright present, free, proud and happy.'His farm afforded a sufficiency of laborious exercise to ensure sound
physical health, and his leisure hours were spent in that
terrestrial paradise-home.  His poetical compositions at
this time were few; other cares engrossed his attention too
entirely to leave much time for wooing the muses.  It is
generally the case that those'coquetish young ladies, ho w



THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.              27
ever kindly they have flirted with the lover, choose to cut
the married man. His company was eagerly sought by a
crowd of admiring neighbors, and his own profuse hospitality far exceeded his limited means to sustain without
serious detriment.  His correspondence became also im.
mense, and consumed a proportional amount of time. By
his nervous and elegant epistolary style, only less than by
his inimitable poetry, is Burns distinguished.  His letters
display an unveiled soul of gigantic stature and engaging
symmetry.   They are replete with the most vigorous
thought, most beautifully clothed. The temptation is irresistible, to introduce a single specimen.  HIe thus writes
to his friend Mrs. Dunlop, under date January 1st, 1789:
" This, dear Madam, is a morning of wishes, and would
to God that I came under the Apostle James' description,'the prayer of a righteous man availeth much.' In that
case, Madam, you would welcome in a year full of blessings: everything that obstructs or disturbs tranquillity and
self-enjoyment should be removed, and every pleasure that
frail humanity can taste should be yours. I own myself
so little of a Presbyterian, that I approve of set times and
seasons of more than ordinary acts of devotion for breaking in on the habitual routine of life and thought, which is
so apt to reduce our existence to a kind of instinct, or even
sometimes and with some minds, to a state very little superior to mere'machinery.  This day-the first Sunday of
May-a breezy, blue-skied moon sometimes about the beginning, and a hoary morning and calm Sunday, say about
the end of autumn —-these, time out of mind, have been
with me a kind of holiday.  I believe I owe this to that
glorious paper, in the Spectator, "' The Vision of Mirza," a
piece that struck my young fancy before I was capable of
fixing an idea to a word of three syllables. We know next




28          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
to nothing of the substance or structure of our souls, so
cannot account for these seeming caprices in them, that
we should be particularly pleased with this thing or struck
with that, which on minds of a different cast makes no
extraordinary impression.  I have some flowers in spring,
that I view and hang over with particular delight. I never
hear the loud, so'itary whistle of the curlew, in a summer
noon, or the mixing cadence of a troop of grey plover in an
autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like
the enthusiasm of devotion or pIoetry.   Tell me, my dear
friend, to what can this be owing? Are we a piece of ma.
chinery, which like the Eolian harp, passive takes the impression of the passing accident? Or do these workings
argue something within us above the trodden clod? I own
myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important
realities-a God that made all things-man's immaterial
and immortal nature-and a world of weal or woe beyond
death and the grave."
Such examples as the preceding might almost convince,us of the justice of Dr. Robel'tson's opinion, that Burns'
prose was more extraordinary than his verse, and fully sustain the remark of Prof. Stewart, that " his preJilection
for poetry was rather the result of his own enthusiastic
andimpassioned temper than of a genius exclusively adapted
to that species of composition."  Thus, in writing letters,
cultivating his farm, and to some extent his acquaintance
with the muses, his time was passed for the space of three
years, during which his pecuniary affairs became daily
more and more involved. He had too much of poetry
and generosity in his mind and heart, to be a successful
business-man, without a greater share of close calculating
prudence than often falls to the share of genius. Conse.
quently, his farm, though generally well cultivated, was




tHE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.'29
less productive than those of others, and his purse less
bloated by its master's selfishness.
The decline of his affairs at length determined him to
give up his farm and accept the excise appointment, which
awaited but his application. Having decided to devote his
entire attention to the duties of his office, he applied for and
obtained the Dumfries division, with an annual salary of
~70.  Removing to that place, he was sure of a regular,though narrow income, and entertaining hopes that his
diligent services might at no distant date be rewarded with
something better.  Still, pleasant memories bound him to
the scene of blissful experiences, while a gloomy presentiment of approaching ill fell like a cloud upon the sunlit
surface of his soul.
Sad is it, indeed, to leave forever a place in which we.lave long been happy.  The parting spirit, like the Trojan dames, will cling to its very stones and kiss them with
a mournful valediction; and when the sun for the last timen
goes down upon the roof we have called home, its golde:n
ray seems brown with sorrow, and dying slowly, fades into
a melancholy gloom.  Burns renounced with pain his chelrished hope to remain an independent cultivator of the soil,
and turned with reluctance to another pursuit alike toreignl
to his habits and hostile to his tastes.
And here let us pause to consider a reflection sug'est~.i
by a poet's life-the equality of Providence in its distributions.  Have we not often been ready to complain that the
Supreme Donor has exhibited an invidious partiality in his
diverse gifts to the children of men, and in nothing more
than the confereance of genius-his most exalted bestowment?  Why, it may be bitterly inquired, why ani I so
little and gross and near-sighted, when Newton and Bacon
and Locke were so great, perspicacious, almost angelic.
4




30          CcONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHi.
Why did not the universal Father give me too the brain of
Plato or of Tully? Why cannot I soar aloft as Milton, or
glow with the fire of Byron, or thrill with the heart-melt.
ing tenderness of Burns? Forbear, presumptuous blasphe.
mer!  Hushed be thy complaint, since thou may'st see
Milton's sightless eyes and hear the anguish of his stricken
soul; since Byron's life was but a long and weary heartdrawn sigh, as bitter to him al its echo in his moody verse
is sweet to us; since Burns' pilgrimage from Ayrshire to
Dumfiies was but a funeral march, and its wild wailing
music, "man was made to mourn."  Oh, envy not the
sons of genius: their flight is higher and their rapture more
intense than ours, but their fall is also lower and their agony more keen. Increase of sensibility means increase of
torture, and he who craves the one must woo the other
also.  "' Why should a living man complain?"  Let us
not ungrateful curse our fate because we are unequal to
the highest.  Let us rather thank God for the blessings of
our assigned position, and strive to acquit ourselves manfully
of its obligations.
We have seen Burns leaving Ellisland with regret, and
settling in Dumfries with almost despair.  This unpleasant
state of dissatisfaction with his position did not permit that
mental calm which is almost as essential to virtue as to
happiness. As a refuge from harassing care, the moody
poet at times indulged in undue conviviality, and was
not unfrequently intemperate in his use of alcoholic stimulants.  Some unfortunate occurrences soon after took
place, affecting his standing with the superior officers of
his department,- and entirely precluding any reasonable
hope of future promotion; so that his prospect in life was
narrowed to a long ioad of poverty, leading to an humble
tomb, over which in fancy he could see the desolate and des



THE PARNASSIAN PLOWMAN.                31
titute sharer of his being, weeping in unsolaced woe among
a starving troop of their orphan offspring.  Such a fate,
when its horror was almost equaled by its certainty, might
almost excuse the aberration of an ardent soul, while their
mournful cause will not cease to be as profoundly deplored
as their ruinous effects.  Mental anxiety, and the life of
dissipation to which it led, made rapid inroads on a constitution already broken by premature. and excessive toil, and
under the accumulated weight of his oppressions Robert
Burns sunk to an early grave,'on the 21st day of July
1796, at the age of 37 years.' Alas,'t was ever, ever thus,
The brightest sons of genius soonest die."
The necessary limit of these remarks does not permit
a dissertation, however brief, on the.poetry of Burns-we
can only pause to consider in a word the most important
moral of his life.
Lockhart, in his biography, with an excusable zeal for
the poet's reputation, has ingeniously attempted, if not to
conceal, at least to color the indisputable fact, that during
his later years he was more and more addicted to the vice
of drunkenness.  It is ever painful to state the whole truth
in plain words, when the subject is some weakness of a
cherished friend, and the old motto, " de mortuis nihil sed
bonum," is the natural language of a generous if a mistaken sentiment.  But is it not better that a great good man's
faults should preach to after generations a sermon all the
more impressive by their incongruity with his general virtue, than that a sickly tenderness should bury them beneath
a heap of charitable misrepresentations? Be it then confessed with pain, that Robert Burns, a heaven-anointed
bard, one of the mental kings of earth, was weakened in




CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
the sinews of his soul, by the seducing embrace of that
purple harlot, the convivial wine-cup.  Let the lovers of
his verse and the admirers of his character take warning
and avoid his error: let them beware lest they be overcome of evil, striving rather to overcome evil with good.
Many and mighty are the abducent influences with which
we have all daily to contend. The struggle must be labor'ious and life-long, but the victory to a determined soul is,
with divine assistance, as certain as it is glorious. Let us
then learn to meet the ills of life, not mournfully but with
cheerfulness. Let us bear them with a patient heroism,
never seeking refuge in a temporary insensibility nor in
the cowardly intoxication of frivolity. Moral chloroform
is a dastard's refuge from discipline.
" Oh, fear not, in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long.
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong."




THE TUB-TENANT.
lN surveying the annals of time and reviewing the characters of those men who, by the peculiarity of their mental
constitutions, have been distinguished from the dull herd
of such as have no characters at all, (which is the case
with by far the majority of mankind, as the sagacious
Dr. Johnson has most pregnantly remarked,) we shall find
no one, perhaps, who occupies a point of view so entirely
unique as the old sage of Sinope, the cynic Diogenes. Of
his personal history we can but regret that so very little
has descended to us, since even that little is quite sufficient
to present to our observation the most singular development of a mind as gigantic in its powers as eccentric in its
operations; as instructive by its lessons as attractive by its
novelty. According to the most accurately settled systems
of chronology, he was born in the year 428 B. C. Of his
early life we have only the account that he began, even in
boyhood, to think for himself and to despise the leadingstrinigs of popular prejudice. He recognized no intellectual authority but that of reason, which he was wise enough
to perceive had been by nature given to man for his guide
of life; and by its dictates alone, so far as discoverable,
he determined to be governed, rather than by those arbitrary customs which he found established in society around
4*




34         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
him. Nay, being of an extremely radical turn of mind,
he went so far as to question the obligation of human laws,
at least such as are merely instituted for some temporary
convenience rather than deduced from the eternal nature
and unalterable relations of things.  Acting consistently
with his notions of propriety in this respect, he proceeded
to exercise a right which, as he considered, belonged to
each individual member of the body politic, rather than to
community in its aggregate capacity —i. e., that of coining
money: being detected in which, he suffered the penalty
of banishment fiom his native country, to which, judging
from our knowledge of his character, he could not have been
very ardently attached, narrow patriotism and all other
similar weaknesses forming no part of his exalted nature,
elevated as it was by the study of pure philosophy and the
contemplation of the infinite.  His punishment we may
therefore fairly suppose not to have been severely felt by
its subject. It was probably, in its result, advantageous to
him, since it proved the means of introducing him into
another and a much higher order of society than that to
which he had previously been accustomed.  From such
circumstances, which are of daily occurrence, we should
do well to learn that how great soever a misfortune may
seem to be, or in how disgraceful soever a situation, deciding by common opinion, we may be placed, yet perhaps
after all, thecirumstances may prove a real blessing in the
end, and the dishonor a glory by the judgment of more
liberal spectators.  Not that I would be understood as justifying entirely the conduct of the philosopher in this particular, which, with the most favorable construction possible,
must still be regarded as of problematical propriety, but
that from every incident I would deduce some general truth




THE TUB-TENANT.                 35
of practical importance, which alone can make it worth
recording.
Proceeding with our narrative: From Sinope Diogenes
came to Athens, at that time the seat of refinement and
the school of ancient wisdom.  Even here, among the
greatest minds that the-age produced, or perhaps indeed any
age has witnessed, he soon became distinguished above all
others, by the same burning desire for knowledge and the
same chain] ess spirit of inquiry that had before distinguished him among his countrymen.
In each of the various systems which divided the Athenian thinkers, he found much to admire and something to
disapprove; but among them he particularly favored with
his approbation the so-called Cynics, a brief sketch of
whose views we must subjoin as indispensable in delineating
the character of their most powerful proselyte and advocate.
The sect was founded by Antisthenes, a philosopher of
the highest order.: Descended from an Athenian father, he
inherited all the quickness and acumen of that extraordinary people —probably the most extraordinary for an
excessive share of these qualities that the world has ever
seen-which he early cultivated in the highest degree, by
the arduous study of abstract subjects in metaphysics.
After having disciplined his own vigorous intellect by a
long course of most laborious reflection, and brought to maturity his new philosophy, he began to teach it, in conjunction with rhetorical lectures, with unrivalled success. He
had so far triumphed over the ingenious superstitions of his
time, as to recognize the existence of one only living and
true God.  In consideration of man's high station and
destiny, he thought it wrong to waste life in the acquisition
of wealth, which he justly considered contemptible, or to
fill up valuable time with paltry cares about the personal




36         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
appearance, the dress, the trim of beard, and those other
equal trifles that demand and receive from most men, so
much more attention than their consequence deserves. He
censured with a proper asperity the trivial pursuits which
engrossed so improperly the thoughts of his fellow-citizens,
and also that false shame which holds it indecent to obey
the dictates of nature; on which account he was opprobri.
ously termed, by such as had not mind enough to appreciate
his more enlightened views, a Cynic, i. e., a canine philosopher.  He indignantly dispensed with all those artificial
accommodations which a false education renders necessary
for the gratification of artificial desires, but which are truly more a curse than a blessing to men; and he also
advised such as had no other prospect in life than certain
misery, to cut short the vital thread, and thus with their
own hand-avert rather than endure unescapable and irremediable evil. These were the principal distinguishing
notions of the founder of the Cynic sect. He propounded
them with transparent clearness and the most attractive
eloquence, in his public lectures, and enforced them with
that strongest and most persuasive commentary on any
ethical system, an exemplary private life-in which particular we regret being compelled to state that all his disciples, as is usual with those of every reformer, were not so
prudent as to imitate him.
After he had heard the god-like Socrates, that grand
luminary of ancient philosophy, he dismissed his school,
and becoming himself a pupil of that master mind, adopted
into his own system the capital tenets of his revered instructor.' When asked by one of thQse near-sighted utilitarians from whom no age has been free, whose narrow
minds are always doubting the value of aught that conduces not directly to sensual pleasure, what philosophy had




THE TUB-TENANt.                  39
taught him-he made the remarkable reply, " To live at
peace with myself;" a most pointed and appropriate rebuke to one who, while he "' with reversed ambition strives
to sink," is continually at war with his own aspiring nature.
Such as we have represented was Cynicism as taught by
its author: a truly noble system, and if we consider when
and where originated, wonderful for the proportion of valuable truth that it contained, mingled with so little error
that perhaps as a whole no better way, excepting ever the
divine religion of that mysterious God-man who is "the
way, the truth and the life" of his humble followers, has
ever been pointed out for the direction of human conduct.
This philosophy, so pure and elevated, had irresistible
charms for a mind like that of Diogenes. He went to the
house of Antisthenes, and expressed his desire to be admitted as a disciple.  But the haughty old cynic, disgusted
involuntarily by the rudeness of his personal appearance,
and prejudiced perhaps by false reports of his grossness,
and by true stories of his keen satirical humor, suspecting
it may be that his object was merely to learn enough of
the system to ridicule its teacher, so far forgot his own liberal principles as in a rough manner to repel his advances;
and when he still insisted, even struck him violently with
his staff. With the insult Diogenes was too great to be
made angry, but with admirable coolness addressed his injurer in a reply which ought to be forever remembered as one
of the highest specimens of the moral sublime: " Strike me,
Antisthenes, strike me if you choose to do so, but be assured that you will never thus succeed in dissuading me from
the pursuit of what I am convinced may be learned from
your acquaintance and conversation." So noble a return to
so gross an injury, at once revealed the magnanimity of




38          CONTRIBUTIONS TO IHEROGRAPHY.
the man. He was received as he desired to be, and soon
became the especial favorite of his master.
And here let us pause for a moment, to inquire how many there are who, in the nineteenth century, boasting of
modern light and knowledge, and professing themselves the
followers of that forgiving Nazarene, as well as the friends
of wisdom and of man, but who, in their unchristian pride,
despise their less favored brothers of other times, and particularly the poor old cynic of Athens- how many of
these would have had the intellect or the heart to thus respond to a painful blow, inflicted with every aggravation
of circumstance? 0! we shall do well to learn, and then
not soon forget, that we are but men, even as the despised
beings about us, subject to like infirmities as our fellows;
that others are quite likely to have as pure motives, as
generous feelings, as noble sentiments, as ourselves.
When we feel this truth (forgotten as it seems to be by
almost all) inspiring all our relative actions, then and not
before may we flatter ourselves that we are in advance of
more benighted ages than our own.
Another lesson may be drawn from  this incident, and
that is, the folly of judging from  external appearance
merely. How prone are we too to estimate a man in accordance with the indications of his exterior, and even
after repeated instances have shown us our liability in so
doing to mistake! If a man be plainly dressed and unshaved; if his hair be longer than the fashionable trim and
not well oiled and brushed; if his manners be somewhat
rigid and his address not very insinuating; we are quite
inclined to regard him at once as a disagreeable companion, and to desiredno farther acquaintance.  AnId if, in addition to all these heinous sins, he be quite or nearly destitute
of money, the world will assuredly vote with us and doom




MTl  t-TENANP.                 IN
him to t perpetual banishment from all self-styled good
society. And yet that man may wear behind his shocking
mask, features all radiant with intellect and goodness;
" some mind formed in the finest mould and wrought for
immortality; a soul swelling with the energies and stamped
with the patent of the Deity."
" A soul on fire and waiting but its time
To burst with Etna grandeur on the world."
How should we blush to meet such a one, whom in his
days of darkness we had slighted and perhaps insulted, in
the glorious moment of his culmination! "Be not forgetful," is the precept of our holy book, " to entertain stran.
gers, for in so'doing some have entertained angels unawares." Be not forgetful, is the dictate of politeness, of
wisdom and of Jesus, to entreat with benevolent civility
every brother-man with whom you chance to meet: you
may find that in so doing to the least you have done so
to the greatest.
In adopting the cynic philosophy, Diogenes was not
guilty of the cowardly misbehavior, but too common in
all and more especially in the present times, of professing
what he dared not practice; of believing what a dastardly
regard for popular opinion would not suffer him to live.
No! lhe nobly assumed the plain attire which constituted
the only badge of his order: he occupied the humble habitation which his circumstances of extreme indigence rendered necessary, without fearing the contemptuous jeers of
such as could not comprehend his conduct: he proceeded
without regard, or more probably with the regard of pity,
(which is the feeling of a truly great mind for the infirmities of others,) for the idiotic stare which then as now greeted any, even the slightest, deviation from absurdly custo



40          CONTRtIB'JTIONS T'O HEROGRAPHt.
mary forms, to live and act as reason directed, satisfied that
the great general laws of being were enacted by a higher
authority, and are of a more obligatory nature than the
trivial rules of conventional etiquette, which ought always
to be of optional observance. Agreeing with the great
founder of his sect, he regarded riches as an object unworthy the pursuit of a really noble mind, being attended with
a thousand paltry cares that are continually perplexing
their possessor, and turning the soul fiom that high ethereal life which is the essence of its being, into a mere slave
of matter and of sense-a lamentable result, which we in
this commercial age have only to look around us to see
exemplified in innumerable instances of prostituted talents,
seared consciences and quenched'spirits, shriveled by the
degrading toil for gain to the exclusion of those noble
exercises which demand and ought to receive at least a portion of the space allotted to us here, (if we may judge any
thing from our own holy instincts, or read aught but
falsehood from nature's volume,) rather for high enjoyment than base, confusing anxiety.
By his fiequent and bitterly expressed contempt for the
follies with which he, saw himself surrounded, he rapidly
acquired a distinguished reputation among the sages of
Athens; and to see the virulent castigator of the great and
wise equally with the unlearned commonalty, became one
of the principal objects of the pilgrimage performed by
multitudes to that home of science and cradle of the arts,
honored by his adoption as his residence and the seat of
his instructions.  The most eminent men of his cotempo.
raries felt it not beneath their dignity to visit the dweller
in a tub, to hear his wisdom  and to see his life.  Even
Alexander, the world-subduer. reserved time From the affairs
of empire for appropriation to the more iml)ortant study




TrHE TUB-TENANT.                41
of philosophy, and performed a journey to enjoy the privilege of speaking with one whose character is everywhere
and at all timessuperior to that of sceptered monarchs —an
independent thinker.  When he approached the spot where
the philosopher was reclining, surveying the beauties of
surrounding nature or reflecting upon some profound abstraction, he was immediately and forcibly struck with his
venerable appearance and perfect nonchalance; and after
the first unheeded salutation, he inquired with benevolent
impudence if the king of Macedonia could do aught for
the beggar of Sinope. Mark the grandeur of the reply!
The wise old man was willing to teach the proud young
prince an unlearned lesson. Slowly raising his head, he
mildly requested the wondering monarch to stand aside and
not obstruct the genial sunshine in which he was warming
himself.  Alexander was surprised at such an exhibition of
cdntented magnanimity-an elevation of soul that raised a
naked mendicant immeasurably above the first of men,
first in the battle-field, first at the council-board, and first
in the court of empires.  He saw and felt now that fortuitous circumstances are not the man, that the burning spirit
within is what gives true grace and dignity and glory to
humanity.  He shrunk abashed in the presence of higher
powers, and after a protracted and intimate acquaintance
with the immortal Stagirite in the palace of his royal
father, he found upon a sandy bank of Corinth the masterspirit of the.age. Filled with astonishment, he could only
murmur to his courtier train, s" Were I not Alexander I
would be Diogenes."  Unmoved by the compliment, the
cynic answered, " And were I not Diogenes I would be
Alexander."   Happy had it been for the oriental conqueror if nature had changed their respective lots, and that
destroying spirit, so justly termed by old Darius the " mad
5




42          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
boy of Macedonia," had employed the clearness of his
intellect and the ardor of his soul in the investigation of
truth and the reprehension of error, instead of the sacking
of opulent cities and the depopulation of flourishing provinces: then would his life have been peace, and not a
drunken revel, and his death would have sent down the
stream of time something else than a mere
", Name at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral or adorn a tale."
But fate had ordered otherwise; and when the world has
grown so wise as to appreciate the grandeur of Diogenes,
the fury of Alexander will be remembered only by its devastuting effects, with the earthquake's cruel ravage and
the tempest's thoughtless desolation.
We have seen Diogenes aweless before the impersonation of martial prowess. It might be supposed that before
some other higher form of greatness his soul would feel
its inferiority and bow with reverence. Doubtless, in the
presence of a real superior, his, like any other generous
nature, would have made obeisance. That superior could
not readily be found. Perhaps his greatest cotemporary
was the sublime trinitarian Plato, a teacher so blindly
adored by his disciples that his slightest remark was to them
a Delphian response. Such an implicit intellectual submission to any master, however exalted, is unworthy a mind
made by its Creator free. Diogenes saw with pain many
of the best minds of Athens thus servilely submitted to the
dictatorship of one who, though God-like in reason, still
was not a legitimate sovereign over other men's opinions.
At least he dared to rebel: he saw some errors in Plato's
system, and resolved, when opportunity presented, to break
the spell and show his fellow-citizens that no human being




THE TUB-TENANT.                 43
is infallible; that they ought, in listening to the instructions of the wisest men, still to keep in active exercise
their own minds-to prove all things and hold fast only
that which is good. It was not long after, that Plato, in
lecturing on anthropology, attempted a definition of its
subject. After examining those of others and pointing out
their imperfections, he proposed as his own and a correct
one, " an animal having two legs and no feathers." This
was at once applauded by his hearers as highly ingenious
and entirely unobjectionable, and it at once became famous. Coming to the ears of Diogenes, he saw at a glance
an assailable point and determined now to make his attack.
Accordingly, stripping the plumage from a common barnfowl and concealing the unfortunate bird beneath his cloak,
he went the next day to Plato's lecture-room and set at
liberty his captive before the assembled audience and the
venerated philosopher, exclaiming truly, " Here is Plato's
man!" The whole assembly, by an irresistible influence,
burst into a hearty laugh and his task was acconmplished.
Turning deliberately to the confused lecturer, he added,
" Thus do I trample on the pride of Plato," and left the
room. Thus, in a simple and pleasing manner, did he
assail and vanquish the mightest logician of his age, and
teach many young men to trust themselves rather than lean
implicitly upon another. The lesson has not yet ceased to
be valuable: we should do well ever to remember it.
No spirit is less worthy of indulgence than that which
prompts to captious and quibbling objections to whatever is
presented, merely for the sake of controversy, or perhaps
sometimes from a worse motive; while, within proper
bounds, the right of questioning our instructors and subjecting their dicta to the critical test of a strict examination is undoubted, and one which it is our sacred duty at




44         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HERdGRAPHT.
all times to exercise. If we would advance in true knowfedge, and, what is of infinitely greater importance, if we
would have our minds grow  more strong as they grow
more full, we must examine our intellectual aliment and
swallow nothing but what our own reason pronounces truth;
else will the innutritious and undigested food work intellectual dsypersia and general spiritual debility.
Plato, as we have seen, gave such a definition of man
as applied equally to a stripped bird.  Diogenes, arguing
with a modern poet, that " all are not men who wear the
human form," considered him only worthy the name who
ipossessed all those noble attributes which sublime our humanity to an heroic approximation to the divine.  Accordingly, soon after he had so successfully ridiculed his ri.
val's definition, he practic'ally informed the Athenians
what he understood by the word. The world was full then,
as it is now, of human animals who, forgetful of their
higher instincts and more exalted powers, lived merely for
monohemerous pleasures of the lowest order, quite satisfied with the gratification of present sensual desire.  As a
striking reproof to such, who had ever supposed themselves
men not only, but very respectable and worthy men, the
caustic old cynic, with a lighted lantern to aid his search,
went through the most frequented streets of the city at midday, intently examining every nook and corner, and staring with inquiring gaze into the face of every person he
chanced to meet. Surprised to see him so singularly employed, many asked for what he sought. T'he invariable
answer, not very complimentary to the questioner, was, " lI
seek a man;" and onward moved the seeker in his successless search, to be asked the same question by another,
to return the same reproachful reply and still move on.
Perhaps it is quite fortunate for us of this later generation,




THE TUB-TENANT.                   45
that his search was not continued to our times: he might
still be marching o'er the weary earth, with his dim twinkling lamp, having found but Washington and a few more
men. But he sleeps full well in his forgotten tomb, while
o'er his sacred dust crawl human reptiles, whom in life he
would have scorned to spit upon.
The life of our hero was more eventfiul than might have
been anticipated from the calmness of his disposition. He
saw many changes of fortune and vicissitudes of circumnstances. At one time a fiee, and as we have seen, highly.respected, denizen of the first city' of antiquity-he was,
at another, an ignominious slave, holding thus the lowest
rank of human existence.  While participating in the
luxury of a sea voyage he was captured by pirates, and according to the custom of the age sold at the nearest port.
Thus, by one of those unfbrtunate casts of the dice which
every man occasionally makes in the great game of life,
he became the; subject of a man whom he had informed, at
the slave market, that he was purchasing a master.  And
so indeed it proved; for, as in servitude he continued to
manifest the same proud superiority to unfavorable circumstances which had ever marked his conduct, his master, admiring the greatness that knew no diminution, the free
mind that scorned the bonds his body wore, became convinced that chains were not fbr such as he; and giving him
his liberty, made him the governor and instructor of his
children and the steward of all his affairs-satisfied that
such a man must be mo'e competent to direct all those
matters than he himself was.
After this we find recorded no other incident of sufficient
importance to merit narration.  The subject of our sketch
continued to live in the unimpaired vigor of both his physical and mental powers, until the advanced age of ninety.
5*




46         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHt.
six years, when the exposure to which he always addicted
hinlself, and which his manly strength, fortified by confirmed habits of strict temperance and healthful exercise,
had been enabled hitherto to bear without manifest detriment, proved too much for his aged frame, and he sank
beneath it to an honored tomb, in which was buried with
him the glory and hope of his sect. It, after this melancholy event, declined apace, and was ere long absorbed by
the -more popular schools of the sublime academical
dreamer, the profound peripatetic dogmatist and the captivatingly eloquent sensualist of the garden.  It deserves to
be noted that Diogenes died, as he had lived, in extreme
poverty, leaving absolutely nothing to defray the necessary funeral expenses.  All the different philosophical societies of Athens aspired to the honor of conferring the
last sad token of respect upon the mortal remains of one
who had bequeathed a mantle of glory, not to his own sect
alone, but to the  universal race of truth-worshipers.
While they were contending and striving, without much
prospect of success, to adjust their complimentary dispute,
the city interfered and a public burial-was decreed and a
public monument erected to him who had ever, by his useful and gratuitous instructions, proved himself a public
benefactor.
We have thus given a necessarily brief notice of this
most extraordinary man: a man who has excited the
highest wonder, both in his own times and in all subse.
quent ages, and yet who has been, we fear, never fully
appreciated —and with evident reason, for it is next to impossible for most men to prize, at its true valuation, what
so much differs from themselves as did Diogenes fiom all
other mnen. And yet all have and all must acknowledge
that there was about him something unspeakably noble as




THE TUB-TENANT.                 47
it was distinguished. For myself, I must say that no character in the world's history, after that preeminently divine
one of Christ, has so forcibly struck-my mind and so imperatively demanded my attention and reflection, as that of
Diogenes, though I confess I find it quite difficult to ana.
lyze or very minutely describe it. This arises principally
from the meager accounts we have of him, consisting
almost entirely in a few detached anecdotes related by a
multitude of different writers, without much connection or
order; by collecting some of which from Plutarch, Laertius and Cicero, we have collated the preceding notice.
We cannot fail, however, to observe that his great characteristic, which above all things else made him the original he was, was his boundless independence of thought, in
which particular he by far excelled all other men. This
first attribute of true greatness is manifested in every action
of his whole life, in a most extraordinary degree.  He
seems at an early age to have sworn, (as did our own immortal Jefferson and as should every man,) " on the altar
of God, eternal hostility to every kind of tyranny over the
mind of man." And although he himself was afterwards
forced to wear the helot's servile garb and to acknowledge
the sway of a superior human power, never did Rome's
fearful scourge, the destroying Carthagenian Hannibal,
observe with more religious fidelity and successful enthusiasm, a hostile pledge, than did he keep his vow in the
high resolve of a free mni-nd which bent not to illegitimate
authority because it claimed consecration from the prejudice-crowner, time; which refused not to think because it
was then, " as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever
shall be," unpopular.  While in fetters he was unshackled
in soul; while a degraded captive he was yet a proud king
of thought.  Such a man could not be enslaved: such a




48          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
spirit could not die: it is immortal: it still lives and
breathes and throbs with ardent aspiration, in the bosoms
of such as, casting off the chains of antiquated error, of
respected because moss-grown absurdity, acknowledge no
law but right, love no institutions but those embracing something of reason's beauty, bow at no altar but the shrine of
truth.  " History," says Dionysius Halicarnassensis, " is
philosophy teaching by example." A character such as
we have been contemplating is not without its lesson, which
we proceed to consider.
It is a generally received opinion in the philosophic
world, that matter tends to inertia and mind to action; but
like most generally received opinions, this favorite axiom
is entirely unfounded and false. I say like most, for I am
satisfied that no better reason can be adduced against the
truth of any doctrine, than that it is universally believed.
At the expense of a digression we will briefly justify our
paradox, so far as it applies to this case.
Matter has really, as D'Holbach has amply proved and
illustrated, in his profound " Systeme de la Nature," a constitutional tendency to move.  That great pervading spirit
of the universe which is the manifest or latent cause of all
phenomena; which Newton, the high-priest of nature,
has shown to be alike the bond of atoms and of worlds;
which the philosopher names attraction, and the poet love;
is constantly, by its unseen omnipotence, impelling all
matter to seek all matter; and were it not for countervailing influences of the same agency, in different modifications
and directions, the atoms of the universe must converge to a
point, and being of infinite parvitude would constitute one
simple, unextended monad, as now one complex and space.
filling. Matter, then, always tends to motion —indeed, is
always moving; for, being connected with all other matter,




THE TUB-TENANT.                  49
when one particle, even the least molecule, is moved, the
relative position of every other particle is altered; or, we
may say without impropriety, that the motion is reciprocal and the universe moves-for all motion is relative, not
absolute; space being but extension without limit or
measuring point.  This principle may be pushed further to
a grand ultimatum, as ought all principles, and as they
will be sought to be, by the genuine philosopher. All negatives are equally positives, and all positives relatively
negatives; and they can be no otherwise regarded when
we are careful to remember, what we are ever liable to
forget, that infinity has not a starting point on the one
hand nor a goal on the other.  Had this great undeniable truth been known and ever borne in mind by disputants, that finite knowledge is always and can but be relative, defining only the comparative positions of things,
never essential existences, most of the innumerable contentions, both in physic and metaphysic, that have so confounded rather than enlightened'men, the vain logomachies of science, would have slept unborn, although nature
has constituted our mental eyes with different intensities
and diversely colored lenses, so that objects can but appear
differently to different individuals, according to the personal
medium of each.
To return: matter, as we have seen, is motive: all
matter moves when the repose of an atom is disturbed, and
we surely see motion in matter daily. But even were a
body at rfst, it could only be so through the combined influence of opposing forces.  Now, these cannot neutralize
each other, as we are sometimes t6ld, for it is a general
axiom, non ens becomes not ens nor ens non ens; therefore
force cannot destroy force, but antagonizing attractions
produce a resultant compound motion, equivalent to a re



50          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
lative rest. All matter, then, is in constant motionindeed, can only exist in motion; it forming with heat
and some others, a class of qualities as inseparable from
material being as extension or solidity.   I suggest these
qualities would be more properly considered as elements.
It may be objected that attraction is a spirit acting upon
matter, and not one of its attributes; but this cannot be
admitted, since of matter we can pretend  to know nothing about its substratum.  We are only acquainted with
its qualities, and we necessarily attribute to it what we invariably find in it. Attraction falls in the category of these
inseparables.
One word on the other part of the proposition.  All
that we know of mind is deduced from- its operations, by
attentively observing which we find that it never moves
except when acted upon by something external to itself,
whether through the senses alone, as Locke and Condillac
would persuade us, or by means also of some other and
more spiritual mean of communication, as seems highly
reasonable to suppose, it matters not.  The fact is so
plainly evident from the slightest view of any man's mental operations, that it is rather surprising that it has not
been more commonly observed, and affords another most
convincing proof that mind is so disposed to inertia that it
is almost universally considered preferable to adopt the
notions of others, however erroneous and however easily
discovered to be so, than to take the delightful trouble of
thinking for ourselves. This is man's intellectual nature,
and accordingly we find men everywhere and through all
time the willing dupes of sophistry, and slaves to other
men's opinions. Fearing to rebel against the tyrannical
dominion of old maternal whims, which have been care.
fully instilled into the infant mind as of hallowed authori.




1Het TtB-TENANT.                51
ty, they have chosen rather to submit reason, imagination,
faith and every other faculty of the understanding, together
with every moral sense and social sentiment, to the unex.
amined chain of established prejudice, frequently as corroding as it is gilded by the assiduous hand of a deadening education, and as fragile to a struggling soul, rebellious with its love of freedom, as it ought to be galling,
rather than make the painful effort to arouse the slumber.
ing intellect to generous action in the holy cause of right,
liberty and truth. Such has been so commonly the patient
endurance of mankind, that when, as in the case before us,
some daring genius has arisen in his conscious might to
burst the cursed bonds of what is popularly and of course
improperly termed education, to breathe the pure atmos.
phere of untrammeled thought, to luxuriate in the fresh
fountain of nature's uncompounded affections, it speaks to
others in an unaccustomed voice, with an accent of imperative power, and exhilarating sweetness: "If thou
wouldst be wise, free, and happy,r learn the grand secret
of firm self-reliance: trust none other than thine own
arm: confide only in thy own heart: else shalt thou find
too late, in some trying hour, that thou hast leaned for
thy support upon a piercing reed or hung upon a rope of
sand." It was self-confidence that inspired Bacon to question the value of Aristotle's logic after its almost undis.
turbed reign of centuries; to institute a novurn organum,
and by thus effecting a complete revolution in philosophy,
to enrol his name in the temple of immortality, as the
brightest' though the' meanest of mankind.' It was an
unshaken reliance on the resources of his own mind, that
sustained Washington when' the storm was loud and the
night dark,' and other weaker men were tempted to des.
pair. Did his heart sink M  "Perhaps," beautifully re.




52          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHt.
marks an anonymous reviewer, " perhaps it did, like a
tempest-beaten ship, sink till it rested on the rocks of eternal justice and his own good sword, and it could fail no
further."  It was undeviating action on the same high principle, that raised the hero of an hundred generations from
his humble Corsican habitation to the palace of Europe, and
taught the world to wonder equally at the sudden transitions in his condition, the almost incomprehensible magnitude and perfectly miraculous success of his resolutions.
He who would emulate great examples, wh,: burns to be
an actor of noble deeds, an originator of undyi::,g thoughts,
a writer of living words, whose glow shall be unquenched
by the chill, dimming breath of time, must t'ust himself
and be so far uninfluenced by others as net to fear the
frown of bigoted sensoriousness, the scorn of insolent ignorance, or the ridicule of senseless prejudice.  This is the
lesson in which we are instructed by Diogenes. Across the
still, deep chasm of the tomb, and the oblivious abyss of
more than two thousand years, a stirring voice, borne on
the air that spirits breathe, comes booming on the spirit's
ear, bidding us by his life of brave, God-like independence,
by his. example of dauntless, deathless perseverance, " be
just and fear not."
Son of America, descendant of those noble bloods who,
when liberty had been almost driven from earth, gave trem.
bling kings a new proof,
"That man has yet a soul and dares be free;"
would you be a worthy son of honored sires? a useful
member of community-not a dead, sinking weight on
society? and would you leave, departing, some memorable
impress on the scroll that tells to after-times of human
actions, thoughts and feelings? Remember and improve




THE TUB-TENANT.                     53
by this sublime lesson. When you are called upon to de.
sist from some high undertaking, because it happens to be
in advance of public sentiment, remember then,
"' To suffer woes that hope thinks infinite,
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night,
To defy power that seems omnipotent,
To love and bear, to hope till hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates,
Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent,
This, like the Titan's glory, is to be
Great, good and holy, innocenL and free;
This is alone life, joy, empire and victory."
6








THE LIGHTNING KING.
INNATE and total depravity is predicated of the whole
human race, by the orthodox creed of the contemporaneous Christian Church.  We were all. taught in infancy
that our hearts are by nature corrupt and prone to " evil
and only evil, and that continually;" that no tendency to
virtue inheres in our constitution, while we are full of passions ever impelling us almost irresistibly to vice.  Ahid
this maternal teaching sunk deep into our souls, as do all
well-learned lessons at that impressible seed-time of our
being, especially when they come from a parent's venerated lips.  What they, with care and love for us, implante!,
it seems almost sacrilege to eradicate, and nothing coul I
justify the attempt but the tender reflection that God has
ever loved us with more than a mother's affection, and that
he has not only given us parents to rely on, obey and believe, during our immature years, but has also endoxwed
us with a noble faculty of reason, to lead us to the truth,
which in adult years is the only legitimate object of intollectual homage. Bowing to it alone, we would calmly
and earnestly inquire whether the old tenet of depravity
is its response to reason, asking about the moral nature of
the soul. If we have heard aright, a thousand tones comre
back from nature, and the harmonious answer is a mighty




.56         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
No.  Virtue is not an art, the first principles of which are
to be laboriously learned or miraculously inspired. It is no
unknown mystery to our nature, requiring for its knowledge therefore'an Elusinian initiation. Oh, no! It exists
and moves, feebly perhaps and unworthily, but nevertheless vitally. Within us, within every man, however low and
base and criminal, still remains something of his humanity,
something therefore of his brother Christ's exalted nature.
Else whence the universal instinct which prompts us to
admire and love virtue, to detest and abhor vice, whatever
and however numerous may be the defects in our own
character? This instinct is equally prevalent and potent.
It is present no less in the savage heart than in the
breast of the enlightened and refined. The wild barbarian feels it, as he chants his uncouth war-song and rushes
to his brutal battle, inspiring him to emulate what he
admires; and perhaps its influence on him is ever greater
than on the sage philosopher, who analyzes thought and
feeling in the alembic of metaphysic, or surveys the works
of nature, contemplating the intricate machinery and harmonious movements of worlds and systems infinite; or the
intelligent scholar, who peruses the history of by-gone days
and holds exciting converse with spirits of the mighty
dead.  It is every where present, prevading the universal
hear't of man. It will be found a constituent of every soul,
affording conclusive proof that our noble, God-born nature,
never has been and never can be totally changed, even by the
frightful transforming power of temporarily triumphant
animal passions. To this deep-seated aind divine instinct I
refer, as a demonstration that man is not entirely depraved;
that he still retains, even in his admitted and lamentable
degradation, some resembling lineaments of the great universal Sire in whose image he was made. It is the action of




THE LIGHTNING K ING.               57
this holy instinct, that leads us to praise the hero, the man
of lofty soul; to hate wickedness wherein we are uninter.
ested, and to despise the niggard whose only thought,
object, hope, is self in its narrow sense, as the eating, drinking, sleeping animal me, forgetful of other senses, of more
elevated desires, of nobler motives; unmindful that his
highest interest, his most enduring good, is always and can
but be inseparably joined with the greatest advantage of
the race. I affirm that we cannot restrain our feeling of
approbation not only, but of admiration, for moral worth.
We are unable to stifle in our bosoms any of those powerful instincts that are there implanted by a mighty hand and
for a glorious purpose.  We must bow before a great soul;
our nature tells us he is worthy and imperatively commands our reverence.  But, alas! how perverted and misdirected do Nme often find this noble sentiment of respect!
How prone have all men, in all ages and in every clime,
been found, to mistake its proper object and to admire,
almost to adore, many whose characters as revealed by
their whole lives are justly regarded as foul disgraces to
humanity! We find, conspicuous on the page of human
greatness and immortality, many names of monsters whose
baneful example has proved contagious; whose greatness
really consisted in the magnitude and enormity of their
crimes; whose minds were doubtless mighty, their talents
undeniably brilliant, but all were prostituted at the polluted
shrine of a mad ambition, or some other equally selfish
and unholy passion; and a complete disregard for the
rights of others, where they in the least degree interfered
with the accomplishment of their own favorite designs.
An unhesitating abandonment of every great and worthy
principle where its observance required anything incompatible with their plans for selfish aggrandisement, anr
6*




58          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
inordinate lust for power, and a perfect recklessness as to
the consequences to others, of their acts, are characteristics of these historically termed great men, whose names
cluster on glory's brightest page, and as such must, with
the memorial of their deeds, descend the stream of time.
And the more enlightened the world becomes, the more
will such characters and their principles be abhorred, until
of each such man it will be said, that but for a halo of
Tartarean fire, in the beautiful language of Cicero,'" Idem
tumulus qui corpus ejus contexerat nomen etiam obruisset."'
But there is a class of men whom it is duty to admire,
whose example it is glory and honor and immortality to
imitate.  Those master spirits who have flashed up here
and there, delegated by Providence to illuminate the darkness of the surrounding horizon; who have been born and
lived and died for the good of mankind; who, unprompted
by selfish passion, have not driven
", Destruction's ploughshare fiercely o'er creation,"
but have pursued " the even tenor of their way," ever
actuated by the pure desires of acquiring knowledge for
useful purposes, and of employing their natural and
acquired talents for the advancement of their neighbors'
happiness.  Who does not feel an obligation imposed by
the self-sacrificing example of such a one? Who does not
feel that the voice of Conscience, calling to duty, is louder
and clearer when she points to a valiant brother victorious
o'er temptation?  How eloquent is the bust of a great and
good man!  How sweet and persuasive is the invitation
to follow its noble architype, even as he followed our common Master! Full wisely, therefore, have our fathers
ornamented many of our public halls with statues, or with




THE LIGHTNING KING.                59
portraits, of the venerable founders of our republic.  Thus
Washington and Franklin, Jefferson and Hamilton, being
dead yet speak, from their exalted niches, with the still
small voice that, unquenched by a tempest's tumult, comes
with a thrilling tone home to our heart of hearts.  In the
following notice I will be the mere interpreter of Franklin's
lecture to my fellow-countrymen; and as an interpreter
for foreign witnesses in our courts of justice is required to
take an oath of fidelity in his highly responsible office, I
also swear, faithfully, so far as in me lies, to discharge my
most holy trust, and to interpret truly to you that silent voice
that issues front the spirit world. The patriot's life shall
speak.
Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston. The Athens
of America produced her Socrates; and on the 17th day
of January, 1706, he began to breathe the vital air.  His
father was fortunately a poor man. I say fortunately, for
poverty has often proved the nurse of greatness, while
hereditnry  opulenlce has enervated and unstrung many
a soul of native vigor.  The youngest son of a numerous family, lie  as by his parents designed for the clerical profession; and perhaps this intention to some extent
regulated his infantile instructions, and did something
to encourage his naturally meditative and philosophical
turn of mind.  The incidents of his early childhood are
unrecorded; and, as in the case of most great men, we
are not allowed to watch the first manifestations of feeling
and development of thought-a study which would certainly be most interesting and instructive.  At the age of
eight years he was entered at a grammar school, where,
during a year's attendance, his rapid advancement gave
proof of an energetic-intellect and an industrious disposition. Even at this early age he was considerate enough




60          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
to perceive the advantage of a good education, and that it
cannot be obtained without patient application. On a re.
consideration of his resolution to give Benjamin a liberal
education, his father concluded that the incident expenses
would: be beyond his limited means.  Accordingly he
changed his mind, and with the intention of preparing him
for business-life, transfered him to a school for writing and
arithmetic.  Doubtless master Franklin must have been
much disappointed with this change in the plan of his life.
Perhaps he was as much chagrined at the prospect of a.
necessary renunciation of his collegiate course, as the writer well remembers that he once was; but the sequel of
this history proves that college instruction is not indispensable; that without its discipline a man.may arise to the
highest eminence and usefulness, by a resolute and persevering effort to do for himself what he is unable to procure
tutors to do for him. Let no young man painfully regret
that narrow circumstances prevent him from  completing
an academic course of study in the university. His inability so to do calls on him only for increased effort, for
labor which he might, if blessed with every educational
advantage, be tempted to forego.  He might indulge himself
in a ruinous mental sloth, an enervating indolence, which
has been a self-inflicted curse and injury to many better
men. Not that I would at all disparage the collegiate course
of study, which is admirably calculated to afford almost
inestimable assistance to a man in his efforts to educate
himself: my recommendation to every young man is, by
all means to avail himself of this aid, if able in any manner so to do, and to make great effort and many sacrifices
in order to accomplish this truly desirable-object; but if,
after all his exertions, it is still beyond his reach, let him
not despair but resolve heartily that he will be a man and




THE LIGHTNING KING.                  61
a well educated man, and Franklin's example shall be
to him a model and an inspiring hope.
In the new school to which we have seen him removed,
Benjamin learned sufficient of the chirographic, indispensable as a useful, frivolous as an ornamental art.  In arithmetic his failure was complete-another instance of great
intellect almost destitute of the faculty by the phrenologists called number.  At the age of ten years, he was taken
from school to assist his father in his business-that of a tallow-chandler and soap.boiler; a respectable but somewhat
unpleasant occupation,;ith which we cannot wonder he
soon became dissatisfied, and like many unexperienced boys
wished ardently to try the sea.  Strange fascination has a
sailor's life for the young!  Its activity, danger and excitement, are ever grateful as narrated by the old ocean-loving
tar, or in the pages of those numerous nautical tales which
abound in every popular library.   The darker side of
the picture, the unintermitting, exhausting labor, the innu.
merable fearful perils, the fearful and severe suffering
from hunlger, thirst and cold, are forgotten or unthought of;
and the boy, if unrestrained by a superior poCel', heedlessly rushes to the ship, bidding his home and native land
farewell: too often, alas! he bids a simultaneous and final
adieu to all rational hope of future intellectual and moral
advancement, and to all prospect of domestic or true social
enjoyment.  Wisely did old Friankiin veto his son's mad
project, and retain him in his own employ for the space
of two years: wearisome years, perhaps they were, but
not without their invaluable lessons of' patience and submission.  To obey legitimate authority, however severe its
requirements, and to endure our inevitable fortune with
equanimity, however disagreeable to our desires, are very
necessary but very seldom well-learned lessons.




62          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
In the year 1717, his brother James returned from England with a printing press and other articles, preparatory
to establishing himself in the publishing business at Boston.
After considerable reluctance on his part, Benjamin was
bound to his brother as an apprentice.  The custom  of
indenturing has become less common in this country than
it formerly was: boys are very disinclined to anything like
regular business, and fathers are foolishly indulgent. No
better thing can be done for a son than to apprentice him,
for a proper length of time, to some good mechanic; and
no father should hesitate so to n d his boys, having first
made a careful selection of tBe man to whom he thus
intrusts so much.  While with his brother, young Franklin
filled up his leisure time by reading attentively such books
as were accessible.  He thus acquired an immense store of
valuable information, and formed the habit worth more than
any other to a young man.  No man reads much and studiously, without becoming great.  It is as impossible as that
he should daily and judiciously train his muscles without
becoming strong.  Let every youth read, lead, read, carefully-and his manhood will not fail to exhibit the harvest
of golden thought. During his apprenticeship, Franklin
published two little poems, which, though he afterwards
became sadly ashamed of them, as menr are quite likely to
be of their juvenile productions, may be regarded as the
first of his literary works. In 1720 his brother commenced the publication of a newspaper, for which the lit.
tle typo wrote certain articles. Fearing these would not
be published it their origin wasknown, he privately slipped
them under the office door, where being found, they were
readily printed, and the young author had the exquisite
pleasure of hearing them universally praised. Becoming
more and msore displeased with his situation, he eloped and




tHE LIGHTNING KING.                63
went to New York-a bold step for a boy of fourteen,
alone, without friends or money; giving indications of,
and in its consequences contributing to strengthen, a disposition free, independent and fearless. Not finding employment in New York, instead of repenting and returning as
most of his timorous age would have done, he bravely
pushed on to Philadelphia, where at the end of his journey,
he found himself a perfect stranger, young and inexperienced. But he was economical and industrious, and he
soon found work, and by his habits of perseverance and
order rapidly gained friends. No man, in any condition,
should despair, says this part of Franklin's life. Let him
look about him, and what his hands find to do, do it with
his might. Being advised by some to commence business
as a master he decided to return and consult his father on
the subject. How different in this was his firom the conduct
of most young men! Instead of rashly presuming him.
self equal to any task, because it was of desirable accomplishment, he modestly and prudently distrusts his own
judgment and appeals to an older and a wiser man. A
young person should hardly decide on any important step,
before the age of twenty-one years, without the concurrence of parental opinion. Such a deference to our natural guardians is becoming, and will' save from innumerable imprudences that would not cease to be deplored long
after they had become irremediable. Old Mr. Franklin
dissuaded his son from this project, and it was for the time
laid aside.  But the temptation was too strong to bb
entirely subdued, and a short time after, in accordance with
the advice and with the promised assistance of Governor
Keith, who proposed to advance the requisite funds, he
sailed for England to procure his press and other indispensables. What was his disappointment, on arriving at Lon'




14         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRIAPHY.
don, to find that his letters of credit were entirely worthless; that he had been deceived and was three thousand
miles from home, in a foreign country and destitute of
money! Surprising and discouraging as was the revelation, he lost no time in anger or despondency, but, like a
man as he was, ever ready for any emergency, he immediately took the only course that opened before him, and
seeking found employment in his customary avocation.
About eighteen months' diligent labor enabled him to return
again to Philadelphia, not indeed with his printing npparatus as expected, but with his brave heart, which had nobly
conquered by patiently enduring a most trying misfortune.
Soon after his return he established the famous" Junto,'"
a literary club composed of himself and eleven Qf his
most intimate friends, who met weekly for the discussion
of miscellaneous questions. This may be regarded as the
parent of debating societies in this country, which have
since become so common and productive doubtless of great
good. It is too generally the case that men feel, when they
leave school and enter upon the more active business of
life, that their education is ended, and give up all care for
a future cultivation of their minds.  No notion is more
foolish or fraught with worse consequences. All life is
our school. Each day should have its lesson. And to aid
us in learning this, nothing can afford us greater assistance
than scientific and literary associations.  Every man
should be a member, and an active member, of at least one
such. Its beneficial influence on his character will soon
become apparent. Not long after the Junto, Franklin
instituted a public library, which had been previously wanted in Philadelphia. It is to be regretted that such libra.
ries are not more common and better sustained where they
do exist. Few men, compared with the number who ought




"ITE LTGHTNING KINGS                5
to read, can afford to purchase a thousand volumes for
their own private property.  A thousand persons can very
well do so, and thus secure valuable reading for years at
a trifling expense. Every town in the Union ought to have
several thousand dollars thus invested,  It would pay
immensely better than ten times the amount in the best
bank or rail road stock.
Ever studiously desirous of doing good, in the year 1732
our subject commenced the publication of Poor Richard's
Almanac, a little annual that for twenty-five years served
as the medium for communicating to a nation of readers
very much valuable instruction in a p)re/eminently attractive form. From the boundless success of this little missionary, might many modern preachers learn wisdom as
to the form and manner of efficiently administering their
didactics.
In 1736, at the mature age of thirty years, Franklin's
public life began by his appointment as Clerk of the General
Assembly, the duties of which office he discharged with
honor to himself and satisfaction to the state.  About the
same time he formed the first fire-company, a benevolent
institution now as common throughout our country as it is
invaluable.
In 1744 he wrote and published a pamphlet entitled
Plain Truth, in which he urged the necessity of a regularly organized militia force for the defence of property in
case of invasion, which there was continual reason to apprehend. This forcible tract produced an immediate and
surprising effcct upon the Quaker descendants of peaceful
Penn. A meeting was called for the purpose of considering the subject, where, after a short speech from the author,
papers were distributed for the signatures of such as would
agree to arm and equip themselves. The number amount7




66          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
ed to twelve hundred, and shortly after was increased to
above ten thousand. These organized themselves into regiments, by one of which Franklin was chosen Colonel.
But he, deeming himself unable properly to discharge the
duties of that office, resigned in favor of a friend, who on
his recommendation was substitluted.  This whole affair exhibits the commanding  influence which may be exercised
by a great mind over others. Even those whose principles
were strongly opposed to war in any form, were induced
by his persuasive power to assume arms in the just defence
of their country and their rights.  About this time he was
elected justice of the peace, but thinking his knowledge of
law insufficient for an intelligent discharge of duty in that
station, he resigned it immediately.  If modern justices
who know nothing of the law were wise enough to follow
his example, there might be occasion for some special
elections in several places.  But men seek office now for
their own pecuniary advantage.  They do not, like our
fathers, require urging to accept, and a conviction that the
public good demands their services.  The spirit of those
old patriots who loved their country better than gold, has
become almost obsolete, while it can never cease to be
admired.
In September, 1746, he entered upon a course of scientific experiments, resulting in his important discoveries in
electricity, which have rendered his name as a philosopher
immortal, and justly entitled him to the appellation of the
LIGHTNING KING, which we have chosen as his fitting title
of glory. His own useful applications to practical purposes, of the grand truths which he'established relating to the
nature and operations of the electric fluid, not less than the
subsequent revelations in this interesting and important
science, and their wonderful power to produce the most




THE LIGHTNING KING.                 67
surprising results, have given him a distinguished place
among the most eminent savans of his own or any other
age.
Most men in active business and political life, find at the
age of forty years, little time for the study of physical or
any other science, and still less of inclination than of time.
Franklin, ini the midst of all his arduous labors for his country, had leisure to study largely the intricate laws of nature, to investigate vigorously recondite phenomena, and to
deduce successfully previously unknown principles. Here
again his illustrious example is at once a reproach, an exhortation and a promise.  There is much of time in the
life of every man, however exacting may be the calls of
his profession, that could, by an ever-watchful industry, be
found or made a'td appropriated to the prosecution of scientific investigations, or some other elevated employment,
which would yield the highest pleasure and at the same
time advance him in his transcendental life. We are prone
to rest satisfied with very moderate efforts, supposing that
our duties to God, our neighbors and ourselves, are quite
fulfilled by a mere observance of customary forms.  if we
labor diligently in our regular business, give liberally to
the popular charitable institutions of our town, county and
state, and attend systematically to the ordinances of our
religion, the voice of community says, "Well done!" and
our stupid conscience is schooled to endorse the plaudit.
We have learned that great and extraordinary efforts are
manifestations of great and original genius, to which, in
our slothful modesty, we dare not pretend. When that
greatest of military leaders assumed command of the army
of Italy," he called his generals together and announced
the manner in which he proposed to conduct the war. Old
pedantic tacticians were astonished, and wonderingly in.




68          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
quired how he expected to accomplish his great designs?' I will restore to war,' answered the young demi-god,'its
original enthusiasm, I will make each man a hero.7" The
superior wisdom, the gigantic success of his plan, is told
to listening eternity by the thunder-voices of Lodi, Jena,
Wagram and Borodino. Would that some spiritual Napoleon-a Paul or Luther, some intellectual conqueror-a
Newton or Franklin, might say, with equal effect, of his
God-armed followers, " I'll m-ake each man a hero!"
in 1751, Franklin was appointed Deputy Post Master
General of America; an office of great importance, the
conferance of which shows the high reputation which he
possessed on both sides of the Atlantic, for business talent
and fidelity. The next year, with four others, he was
nominated a commissioner to confer with the chiefs of the
Six Nations, concerning the best means of defending their
country in case of war with France, which was anticipated.  When it had actually commenced and the British
troops under General Braddock were unable to advance
for want of baggage-wagons, ever active in his country's
cause, he set out scouring the country for the necessary
supply of these vehicles, and not being furnisheld with public money to -pay for them, unhesitatingly purchased on
his own account. How long General Scott might have
remained at Vera Cruz, if he had been compelled to
wait for some individual citizen of the United States to
purchase baggage-wagons on his own crledit, even if that
citizen were a certain war-loving millionaire of this generation, is an interesting though rather unfair question-un.
fair, because the nineteenth is not the eighteenth century,
nor the citizen referred to Benjamin Franklin.
During the French war, our hero was again elected colomel, which office he this time accepted; but his commits




THE LIGHTNING KING.                69
sion, with many others, was soon after invalidated by a
repeal of the preexisting military laws for the colonies.
Five years after the time of which we have just been speak.
ing, he was sent to England, the fearless representee of
his country's wrongs, the brave claimant of her rights, to
present to the King a petition on the subject of taxation.
Thus early, eighteen years before the outbreak of our rev.
olutionary fires, was he looked to as a leading spirit in
the onward march of a people who already began to remonstrate against the task-master's tyranr y, and to cast
forward an eager eye toward the promised land. While in
England he was elected to a Fellowship of the Royal Society and received the degree of Doctor of Laws from the
Oxford University; marks of respect unusually significant
when paid to a colonial subject. In 1765, he was exam.
ined before parliament on the subject of the stamp act, and
in his fearless answers nobly testified his patriotic attachment to his- native land. His was not that moral cowardice which basely shrinks from a full and distinct expression of opinion and feeling,' when surrounded with hostile feeling and opposing opinion.  He was strong enough
to stand alone and look with an unquailing gaze into the
lion's very eye.  The same year he made a visit to Holland, where he was received with marks of the most distinguished attention from men of science and of literature,
and reflected great honor on his country as the first American philosopher.  WVe confess with shame that we have
sent forth few worthy successors, while we remember with
pride that we have seen here from other lands few if any
equals-surely no superior. The year succeeding he also
travelled into France, where he met a no less favorable
reception, making the acquaintance of King Louis XVI.
and of many eminent literary characters.
7*




70         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
Returning to England, he exerted all his power in an
attempt to prevail on the ministry to change their course
toward the American colonies, but without success.  The
haughty obstinacy of British character was never more
foolishly exhibited, than in the treatment of her colonial
subjects by that imperious government. She seems to have
forgotten that they boasted Hampden's blood, and might
perhaps be found as ready as he to shed it in the cause of
freedom.  Foiled in all his efforts to ward off fiom his
country the dreadful scourge of war, the patriot philosopher
returned to her shores in time to share its fury. He was not,
however, permitted long to remain among his countrymen
in their hour of peril; for, soon after the declaration of
independence, he was appointed by congress to assist in negotiations at the court of France, where his influence was
considerable and exerted with great effect in behalf of his
suffering country.  While he was residing in Paris, the
subject of Animal Magnetism began to excite the public
mind of Europe; and was deemed of so great interest that
King Louis appointed a commission of the most learned
and able philosophers, among whom he nominated Franklin, to give the subject a full and fair investigation. After
industrious and impartial examination, they reported that
no sufficient reason appeared to sustain a belief that the
pretended science was founded in truth or worthy further
attention.
In 1788, the independence of his country being achieved,
and a constitution for its future government adopted, one
of its most laborious founders, at the advanced age of
eighty-two years, retired from his protracted and useful
public life; his last act being, as president of an abolition
society, to sign a petition to congress praying a full exertion of its power towards the suppression of slavery. Thus




THE LIGHTNING KING.                  71
did he crown his life of philanthropic labor, by an act of
humanity worthy of himself and his preceding illustrious
career.  Advancing years brought increasing infirmities,
until, on the 17th day of April, 1790, God sent his angel
for the old man's soul.
One month mourned his bereaved countrymen, wearing
funeral crape. Three days did the French people likewise;
for a great man and a lover of his race had gone.  No!
he had not gone!  His mortal had but been disunited fronom
his eternal part, and was laid to rest beneath this self-written epitaph:
The Body
Of
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,
Printer,
(Like the cover of an old book,
Its contents torn out,
And stripped of its lettering and gilding,)
Lies here, food for worms:
But the work shall not be lost,
For it Nwill, as he believed, appear once more,
In a new and more elegant edition,
Revised and corrected
By
THE AUTHOR.
Yes! glorious old patriot! the Author will not suffer
such a work to perish. It has doubtless reappeared in an.
other library, to be read by brighter than human eyes.
The character of Franklin shall receive a momentary
analysis. As a philosopher he was patient, industrious and
liberal,; as a legislator, prudent, perspicuous and sagacious; as a diplomatist, acute, profound and skillful; as a
citizen, it has been truly remarked of him, that " he was
eminently great in ordinary things: he could enliven




2  CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
every conversation with an anecdote and conclude it with
a moral." As a man, he was temperate, punctual and laborious, polite and affable in manner. disposed rather to
hear than to speak, ready in debate, not quick to affirm or
deny, but ever prepared to argue calmly and decide dispassionately.  As a writer, his manner was clear, pure and
concise, comprehensive, dignified, and at times, even majestic. His reasonings are admirably conclusive; and this,
united with his charms of style, make all his articles impress the reader's mind with unusual force.  To young
Americans we recommend them as models-their precepts
as lessons.  Such was Franklin, a truly great man, an
honor to his country, an ornament to humanity.
Reader! in considering such a character as the one
before us, we feel an entirely irresistible influence exciting
us to admiration and emulation.  Who is so base that he has
no desire to be great? 1 believe but few such can be found.
But many are discouraged from action by the reflection
that-circumstances make men.  They suppose if they had
lived in the same age, and been placed in the same positions as the eminent philosophers, historians, warriors, poets, orators or statesmen of the olden time, they might perhaps have become equally great. If they had lived in the
days of our revolution, they might have been its Henrys
or its Franklins, or aspired even to the glory of its Washington.  It is true that circumstances do make men: it is
quite as true that men make circumstances.  No lazy dolt
was ever, by any combination of events, made great. No
industrious thinker was ever, by any cause, made less so.
He who acts nobly in his sphere, may be as great, perhaps
truly greater, in an ignoble than an honored one, since his
only motive must be duty. Let no one be discouraged because the forgetful world does not regard and commend




THE LIGHTNING KING.               73
him. Let him rather rejoice that he may be superior to
the influence of its opinion, and all the more god-like when
he rests on his own strength alone.
Young man! you are entering upon the stage of action
at a most interesting period of the world's history; the
great battle is now being fought, whose general result will
determine whether freedom and the rights of man shall be
respected, or whether the world is ever to remain shrouded
by the night-shade of despotism.  The materials which are
to produce a yet more general eruption have been long in
the process of collection; the preparation is now nearly
complete; when it is quite made and a few more sparks of
burning democratic truth are applied, the explosion which
will then ensue will, we trust, hurl tyranny to the dust and
blot her name and nature f[orn the world.  The slumbering volcano has already given unequivocal symptoms of
the coming outbreak.  Revolution succeeding revolution
has convulsed Christendom-yes, and Heathendom.
First in this grand fifth act contest, our own beloved land
arose in her youthful strength, and, as the rejoicing lion
rousing from slumber shakes off the trembling dew-drops
from his mane, shook off a foreign yoke too galling to be
longer borne.  That stroke jarred the crown on many a
royal brow.  It was but the first thunderbolt of the coming
storm which is still blackening in vengeance over the heads
of those who have dared to defy its fury.  Liberty, wandering homeless o'er the groaning earth, found here, in
our young native land, the hardy Puritan, the devoted Patriot, the virtuous Man, struggling against the usurpations
of a foreign power. Here she found a welcome home and
a genial clime.  She endowed the American arms with
invincibility in a just cause, and said to the nascent nation,
"Be great and free!" A mighty people hung entranced




74          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
on the sweet accents of her lips, and having declared itself
independent, nobly swore by life, fortune, and sacred honor,
to maintain that declaration or perish in the attempt.  It
was maintained; and a brilliant example was thus set before the world, which has excited universal admiration,
which has inspired and will continue to inspire the spirit
of emulation.
Doubtless, the successful termination of the American
revolutionary struggle was one cause that, co-operating
with many others, served to prepare the French nation for
the commencement of its regeneration; a revolution in
its incidents, its causes, and its developed and developing
effects, affording the most interesting of historical themes;
for during its progress, the public mind of a great and enlightened people, a people too the most volatile and excitable in character of any that the world has ever seen, was
wrought to the extreme pitch of excitement, and then set
at work by denmagogic dictators under all this head of passion, unregulated by any balance-wheel of cold iron. The
result was that almost every individual in France had his
own peculiar and original system of society, of govern.
nent, of religion.  Of course, by far the greater number
of these systems were mere abortions, never receiving any
active being; and such as did obtain a limited experiment,
were successively-thrust out of life before they had half
learned to walk with even a moderately firm step. As has
been said on another subject, " Everything was attempted,
much accomplished, nothing perfected."   A man cannot
run one thousand miles sooner than he can walk it: and a
nation cannot permanently revolutionize its governmeut by
violent sooner than by gradual means.  Civilization in
France, in Europe, and throughout the world, has been
advanced by the French revolution; but France could not




THE LIGHTNING KING.               75
step from the monarchy of Louis XVI. and the religion of
Rome to the republicanism of St. Just and the atheism of
D'Holbach in the last ten years of the eighteenth centuryt
more easily than we as a nation could adopt to-morrow the
socialism of Charles Fourier, the dietetics of Sylvester
Graham and the religion of Joe Smith.
To attempt the production of a great effect in a short
time and by small means is quackery, and quackery cannot succeed.  " A lie can't live," says Carlyle, and truly.
Robert Hall thought the shadow moved back at Waterloo,
on the dial-face which marks the advancing ages.  The
termination of the republic in the military despotism of
Napoleon; the attempt of that most wonderful of men to
establish a ne/w dynasty instead of carrying to its ultimate
the universal political reform, whose only hope came to
rest in him —an attempt which Channing has Fustly remarked upon as exhibiting the great, almost the only weakness
of his truly heroic character; his intellectual subjection to
the social ideas of former less enlightened ages; the overthrow of a throne which had grown up by the people's
permission, because it was reared and filled by their idol;
and the Bourbon restoration byv the combined arms of old
friendly monarchies-all this did look like counter-marching.  But thle tide-waves break and flow back for a moment, while the general movement is still onward, and
each thundering billow dashes farther upon the barren sand.
So the Napoleonic wave recoiled from Waterloo, but the
grand European democratic tide was even then rushing
forward, undiscouraged by the batteries of Wellington;
and since 1815, many heavy surges have angrily plowed
into the sand banks of feudalism. The republic has come
back without its reign of terror, and its presiding Bona.




7'6         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHS.
parte exhibits no ability, had he the inclination, to follow
up the steps of an imperial throne,
The Eternal City has vomited forth a wearer of the
triple crown, certainly much more congenial with the spirit
of this age than any successor of the braggart who, " afar
off," followed the brave prophet of the people.  Hungary
too is clamorous for a recognition of her rights, and Kossuth tray after some filture Austerlitz, assert them at the
trembling gates of Vienna. The northern autocrat scowls
at the deluge of popular light, generating popular power,
that comes bounding up against the walls of his great national prison-house, already, with so loud a voice that serfs
can almnost hear, and is making strong his arm to resist its
progress.  How successfully, Borodino with no after Moscow conflagrations, yet will tell.  All these things are
clearly indicative of advancement with occasional retrogressions.  We are not to hope, with the juvenile independence orator, that all the world is but just behind, following
close in our tracks; but we may, indexcd we can but expect
some improvement in the great science of government as
well as in all others, and in our own country too, as well
as elsewhere, as mankind grows older and mole experienced.  And in these mighty revolutions, my brother, you
have something to do.  There are only just so many levers and the world is to be turned over, and " every thing
seems to cry'loudly to every man-Do something! do it!
do it!". Marching humanity requires fiom you assistance:
conscience commands its rendition.  You are called upon
by every feeling of benevolence to commisserate the sad
condition of your fellow-men, and to exert yourself for
their relief. You are called upon, by the highest principle of honor, to strive to remove the foul stains which




THE LIGHTNING KING.               77;
have so long disgraced our common nature. You are call.
ed upon, by a sense of justice, to discharge a debt that you
owe the race.  Loudly does every noble sentiment of our
manhood call to you, " Arise and let your light shine before men."  Our fathers, from their hallowed graves, by
their examples beg us hear: old laboring Franklin speaks
aloud: Obey that call!  Rouse all the latent energies of
the mind you possess —rather that you are!  Shake off
the rust' of indolence and stand erect in the image of
your eternal Sire!  Looking with brave glance into the
involving night of intellectual and moral-gloom, you too
may say, " Let there be light!" and there will be light.
e








THE WORLD CHAMPION.
To Christian philanthropists, and especially to American
Christiains, no subject can be more interesting than that of
the concluding reflections in the last article. Desirous of
expatiating somewhat more largely thereupon, I have chosen another heroic name as the nucleus of my remarks,
and congratulate myself on the honor assumed of writing
a few eulogistic words on WASHINGTON.
I need not say that the surrounding halo of that name
can not be brightened by any breath of ours, and that the
admiration with which all men look upon the character of
him who wore and honored it, may not be increased by the
added tribute of our humble gratitude.  He stands too high
in the esteem of mnankind, to be elevated in the least degree
by our feeble efforts. His statue occupies too lofty a niche
in the temple of fame, to be adorned or approached by the
inrense of our offered praises: they may not reach, in their
proudest aspiratioas, and even kiss in grateful humility, its
asrlted pedestal —much less encircle with a new glory his
wreathed brow. Yet, though Washington cannot now be
honored by us, he is an honor to us. If that natural feel.
ing of pride, which we also experience in common with
All men of all nations and ages, when contemplating: he
rfegnainmity of our most distinguished countrymen and




80         CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
ancestors, be of proper indulgence, as we can scarce doubt
that it is; if it be the unaffected and irrepressible language of a heart not utterly debased, claiming still, even
in its admitted lamented degradation, some bond of high
companionship, some sympathetic unsevered link, binding'with uninterrupted and indissoluble tie its own deep pathos
in throbbing harmony with that of living excellence, of
departed worth; then may we well be proud to claim
Washington as our fellow-citizen and friend: we may feel
ourselves honored in calling him the Father of our nation,
and in meeting to contemplate and praise his character,
and with swelling bosoms and glistening eyes to thank God
that we too are Americans. And if not, if indeed we may
claim no peculiar interest in the distinguished honors which
the world unites to confer on our country's chieftain; if upon us no dim reflection of his glory falls, and no participation
in the fame of his worth is of right ours; still it becomes
us, as knowing the omnipotence of example, as feeling
the obligations of a just and generous gratitude, as thrilled
by the instinctive admiration excited by exalted virtue-it
becomes us to join our voices and hearts in paying tribute
to whom it belon:rs, in rendering to Cesar the things that
are Cesar's; as unto God the things that are His.  Let us
then call in those thoughts of ours " that wander through
eternity," and curb the airy flight of impatient fancy, and
silence the voice of impulsive passion, while for a short
time we direct our attention to an object in every respect
worthy to be made the subject of intense and undivided
mental activity, both of refined sentiment and none the
less of voluntary critical intellection; for I know not, I
confess, of a nobler theme for the exercise of our highest
powers, than the investigation of human character in its
varied manifestations and phases, especially that of such as




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                81
by unusual energy, have fixed upon themselves the stamp
of greatness.
I do not propose to give a biography, or even a memoir
of Washington. To do so would be to insult your limited
course of reading, to insinuate that you have not already
often wartmed your patriotism and kindled your philanthropy over the page of our nation's history.  I do not choose
to offend by any such unfounded and absurd insinuation.
You have doubtless read the graphic descriptions of his exploits and the eloquent delineations of his character, which
constitute a considerable part of our best American litera.
ture; you also have thanked Heaven for a boon not peculiar
to his nation or his age, but common to mankind and to all
time, hallowing by its memory the past, blessing by its example the present, and destined to exert its power through
all futurity; and you have grieved that relentless fate doomed to the lot of mortality that "one of the few who were
not born to die."
It needs not then that I should make a feeble effort to
recount those acts of his which, to adopt an expression
of the matchless Tully, "no tongue is so eloquent that it
can properly narrate, much less suitably adorn;" to sketch
that life whose every page is at this moment living on the
uninscribed tablets of your hearts.  I will not do it: Let
us therefore take a general view of' the influence exerted
by Washington on the world —the probable ultimate results
of his achievements on the universal history of our race:
not thus, indeed, is character to be justly estimated, since
much more is due to divine than human providence, in the
final consequences of conduct; but it is nevertheless pleas.
ant and profitable to view illustrious men with reference
to their position in the ranks of mankind, and to trace the
long trains of important events that, like heavy canr on a
8*




CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
osending plain, once started dash onward to a distant
goal by other than the prime motive power.
Man is a progressive being, capable of vast, almost infinite improvement.  The human mind is not contented to
remain stationary, but boldly aspires to an unbounded
advancement.  It is contrary to its exalted nature to continue long degraded in the dust; it feels an irresistible
instinct ever impelling it to rise toward heaven, its birthf)lace and its destined home; it would not be the kinsman
of a worm, but soar away, unbound by time and space, the
brother of an angel; it would not be the slave of circum-:tance, but the proud monarch of creation: nay, it lias
dared to usurp the throne of the Almighty; with impious
Titanic hand it has seized the scepter from Jehovah; it
hIas banished God fiom nature, and made itself a substitute
for Deity: it has claimed the empire of the Most High,
encroaching on the prerogative of Omnipotence by demnanding for itself adoration, while the opposing voices of
8inai's awful mount have thundered forth in counter peals,
"' Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God and him only shalt;rlou serve."
Man's first historic act alfirds an illustration of this dis-?osition of his nature. Not contented to retain his assigned
position when a forward step was possible in any direction,
he coveted knowledge even where ignorance was bliss, and
by the desire of a new acquirement was seduced fiom
his allegiance to the lawful sovereign.  From  that time to
the present, he has been characterized by the same ungovernable thirst for knowledge; lie has labored and toiled
and died to gratify it; he is at this day prying inquisitively into the secret constitution of the minutest atom,
and unlocking with the key of persevering investigation
the grand arcana of nature.  Sun, moon and stars are




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                  83
forced to contribute their portion to the constantly increasing ocean of human science.   The inmost bowels of the
earth are open to the light of day.  Every animal, plant
and mineral in the universe, is hurrying with its offering
to the altar of genius and bowing with respectful submission at the shrine of enterpiisin, mind.   The external
material universe is not all: it is but one state in the vast
empire of mind.  That monarch claims no less a realm
than the infinite: even the gates of light are opened to this
terrestrial visitant: she treads the portals of the skies in
triumph, and feels at home where angels blush abashed:
she approaches almost to the throne of the Invisible; the
lightnings play around her steps, as she trips it o'er the
thunder-cloud, but she fears them not; she revels in their
angry glare, extracts and locks for servile labor in her little jar their magic essence, and then derides the Sampson
shorn.  With iron wand she beckons aside the impending
desolation of the thunder-bolt, or makes it bow its haughty
izrcst, submissive  and obedient to her mandate, murmuring harmlessly expire beneath her feet.  With a velocity to which compared, " the tempest itself lags behind,
and the swift-wirnged arrows of light," she springs froin
one boundary of nature to anothezr, evcr unwearied by her
exertions, unslitiated wvit  her discoveries, still fresh for
bolder efforts, still eager for new and more arduous labor.
Such is the manifestation of man's progressive nature;
history is but its exemplification; to that fascinating page
we must for a moment turn.   We will list to the past,
whispering to us from eternity, its tomb.
We glance at man's early history and his subsequent
progress, and we note his advance from barbarism to civilization; we see him a savage and in chains, and then
claiming the heavenly boon of freedom, purchasing it with




84          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
the blood of Marathon, Salatnis, Platen, and a thousand
other places on the verdant field and azure wave, consecrated and immortalized by the disinterested patriotism and
noble deaths of the bravest heroes and most faithful sons of
a generous nation.  We can still hear "the blind king
of epic grandeur,'" sing with his deathless harp the praise
of those indomitable spirits whose sons were too proud of
their paternal blood to be enslaved, and the prince of orators thunders forth defianco to oppression. By sympathy we
catch something of the Athenian's spirit, Grhen he shouted,
"Lead us to Philippi's lord, let us conquer him or die,:'
and glow with the heroism of Leonidas, when, raising an
altar of his Persian foes, he offered himself upon it to his
country —a sacrifice admirable to men, approved by heaven.
We in fancy
" Go where the Nile, to slake the torrid sand,
Teaps from his bed and overflows the land; "
and we find upon the time-wrinkled front of that " fatherland," deep traces of thought, worn while the world was
young and green in hope of its golden age.  There too
the mind of man worked up and wrote records on tall pyramids, which will remain unerased when twice forty centuries look down on some greater Napoleon. Egypt sleeps
deeply while the waning crescent sinks toward the western
horizon; but a voice steals from her slumbers, and its low
sigh is " Onward," to the mail-shod cycles.
Then next
" We visit the neglected site
Where Carthage rose in majesty and might;"
and the lone desert tells a tale not all of wo, as the
bright Mediterranean wave breaks on its shore, chanting




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                  85
the old joyous song of freedom in the same mocking tone
that vexed proud Xerxes' ear, when he hurled in those
famous, foolish fetters. Hannibal is no longer the glory
of his belligerent nation, whose laurel crown is buried deep
in the lonely sand; but he left not the earth till he had
fulfilled his mission, and his country did not perish till its
history was written in deeds that can never die. We bestow a passing thought upon the history and fate of all
"those solemn cities of the dead," which though
I' Bereft
Of brightness and of being, yet have something leftA power to wake the pulses of the soul
And back the darkling tide of ages roll 
A magic lamp, that sheds redeeming aay
On desolation, darkness and decay."
H-ad we time carefully to trace the record of antiquity, we
should observe a regular " forward march " of man, firom
his wild state of nature to the highest civilization.  Nor
was lhis onward progress stopped or even checked by the
overthrow of those states which fell and were dragged off
from the stage, having acted their part in the great drama
of time.  The so-called I)ark Ages ought not to be
regarded as a blank, but by far the most interesting page
in the history of mankind; because, through them were
at work continually two several chaiins of events, having
a mutual relation to and influence upon each other; the
one consisting in the gradual combination of those latent
causes which conspired to produce the modern social sys.
tem, which lies concealed except fiom  the eye of keen
investigation; the other, of those external facts detailed,.: the scroll of every unthinking annalist.   We  mrn
regard the Reformation as the junction of these two streams.




86          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
when they intersected each other's course, producing an
effervescence which enlivened the spirit and restored the
tone of moral health, or at least, communicated increased
intellectual activity to Christian Europe. This excitement
immediately spread, like the circles of agitated water,
awakening to* fresh vigor the mental powers of man after
so protracted a night of slumber.  The birth of modern
enterprise may perhaps not. incorrectly be dated from the
discovery of the New World by Columbus; and in the
emigration to it of such spirits as our pilgrim fathers, we
can but recognize the progressive nature of humanity seek
ing a wider sphere for its development than was offered
by the artificial and constrained social system of feudal
Europe. Civilization demanded a nlew center from which
to send out its regenerating rays over the earth.   In its
all wandering way it came across the ocean's wave, and
found a New England welcome to cheer the feelings and
arouse the hopes of the almost despairing philanthropist.
The old world's soil was barren with the salt of hlood and
trodden hard by the hoof of oppression; no new growth
of any generous vegetation could flourish till the field
had lain fallow and been watered bly the dews of heaven.
From fresh land must the good seed spring, which in due
season, scattered over the prepared world, shall yield its
harvest of an hundred fold.  The winds blew a little grain
across the water, and it fell not by the way-side nor on
stony ground.
When we cast a retrospective glance over the scenes of
olr country's history, our imagination, be it ever so dull,
Sa.a but body forth a vivid picture: far in the back-ground is
rxlaibited the landing of the pilgrims-the first act in our
grand drama.  Yonder we spy the May Flower, cradle d
ur infant empire, rocked by the wild Atlantic surge.




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                  87
Behold on the troubled waters a speck floating toward the
distant shore: it is the pilgrims' bark; and as it approaches, the December air is warmed with orisous of unrestricted piety, ascending fiom true hearts to that Being who
is as present in the immensity of desert loneliness as in
the proudest temple built by insect man.  See! they near
the strand: the little boat strikes the beach and one of the
number springs upon the soil which is to be their future
home. Hark! dost thou not hear the minstrel choir of
stars once more entuned over a new world-birth?  Then
hast thou not a heart vibrating in unison with nature's
music.
4,"Sot as the conqueror comes,
They the true-hearted came!
Not with the beat of rolling drums,
Nor the trumpet that sings of fame.
"Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear:
They shook the depths of their forest home
With songs of lofty cheer I
What sought they thus afar 7
Brightjewels of the mine,
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine."
Thank God that our fathers did seek, on this desart
shore, freedom to worship Him!  Thank God that Felicia
Hemans, inspired by admiration of their noble bravery,
penned that spirit-stirring lyric, wlhse every line calls
like a trumpet's blast, to us their sons now in a great
moral battle-field. But the scene changes: the forest has'
vanished as if by enchantment; and indeed, active indus
try is the true and only enchantment employed by great'




88          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROIRAPHY.
souls to accomplish great achievements: by its potent energy the reluctant wild-wood has been found to recede before
the advancement of art; and "fields waving with the
fruits of agriculture and ports alive with the contributions
of commerce," diversify the before unbroken wildness of
nature. All is prosperity: earth yields gladly her blush.
ing tribute: Heaven gilds brightly with its encouraging
smile. But there's a Satan looking "askance with eye
malign, "upon this growing Eden: man's arch-foe, Oppression, sees, and envies, and would destroy. This time God
sent a Redemer before the ruin was accomplished.
Again the scene changes; it is a battle-field. There
gleams the lurid flash, and a quick cloud succeeds, darken.
ing the face of day, enshrouding the sun in its murky
folds, and wrapping maifly'a hero in his winding sheet.
There peals a deep tone that " counterfeits the immortal
Jove's dread, clamerous thunder-bolt." It is Bunker Hill,
where right and liberty and hope made a triumphant stand
against wrong and slavery and despair; where the fainting genius of humanity caught another breath of Heaven's
inspiration, and breathed it out, a blasting whirlwind,
against the minions of quaking, death-struck despotism;
where man took a new step, and like the fabled Titan,
raised one more sacred mount to assist in the ascent to his
desired independence.
It is now time to introduce our great actor. We have seen
man struggling upward, buoyed by his elevated nature: we
have seen the strong arm of tyrannic power strained to
repress that noble aspiration: a crisis, for centuries hastening from the future has now reached the present. He has
summoned strength in his new manhood, to assert his self.
evident right. But who shall be his champion? who shall
maintain that glorious declaration. who shall draw his




tHE'WORLD CHAMPION.
fearless sword against ancient error and established power,
and rescue man from his degradation, and teach his enemy
to fear and tremble? The work was mighty-the strife
unequal-the interest at stake, all that was dear to the
hearts of noble and enlightened men. At such a juncture
of the world's affairs, Washington appeared upon the
stage of action. Undismayed by thle threatning aspect of all
around and before him, unmoved by terror of the approacting storm, unshaken by the frowns of gigantic opposition,
he marched boldly forward to his heaven-appointed task.
When the tide of desolating war was rolling its black,
greedy waves over the face of all our fair native land, his
arm dauntlessly withstood its progress, and his voice, with
impressive majesty, commanded, " Thus far and no farther
shalt thou go!"  Dark was the night, but the pilot of that
tempestuous voyage lost not, in its dismal clouds, the pole-star
of his hope: it ever beamed above him: even the smoke of
defeat could not quench its heavenly ray.  Other men of
perspicacious vision gazed wistfully into the midnight sky,
and saw only solid dark; but his eye pierced through it to
the light, and followed onward, through peril and apparent
ruin, to safety and ultimate success.
Thus does the great God of nations anoint a priest and
king where he wills to employ one.  He appeared to
Moses in a burning bush, the figurative description of a
growing hope amidst the flame bf passion, and told him,
go back to his chain-chafed brethren and incite them to
rebellious flight. An answer was given to all his fearful
objections, and he went.  The exode, the whole afterhistory of Judea, and the oriental religion of Christendom,
tell the result of his patriotic labor.
God spake to Numa, and the king of a bandit horde went
out and in solitude communed with nature and his soul, till
9




90          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHt.
growing wise, his Egeria, named reason, suggested laws
and originated institutions which, in their gradual operatidn, bound together his subject-tribe into a manly nation.
It grew first strong, then mighty, then invincible, till tho
Roman eagle became not Jove's alone, but Jehovah's messenger-bird to the ends of the earth.
An eastern merchant felt his soul grow big within him,
and he nourished the divine conception till a wondrous
birth produced the Koran; inspired by whose sacred pre.
cepts an Arab band, shouting God is one God, charged
fiercely over ten thousand idol temples, and routed from
the hill-tops of'half Asia, Africa and Europe, the deified
demons of popular superstition.
An humble Geneose grew mad over the story of a traveling Jesuit, till he dreamed out his destiny and would fain
sail west into the boundless waste of waters; for so he
knew had God ordained. Derisive laughter stung his ear,
but frightened not his purpose, and he worked on to the
very edge of despair, when a woman's heart was impregnated by a man's mind, and the occidental world was born
to Columbus and Isabella.
Neither did Washington come by chance into the army
of our fathers, when it stood looking heaven-ward for an
angel leader.  With that man, so firm in unshaken integrity of purpose, so fearless in the cause of justice and his
country, so far-reaching in the soundness of his policy, and
so brilliant in the executions'of his martial projects, America could but conquer.  Failure was as impossible as that
eternal right and truth can be permanently obscured by
the fleeting shadows of temporarily successful wrong and
error.  Washington could not fail: when nature made
that noble brow, that generous right hand of his, she stamped
upon them both the seal of victory; and though calumny




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                 91
might misrepresent the motives of his conduct and injustice
asperse the righteousness of his cause, yet he was destined
to triumph and to save his country from the dominion of
those false principles of government, those antiquated
prejudices and time-honored absurdities of state policy,
that had so long been the most effectual barrier to human
advancement.  I-[low glorious the result of his disinterested
effo)rts, let the shouts of disenthralled millions testify at
each return of his, and of our nation's birth-day: let the
universally expressed admiration of the world testify; let
the history of man, marching forward fiom  ignorance,
vice and oppression, to knowledge, virtue and happiness,
testify. Called to assume a most responsible station at a
critical conjuncture, our nation's father was found by the
fearful experiment, great enough amply to fill that station,
quite strong enough to meet that emergency.  Napoleon
was a greater general, our own Jefferson an abler statesman; but neither would have trod for a quarter-century
so firmly in the way of life, bearing the western continent
upon his shoulders, and drawing after him in a long train
the hopes of nmankind, as did WAshington: therefore, I
assign him  a rank not among the greatest statesmen, nor
successful warriors, nor virtuous sages that the world has
ever seen, but as something more and higher than all these
-as the great conservator of human fieedom  and promoter of human happiness; the distinguisthed rescuer of an
oppressed nation and of down-trodden humanity; as the
man who of all other s after Christ, deserves to be l'emembered as the redeemer of his race.  He gave an impetus
to the progressive tide of civilization of which the effect will
only cease with time; a shock to the drowsy mind of practical philosophy, of which the awakening influence will
tell on the annals of eternity. And not only was he con.




IIJtIW      CONTRIBUTIONS TO nIEROGRA&PRf.
spicuous by position; he was really great also in character.
An attentive perusal of any faithful biography will satisfy
that while in some single faculty, very many have been
far his superiors, few men have ever had an intellect of
greater general power, and none a higher moral nature.
He stands out on the scroll of human history, the most
perfect impersonation of those true and virtuous principles
of action which confer the highest dignity and constitute
the greatest ornament, the brightest glory of our manhood.
His name will ever live, embalmed by the immortalizing
sympathy of every heart which has learned how to throb
with the deepest, purest feelings of which humanity is
susceptible.   His sacred example will remain treasured
up by the enduring memory of his countrymen, a most
powerful incentive to patriotic action-yes, to a wider philanthropic life.  His heaven-descended presence troubled
the turgid waters of life's muddy stream with a healthful
agitation, that still ripples on its suI face, that will ever excite its deep bosom as it sweeps onward to its destiny. The
most important actor, the great hero of the world's drama,
he still treads the stage, the moving spirit in its mighty
plot. Does'any accuse me of exaggerating the result of
his labor, or attributing too great a share of that result to
his personal will and power, and urge that he may not justly
be regarded as alone " the author and finisher" of the great
revolution as whose agent he acted?  To such I answer by
admitting that it would indeed be absurd to claim for Washington that Saul-like elevation above all his cotemporaries
which has distinguished so many heroes of ruder ages, and
which has been liberally attributed to-many others, by those
eager man-god makers whose weak eyes see all things
magnified through the obscurity of distant antiquity and
the fogs of superstitious credulity, Our chieftain certainly




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                93
was not so much more clear-sighted as to foreknow the
coming struggle before other men; much less did his private exertions induce it: neither was he so much more
mighty and energetic than any other, and all others combined, that his mental and physical toil can be said to have
been the only or anything more than one of the principal
causes of our success. He did not stand solitary, like
Jesus, and without aid, unsustained even by the sympathy
of one living soul, accomplish his mighty work.  Oh, no!
nothing of all this. Hle was surrounded by " three millions
of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty," and he had
the world's applause awaiting him if victorious, its tears
for his grave if vanquished.  And yet it is not an inflamed
imagination that regards him as the WORLD's CHAMPION;
since everywhere conspicuous personages draw to and
center in themselves the surrounding mass, so that in them
we no lorger recognize the single man, denuded of his
circumstances and associates.  These have become a part
of his own public character.  It is the razor's edge that
cuts.  It is the angular man in society's advancing wedgephalanx that is first seen, whose name is alone known and
talked about as being the individual representative of a
multitudinous agglomerate of men and principles and circumstances.  It is easy and proper thus to speak of fileleaders, ever remembering, and when necessary, explain,
ing what we mean.  It is in this sense that I say of
Washington-the past, at which we have thrown a rapid
glance, was but the preparation for his advent; the present
is the scene of his activity; the future is destined to be the
result of his success.  What we may hope that will be, a
momentary survey of the present will assist us in surmising. The present state of our country and the world
js of peculiar interest, to a reflecting mind. When we
9*




04           ONRIIBUTIONS TO HERtOGtAPHT.
look round us on the face of society, and consider its con.
dition in comparison with that of past ages, and in relation
to both past and future, we can but feel that we live in the
very center of revolving wonders, and that the passing
events of the day are indeed of the most absorbing and
fearful importance, as the very elements of our destiny.
This generation stands a connecting link between a mysterious, impenetrable future and an almost equally mysterious and inexplicable past.  Thirty years ago the curtain
fell on the tragedy of European war.  Every nation that
had been an actor was wounded and crippled; treasure had
been scattered in lavish millions; blood had flowed in a
red deluge; every family on the continent mourned some
loss.  The exhausted combatants laid down to rest; by
mutual consent the storm  ceased; nori  has it again dared
to sweep over the nations with its besom of destruction.
Causes of war have occulrred, but the nations are learning
wisdom and peace. Causes of' ilrternational collision are
even now arising, yet tile philanthropist rejoices in the
pacific feeling that rests like a covering of oil on the bosom of public sentiment, and the haters of the sword are
going up fiom all lands to take counsel at Paris, for the
Prince of Peace.*
Meanwhile, all the great powers have been engaged in
contests withl semi-civilized and barlbarous nations.  Eng.
land has severely chastis d China for her haughty contempt
of international law, and forced her to open a more liberal
eye upon the surrounding world.  Whatever may be said
or thought by the censors of British policy, as to the causes
or the manner' of prosecuting this war, none can doubt that
its general result will be and has already been good; that
*August 22d, 1849.




THE WORLD CIIAMMPtON'.              95
perhaps another more serious castigation of the same detestable nation would also pirove beneficial to the world in
general, and to its subjects in particular, by drawing a little more of the conceited blood which has for centuries
made barren the brains of Confucius' unworthy followers.
France has subdued and colonized Algeria, and seems
resolved to tame the wild Bedouin- of Sahara.  To northern Africa we may yet look fotr a brighter than the glory
of her ancient art, or her Saracenic prowess. The Numidian may yet roar concerts with the British lion, and the
exile Moor rejoice in higher civilization than his Spanish
conqueror.  The womb of coming time is pregnant with
mighty changes.  Why may we not hope some will receive
birth on the tomb where Marius wept the death of empire I
where now'' For triumph gone and glory in her grave,
There is no mourner save the eternal wave."
Russia is committing constant depredations on the neighboring Turk, with a covetous eye upon his southern land.
Already the Sultan's royal tiara sits lightly on his brow;
it awaits but a strong wind to fall forever in the dust.
Islamism has almost fulfilled ius mission; the rust is thickening on the Prophei's sword; his dead carcase will not
much longer be miraculously sustained above the earth;
his star of ascendencv is evidently fast hastening to sink
behind the horizon of a revolution.  His religion, with her
twin sister papacy, lies on the bed of death, convulsed with
mortal throes, doubtless destined to a speedy dissolution and
to a grave that shall know no resurrection,
From Europe, if we glance to the New World, we shall
find similar events in motion.  South America has been
appropriately termed the land of physical and moral




go          CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPIIY.
earthquakes.  Its revolutions are continual and violent;
they must finally subside into something better than what
now exists, if for no other reason, because worse cannot
well be. Nominal democracv, with virtual oligarchy or
monocracy, will be, in the natural course of things, substituted by that true government of the people, which is the
natural birthright of every nation.  And with republican
institutions will come the general light of diffused science
and the purer radiance of Christian truth.
Our own country presents not the least wonderful phenomenon of the nineteenth century.  Perfectly magical is
the change which she exhibits! Where once was the wildman's battle-ground, smoking with hot blood, now stands
His temple who tells us " Love your enemies," sending up
weekly its cloud of heaven-reaching incense: where all
was rude in primitive nature, educated labor now scatters
with generous profusion her monuments of art.  We see,
it is true, innumerable social evils which demand the most
active vigilance, the most strenuous exertion for their miti.
gation.  Yet we must regard it as a favorable symptom of
the moral convalescence of society, that we hear every
tongue crying out earnestly, "Reform, refornl!" Reform
is the watchword of the age; it is the spirit of the age.
And what does all this bespeak but progress? what does it
mean but onward, onward, still ever onward is the march
of improvement?  What are these signs of the times but
precursors of the ultimate reign of truth? of an universal
prevalence of virtue, at least of the adoption by the world
of those principles which embody the spirit of the Ameri.
can revolution?
If this experiment of self-government by the people
prove successful, as thus far it has more than equaled the
mosat sanguine expectations of its warmest friends, it must




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                   97
prove universal; for, " a city set on a hill cannot be hid,',
and man every where do love themselves better than their
oppressors.  The fire of Lexington has not gone out; it will
kindle a general conflagration, before whose spreading
flame the corruptions of the political world must be consumed.  The sun whose firet glad beams gilded the summit
of Bunker's hill, will yet meit every chain, and the repeated blows of the great, grateful truth, that all men are
equal, will yet break every yoke. The ocean of liberty
shall encompass the habitable globe, while in its midst appears conspicuous the hoary rock of' Plymouth, from which,
when struck by the pilgrimn's staff, burst forth the living
waters to bless mankind as from  Horeb  smitten by the
Prophet's rod.  That hallowed granite shall remain the
chief corner-stone in the temple of universal freedom,
more valued by the patriot's heart that the richest gem that
ever graced a monarch's casket, when the last mouldering
foundation of the palace and the throne has crumbled into
ignoble ruin, and its dust is scattered by the winds of heaYen.  No clime shall be unvisited by this sacred influence.
" Thy hills, Thibet~shall hear, and Ceylon's bowers,
And snow-white waves that circle Pekin's towers;
On all the plains where barbarous hordes afar,
With panting steeds, pursue the roving war,
Soft notes of joy the eternal gloom shall cheer,
And soothe the terrors of the arctic year,
Till, from the blazing line to polar snows,
Through varied climes, one tide of blessing flows;
Then shall thy breath, celestial peace! unbind
The frozen heart and mingle mind with mind;
With sudden youth shall slumbering science start,
And call to l'fe each long-forgotten art,
Retrace her ancient paths and new explore,
And breathe to wondering worlds her mystic lore."




CONTRIBUTIONS TO HEROGRAPHY.
These reflections satisfy me that Washington should lie
regarded as no ordinary man, but an express legate commissioned by the great King of nations, to come as he did
in the fulness of time, to break the iron bands of tyranny,
to fiee a brave and generous nation from  oppression, and
to breathe a quickening spirit of renewed life and activity
upon the grand stagnant chaos of human action, even as
the great Spirit of naturie mnoved upon the face of uncreated darkness, ere light burst forth fiom non-existence on
the transformed deformity.  So Washington, by his spirit,
swayed the world and stamped his name on his own, and
sent his memory to all future ages.  When, if ever, man,
disenthralled fiorom servitude of every kind, resumes his
primeval station as lord of creation and son of the Most
High, then and not till then will the character of Washington be fully appreciated as the great apostle of human
rights, the high-priest'of liberty, a near follower and
imitator of man's divine friendf-Heaven's well-beloved
son.  Then will join the tremulous music of age, the full
note of man, the warm tone of youth, and the sweet voice
of childhood, in one deserved tribute of gratitude to him
ever " first in war, first in peace andfirst in the hearts of
his countrymen."
Such, 1 ani convinced, is a true estimrnate of our renowned
chieftain. Such is the man of whom I may say, as did
Arrian of his favorite hero, that " not without special
delegation fiom a higher than human power did he appear
among men, to whom neither before nor since has the
world ever seen an equal."
And has not this notice too its lessons. Can we not
from it deduce a practical corollary? Does not at least
so much of the private character of Washington as we
have considered teach us something to be remembered in




THE WORLD CHAMPItoN.                 g
our daily life. HIe stands before us a model and rebuke,
His spirit should inspire us to do as he did, so far as our
position will admit, that we may be what he was. To
quote from one of our most eloquent countrymen: " From
the darkness that rests upon his tomb there proceeds a light
in which it is clearly seen that all those gaudy objects
which men pursue are only phantoms." Compared with
the great ends for which he lived, what are our trivial toys
of to-day? We live and toil for very little things: each succeeding morning brings its care for the meat that perishes;
and that obtained, our literal prayer for daily bread answered, the remaining time is yielded eagerly, or at least
without reluctance, to amusements the most frivolous when
not the most pernicious that can be well conceived. The
tread-wlheel of business-life alternates with the balloonflight of unsubstantial pleasure, and we thus sweat with
servile drudgery, or laugh with thoughtless mirth, while
the great world is rolling on to its distant goal, heavily,
because unaided by the millions who, with ourselves, standing slothfully aside, are scarcely observing at all its motion
or direction: we sleep and then half wake, because we can
sleep no longer: we eat and desist because we can eat no
more: we work because we can't live without, and we
grin because indignant nature roars out, "Do something!"
and we in our stupidity know not what else to do, or oftener,
through laziness, avoid more useful and laborious action.
Such is the history not only, but the deliberate philosophy,
of vulgar life.   To spiritualize this vulgarity is the
task of true religion; and the only true religion the world
has heard is preached to us by the blameless life of a divine
pattern man.  Is it not then a part of that religion, or at
least very nearly related to it, to study herography till we
are infected by the spirit of its subjects?   From  the




1-00        CONTRIBUTIONS TO iEROGRAPHY.
feeble page here presented does not a quickening aroma
rise? Is there no spell in mnighty names, no sympathetic
electricity in high achievements?  Is thy heart, reader!
so cold that the fraternal embrace of greatness warms not
its emulative fervor?  Pardon the superfluous question.
Even these artless lines, by suggested rather than communicated thought, have added at least one pulse to the red
tide of patriotism.  WASHINGTON, WASHINGTON! may
the echo of that sound command us to reflect that we tread
the stage of life at a time when it may be reasonably supposed that a grand crisis is hastening from the future to
meet and involve us in its absorbing interests.  Civil liberty, rejoicing in youthful vigor, will we doubt not soon
triumph over the time-linked and time-rusted bonds of aged
oppression. Such a victory were perhaps the harbinger
of a yet more glorious triumph of all that is true and right
over all that is false and wrong.  That golden age philosophers and poets of all nations have imagined and believed approaching.  Plato bequeathed an ideal republic of
love to the hopes of his disciples, and tuneful Maro, with
almost prophetic harp, sang the time when a more glorious day shall dawn; when justice shall return triumphant,
and the law of right become the universal rule of human
conduct; when war shall die and a better race inhabit
earth; when the last trace of wickedness shall fade out
and fear be no more known; when the returning bloom of
the Saturnian time shall again gladden nature's face, and
all the evil incidents of our present condition be banished
to oblivion.  Thus brilliant have been the anticipations of
many whose eyes hope had opened or closed; which, we may
not now examine to ascertain.  We will not pause here to
inquire whether we may reasonably expect so glorious a
state ol things, or whether the dreams of genius are not




THE WORLD CHAMPION.                101
still often dreams; but if no such prospect charms our per.
spective vision, if we dare not hope perfection as the
earthly destiny of man; still we can but believe that
great events are often to occur, and that individual'agents
will be the producing instruments —some in lofty, all the
rest in an humble sphere.  Society then has an undiminished demand upon each one of us.  In life there is some
duty to do, some task to be performed; and the example
of Washington calls loudly upon every American to dis.
charge cheerfully and with diligence that devolving duty;
to perform vigorously and with alacrity that allotted task.
Let us then be ever mindful of Cur obligation: let us strive
to keel) alive a sl)urring sense of the julstice with which a
demand is made upon our unceasing activity' let us feel
the itnpending necessity of effirt, strenuous and protracted,
in the direction that reason points; and let us swear, this
waiting hour, at the sacred altar of our country and our
God, by the blood of our fathers and of JMstus, (and may
the oath be registered in Heaven, on the records of Eter.
nity,) that we will act in obedience to the claims of clam.
orous conscience; that we will continually work towards,
since we can never attain to the full accomplishment of
all that needs be done; that we will thus fill up this brief
minority of our boundless being in so educating and pre.
paring ourselves that when it shall expire, we may be
ready to enter upon the possession of an inheritance that
is incorruptible, and be found worthy to participate in
glory that shall never fade away,
10