165
"the .affiicted under such a bereavement; and if it can be of any

t

~rvice to others, or advance, in the least, the cause of Christi( a~ty, they will most gratefully say that it has not failed of its
}~

&~
<mi

.

inestimable promise.
·
They now proceed with other brief collegiate and academic

t.
·~· Essays, which are arranged more in conformity with_the rela-

'; tive nature of the subjects than the order in which they were

THESES AND FORENSICS CONTINUED, - WRITTEN AT HARVARD
UNIVERSITY.

THESIS-ARTICLE VI.

" ' THE INSEP.AR.ABLE ENEMIES OF GREATNESS.'

"Man has three lives, the moral, intellectual, and animal;
__ the latter in common with brutes, while the two former place

him at the head of the visible Creation. There has been, accordingly, implanted in his breast, an ambition to soar above Earth,
and to tread in paths unknown below ; aye, and he is not satisfied until he comes to God himself. In short, it is a desire to
become all that is implied in the word ' Great.'

"As rrian is thus endowed, and as he can cultivate the one
faculty without the other, the word ' Greatness' has come to

:rll

166
!Ill

have two significations, according as it implies the training of
:!Ill!

the one or the other to a high degree of improvement.

To

understand their inseparable enemies, it is necessary to bear in
mind the nature and tendencies of each faculty.

!'\!Ill\

"""When the aspirant after fame has attained his object, and

1illlllll

his name is wafted on every breeze, he finds himself surrounded
by enemies that · '1 dreamed not of; that the bliss which he
had anticipated/

illlllll •

I

at most, but an agreeable illusion, to

become embitt1

1

greater than tr

ks within his own bosom.

pride, and fills

y envy, scorn, and jealousy.

c,

But, a

There festers

.r t with corruption.

1

i\\:111111\

1~'.1 1 1

" Of all th ene1 es which beset the man of fame, the last
mentioned maJ
1sidered the most foolish, and most calculated to bring \... . il contempt, which, in its turn, engenders
unkind feelings and separates man from his brother man. It is
foolish, because it originates with himself, and seeks the good of
self. It shows that, whatever a man has mastered, he is not
master of himself.
"Of what, indeed, should a man be proud, whatever be his
attainments, whatever his walk in life ? Why should he be
proud that he has succeeded, while so many who have started
from the same point, and rushed toward the same goal, have
failed in their undertaking ? Let him remember that he is
brother to the most abj ect of his race, and let him think of ..
Him ""Who hath made them to diffor, and his pride will be humbled to the dust.

167
,., ·,

'"

,•···

"Let us now, for a moment, consider the cause and effect of

/jjeiloifSl.J·
,,;· greatness.

'~~

It may be said that this is not inseparable from
But we think otherwise.

an anxious eye, or with

Why does one look with

ill-will, upon the least advancement in

· t· reputation and honor among his rivals ?
~-

Why does he not

rather commend and encourage them? This is common enough;

I.

~

and the answer must be sought in the corruption of his nature,
-and what else than jealousy?

I need not dwell upon the

· effects of this vice; so injurious to peace of mind, and so great
a disturber of harmony among men.
"Now for envy.
" '-wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous; but who is able
to stand before envy?'

This is the strangest of all.

Why do

some fret at the prosperity of another ? Why do some grieve
because another is making advancement in those pursuits which
. improve the mind ? vVhy do they thwart his plans and undermine his reputation ? Why not rather admire and applaud ?
The Poet shall answer.
" ' Fools gaze aud envy - - . '

" But we must take the world as it is, and not as it should
be. The fact, then, is that the great man, in our acceptation of
the term, instead of receiving from all the reward of merit, is
perpetually annoyed by envy.
the objects of its desire?

Are knowledge, virtue, truth,

Why, then, is it directed against our

species alone ? Why not carried to Heaven ? Why do none

168
envy those blessed Spirits, the Angels ? Is not their greatness
more desirable? We do not form our ideas of an Angel as
an orator, a statesman, a hero, but as a being of high moral
perfection, as the most spotless of creation, and therefore privileged to dwell in the immediate presence and in the full enjoyment of the Infinite Himself.

Hence it is evident, that Virtue

alone is the true and living greatness. The cultivation of the
moral faculties, only, can render man the friend and companion
of God. It is this that best becomes immortal man, and the
pursuit of it will enlighten the envious as to the difference
between the objects of his desires on Earth and in Heaven.
"The answer to our question, therefore, from the latitude
which it affords, must be sought in the wide difference between
true and what the world calls greatness; for while the latter
tends to give rise to pride, to envy, jealousy, and contempt,
which, in their turn, serve to rob the mind of its tranquillity
and break up the bonds of society, the former is calculated to
unite all hearts and call forth the warmest admiration and
praise, even from the most vicious and ignorant, unmingled
with any unkind feeling. At the same time, it imparts to its
possessor that happiness which none but he can obtain.
" ' From purity of thought all pleasure springs.'

" RonERT TROUP

"Harvard University, September 13, 1848.

P.AINE."

169

FORENSIC - .ARTICLE VII.

" 'IS THERE LESS DANGER IN BELIEVING TOO MUCH OR TOO LITTLE? '

"I purpose, first, to examine this subject in its moral bearings ; then in its influence upon the general happiness and prosperity of man; and afterwards to see how far our remarks upon
the last head are borne out by history.
" In treating of the morality of belief, we should :first have
a clear understanding of the nature of belief; which must not
be confounded with ' spiritual faith.'
believe so and so?
cannot.

Can any one will to

A little reflection must satisfy us that we

How often has every one said, ' Well, I really wish I

could believe that ! '

Can I, by willing, believe in ghosts and

hobgoblins? Evidently not. And, on the other hand, can any
one refrain from such and such belief merely by willing to do
so? This is merely the other question reversed, and a moment's
thought must tell us that we cannot. Can I, for example, have
a doubt as to the existence of an Almighty Being, of my own
existence, or of the revolution of the earth around the sun ?
Can the dearest friends of Dr. Webster have a disbelief of his
guilt by merely willing to do so? Belief, then, so far as founded
Z!

170
m the nature of things, must necessarily be involuntary and
irresistible.
"Now, whatever is involuntary can have no morality, for
the very essence of morality is free will.

'Then,' some will

say, 'you think it makes no difference whether any one believes
in atheism, polytheism, or Christian Deism; whether the Christian Deist believes that One God consists of Tb.Tee Persons or
One Person; and, in short, no difference, in a moral point of
view, what any one believes?' I answer that he is morally
responsible only for the manner in which he has availed himself
of the means within his reach of convincing himself upon any
point, but not for the conviction to which he has been led after
a thorough and honest examination of the grounds.

This I

believe to be the broad and liberal view of the question, such
as is set forth by that great expounder of Christianity, St. Paul;
and, if it could generally prevail, it would serve to raise the
standard of Religion in our Churches, by doing away with the
interminable hostility, and I may p erhaps say hatred, which

exists among the different Sects, and its place would be supplied
by a spirit partaking more of the Christian love and charity
which characterized the meek and lowly Jesus.

As we cannot,

then, attach the idea of morality to belief, we of course cannot
say that, in a moral point of view there is any danger in believing much or little.
" But, because belief does not partake of the nature of
morality, and consequently, in our critical sense, can have no

171
;ft·

influence upon our happiness hereafter, we must not imagine

l

that it does not upon happiness and prosperity in this world.

J.:L

•

' ::. ·When we reflect, how many things, wholly unconnected with
morality, have great influence in determining our present happiness, such as education, early rising, cleanliness, bodily exercise, property, friends, &c., is it at all surprising that belief
should be one of the great elements in our happiness or misery,
although it have nothing to do with morality? It may, indeed,
be thought very hard that our happiness should be so affected
by that which is not under our control; but it is nevertheless a
fact, which we learn from observation of others and ourselves.
" Granting, then, that belief has

grea~

influence upon the

happiness and prosperity of man, we come to the question,
which is attended with less danger, - believing too much or
too littlfl.

But few will deny that the greater happiness and

prosperity must consist in believing all the truth, and nothing
but the truth; though it may be asked _now, as of old, 'What
is truth?'

In the majority of subjects which are matters of

belief, this is beyond our power to ascertain.

Now, as 'too

much' implies more than the truth, and 'too little' less than
the truth, it is obvious that, if we cannot define what is truth,
we shall be unable to define the meaning of 'too much' and
'too little,' in its connection .with truth. We therefore purpose,
for convenience, in place of these expressions, in considering the
question with regard to our happiness and prosperity, to use
much and little.

:i\\\i\\

172
" Is there, then, less danger to the happiness and prosperity
of man, in believing much or little ?
::1:111111

"This question is more easily and effectually answered by
reference to facts than by speculation.

Look at the world

around us, and whorn do we consider the happier ; those who
assent to every thing, who are continually the dupes of the cunning, or those who, by reflection and correct judgment, believe
only the things which their reason must acknowledge, or which
are authenticated by what their judgment assures them to be
perfectly reliable testimony ?

Take Religion : what more

deplorable object is there than one whose mind is filled by the
rankest superstition, who sees demons in the air, hobgoblins,
and the spirits of the departed, and to whom the midnight hour
brings only horrid dreams and ghostly visions, instead of that
quiet and repose, which even the skeptic can enjoy?
" But credulity is by no means confined to subjects of a religious nature. How many have lost their property, their all, by
some base impostor, whose words were as honey, but 'under
whose tongue,' alas, too late they found there lurked 'the poison
of the asp'!

How many are constantly ushered into the unseen

ViTorld through blind credulity in some nostrum or panacea !
They literally die 'as the fool dieth.' \Vhat multitudes are perpetually distracted and drawn away from the duties of life by
belief in the grossest absurdities, such as the visions of Swedenborg, Millerism, Mormonism, animal magnetism, phrenology,
and what are called the 'mysterious knockings' !

173

-"It is no doubt true that miwh belief is sometime8 the
f, source of the greatest happiness, from being of that particular
";, cast which enables one to live continually in a world of fancy
',' _and delight. But we have to do here, not with individual cases,
but with general facts. Now, it is beyond all question that to
~ne case of this description there are thousands in which miwh
belief leads to a melancholic state of mind. Of this kind is the
creed of those who believe there is but one road to Heaven;
, ~hat unless all think and act in just so precise a manner they
will be eternally damned. This was not the teaching of the Saviour of men, and as that teaching accords with the moral sense.
"It is said that credulity serves to beget confidence in
others, or rather in the word and testimony of others ; but we
should be silent here, so long as the business of the greater part
of men is to cheat and impose upon their neighbors. A perfectly honest man is, indeed, a ra;ra avis; but even he is liable
to be mistaken in his testimony.
" These remarks, I think, are most fully borne out by
history, as well as by every day's experience. Compare the
wretchedness which marked the middle ages, the reign of superstition and Roman Catholic absurdities, with the better state of
things brought about by the Lutheran reformation."
The remaining portion of the manuscript is lost.

It was

rendered, as ascertained from his Classmate, :Mr. Goodwin, May
23d, 1850.

174

THESIS -ARTICLE VIII.

" 'WHICH

HAS

A :MAN'S

'l'HE

GREATEST

CHARACTER,

INFLUENCE I N THE

CIRCUMSTANCES,

FORMATION OF

ORGANIZATION,

OR

FREE-

WILL?'

"In treating this subject, the same difficulty presents itself
as in all others of a metaphysical nature, namely, the liability
of running too much on a favorite hobby, and thus taking a
one-sided view.

We are apt to regard man as entirely under

the control of either circumstances, organization, or free-will ;
thus forgetting that all th?'ee, at every period of his life, exert a
powerful inftuence. Still, however, one of them has some ascendency over the others.
" As it may not be readily understood from the seqnel
which side we have espoused, we state here that, in our opinion,
organization is entitled to the pre-eminence. But our view of
organization differs from its common acceptation.

V\Te do not

mean by it so much the brain, and those subdivisions of the
organ which have been made by Phrenologists, as the spiritual
part. \Ve believe there is 'a spiritual body,' as well as 'a natural bo.dy,' and that the brain co-operates with the former in all
its acts, and that it does so as a whole and at once.

"We

believe, too, that the mind is the principal agent, and that it

175
. has a separate and more independent existence than the body,
,· ·and, like the latter, that it has its own peculiar though spiritual
organization.

vVe shall therefore employ the word in its rela-

tion to the soul, though we would prefer the word constitution,
since the former is applied to the body.

We think, also, that

the mind varies in different classes of individuals, and more or
less in each individual of the same class; somewhat as 'all flesh
is not the same flesh, but there is one kind of flesh of men,
another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds.'
In like manner, mind is not exactly .the same mind in all; but
there is one kind of mind of poets, another of philosophers, one
of saints, and another of devils.

And, although as the flesh of

all men is one in its broad characteristics, yet as the flesh of
every man is somewhat different from that of every other man,
so, although the minds of all men are one in their general cast,
yet the mind of every individual is different in many particulars
from that of all others.

The greatest peculiarities, and the

greatest approximation, are seen among particular classes of
men, and according to their classes; such as poets, philosophers,
mathematicians.

But the general principle holds throughout.

Thus, therefore, as God has

g~ven

to every one 'a body as it

hath pleased Him,' so to every one he hath given a mind 'as it
pleaseth Him.'

Indeed this truth lies at the foundation of the

parable of the ten talents, and the declaration ' unto whom
much is given of him shall be much required.' This truth, also,
must be admitted before we can understand the beautiful com-

parison implied in the following verse: - 'Hath not the potter
power over the clay of the same lump to make one vessel unto
honor, and another unto dishonor?' Now, this peculiar 'organization' or constitution of every mind, both in respect to intellectual and moral capacities, is what, in our opinion, may be
called the groundwork of that diversity of character which
exists in our ·species.
" Let us see if this be supported by facts.

For convenience,

I shall consider character first, in an intellectual point of view ;
secondly, in a moral.

Will the advocates of 'free-will,' or of

'circumstances,' say that Shakspeare could have been a Newton
had he willed it to the day of his death, or if he had been
placed in circumstances similar to Newton ; or, vice versa ?
But, to come nearer home: will either of those classes of philosophers tell us why one poor son of a Salisbury farmer should
have become the most able and eloquent Statesman of bis country ? Was it because he willed it? Have not hundreds of
others willed the same? Have not you and I willed it? Indeed
we have; but it was like the will of Jeroboam, who could not
'pull his hand in again' when he had 'put it forth from the
altar.'

Was it owing to 'circumstances '?

Have not hundreds,

nay thousands, been placed in the same circumstances?
to come to more ordinary cases.

But,

Enter the common school or

the college; take any number of the pupils, or the students in ·;
nearly the same circumstances, how various their endowments I .~
How various their capabilities for different branches of learning! ;i~

177
> ·:liere is one, who, although under mechanical discipline, cannot
l'iJ>e·roade to comprehend the simple rule of compound division.
·:; -Here is another, whose sole delight is in mathematics. He comprehends every thing connected with them with the greatest
ease.

Here, again, is another, fond of poetry and depicting

imaginative scenes, and who, perhaps, 'lisped in rhyme.'

vVe

thus witness, at these early times, the germ of the astronomer,
the moral philosopher, poet, lawyer, or di vine.

In all these

'Cases, therefore, the ' organization' or constitution of mind is different; thus making the groundwork of that pleasing variety of
intellectual character which we everywhere behold.
"That character is more influenced by organization or constitution of mind than by free-will or circumstances, is evident
from the fact that, generally, a person takes after his parents;
. sometimes the father, sometimes the mother, sometimes after
both.

The offspring is apt to be superior in those intellectual

qualities in which his parents excel, and to possess the same
tastes as they.

This is perfectly analogous to other mysteries

of generation. . We shall not dwell upon the self-evident facts
which have been now mentioned. It is only necessary to state
them to render the proof complete.
" As to man's moral character, this, also, as we have said, is
more determined by constitution of mind than by circumstances
or free-will. The proof may be of the same nature as that
which we have alleged of his intellectual; for when we consider
how much one's morals are modified by his tastes, passions, and
23

' .

•
178
strength of mind in resisting temptation, and that these are apt
to be inherited, we see plainly that circumstances and free-will,
although they, of course, act as modifiers, do not give the general cast to the· moral character. Do we not find, very generally,
that children bear a strong resemblance to their parents in their
tastes and passions?
so are they.

Are the parents of a lively turn of mind,

Are they contemplative, so are they.

Are they

irascible, so are they; amiable, so are they.
" But it may be said that this is the effect of parental education.

That such, however, is only partially true, may be

shown by the fact that children bear the same mental resemblance to their parents when born after the death of their
father, or when from their mother 'untimely ript.'"

The residue of the manuscript is lost.
tained to have been January 3, 1850.
Ill

·11

Jll

The date is ascer-

179

FORENSIC.-ARTICLE IX.*

11 1 I

ASSOCIATE WITH ::NO ONE, I EMPLOY NO ONE, WHO IS NOT OF MY
PARTY IN POLITICS AND RELIGION.'

"Such is the law of sociality in our nature, that we conceive
a particular

broth~ly

feeling for those who possess principles

and characteristics similar to our own.

This feeling is stronger

in proportion as those are more particular, or the circle contracted.

As there are certain features common to all men, so

we find ourselves united by certain ties to the whole human
family.

This fonm one great circle.

Again, the tie becomes

stronger among those who speak a common language and
observe the same customs; stronger still among those who have
the same government, the same laws ; firmer yet is the bond
as we descend to the more circumscribed, who have the same
employment, the same sentiments, the same principles, the same
feelings.
" Thus we ha.ve circle within circle, and the connection
among individuals becoming stronger and stronger as we go
from the circumference to the centre, until finally the feelings
become deeply engaged and a warm friendship is the result.

*

Written two months and a half before his death.

180
" We have now spoken of man's social being.

But let us

·ask, are there not laws which regulate its welfare as well as that
of his animal, intellectual, and moral being ? Has it. not diseases and deformities as well as tliey?

May not the vigor and

energies of manhood, which were designed for the service of
the world, for making it better and happier, be wasted in licentiousness, or fall a victim to grim dyspepsia, brought on by

•

gluttony or inactivity?

And are not the vigor and energies of

man's social being, which were intended for his own and the
happiness of others, thus perverted from their gracious purpose,
and rendered the cause of wretchedness, unutterable misery?
"Now, in no form are such evils worse than those which
arise from exclusion. What more universal, and at the same
time detestable, than this spirit!

It is proper, as we have said,

that a peculiar tie should subsist between those who hold the

1

I

same sentiments ; but to make those sentiments the standard in
cases where they have no concern, is manifest folly. Take an
instance in politics, for illustration. I am a whig. I believe
the best interests of the country will be promoted by carrying
out whig principles and whig measures. Suppose, then, that I
am to vote for the President of the United States, for a Senator,
or a member of the House.

Very well.

Then as these are

they in whose hands is the making and carrying out of public
measures, this is palpably a case in which my p olitical principles
are concerned, and it is proper, it is natural, and, perhaps, it is
my duty to vote accoriling to them.

181
t

" But suppose I am a trustee of a college, and an election
for a President or a Professor of the College is to take place.*
' Here the question is not whether the candidate be a whig.

It

is plainly, -is he one who will do honor to the College, a man
of learning, of reputation, of ability, one who will discharge
the duties of the office satisfactorily? To cast my vote, then,
upon political principles, would be acting from narrow-mindedness, from seeing only one principle applicable to every thing.
"The rule of exclusion carried thus far is absurd, hateful.
But what shall be said of its operation as we see it every day
around us ?

vVhat has politics to do with my employing or

associating with another?

The question in choosing a compan-

ion, a friend, is not whether he be a whig ; but is he a man . of
w:orth, of good sense, of sociability, in short, is he an agreea?le
· man? In hiring a servant, or a hand in a factory, the same
principle applies. Is he industrious, honest, qualified for .~he
place? To act in those cases according to political principies
- would be virtually denying the grand sentiment-difference··Of
opinion is honorable. It would be a virtual censure upon all
those who differ from me on one subject, and denouncing them
as unworthy of my regard.
"' This was evidently suggested by the pendency of an election of a Professor of

History, and in which the Students of the University took a lively interest at the ti~e
when this Forensic was written. The election devolved especially upon the higher
branches of the Legislature of Massachusetts ; and Mr. Bowen, the candidate, .who
had pe1formed the functions of the chair for some time, was supposed to have been
set aside from political feeling.

182
"But it may be asked-' supposing there are two persons
equal in all these respects, should you not choose the one who
is of the same politics with yourself? '

We answer that, in

ninety-nine cases of a hundred, it will be found, on stricter
examination, one is better qualified than the other.

In the

hundredth case it were better to adopt the boyish expedient of
deciding the choice by lot, than resort to the more absurd and
dangerous standard of politics, which certainly can have no
natural bearing upon the case in hand.

•

" But the principle of exclusion is not confined to individuals, or individual acts.

If it ceased here, its operation would

be no more than we might expect ; for surely it is not at all
surprising that we find individuals who are narrow-minded,
bigoted, conceited.

But to find it actuating the ruling party

of a great nation is truly disgusting.

When we see the officers

of government, because they have been elected according to a
political standard, removing from office postmasters, customhouse clerks, judges, and physicians, who have no more to do
with politics than every other citizen; when we see them turning them out merely because they do not belong to their party,

II
'I
'I

and substituting others of their political faith, and that, too,
without any reference to their qualifications, we begin to despair of the Republic, and to foresee a monarchy rising upon its
rums.

"But what are the obvious effects of the kind of exclusion
we have been considering?

Are they not evil in whatever

183
ht we view them ? Does it not estrange the affections, the

··lings of one part of the community from those of the other!
"-~~s it not kindle a spirit but little different in its nature and

violence from that of civil war ! Does it not serve to harrow
'~P the very worst passions of the human breast ! Let any
~.~ational man look candidly at this, and he must be convinced
~f,,~bat our expressions are borne out by sad reality.

t , "We come now to speak of exclusion in Religion.

. '.' . .

"Here we have it extending not only to different religions,

•I .

' !''but molesting different sects of the same religion, even that of
the Holy Scriptures.
"We shall consider this division of our subject under two

By
the former we mean the principle by which a person of one
belief condemns or denounces as heretics all who differ from
him; by the latter, the principle by which any one is led to
withhold his favor, his services, or his friendship, from all who
are not of his party in religion.
" Suppose me an Episcopalian. Suppose me, as I am, to be
a sincere believer in the peculiar . tenets of the Church. Suppose, also, that I have arrived at this belief from reflection, from
careful examination of Scripture. Am I, therefore, because I
believe the doctrines of that Church to be the true ones, - am
I for that reason to denounce another who has, by the same reflection and equally diligent searching the Scriptures, come to
an equally sincere belief that the doctrines of another sect apheads : exclusion in belief, exclusion on account of belief.

r
i

;
I

I

,i~

!

184
I

~il

I

proach more nearly to the true doctrines ? Am I, on this account, to exclude him from the number of the faithful and the
good ? Has he not a soul as well as I ? May not I be mis-

11111

taken as well as he ?
" But, although one must be mistaken, may not both be

:!Ill

equally good, equally religious, or may not the one who is correct in his belief be much less devotional and religious ; in
short, may he not be much more sinful ? To deny this is to
assert that belief has a moral character.

Belief is involuntary.

No one can believe a thing by wishing or willing to do it.
111111

J!ll~
Illl

1

I

I
:11111111

He

believes according-to the manner in which he views the facts or
the evidence before him. The mind is carried unconsciously
along by the arguments and proof presented to it ; and, as
there are two sides to every argument, it will be overcome by
the one which appears to have the greater force. For instance,
such a combination of facts might be presented to me as to

C01'/J'

vince me that some near relative had committed murder, which

certainly would be the last thing which I should wish to believe.

I

t:
::,!11111

" The same is the nature of belief in matters of Religion.
Man is, indeed, responsible for the use he makes of means
within his reach for ascertaining what is the flrue belief, and for
the correspondence of his conduct to his own belief. But this
is far different from condemning a man, who has laid his mind
open to argument on both sides, for the manner in which his
mind is affected by them.

To do this is to condemn him for

what is not under his control.
1
:[ 11111111

185
~,"But,

time will not permit me to carry the subject farther.

, l!ow illiberal, how narrow-minded, how conceited, how unchris!{ian,- to denounce the Religion, the goodness of another, when

,A.Ji.a differs sincerely from you, and according to his means of in~, fol'Illation ! How delightful, on the other hand, to see in those
'.(>f other sects, nay, even in the 8incere Pagan, fellow-travellers
<tO the Land of Bliss!* And, what we have now said seems to
\ :00 not only the dictate of reason, of what we know of the
f~ · :JJeneficence of the Creator, of the intrinsic nature of the Atone-

-. ment, but what is inculcated by the Saviour of men, and so eloquently expounded and illustrated in the teachings and conduct

. , of St. Paul.
: .' " We will now consider the second part of this division of
., our subject-exclusion on account of belief.

*
~"

The eminent Dr. Blair says, in his Discourse upon the General Judgment, that,

Powerful .is the Atonement of our blessed Redeemer to procure pardon for the

greatest sinner, who has been penitent.

We have all reason to.believe, that amidst

- -·the numberless infirmities which attend humanity, what the Great Judge will chiefly
regard is the habitual, prevailing turn of our heart and life ; how far we have been
actuated by a sincere desire to do our duty.

This we know for certain, that all the

measures of this judgment shall be conducted with the most perfect equity. 'God is

not extreme to mark iniquity; for He knows our frame and remembers we are dust.'
He will not exact from any one what he hath never given him. H e will judge him
according to the degree of light that was afforded him, according to the means of
knowledge and improvement that were put into his hands.

Hence, many a virtuous

Heathen shall be preferred before many mere professors of Christian faith.

' They

shall come from the east and the west, the north and the south, and sit down in the
kingdom of God, when the children
24

of the kingdom are cast out.'" -[THE P ARENTs.J

186
" It must be evident that many remarks made in connection

with politics are applicable here, and therefore need not be
repeated. We turn, therefore, more particularly to Religion.
"Now, however unphilosophical, however absurd it may be
to connect Religion with questions to which it is not at all
related in nature, yet what more prevalent than the spirit of
exclusion on account of religious belief ! Sectarianism is made
to obtrude itself into every sphere.

In some countries it is

upheld by law, governs the appointment of every public officer,
and forces itself into public measures. 'l'his is seen in Christian
governments.

But, in Turkey and China it has, until recently,

amounted to even denying toleration to every other belief than
the established faith.

These, it is true, are uncivilized ]ands,

and perlfaps it is not surprising that they should be ruled by
principles appropriate to them.

Still it may be asked, even

upon this question, whether they have fulfilled 'the law written
in their hearts/ whether 'their thoughts, meanwhile, accuse or
excuse them.' We shall say nothing of Roman Catholic Europe,
nothing of the besom which deluged the Protestant Churches;
but that refined and enlightened England should remain intolerant is sickening to the heart of philanthropy.

When we :find

her requiring of all officers, her sovereign, her generals, her
·admirals, her judges, her surgeons, and even the graduates of <~
her colleges, a signature of the thirty-nine articles, we cannot '.
but think there is still much room for improvement.
"In our country, thank Heaven, a great march

...

187

, Jl)ade.

But, although sectarianism does not receive the public

., ~gnizance, this intolerant spirit is at work privately.

Each

.: ~ect is striving to gain an ascendency. vVe see it carried, in an
.11:,"alarroing manner, into our very Colleges. It infuses itself into
I

~. · the

election of Presidents and Professors, and peculiarities in
~. · Religious belief are made to compensate for acknowledged infe. : riority.

Students, even, would forego the advantages of educa-

,'' tion rather than resort to a College whose officers are of a different religious creed from themselves. But what has a College to
. ;:: do with sectarianism ~ No more than a gymnasium has with a
' College.

Their proper duty is to inculcate the great principles

of Christianity in the one case, and habitual exercise in the
other. The details belong to the Church, or to the gymnasium.
The former is the school of man's religious powers, the latter
his physical, and the College his intellectual.

We go to one, or

the closet, to pray, to another to exercise, to another to learn.
"But the feeling of which we are speaking infects, also, the
domestic circle; separates chief friends, makes bitter foes, oftentimes deluges the Earth with blood, kindles a fire at the Altar,
and all this for what is supposed to be-Religion. No wonder,
then, that infidels scoff, when they find the Church which is
called by the Name of Him Whom it gives forth to have been
all gentleness and meekness-when they find this same Church
so perverted as to have been the cause of half (we think we do
not exaggerate) the wars, feuds, and quarrels which have afilicted mankind. Upon this disposition of man was founded the

:..·

:. <.

188

I·

fearful declaration that He 'came not to: send peace but the

sword.'
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Harvard University, December 19, 1850."

.1

I
I

•

THESIS-ARTICLE X.
" 'THE INFLUENCE OVER OTHERS OF AUSTERE, FORBIDDING VIRTUE,
.AND THE MILD ALLURING VIRTUES IN PUBLIC TEACHERS OF RELI·

I

GION.'

m.?1J

I

II
II

"In considering this subject, we should bear in
that,
however untrue it may be at the present day and at some
former periods, there have been times when virtue in public
Teachers could accomplish nothing unless it had been austere
and forbidding.
" The comparative influence, for good or for evil, of mild
and of austere virtues, has depended upon the state of society.
During the dark ages the Romish Church, by . assuming the
appearance of stern morality, held an unlimited sway over the
minds of the human , race, as far as Christianity had reached;
By appearing to suppress the passions natural to man, and ,
abstaining· from 'enjoyments, the priests and monks were looked .
ripon bi the!' igilorffiit. and :superstitious aS : exalted' above the'
,

...

11

~

..

• -

•

•

•

~

,

~

•

r

t

mass Of niankirid, and: approaching the cliaracter of that Being

189
. :Who was regarded only with dread, and as an embodiment of

.'ill that is cold and cheerless.
· . • , " This was, of course, well understood by the artful priests,
·: who, although in private they indulged in lewdness and the
~. most

sensual enjoyments, openly pretended that the least grati?':fication of natural propensities, or any participation in the plea-

~+ &'}res

of the world, was incompatible with the holiness of their

office. In the mean time, it was a part of the system to debar
the people from all means of instruction, especially religious
(except that corrupted religion taught by themselves), lest they
should see the folly of those pretended and unnatural restraints,
and how unnecessary to the purest virtue.
" Somewhat similar was the case with the ancient Jews.
Their priests either were or pretended to be of the strictest and
most austere virtues. This was absolutely necessary to preserve
even the slightest reverence for Religion.
true, was not now restrained.

w '

1: I

I '
I

'

Knowledge, it is

But it was in its infancy; and

this condition of the Jews required not only a severity of
morals in the priesthood, but often the interposition of Heaven.
The ignorant, too, have generally gloomy conceptions of the
Divine Being; and, serving Him more from fear than love, they
naturally judge of Religion by the standard of every thing
which is austere and forbidding.
"There is much of this to be seen in Romanism even now.
Nay, is not the light of knowledge a terror to the Romish
Church?

Are not its followers held in ignorance for the pre-

I ,

Il l

111

190

1111

servation of its power; and does not this condition render the
old austerity of affected manners still necessary to its stern and .

II
ii

exclusive Religion ~

Their views both of God and of this life

are so dreary, they judge, or affect to judge a man to be virtuous
only so far· as he is austere and forbidding.

And this will seem

\Ii i

natural enough when we consider how different it is with those

I

whose ' God is Love,' and whose minds have been expanded by

II

the genial rays of · the sun of education ; for, wherever they
turn their eyes, to the rolling spheres, the trembling leaf, or
the · humble flower, they behold some beneficent Design, something calculated to promote the comfort and happiness of mankind while here on Earth. They see that He, Who planted the

I

iI

corn to be food for man, planted the grape, also,
his heart.

to make

glad

"Another reason for the necessity of an appearance of austerity and restraint in public teachers of Religion among ignorant people, or those of inferior minds, is, that they are unable

!
11

to distinguish between use and abuse, and are prone to rim
from the one to the other. If priests ·were to appear to indulge
at all in wine, it would be made an excuse for debauchery and
drunkenness by the ignorant, who judge moderation and excess
by the same standard. Or, if they do not, they think they
have a right to imitate, at least, the moderation of their spirit-

1

I

ual advisers, and, in so doing, they soon leap over the .golden
mean and give themselves up to rioting.

This is only an exam-

ple of the many pleasures of life; and wherever, therefoi·e, the
\

1· \

191

'~~bple are ignorant, or of inferior education, the public teachers
of Religion are obliged to be austere and forbidding to maintain a proper influence.

It is then necessary to 'take heed lest

,,: by any means this liberty become a stumbling-block to them

~l that are weak. For if any man see them which have knowledge
[ sit at meat in the idol's temple, shall not the conscience of him
~- which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are
t'·

'.''~_ offered

to idols?'

Hence we see the truth of the principle

. with which we started, that the comparative influence of mild
and of austere virtues depends upon the state of society; and
according to its ·condition so must they be regulated among
those who lead the multitude.
" What has now been said of the enjoyments of life, and of
.their indulgences and restraints, is manifestly of wide application, though it may be very difficult to adapt their limits to
existing circumstances.

But, in the midst of these difficulties

there is a Light in the Precepts and Examples, of the Saviour of
man, which is suited to every

co~dition

of society, and which

will safely guide the whole human race over the rugged paths

of life, and conduct them to a better . Inheritance.
" ROBERT TROUP

"Harvard University, October 25, 1849."

p .AINE.

192

THESIS-ARTICLE XI.

" '.A MEETING BETWEEN LUTHER .AND CALVIN.'

"As our subject obliges us to bring these individuah
together, we shall not stop to inquire whether we are violating
i

I

i

chronology in making them cotemporaries, but proceed at once
with our discussion, which we shall divide into two parts.

J.

"PART FIRST.

" Scene at J erusalem, - Luther and F enelon meet by chance at
the J-Ioly Sepi{;lclvre.
"Fenelon, having for a while gazed upon the Sepulchre in
silent meditatl.on, at last addresses Luther.
"FEKELON.

" 'Friend, how holy is this place ! Behold where our Lord
hath lain ! How awful, yet how comforting the thought that
He, Who was once here bound by the fetters of death, now
reigns on High, and is worshipped by the Church militant as
:•

"

the first born from the dead.'

.

193

"LUTHER.

" ' Indeed, upon such a subject we are lost in thought ! '
"FENELON.

" 'How devoted, then, should we be to the Religion which
He has established ! How attached to the Church which He
has founded ! For that Church we should be willing to lay
down our lives; for through her alone can we hope to enter
Paradise. But, alas ! there has arisen a heretic by the name of
Luther who has drawn away many after him. He denies the
authority not only of her reverend pnests, but also of her infallible head, the vicegerent of Hifil Whom this place recalls to
our minds. He indulges in the vain hope of µprooting the
Holy Church, and thereby has incurred her severest anathemas1
together with the displeasure of the immaculate Virgin and
the holy Angels. He will find it 'hard w kick agai;n.gt the

pricks.'
' "LUTHER.

" 'Friend, softly; let's have no more of those high soundfug
expressions.'
"FENELON.

" ' Art thou one of Luther's disciples ~ '
25

194
"LUTHER.
" 'Aye, not only one of his disciples, but Luther ipsi88imus.'
" FEJ\'"ELON.

" ' Luther ipsissimus I '

"LUTHER.

" ' It is I, indeed. Be not afraid ! '
"FENELON.

"(Aside.) 'Oh Heaven! protect thy servant; defend thy

Church !

(To .Luther.) Although we can never unite in opin-

ion so long as thou art an enemy to the Church of God, we can

I feel it my duty, as a priest of the Holy
Church, to exhort you to renounce your evil ways, to become

unite as brethren.

again one of her children, so that after you shall have ended
this life, her prayers and intercessions, united with those of the
saints and the holy Virgin, may be a safe transport to the
reg10ns of everlasting bliss.'
"Lunrnn.
" 'A priest, say you!
language and apparel.

I should have known it from your

But pray, your name ?'

195

"FENELON.

" 'My name is Fenelon.'
"LUTIIER.

" 'A great name that ! But, Sir, God forbid that I should
rely on any thing save a lively faith in Jesus Christ.

So, away

with all useless ceremonies, all popes and virgins and priests,
interposing barriers between my soul and its Saviour.

That

soul is noblest which knows no superior but its God, and calls
the Angels brethren.

From this hollow Sepulchre a gentle

voice whispers in my ear-' He that hath the Son hath life.'
"FENELON.

"'I am to understand, then, that you refuse to acknowledge
not only the authority of the infallible Pope, and the other
high officers of the Church, but also of the Virgin, and _the holy
saints and Angels ? '
"LUTHER.

" 'Aye, Sir.

I don't believe that sins should first be con-

fessed to the Pope, and that the Pope should then confess them

to the saints, the saints to the Virgin, and the Virgin to her
Son. This is second-hand work. I believe that all are equal in
the sight of God; that all have an equal access to His throne;

1%
that all will be rewarded accordinoto their merits; that in the
b
World to come the humble cot.tao-er
will out:-;hine many a so::>
called infallible Pope.'

" ' Haughty pride ! '
" LUTHER.

" 'Noble pride!'
"FENELON.

" 'You discard, also, all the f:uwrccl. ccre.momes of the
Church!'
"LuT11m:.

" 'All! excepting those whicl1 ]wve rc:e<:ivcd tl1c sanction of
our Blessed Lord, baptism anJ tlw Loru'H f-lt1J>J><:r.

But even

then I don't believe in holy cannibalism.'

I

"FENEJ,ON.

" 'Holy cannibalism!

Sir, I il<m't underst:irnl you.'
"LuT1nm.

" 'I mean transubstnntiatio11.'
" FENELON.

" ' Don't believe in transu l 1st11utiuti1Ju ! !

I I <:av ens, how

-

197
reprobate! Is it not expressly said, tM8 i8 my body, and of the

wine, tlli8 i.s rny blood?'
"Lunnm.
" ' True ; but common sense shows that these passages cannot be taken literally.

Of course you do not think that the

Body of our Lord could injure any one.

So, the next time you

make your wafers, put in the red sulphuret of arsenic, and you
can thus find out whether the substance undergoes any change.
That the passages of which you speak are purely :figurative is
evident from what our Saviour says in immediate connection
with them : " But I say unto you, I will not drink liencej01·th of

the fruit of the vine imtil that day when I drink it new with
you in my Father'8 kingdom." Now, if you receive one part in
a literal sense, must you not also the other?' (See page 42.)

"FENELON.

" ' But, Sir, whatever other doctrines and ceremonies you
may discard, you surely believe in masses for the dead, and the
sale of indulgences ? '
"LUTHER.

" ' I believe them both to be artful contrivances to procure
for the Pope and other officers of the Church greater awe and
reverence from the laity, and to make the dupes feel greater

JI':
!' :

!'!I

:! ~ /~ i

198
dependence upon those who profess to be their superiors m
holiness ; and I believe the sale of indulgences to have been
invented especially for the purpose of replenishing the treasury.
At any rate, it is well known that the present Pope applies it to
that use, as the revenues of the Church were exhausted by his
predecessors, Alexander Sixth and Julius Second, since in no
other way is he able to defray the expense in which his love of
splendor, and his passion for pleasure, are continually invoh-ing
him.

He imposes upon the multitude by telling them that the

good works of the saints, over and above those which were
necessary for their· justification, together with the infinite merits
of Jesus Christ, are locked up in one common treasury ; that
the keys were delivered to St. Peter, and have descended to his
successors the Popes, who can open it at pleasure; and, by
transferring a portion of that superabundance, upon the payment of a certain sum of money, can convey to the purchaser
the pardon of his own sins and of any one in whose behalf he
is interested. There are various agents appointed for retailing
these benefits. I knew one in Saxony by the name of Tetzel,
whose seeming benevolence has procured for him among many
the familiar name of Tetty.

How ludicrous it is to hear some

ignorant dupe (who has repaired to his office at the crowing of
the cock, that he may be the first on hand), how ludicrous, I
say, to hear him exdaim, -

'vVell, Tetty, what prices does sali-

vation bring in the market this morning ?' - ' SalYation, yon

.

..,
~ \.

.

mean,' replies Tetze1.-' Oh ! yes, I'll remember next time. t ·

201
Dlay

have, it cannot bear this, as the whole tenor of Scripture

goes to show that, as Jeath leaves us Judgment finds us; that
after death

(t

great g11{f i8 Ji.red between the good and the bad,

which none can pass.'
"FENELON.

" ' Strange doctrines indeed ; heretical innovations !

But I

pray God that He may cause you to see the error of your opinions, which only tend to the subversion of all order in the
Church, and serve to bring down upon you its severest censure.'
"LUTHER.

" ' vVere I not convinced that I am sustained by truth and
Religion, I should immediately recant all that I have said, and
become as strong an advocate of the papal Church as I have
been an opposer; but, being so, God forbid that I should yield
a hair. "1Vo man having put his hand to tlie plougli, and looking
back, i8 fit fm' the kingdom of God."'

"FENELON.

" 'It would be a gratification to me to prolong this conversation, and to reason with you more at length concerning the
doctrines upon which we have touched, and to become acquainted with your views upon many others ; but time fails me.

The

sun is already near the zenith and I must away, as my company
26

202
depart to-day.

How, long, Sir, shall you remain in these quar-

ters?'
"LUTHER.

" ' I expect four or five days; so that I shall have an opportunity to visit this Holy place on the Lord's Day.

Hail thou

morn which saw the Saviour rise, and rise then, my soul, to
1:11iltl'

l,ilil1i

meet Him in the sky ! '
" FEN.ELON.

" ' Well may a visit to this tomb awake hallowed thoughts!
I was here last Sabbath, and never did I exclaim with half the
zest, " Oh Grave! whe1·e i8 thy victory I" (Making a final gaze
upon the Sepulchre, and then taking Luther by the hand)
'V\Tell, Sir, it is time for my departure ; but I hope that this
meeting may be renewed at some future day, when I may hear
more of your"opinions. Till then adieu.'
"LUTHER.

" ' Adieu ! Adieu ! '

" \Ve had intended to have added another Part, but we
have arrived at our limits.
" RonERT TnouP P ATh"'E·
" Harvard University, May 26, 1849."

203

THESIS- ARTICLE XII.

BODILY TORllE:\TS1 AS MORAL PREVENTIVES OR
REMEDIES.'

j
!·

"We wish it to be clearly understood, that, by the following
.' ~bservations we merely express our sentiments upon the ques~'

tion, without any desire to censure any religious sect ; at least
~:1 80 far as there may be reason to confide in their sincerity. vVe

!i: certainly think that nothing is more unkind, more unworthy a

man and a Christian, than the censoriousness which is often
betrayed on account of differences in religious opinions.
" Coming to our subject ; as we understand by a moral
remedy something which tends to produce sincere repentance,
our inquiry will be, whether self-inflicted bodily torments are
calculated to prevent future immorality, or to produce sincere
repentance for that which is past.

We shall, however, consider

these two effects as similar, or rather, that the one follows upon
the other ; for we think that sincere repentance of any sin is
generally followed by an abandonment of that sin.
"Among barbarous nations a sense of wrong is often observed to be accompa,nied by some outward demonstration of sorrow.
This looks like the working of a ' law written in their hearts.'
These signs of contrition consist frequently in cutting and lace-

204

rating the flesh, pulling out the hair, and various other bodily
torments.

They are commonly prompted by a superstitious

belief that such inflictions serve to drive away an evil spirit
i'
ll
•:i

that has haunted and instigated them to commit the wrong for
which they suppose themselves atoning, as well, also, to appease
the good spirit which they have offended.

Indeed, this mode

of atonement is carried even to a voluntary death among gross
idolaters, as well known of the Hindoos in throwing themselves
under the car of J ugernaut.
" The question now arises, - do these self-inflicted punishments have any tendency towards repentance and improvement?
"The universal principle of conviction must operate more or
less here as in other cases.

The savage believes that his god

can be appeased by self-inflicted tortures, and by these only, and
l·i

.1·

this belief must certainly have a tendency to improve him .
But it is the belief, the faith, not the torture, which does the
salutary work.
" But such practices are not confined to savages and idolaters. They have been common among Christians ever since the
establishment of their Religion, although modified in their
severity; especially since the dark ages.

Their greatest rigor, ·:_

perhaps, is to he seen in the barefooted monks, and those who ·:·
But they consist prin~

girdle and beat themselves with ropes.

cipal1y at this day in fasting and such like privations.

.

j
Here, .i,
·~

a v~

then, we discern some of the great blessmgs of knowledge an ·-~
··~

•t

205

•. r christianity.

In proportion as man becomes free from supersti-

.J tion, and convinced of the Spirituality of the Being vVhom he

~:'adores, he divests his worship of those useless, untoward cereffroonies
with which it was before encumbered.
,,,.

The God of the

. ~.· Christian is a God vVho searcheth the inmost recesses of the

~! · heart; and as He is a Spirit He requires that He should be
worshipped 'in spirit and in truth.' It was early suid, and again
repeated by our Saviour, that God 'desired mercy and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of Goel more than burnt-offerings.'

He

has even given us a model of Prayer, which is most remarkable
for its brevity and indefiniteness. And vYhy?

&cause 'He

knoweth what things we have need of before we ask Him.'
"Although in the Christian self-inflicted privations are often
accompanied by sincere repentance, we regard them as perfectly
distinct ; for, although the latter give rise to the former, it is
the latter alone which is acceptable, and would be as perfect
without the former. The one is spiritual, the other is connected
with the body. This appears to be the essence of Christianity.
It is infused into all its precepts, is exactly what enlightened
reason approves, and what the true Christian knows.
" Go, sinner ; offer unto God thanksgiving and the sacrifice
of contrition, 'rend your heart and not your garments,' and
with a light heart enjoy His temporal as well as His spiritual
bounties.

In no way do we look upon self-inflicted torments as

a moral remedy, for they form no part of repentance, nor have
they any tendency towards it.

When they are apparently con-

206

.,i'

·1·

.,
)

'l.f!

ducive to improvement, the benefit is owing to fear or to belief.
They have no effect upon that inward, spiritual improvement
which is 'the fruit of perfect love which casteth out fear.'

" Postscript. - "\Ve have said that ' we shall consider these
two effects as similar ; or rather, that the one follows upon the

I'i''\lllllll

J!I:·

other.'

That is to say ; improvement and repentance go to-

gether.

But, upon farther consideration we see that, although

the latter is always accompanied by the former, yet the former

1

!.

may often take place without the latter."
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

" Harvard University, May 5, 1849."
'1"'1l11'
· ·i!1
1ii:,\lj1

.

THESIS-ARTICLE XIII.

"'AN EARLY DIIGRANT TO KEW E:N'GLAKD ~"\TICIPATING THE FUTURE
RELATIO.KS OF THIS COUNTRY TO OTHERS.'

"As the opinions, hopes, and anticipations of an individual
can be best learned from his conversation, we will fancy ourselves listening to tLe cliscourse of a family of early emigrants
as they sit arouncl the fire on a cold winter's eve.

Let the

family consist of a husband, wife, and two sons, Thomas and
William; the one arrived at the age of manhood, and the other
at twelve years.

207

" vV ILLLUI.
"'Oh Pa! how dreary!

Just hear the wind howl!

How

'/' ·

\ gloomy these oak forests, filled with bears and wolves!
~ ble whenever night comes on.

I trem-

How I wish I was in England,

-~~ ~here I had a good warm house ; but here there is nothing but
a miserable cabin !

" THE F.A.THER.
"'My child, do not complain in this manner.

It is natural,

indeed, that one of your age should consider merely the outward comforts of life ; but it is different with your Father.

He

left England because the hand of persecution pressed hard upon
him..

It should be your happiness that this change has con-

duced to mine.

Remember that He, vVho guided the descend-

ants of Jacob for forty years in the wilderness, can also protect us.'
" Tnmr.A.s.
" ' While you and William have been conversing I have
been considering the present condition of this vast wilderness, and looking into futurity.

I have been thinking of the

world as it was after the Deluge, and how much we seem to be
like that, and how probable it is that the same changes will
happen here that so rapidly overspread the other hemisphere.
May we not suppose that they will make far greater progress ;
for this would seem to follow from our greater amount of know-

208
ledge.

Our gro-wth must be slow and discouraging, at first;

but certainly less so than the ruder states of mankind.

But,

" ·hen we shall ha>e got a certain amount of population by our
own natural increase, the hist ory of the past will tell us what
we shall be in four or five centuries hence. For my part; in
looking forward to such a period, I fancy the wilderness overcome, cities and palaces in the place of trees, the ploughshare
and pruning-knife every where at work, and the Ocean coYe1·eJ
by our fleets. I see a mighty nation, many hundred millions
in th e few centuries I have named, taking the place of these
wandering savages, and carrying knowledge and Christianity to
all parts of the Globe.

Think of what was done during the

four hundred years following the Flood, and how Christianity
triumphed in the same time over the greatest imaginable ol)stacles, and that, too, by its own peaceable means.'

" TnE

MoTHER.

" ' H ow ridiculous, Thomas !

you from b eing fanciful.

Your education should keep

You should rath er think each night

how we shall keep our souls and bodies t ogether for another
day.'

.
" TnE

FATHER.

" 'No, my dear; these thoughts naturall y occur t o the inind
at aU times, hut especially at such a crisis as this, when a conn-

209

try that has been trodden for ages by none hut the savage is

visited for the first time by civilized man.'
"TnoMAS.
" 'Well, Father; I should like to know what you think this
country is destined to become, and what rank it will hold in
respect to others ? '

'' VVILLI..UI.
" ' Yes Pa · I should like to hear too.'

'

'

" 'fHE

" 'Thomas is right.

F .A.THER.

It is from the past alone that we can

form any conjectures as to the future.'
" Tno:llf.A.S.
" ' I was sure that I was right.'
" THE

F.A.THER.

" ' Yes, Thomas ; we must have recourse to history, and
consider the rise and progress of other

nation~.

Your examples

are plain and satisfactory.. But let us come down to later times,
where we may consult profane as well as Sacred records.

vVe

have all of us read of the mighty Empires of Greece and Rome,
which, at different times, made the world tremble at their
Zl

210
power.

Go back, and see the germ of all this might.

There

we :find Cecrops, Cadmus, and Lelex, with a handful of men
founding those States which have commanded the respect of
ages, as the seat of learning and the arts, and which were for
ages the terror of distant nations.

They, also, were obliged to

create the knowledge which is delivered into our hands.'
" THOM.AS.

" ' There, Mother ; you see there was nothing fanciful in
my conjectures.

You remember, too, how gradual the change

was from the beginning of letters till their wonderful influence
upon society. And yet the writings of Homer show us that the
time was not long. \Vhen those leaders, of whom Father spoke,
first brought colonies into Greece, the inhabitants, as in our
wilderness, were few, savage in their manners, 1rnndering in
their mode of life.

\Ve see the Colonies beginning improve-

ments, getting society into a more organized state, cultivating
the ground, and navigating the sea. Their manners, too, were
more or less adopted by the savage people around them ; but
the Colonies always took care to keep them in subjection.
And so I conclude it will be with us and our sa"Vage neighbors.
After a while, we :find them gi1ing their attention to war, leaving the plough for the sword, from belie,-ing this to be a surer
road to wealth.

In these ' and similar ways 1 havin('I't:> overcome

the primary inhabitants, they looked upon themselves as the
rightful lords of the land.

This is the work, for the most part,

~11

;iJrif enlightened mind, and it seems destined to carry every thing

"j.before it till the whole earth shall be as densely inhabited as
Fthe Grecian and Roman nations.'

" T1rn F ATIIER.
" 'Exactly so.

The progress of events at Rome, although

indeed not the same, was nevertheless similar.

And such I

think we should find to be the case with every nation, if we
were as _well acquainted with their rise as we are n·itb the
zenith of their glory and their decline.'
"THOMAS.
" ' Yes, Father; I think we are safe in saying this.'
" T1rn MoTHER.
" ' Bring some wood, William, and strike the flint.

The fire

has gone out while I have been listening to this conversation.'
" THE FATHER.
" ' Now, Thomas, since this has hitherto been so universally
the course of things, I cannot help agreeing with you that it is
more than probable that the future will bear an analogy to the
past ; and I think that your Mother, from her silence, is coming
to the same conclusion.

I think we cannot avoid the inference

that the white man, having once gained access to this land of

212 .

novelty, and with all the appliances of civilization and Christianity, will soon overspread its surface, and sweeping all before
him, will rush forward to wealth and power.'
" THE

MOTHER.

" ' What do you think will be the fate of the red man ? '
" THE

FATHER.

" ' He will be swept from the earth by the breath of the
cannon.'

"TumIAS.
" 'Never ! Never ! Father.

Is it possible that this en-

lightened age can be guilty of those vile excesses which are
characteristic of barbarous times?

Has not man, who has been

so long under the Gospel dispensation, learned to recognize the
brother-man even in the savage ? Shall not brutality now give
place to kinder feelings ? '

" Ta:E

FATHER.

"' Y.l ould to God it might be so ! But let us here, also, remember and reason from the past, and keep the eye of faith
upon Prophecy.

As to the past, we may not find in Greece ·• ,

and Rome a sufficient analogy, in your moral sense, for my con·
clusion.

But, how was it hetween the Israelites and the idolsr '.~ ·:

~1

213

itrous nations into whose bnd they were conducted ? "\Vho
·-~ scrutinize the Providence of God, whose ways are un-

~1 searchable and past finding out ?

But this we know, that,

~ ;- ":.!

~*·although His sun riseth alike upon the just and the unjust, He

·u~~ ~e.x:ecntes vengeance upon the wicked and idolatrous, and ren·ders man, whether civilized or savage, an instrument of his

t·

severest judgments.

Nor, Thomas, does it seem reasonable, in

the nature of things, that this vast continent, vast, as we have
reason to think it is, should be forever the inheritance of ignorance and superstition, the abode of wanderers who are as useless to each other, perhaps as savage, and having almost as little
intellectual pleas?re, as the bears ancl wolves that seem to be
as numerous, and which are actually less fearful to us.'
"TH011I.AS.

" 'What do you think will be the government of the
country?'
" THE

F .ATHER.

"'I suppose you mean that part of it which will be settled
by colonies from Great Britain, as it is with such we are more
nearly connected?'
" TH0111.AS.

"'Certainly; though we may expect adventurers from other
countries when our prosperity becomes known.'

214

" THE FATHER.

" 'Here we again found our conjectures upon history.

\Ve

see, in the first place, that the parent country always claims the
right of rule over the colonies sent out by her ; and perhaps
that is no more than just.

But we also find that it is generally

impossible for one country to maintain its sway over another
situated at so great a distance; especially if the latter be of
great extent.

It may, indeed, sometimes prolong its dominion

by means of standing armies ; but at length these are of no
avail.

For the present, therefore, we must make up our minds

that the despotism from which we have fled will overtake and
rule us in this wilderness.

But the same history upon which

this conjecture is founded teaches also the probability that, at
some day or other, these supposed Colonies, with several thousand miles of Ocean rolling between them and their ParentJand, will bid defiance to the British Lion and hoist a flag of
their own.'

"THE

MOTHER.

" ' May we live to see that day!'

" T1101tIAS.

" ' \Vhat form of government do you think will
adoptecl?'

~15

" TuE FxrIIEH.

" 'I think it impossible to make any calculations ns to what

:'.will be the :first form;

hut I have no doubt that it will e\'entu-

1-~y be the ~ona~·chical, as th~s seems to be the one. which bas
~~ finally prevailed m all countnes.
).~

-

~--;- ever,
ff

It would seem likely, how-

as Colonies are ruled eYen with greater despotism than

the mother country, that when the first crisis comes the people

will run to the other extreme and set up something like the
;. Roman Republic.'
" THOllIAS.

" ' I should hardly think, from the greater enlightenment of
our times, and from what we can see of the progress of knowledge and Christianity, that they will imitate a popular system
which will scarcely fail, as in former times, to run into anarchy
or military despotism.'
" THE FATHER.

" ' You are quite right, Thomas.

·while we adhere to the

analogies of history, we should consider, also, the modifying
effects of increasing knowledge and experience.

I have no idea

that the revolted colonies will begin without some well-organized system of government ; and, although it sho_uld be of a
popular form, care will doubtless be taken to confine the choice
of Legislators and Magistrates to those who have an interest in

216
the well-being of society.

That will answer well while the

population is small, and the inhabited territory is not extensive.'
" THOl\IAS.

" ' What will be likely to happen to that growth of the
Country which we have anticipated?'

" THE FATHER.

" ' Monarchy.
of history.

That, I think we may say, is the plain voice

Besides, I do not see how even a hundred millions,

inhabiting a territory of vast extent, can ever govern themselves
by popular elections.

But, 'before monarchy comes, something

worse will precede it ; and here we must turn for our conjectures to what we know of human nature. It seems likely, then,
as the multitude increases, and the government works well, that
that part of the mass who have no qualifications for voting will
become clamorous for equal political rights. This will be likely
to grow out of their numerical strength, and this very strength
will be likely to overawe the government and bring the other ;,~ .
portion of the people to their demands.

Various other infln· J
. '.'f>

ences may easily be supposed to operate; such as intrigues for . ~
power, 'bribery, and so forth.

At any rate, all this is huIIlalliJI

nature, and we know very well what are the effects of a contin?'"'"
ual dropping of water.'

·~

217

" TnollIAS.

" 'vVell, then, suppose the whole community, fifty or a lrnndred millions, have the same political rights, what will be likely
to happen ?'
" THE FATHER.

" ' I hardly dare to imagine what may take place before the
monarchy follows.

But there will be such vast numbers who

will be easily misled, or may have no interest in a stable government, or be careless or unable to calculate its importance, and
so many who will be ambitious of power, that it would seem to
be impossible that such a government should not fall a victim
to its own popular movements.'

"THOMAS.

" 'What do you think will be the rank which this Nation
will hold ? '
" T1rn FATHER.

" 'The fact that the noble blocd of the Briton will circulate
in their veins is enough to assure us, that, to whatever they
may turn their attention, be it commerce, the plough, the loom,
or the sword, in that they will be great, equalled by few, surpassed by none.'
•
28

i

I'

:1111''.
' 1 !1111

I
'

l i li,

1
.

1

11

218

·1'111i
111',1.

"

I

"THOllI.AS.

~Iii

:11111·11
1
11

I

" ' Do you think they will follow those pursuits ? '

I
1

·1111111

"THE FATHER.
I

I

i

" ' It is most natural that Colonies should partake of the

1

:1

1:11

1•

nature of the Nation from whom they come.
erally has the traits of the parents.'

The child gen-

'11111\ilil

·111111111

" THOMAS.

" 'As the British are given mostly to Commerce and war,
we have, then, a right to conclude that this country will be

111111.1:
I·'I''' 1I
I

especially distinguished in these.

Indeed, we have, for the

1

encouragement of the last, what appears to be a fine sea-coast,
which alone would almost confirm our opinion.

i'l1iilll11i
J'i
1
'

::

As to agricul-

ture, that will be a matter of course. But ·what will the Nation
be with regard to genius?'

\!ll lilll

.,1,

I

" Tm~

F ATIIER .

" 'Most brilliant, as long as it can boast of being descended
from the noble Britons, whom Heaven has endowed with an
unusual portion of its ethereal fire.'
" Trrn Monrnn.
" ' Come, my dear, it is late n,nd we are all sleepy. Let us

'.,.
L)I

218
.··]eave the fate of this Country to One vVho alone can co mpre,_ nd the mysteries of the future.'
. »e

"RonER'l' TrrouP PArnE.

"Harvard University, November 25, 1848."

THESIS-ARTICLE XIII.
~·

,"

'AN A.J!ERICAN NOVEL WRITTEN NOW UPON A SUPPOSED STATE OF
THINGS IN THE YEAR

1900.'

" In the moral and political world, as in the physical, certain
' causes, doubtless, always give rise to certain effects.

As in the

latter, also, by familiar acquaintance with its laws we are able

to prognosticate certain results from certain causes, so in the
former we should be able to do the same with as much precision if we had the same facilities for becoming acquainted with
the connection between causes and effects, between one event
and another.

But we have not the same advantages in the one

case as in the other.

The phenomena of the physical world

take place in a uniform manner.
yesterday.

They are the same to-day as

There are the same causes in operation, and, there-

fore, the saine effects follow.

These we may calculate, because

they are not liable to variation in their nature.

But not so in

the political and moral world.

We find not there at any two

periods the causes the same.

A va~·iety of influences are con-

I.

220

stantly springing up to affect the nature of causes, and hence
the effects will be of a corresponding variety. Among the most
evident of these are fluctuations in the state of society, which is
never exactly the same at one time as at another. It is evident,
therefore, that analogy is here our principal guide, and that it
must be more uncertain than in the established order of Nature.
Hence we say of moral and political events that they will probably happen in a certain manner because the condition of things
now in operation is analogous to those that existed at some
antecedent time. Our conclusions, therefore, in such cases, must
be more or less conjectural; for even where the causes are most
apparent there are some concealed from observation, and these
very ones may give a different turn to events than had been
expected.

But when the causes are not the same as at preced-

ing times, we can only, at the most, approach to correctness, and
may often form very vague speculations.
" Looking, now, at the present state of things m our own
Country, taking into consideration the nature of its institutions,
the spirit and enterprise of its people, and its domestic and
foreign relations, what may we venture to predict as to its probable condition :fifty years hence?
" 'What, in the first place, will be its form of government i
Here, at the outset, analogy greatly fails us, for our own condi· '~.
tion is unlike that of :my other nation.

\Ve are therefore com· ~

pelled to reason mostly from ourselves alone, and from what we

."

know of the nature of man.

.i.

If, then, we may form an opinion .
'

.· J

221

"

'·;

ID

the continued stability of our Republic for more than

;:~enty years, from its increasing strength, and from the attach'}''roent to this form of government which daily grows stronger in
i;

· . the breasts of our people, we can see no ground for supposing
. .. that this Union is destined within fifty years to fall into the
~"

condition either of an oligarchy or a monarchy.

On the con-

trary, there is much probability that it will become more

.;re strongly established on its present basis, and that the blessings
of liberty will be still clearer and more highly appreciated.
But what may be the state of things over so vast a territory at
a more distant time, and considering also what may be the tendencies of universal suffrage when the numbers become vast
whose special interest will consist in what has been called the

large8t z,ibm'ty, we will scarcely venture to surmise. This, however, is to be mostly feared from foreign adventurers.

The

Republic may be, in this way, sowing the seeds of its own ruin.
The foreigner can never become an American patriot. He may
fight our battles while he is paid for it ; but he will not do it
from any love of country.

He has no feelings in common with

the heirs of the soil, and he will be always guided by his private
interests.
"But what are the prospects of the Country within the
period assigned ? Is it possible that this great extent of territory shall hang together under one government for the next
following half century? Is it possible that the different portions
of our Country, so different in their physical aspects; in the cus-

222
toms, sentiments, and dispositions of its people, should continue
t ogether harmoniously for fifty years to come?
"This question can be answered only by considering the
causes which may bring about disunion.

By looking at these,

we can see a possibility that the Northern and the Southern
States may separate into two great and independent R epublics.
But the probability of such an event immediately vanishes when
we consider that the very object which would mostly prompt a
separation would be defeat ed as soon as it should take place.
If the South should ever secede from the North, it will be for
the preservation of slavery; but in doing so they will do away
with it for ever.

The three millions of slaves which they now

hold in peaceful subjection would instantly rise in open rebellion, and depopulating their country with £.re and sword, fly
afterwards to the arms of a people who would give them protection, if not their sympathies.
" But fears may be entertained by some lest the great Count ry of the W est, on acc01int of the peculiarities of its physical

condition, and the character and habits of the people (much of
it, too, having been obtained by conquest), may be led to raise
itself into an independent Republic.

In considering, however,

the causes of rebellion, we see that, however various they may
have been, there are two which have always formed the groundwork;

a lo>~e of liberty and a hope of improvement.

gain, in these respects, can accrue to the

But what

vVest from revolution ?

What blessing would they obtain which they do not now enjoy?

223

, at greater liberty could they achieve, what greater desire ?

.itt ""· too must always have a preponderance in our national
qney,
'
uncils, and as the North will be cemented to the whole by its
mmercial and manufacturing character, these two great seci,/~ons

will unite in maintaining harmonious rehtions with the

uth.
' "Our conquests and other acquisitions of t erritory differ

' from those of all other nations. The conq uerecl countries are
incorporated into the Union, and all are placed upon a common
'.: footing. There are, throughout, the same privileges, the same
/ participation in government, the same laws.

This will k eep

down all feeling of inferiority, and prevent any well-founded
sense of oppression.

There must, of course, be more or less

strife, either of a political natui·e, or such as may be prompted
by sectional interests ; but the great balance-wheel will be

always at work in its office of pacification.
"But there are certain other advantages which are peculiarly adapted to cement and perpetuate our Union.

The rail-

road and the magnetic telegraph are improvements, as we conceive, which more than any thing else perhaps, are calculated to
unite all in one interest, to make . all feel a mutual dependence
upon one another, and the great advantages which arise from

In considering the rapid progress of
these improvements during the few years since their introduction, and the enterprise of our people, we :find an earnest of
their future extension, and are warranted in the prediction that
union of heart and hand.

224

before the lapse of many years, certainly in less than fifty, the
extremes of our vast territory will be brought together by the
annihilators of space; that we can then go from Maine to California in a few days, and two friends in the respective l)laces
will be able to converse about as easily and freely as if under
the same roof.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Harvard University, November 14, 1850."

FORENSIC-ARTICLE XIV.

"'WHETHER THE CONDUCT OF THE PATRIOTS WHO DESTROYED THE
TEA IN BOSTON HARBOR, IN 1773, IS TO BE CONDE:rinnm.

" It needs but little acquaintance with human nature to see

the necessity of government ; nay, to see that the principle is
implanted in the very nature of the mind.

In short, wherever

we find an assemblage of men, however small, there we :find a
disposition to connect themselves together by government of
some kind.

When there is a difference of opinion or wishes

upon any point of mutual interest, it is evidently more proper
that one should give way to two than that two should yield :,,
rri
to one.
~
"As government, therefore, is necessary to the well-being of ~
man, and as we are so constituted that few think alike on the ~'.
'l

i

225

same subjects, it is manifest that governments will e:\.rist, and
that the majority have a right to rule the minority.

This right

extends to laws that are free from oppression, and so far it is
the duty of the minority to obey them.

vVe see, then, that

there are certain cond itions and limitations by which the majority should be restricted.

In the first place, the minority

should always have ·a perfectly free voice. Secondly; the majority have no right to enact a parti01dctr law, or law intended
for a few ancl not for all to whom its conditions may apply.

A

law, for instance, to compel a particular merchant to pay duty

could have no shadow of right, although the majority were 98
per cent; while one requiring aJl engaged in the 8etme trade to
pay the duty, would be, as far as the present consideration goes,
perfectly proper.

Thirdly ; the maj ority have no right to en-

force a law against an action performed before the passage of
the law.
"vVith these limitations and conditions, we lay clown the
principle that the majority have a right to rule over the minority.
" Let us now take a view of the different kinds of government; see which one comes up most perfectly to our idea of a
majority ruling over a minority, and how far others depart
from this conception.
" A perfect democracy, like that of Athens, stands forth as
a complete embodiment of our principle.

Under this form, as

every Citizen has a right to vote on all public measures, if any
29

226

one be dissatisfied with a proposition lie objects to it, and it is
counted for him in the general reckoning.

The ·result is an

expression, literally, of the will of the people.

This is the most

natural form of legislation. It is true independence; at least as
much so as possible, in its relation to government.
" But mankind, at least a portion of them, in undergoing
refinement, left the natural, simple form of government, as they
had already their simple and plain mode of life, and gradually
created an artificial form; a Republic being the result.

Now,

although this be generally considered the very essence of freedom, is it not more imaginary than real?

It is true, the legis-

lators are chosen from the people and by the people.
Citizen can vote for whom he pleases.

Each

But, then, each Legisla-

tor can vote, and does vote, according to his own pleasure, and
not unfrequently in opposition to the opinions and wishes of
those whom he nominal1y represents.

And, although it be not '

uncommon that unpopu1ar, and sometimes oppressive measures

arise from this system, the tactics, machinery, and corruption of ~·,
party leaders often beguile the people into a pursuit of objects ...

"

against their own wishes and interests ; till, at last, misgovern·

ment may become so manifest as to be no longer tolerated, and .-! ·
a change of rulers takes place.

·:.

ThiS4.

"Next comes the limited, but hereditary monarchy.
· more removed from our simple
·
· · l e ofl;t
is, of course, still
prmcip
.. ;
liberty and independence.

In this, to be sure, as in

the-Repil~ j:.

lie, there are nominal representatives of tlrn people; but . the ,_

'.1 1

227

peoPle do not
. have the same general voice in their election, and

every thing is more arbitrary.

But, connected with the monar-

chy there are frequently tracts of land

called Provinces, the

... ·~ hi.habitants of which are ruled by officers appointed by the
J,~· general government, and by laws in the making of which they

;::_have neither voice nor representation.
:~~ · "There is still another form which we shall only mention,
',t<;•

"
l.

as it is not a regular system of government.

It is the despotic.

'fhis is the most arbitrary, illiberal of all, and farthest removed

.. from the realization of the fundamental principle of civil liberty.

In short, it is simply might prevailing over right.
" vVe have now before us the general principle, that, under
the conditions and limitations we have mentioned, the majority
have a right to rule over the minority. Suppose, then, a law to
be passed under a perfect democracy, and in conformity with
the mutual concessions ; but yet the law shall be highly displeasing to the minority.

Have they, on this account, a right

to rebel? Unquestionably not. This would be to deny government altogether; to rebel against Nature, to rebel against an
institution founded upon a principle of the human mind. Hence
it follows that, in a perfect democracy, the minority have no
right to resist the majority, as rulers.
"But let us suppose the case to be different; that the majority have not observed all the conditions and limitations by
which they are rightfully bound. The aspect of the whole case
is now entirely altered.

The majority have now parted with

•
228

right and justic<>, which they might have retained, but which
has now gone over to the minority. And now come into operation other natural principles which are implanted in the mind
along with the principle of government.

These are a sense of

certain natural rights, and an impulse to retributive justice
whenever these rights are infringed; and if _we derive from
an innate desire of government the necessity of submission to
the majority, we equally infer from our perceptions of justice
the duty of the majority in respecting the rights of the minority,
and, when this is not done, the propriety of resistance or rebel-

•

lion, if necessary.

There are, therefore, principles in operation

between the two parties which have a constant tendency to
maintain the rights of both ; and were it not for the natural
right of resistance when the social compact is violated, there
would be no limit to which an overbearing majority might not
carry their abuse of power.
" Let us now bring into contrast the extremes of govern•
ment; the perfect democracy and despotism. The hive of free·
dom - chains and slavery! One man trampling upon the mos~
indelible principle of humanity !

ShaU such usmpation exist;...

even though to dispense equal and exact justice to all?

Shall ,.

one man dictate the temporal interests of all ? God forbid ! for'·
~ J
that is His prerogative alone. To arms ! To arms ! an d ·· ..
fallen humanity from the dust ! Give it freedom, the seco~d :;. ~
precious of all rights!
"''Nith regard to the Republic, and limited Monarchy

·~

(~a~·

,, · the immediate government), suffice it to say, that, although

t' is,

the people have no direct voice in making bws, th ey have cleleaatecl this power, by common consent, to nominal representa-

o

tives.

The same rules, therefore, hold good in these instances

as in that of a perfect Democracy; so that, here as there, the
majority must rule with the same equity; or, in failure of which,
the minority may resist the encroachment upon their rights,
and, if necessary, in open rebellion.
" vVe come, lastly, to the Provinces of a limited Monarchy,
about which our former remarks are especially concerned, and
which are necessary to a right understanding of the question
before us. Here the matter stands very differently from what
it does with the immediate government,

In the latter case the

rights of the people are more similar to what they are in a perfect Democracy, or at least a Republic, while in the former
there is the resemblance of a Despotism.

Indeed, we may say

that the government of Provinces has all the essential characteristics of despotic sway. The people, in both conditions, are
ruled by officers whom they have no voice in electing, and by
laws in the making of which they have neither voice nor representation.

In both, every thing is arbitrary.

might prevailing against right.

In both, it is

The only difference is, that, in

the one case it is usurpation and tyranny on the part of a number, in the other, of an individual.
ence in form,

men~ly

But this is merely a differ-

an external difference, and of no impor-

tance to those who suffer by it. There is equal injustice in both

:1

I
I

I',I

230

cases.

If, then, this be so, the same rules must apply to the

inhabitants of Provinces as t o those who live under the despotism of a single man.
" \Vith regard to the taxation of the American Colonies by
Great Britain, and the duty imposed upon t ea, it is needless to
repeat history, as that is t oo well known.

;i1,\

Suffice it to say that

it was an arbitrary act, as was the whole of the provincial gov-

i~I' I
]'!

•

ernment by the mother country.

It was a matter in which

the Colonies had neither voice nor representation.

\ Ve would

observe, also, that they did not, at first, proceed to open rebellion, but remonstrated, and remonstrated, and not t ill after finding all peaceable measures in vain did they resort t o violence.
They were monarchists themselves, and would have been contented to have remained so under a more liberal system. As in

1111

I
I

all other cases where revolutions have sprung up, the Colonists
forbore till oppression awakened the true spirit of liberty.
Such is all history, and we may therefore conclude that such

i1llil11

will be the progress of events till universal freedom and broth· ,.

;~1

erhood prevail.
!

!I~ 1\11' ,

U nder these circumstances, then, we say that

the conduct of those who threw th e t e:L overboard should be
commended by every true fri end of human liberty and the
dignity of man.

" Ronm~T TnoLP PAINE.

" Harvard University, D ecember 2G, lSSO."
1,,I,

. 1!11111:

231

FORENSIC-ARTI CLE XV.
1 WHETHER

REPUBLICAN I NSTITU'rIONS ARE FAVORABLE TO THE
CULTIVATION OF THE FINE ARTS

?'

i1Painting, sculpture, and music, like every other art which

. trtds

~ must

its sphere of operations in a civilized community alone,
arrive at their greatest perfection under those institutions

!/.~ " hich tencl most to the highest state

of cultivation ancl refine-

;: tnent. Such is the effect of those institutions which most pro-

f~ mote general education, nay, to whose existence a high degree
'_,.'i~f general education is necessa?'y, and which hold out encour. agement to each inclividual, and secure t o him the fruit and
~

j

· r eputation of his own labor. This, pre-eminently, is the nature
;: and tendency of Republicanism.
'

1,i

'.

1\'

I

II ~'. ·:,

" Starting from the sternest despotism, we find it conducive

only to the grossest and most universal ignorance; that this
ulone is its only safeguard ; for, as we ascend in the scale of

:' '

I

~

liberty, we find that government which is in the least degree
above despotism t o be attended with the :first germs of any
general mental improvement.

So at each ascencling step we

meet with a corresponcling advancement between the government ancl the moral and intellectual condition of the people ;
·until we reach the most liberal R epublic, where the sun of

I

I

l
i'

232
education shines not a1one upon a favored few, but dispenses
through the whole Janel the bright light of noonday.

Again, in

other governments it is the powerful, the rich, who, alone, enjoy
consideration or even respect.

It is the hereditary lord, the

duke, the pampered of fortune, such as are 'clothed in purple
and fine twined linen,' and 'sit in high places.' In the Republic,
only, is every man, in Spanish phrase, 'the son of his own
works.' 'An equal chance to all,' is the motto of its instituti~ns.
What a glorious rule this for every diversity of talent, and not
more for others than for the painter, the sculptor, and the musician ! Our Nati on is young, and working for subsistence ; but
poor as it may be, what say the

subscri~)tions

to our Art-Unions,

what mean those crowded halls, throughout our land, to listen
to every kind of melody as warbled by the ' Swedish Nightingale,' to the lofty strains of David, and Mozart, and Handel?
What greater incentive to ambition than to know that every
thing depends upon yourself; that, although of the poorest and
meanest parentage, you may yet become the morning-star of
your country! These are only glances at a fruitful sul)ject; but
they seem to us to depend upon principles as high as Heaven.

" It is often, said, however, that, in a Monarchy greater "~
encouragement is given to the fine arts by reason of greater
pecuniary inducements ; that there we find those princely for- 'a
tunes which are decidedly contrary to the spirit of republican ' :
institutions. It is true, that, according to the genius of monarr \"'
cby, the mass of wealth is thwwn into the bands of a few; that,:
·. J .

233
:fff a· Prince, or a Lord, may, from his own income, often maintain

. ~-a hundred artists in handsome independence.
, ·that this cannot be said of a republic.

It is also true

But does this prove the

insufficiency of pecuniary inducements to artists in a republic?
·wealth may not have the same exuberant growth as among
individuals under a monarchy ; but it is better distributed, sufficiently ample, and. in the hands of those who have as much
taste, knowledge, and. munificence of spirit as the more wealthy
aristocrat.

They may not as yet, in our country, be able to

compass the choicest works of art; but whatever is below is
within the reach of far greater numbers.
evil of only to-clay.
tion, and power !
principles ?

This, however, is an

Look at our multiplying wealth, popula-

vVhat does it arise from but our republican

And shall not the same principles continue to

operate, and shower clown their blessings upon the fine arts as
well as upon the useful, those arts which have grown out of the
noblest impulses of man, and must, therefore, meet with a reciprocal sympathy wherever knowledge lights up the spark of
ethereal fire?

In the mean time, we say again, observe the

demonstrations all over our land, - the Associationsi the Lotteries, the Art-Unions, the crowds that seem · enchanted by song
and instrument, and hail with eclat the last written stanzas and
the last composition in music. Nor this only. The government
itself, when in the hands of taste and refinement, is often a
bountiful patron.

vVitness the most elegant productions of

Greece, both in painting and statuary, and still the admiration
30

234

of the world, executed at the public expense.

Witness, too, in

our own Country, young as it is, a manifestation of the same
thing by a local government, in the statue of Calhoun, and in
the order from the National Legislature, as I have understood,
for a group embleml'Ltic of our political condition.
" We do not mean, however, to deny, that, so far as experience bas gone, greater pecuniary inducements exist under the
monarchical form of government, but we contend that those in
a republican are sufficient; that, although there be some defect
here in this respect, the greater opportunities to the Artist in
other respects more than compensate.

The fact that under a

republic every one is at first on an equality, but by his own
exertions may attain all the acknowledgment of excellence to
which bis merits entitle him, that every effort he makes is encouraged by public approbation, proves an incentive to ambition which the distinctions of monarchy serve only to crush. If,

II

then, the monarchy be more a patron of the eminent and established Artist (which may be doubted), the republic is certainly

Iii

the school and college in which his faculties are most matured.
"\Vhat we have thus arrived at, mostly by inductive reason· ·

II

ing from principles, we find to be borne out by history. Af ... ,
little as science and the useful arts bad advanced in the tiine of.·

Ii i

Greece, she is acknowledged by all to have remained the

~,··

tress of the world in Literature and the arts of taste, and, as we· ~·

execu~
amount ~f

have seen, some of her most splendid productions were
at the public call.
I

1~11

!

We find, moreover, that the

235

upon the fine arts has been proporrepublican character of gov"RonERT TRour PAINE.

"Harvard University, November 21, 1850."

THESIS - ARTICLE XVI.
" 'HE COULD NOT BEAR AN. EQUAL.'

" What beautiful symmetry throughout Nature !

··what

surprising adaptation of every thing to that one great end, the
happiness of Man!

In his physical frame, whether we look at

the wonderful power of the gastric juice, at the philosophy of
respiration, or the make of the hand which fits it so admirably
to be the servant of reason, how amazingly do all things work
together for man's animal welfare ! But, turn our attention to
the immaterial, immortal part, and new and greater wonders
are opened to our view.

There we behold that same harmony,

that same cooperation of causes for the well being of man.
There sit enthroned the spirit of emulation, the desire of knowledge, the desire of power, and the desire of gain. There, too,
are anger, jealousy, revenge, with their kindred spirits; all of
them under Reason as their sovereign, and each of them playing its part in the economy of man's well being.

!J •

236
"Of all these active powers the spirit of emulation is, per-

1
•

llf

haps, the most essential.

1Nithout it the world were compara-

tively stagnant, and man but little exalted above the brute.
.:1 1

But we cannot sufficiently admire the Wisdom which has coun-

I
I
I

teracted this inferiority, which has provided for the due exercise

,!Ill

of all the intellectual faculties, and made the world what it is,

I

by merely associating in the mind of man the spirit to outstrip
his brother.

If, however, there were no limitations, it is obvi-

1111

ous that all would be a scene of discontent and disappointed
Ill\

:1111

•

. 1111

ambition.

spirit of emulation, in any pursuit, proportioned in every one to
his abilities. In other words, emulation exists only among those
who are equal, or nearly so, in their abilities for obtaining a
common object.
" The spirit thus restricted prevails in every class and order
of men.

illill
1

1illlll

'1111

But this is wisely provided against by making the

The laborer, who strives with his pickaxe to overtake

his fellow, is actuated by the same emulation which existed •·
b etween Euripides and Sophocles, which would have existed .
,.
between Alexander and Napoleon had they been contempora· ~
ries, and which is so often displayed between Webster and ..
Clay.
11_. .
" Nor is this spirit confined to any age, for beginning wi
the dawn of reason, it is our faithful attendant to the

~

:Ii i :11

~,·

grav;,·i

It was this that actuat ed young Napoleon in the defence of ~.it

snow-castle, and in manhood in his greatest military exploit.s!.;.

,~1 1

!l l l .

1

r11
r"'n•

It enters as an ingredient into the pleasure we derive fro

'

237

238
" But, that emulation may dispense its blessings, it must,

'I

like all our other principles and desires, be subjected to the
controlling power of reason.

It is ungoverned emulation that

gives birth to a rankling envy of those who may have outstrip-

.I

ped us in the race, and contempt for others whom we have left
behind; and

11

- - - - - envy darts a sting
That makes a swain as wretched as a king.'

•

ill

ii

"Let us, therefore, in view of the advantages and pleasures
of emulation, and since it enters into every pursuit, cultivate it
according to its worth, and chiefly in those occupations which
are high and noble, nor rest so long as one remains whom we

'\II

may surpass.

But, at the same time, let it be so controlled

that if our rivals should surpass ourselves, we may suffer no dis-

Il

turbance of that peace which is the balm of life; or, on the
other hand, should excellence attend our walks, we may not be
elated with haughty pride.

1111:

(See page 142.)
" ROBERT TROUP

' 1111
L11

" Harvard University, March 14, 1850."

Hll

\111111
I

11~ 1 1 ! •
!~1 1 1 1
I
1'11' "1''' \

p AINE·

239

FORENSIC -ARTICLE XVII.

" 'WAS TH E ACl' OF BRUTUS I N :KILLI NG C.LESAR JUSTI F I ABLE?'

"It is fundam ental in morals that the motive of an act is
the essence of the virtue or vice of which the act is the manifestation.

Otherwise, why is a certain act applauded in one

person and the same thing censured in another?

It is for this

renson that various degrees of punishment are allotted to crimes
which differ only in their motives, and which, accordingly, are
designated by names that are indicative of their degrees of
atrocity.

Killing another is always the same act; but it may

be murder, manslaughter, or justifiable homicide.

In one case

the punishment is extreme, in another the same act is commendable.

"If, then, we judge of the act by the motive, by what standard shall we judge of the motive? In answering this important question, we shall avoid all speculation respecting the
origin and nature of motives considered as such, and confine
ourselves to an interpretation of their morality, or the ideas of
right or wrong which we attach to them.

Nor will it be neces-

sary to consider any but such as relate to homicide.

So far,

therefore, it is our purpose to inquire into the general principle
by which we are guided in our justification or condemnation of

240
an act committed under the influence of any particular motive.
Among those which may be supposed to operate are jealousy,
envy, the desire of gain, instinctive or deliberate resentment,
and defence of rights.

The first three, and all others of the

same kind, are adjudged by the whole civilized world to be of
the basest nature, and homicide committed under their influence
as the highest crime.

In the case of instinctive resentment, the

degree of right or wrong attached to the motive depends upon
the magnitude of the offence which is the object of resentment.
But here an allowance should be always ma.de for the rashness
of an act committed on the spur of the

m~ment,

reason has had time to exercise its free control.

and before

When the de-

fence of personal rights results in homicide, the justification of
the motive obviously depends
and extreme action.

up~n

the necessity of immediate

In all nations, civilized and barbarous,

every one is justified in defending himself, his friends, and property, against the highway robber and the burglar. Then anger
should whet the blade of justice, for then not to do is perhaps
to die.
" We are aware that there are some who will
morality of what we have just said; but he that does not
approve the homicide where immediate and extreme action is ·
necessary for protection, must impute to his Creator a defect in ;.
the constitution of man, in having made selfdefence not only ~ -'
universal, but the first law of nature; and, without it He
long ago have been the Lord of a desert world.

wo~d:· .

241
"In comparing the grounds on which we justify or condemn
; the different motives for homicide, we think that two general
,'· standards may be deduced, by which we are guided in our cleci'~

sions. The first is the deserts of the individual who is the sub, ject of the homicide considered in relation to the motive.

·,. Thus, the promptings of envy, avarice, and the like, are ·with,. out extenuation, as they have no connection with the deserts of
, him against whom they are directed, but originate entirely in
the baseness of the assailant; while, on the other hand, where
provocation exists, the justification or palliation of the motive
for homicide depends upon the magnitude of that provocation.
" The second standard is the necessity of immediate and
extreme measures for protection.
" Having now obtained the general criteria by which we
may estimate the motives for homicide, we may proceed, in the
first place, to ascertain the motive of Brutus in killing Coosar,
and then to decide upon its merits.

" vVe cannot doubt that Shakspeare has rightly indicated
the motive, where Brutus is very aptly made to confess it in his
solemn meditations, before the assassination took place.
soliloquizes thus : " ' It must be by his death; and for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general.

He would be crowned ;-

How that might change his nature, there's the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder ;
31

He

242
And that craves wary walking.

Crown him ?-That; -

And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power. And to speak truth of Cresar,
I have not known when his affactions swayed
More than his reason. But 't is a common proof
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
\\Thereto the climber-upward turns bis face ;
But when he once attains the utmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns bis back,

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Cresar may ;
Then, lest he may, prevent - -.'
- - - 'Think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.'

" If we follow this, the motive of Brutus was not founded
1111

I

on the deserts of Cffisar.

So, therefore, had Cmsar even de-

served his fate, that can be no palliation for Brutus.

He was,

also, the ostensible friend of Cresar; and, as the latter had not
1111 1

even the opportunity of abusing power, there was not the least '
plea of necessity for immediate and extreme measures for protection. Cmsar threaten ed not the state. H e would be crowned, to
be sure; and who is there that would not?
crown himself.

il :

But be would not

\ Vho doubts that there are many in France, ·

aye, in the United States, that would be king?

1

But shall they

on this account be put to death ? Or, were any one proclaiDle~··
11111!'

king of either country, should it not rather be considered as

a~~· '

l~f1111111
:111]111

i

I

!

.11·1 ., ..

I

1

\

.act of folly on the part of .the people, than of tyrnuny and
:·. usurpation in him who is merely the recipient ? Cresar might,
according to Brutus, abuse his power, and ruin his country; but

this, at best, was mere conjecture. Let us illustrate the priuci.. ple by something analogous; for, although to us it seems to be
' ~-, plain, Brutus has been often justified by so und moralists. Sup•~ pose,

then, myself to have slain another whom I had offended,

and whom I knew to be revengeful; will the fear of my own

" life justify me in such an act of prevention ? But, if that man
should attack me, or I should have unmistakable evidence that
he had a design upon my life, and there were no time for the
intervention of civil power, the state of the case would be completely altered, and homicide rendered justifiable. The blood
upon my hands, though physically red, would be morally white.
Again, here is a case more parallel still.

Suppose that I were

to meet, accidentally, in some sequestered place, a man of notorious avarice, perhaps already known as a thief or a burglar,
and this man should see me in possession of a large amount of
money; would any fear arising from this knowledge justify me
in the extreme act of prevention, or in any violence towards him?
Certainly not.

I must quietly wait for any apprehended assault.

"Had Cresar been engaged in a conspiracy against his country, or had he been marching an army against it, or, like Sylla,
had issued proscriptions, and the safety of its institutions, or of
its citizens, had demanded his destruction, we should have said,
Well done, Brutus !

244

" But it is commonly thought that Brutus acted from a disinterested and patriotic motive.

We believe it, and are happy

to do so; for it takes from the deed that appalling aspect which
it must have borne had he been prompted by envy, and reduces
it to a far less criminal defect in the moral sense.

This, too, is

the opinion of Shakspeare, as variously implied ; especially
when he makes the courageous Brutus a conscientious foe to
felonious homicide.
' Cassius.-If we do lose this battle, then is this
The very last time we shall speak together.
"\Vhat are you then determined to do ?

' Bmtus. - Even by the rule of that philosophy
By which I did blame Cato for the death
"\Vhich he did give himself. - I know not how,
But I do find it cowardly and

,~Jc,

For fear of what might fall, so to preYent
The time of life ; - arming myself with patience,
To stay the providence of some high po,>ers,
That govern us below.'

"The sum of the whole is this.

Brutus was not actuated ·

by malevolence, nor was Cresar engaged in any movements in·
jurious to bis country, but was slain by his friend because of
vague suspicions that he might be guilty at some future time1'.
The consequences of this act therefore are of far oTeater me>- '
'

'

0

ment than the act itself.
" RonERT
"Harvard University, March 21, 1850."

TROUP

.~,\'·

245

THESIS-ARTICLE XVIII.

tc ' THE CIVIL W "\.R WAS NE..l.R, A::fD BOTH C.'ESAB. AND

PO~IPEY

PAID

GREAT COURT TO CICERO, EACH RECKONING UPON HL\I AS A DETERMINED FRIE::fD.'
" 'THE DIFFICGLTIES OF A STATES)IAN WHO WISHES TO STAND WELL
WITH ALL.'

"In all civilized countries, and at all ages, it has been the
custom of men, of every rank and profession, to court the favor
of the Statesman. In cases, therefore, where the different party .
principles are of a conflicting nature, where their interests are
widely different, and the parties obstinate, the Statesman, who
is appealed to alike by all for support, and who feels his own
best interests to depend upon the manner in which he can give
the greatest satisfaction to all, seems at first thought to be
surrounded by the greatest difficulties imaginable.

And so is

it, indeed, if he act the hypocrite, or take not for his guide the
pure standard of morality.

Here is his only safety. There can

be no compromise between right and wrong ; least of all may
he become, as we too often see, a political Iago. Otherwise,
he must foster the prejudices of each party, his sentiments must
harmonize with both, and he must be alternately the friend and
the foe of each.

This, to be sure, may be easily done; for it

246
only requires that destitution of principle which is readily obtaine<l. in the school of politics.

But, how to succeed in this

deception, how to gain its objects, -hie labor, hoc opu8.

Fail-

ure must evidently be the end with most, as few only are sufficiently endowed to practise the necessary art and dissimulation.
It has been wisely ordained, that the benevolent and noble principles of our nature should be carried on with ease, like the working of a well-made piece of machinery, or the rapid flowing of
a stream from its fountain as long as it continues unobstructed;
while the exercise of the baser passions is thwarted by their
own tendencies.

They are like the sins which have been so

often made the destruction of nations.

They are a deformity

of that pure Godlike nature, which, in man, constitutes the
image of his l\foker.

Hence the difficulties attending every

course of action which swerves from that of rectitude.
" Ruine<l. fortunes, as we have said, are likely to be the end
of the hypocritical Statesman; but what is the condition of his
mind while he is in pursuit of them ? What tormenting fears
must harass his soul in all his pul>lic speeches !

How difficult,

how impossible to shape them so as to gratify each party and
conceal their art aml dissimulation !

What. well-balanced flat-

t ery must be pmctised ; how skilfully the lying must be done !
How guarded, too, must be all his private conversation, lest
some remark escape which may betray his insincerity!
"But this is a subj ect which requires an experience that we
do not possess. The difficulties attending such a road to univer-

'

J
~47

sal favor can be properly appreciated only by those who Lave
travelled upon it, or have ohservecl how often it has conducted
It is more agreeable t o us,

others to disappointment or ruin.

also, to regard the Statesman in another light, and under happier auspices ; to see him winning favor from all, and maintaining h is peace of mind and self-respect, by pursuing t he simpl e
course of integrity.

vVhate,-er may lJe the violence of party

spirit, however contlicting the opinions and desires of the dift'erent sections, there are many points, and probably the most important, upon which all agree.

Now, we conceive that these

are the ones for the Statesman, and if, at the same time, Le discourage prejudice, and staml forth , not as the champion of a
party, hut the man of the nation, he will ride triumphantly
over every obstacle, and find a shrine in every heart.

The

result in this case is as natural as in the other, for here operates
the worthy and noble part of our nature.

It is true, great deci-

sion and firmness will he necessary t o resist t emptation, and the
demands or the violence of party; but the Statesman will rarely
go wrong, or have much difficulty with the right, while he follows the moral dictn.tes of his own eonstitution.

The highest

order of courage may be sometimes demanded ; but then it
gains a corresponding recompense.

One follows the other with

as much certainty as do the tides the sun and moon.
" Thus we find, the world over, that honesty and straightforwardness are generally the only means of obtaining prosperity and honor.

It was this spirit that actuated the ' Pater

I·

248

Patrim,' and that other great man, lately deceased, and when
party spirit was raging with t errible violence, conducted him in
triumph to the presidency. H e was indeed the President, not
of a party, but of the people.
" RonEnT TRour PAINE.

"Harvard University, September 19, 1850."

FORENSIC-ARTICLE XIX.
" ' IN SELECTING STU DIES FOR THE JUNIOR AND SENIOR YEARS, IS IT
WISE TO DROP LATIN AND GREEK IN ORDER TO ATTEND TO THE
MODERN LANGUAGES?'+:·

"This question is of peculiar interest at the period of College life to which we have now arriveJ. Ignorant of our future
destinies, it now becomes our duty to select, as well as we may,
certain studies that will be most likely to be useful to us hereafter. The choice, as limited by the question before us, requires
considerable reflection, and a careful examination and comparison of the supposed advantages both of the ancient and modern
languages.

vVe shall, therefore, examine the subject in a gen-

eral sense, anJ not with a reference to individual interests, or
preferences.

*

During those years the Student5 haYe the privilege of choosing certain studies,

which are accordingly known as "elccti l'e stuclies."
term of the Sophomore year.

The choice is made in the last

240

"Let us see, in the first place, if Latin and Greek are entitled
to the degree of attention which they often r eceive, aml wheth er
the advantages l)e as great as many imagine. For this pmpose
we will view them in their connection with our own language;
then in their bearing upon the different professions aml pursuits
of life, particularly the scientific ; aml finall y as distinct languages.
"The advocates of Latin and Greek say that, inasmuch as
they are the great foundation of our own language, a knowledge
of them is necessary to a correct understanding of the mother
tongue.

Now, although it be true that many of our words are

derived from the Latin, and many, t oo, from the Greek, there
re a vast number which come from the German, French, and
Spanish languages.

But it will be said that these German,

French, and Spanish words, from which similar words of ours
are derived, are themselves obtained from Latin and Greek
words.

Grant that.

But then we shall say, with equal truth,

that those very Latin and Greek words, to which we owe many
of ours, are borrowed, in their turn, from some more ancient
languages. Thus many English words are just as much derived
from the modern tongues as others are from the Latin and
Greek. W e can say with as much truth that the German garten
is the original of garden, as we can that plws1Jlim·u8 is derived
from the Greek

CfJUJ<;

and

(f'l:Q1:.t1 1 •

" W e see, therefore, that the modern languages of Continental Europe are probably as much the foundation of the English
32

l

l

'

r:
L

250

as the Latin and Greek are, and that he who turns his attention
t o the form er may have as good an opportunity, possibly better,
to becom e acquainted with our et ymology, as he who devotes
himf'PH' +o the latter.
'' AO'ain
many of our words have a differ ent si!rnification
b
'
'--'
from what we should infer from their ancient originals. The
word tmnsgre.ssion, for example, signifies according to its etymology to go over or acro.ss. But if I were to say I tmnsg1·ess-

ed the Boston ferry, I think that the Latin Professor would
laugh the loudest. The civil Jaw is transgressed, but not by
going over it, but by going against it, or coming short of it.
The laws of humanity require us to save the life of a drowning
man, except at very great peril of our own.

But should a

plunge fo r his rescue 1e made hy one unacquainted with swimming, h e woukl, in the literal signification of the word, transgress the hws of humanity, for h e would 1e doing more than
they require. But we should rather say that he transgressed,
if, being an expert swimmer, he should refuse this necessary aid. ·
Still, in this case, h e fall s short of the lmrn instead of going over
them.

Th e wonl

1J il'tu e

may, also, sen e as an example. To

use t11 e 1vord according t o its derivatiYe signification, we should
call tl1 e s1aughter of a thousand men '1\·ith the jaw-bone of an
as;,' a11 act of

1J iJ·tu e,

lJecausc valor ancl courage are required.

This, however, is ridiculous.

But ·we woulll call the deed of

the good Samaritan an act of i ;frtu e, of so great virtue, indeed,
that all the world is told to 'go and llo likewise.'

From this

251
discrepancy between the derivative and the actual signification
of many words, we learn at once that our understanding the
import of words may be quite independent of a knowledge of
their etymology.
"We do not intend to discourage the study of the Latin
and Greek languages.

\Ve know t oo \Yell their importance in

an intellectual sense, which is far greater than t heir etymological.

vVe desire only a fair comparisou, upon the latter ground,

with the principal existing languages.

Let us, then, consider

still farther the fact that, where words have descended from
ancient languages, we know their meaning before learning their
derivation ; unless in the nomenclatures of science, or in ascertaining the accuracy of such important translations as the Holy
Scriptures.

A multitude of examples might be shown to this

effect, and where derivative words are perfectly understood
without any knowledge of their origin.

We think, too, that in

this respect the ancient and modern languages are upon common ground; and while we do not deny the importance of the
former to the scholar and literary man, we claim, if not an
equal, a high degree of respect for the latter.

They will all be

greatly tributary to the accomplishments of mind, however they
may not be greatly necessary to a correct understanding of the
English language.

And here, too, the distinction should be

observed between what is properly meant by langitage and its
purest diction.
"The next branch of our subject concerns the different pro-

1
,j'

.

'

252

fessions and other pursuits which may be supposed to be more
or less interested in a knowledge of the Latin and Greek
languages. Here we find a still greater degree of importance
attributed to them.

But has it been with sufficient regard to

the real merits of the subject?

Has there not been too great a

deference to habit and prejudice, too much to our respect for
the past, and too little dependence upon ourselves, too little
reference to the progress of knowl edge and improvements, and
too little to a change of circumstances ?

In answering these

questions, we should keep steadily in view that they relate to
the languages as such, and do not extend to their bearing upon
intellectual culture, which is quite another subject.
" How is it, in the first place, with the Lawyer ? Does he
go back t o the Latin and Greek authorities for his guide, or
even assistance ? Certainly not.

H e must proceed according

to the principles of law of our day, and not according to those
which existed in the days of Cicero.

What says his library?

There is nothing there but English law an<l. literature ; or if
there be more, it is not the Greek and Latin authors, but those
of modern France, and perhaps of Germany. So far as books
are concerned, these are the ones by which he tries all his
causes ; and the rest, which is often more important, he makes
up by his own mind and general erudition . H ere, however, we
are coming upon what may be imparted by a large education,
and if we were to go into its merits we should probably find
that a know ledge of French, German, Spanish, and Italian,

253

especially the first two, would take a high rank in their comparison with Greek and Latin. Time was, when the latter yielded
all the great classics; but, in the march of society many and
important additions have been made, both on the continent of
Europe and in English literature.
"Perhaps something should be allowed for certain phrases
borrowed by modern codes of law from the ancient; and so
long as they stand in their original garb, as they probably will
on account of their brief and expressive nature, their meaning
must be understood; but this may be as easily acquired without
a knowledge of Latin :md Greek as the signification or import
of English or any other words and phrases.
"As to the Physician, his pursuits are far less artificial.

He

is abroad in the field of Nature, and Nature is his great authority.

But, it is said that Hippocrates, and Galen, and Celsus,

are the fathers of the science, and have laid down important
rules of practice, and that, therefore, their works must be read.
This, doubtless, may be well enough; perhaps should Le done
so far as they are accessible through an English translation.
But is it necessary? Is it not probable that what they have
taught may be found in. the works of modern writers? It is
true, the fathers of medicine have been always celebrated for
their accurate observation of Nature.

But her book is equally

open to all; and if there be many who are not as able to read it,
there should be help enough around them in the Masters of our
own times.

We suppose, however, that Medicine must require

254

a high order of mind to understand its principles and details,
and to comprehend the many branches of science which are
connected with it. vV e may be sure that it is here that learning is most necessary, and that there cannot be too much of it.
Suppose, then, that a knowledge of Greek and Latin be important for the sake of the ancient writers; may it not be saicl with
as much truth that the modern languages share equally in that
importance
Medicine?

~

Have France and Germany done nothing for
Have they not schools of distinguished reputation?

And how are they to be approached but through the languages
in which their instruction is delivered ?

" vV e shall say nothing now as to the supposed importance
of Greek and Latin to a knowledge of the derivative terms
employed in Medicine, and th e writing of prescriptions.

That

we have partly disposed of when speaking of Law, and it will
be consitlered farther in what we haYe yet to say of the Sciences
in a general sense.

" vVe come, therefore, next to the Clerical profession. The
beautiful simplicity of all the doctrines in Religion and Morals
would seem to preclude the necessity of any other language
than that in ·which the Scriptures an_d modern commentaries
may be most readily studied. Indeed, Christianity was carried
over the whole kno-wu world, aml may be said to have been
virtually established by a few unlettered men, before the destruction of Jerusalem ; and that, too, was done in the midst of
the grossest ignorance and idolatry, and against the worst forms

I

'

'

255

of persecution.

And dicl it derive any aid from Greece or

Rome ? The former was reposing upon its laurels from Homer
downward; the latter was at its zenith, with the names of
Virgil, Horace, Cicero, Cmsar, fresh before them.

This assures

us of the duties of the great mass of the Clerical profession ;
and subsequent experience inclines us to think that Latin and
Greek have done more for polemical clivinity than for the good
of mankind.

Not, however, of necessity.

have been otherwise.
no scientific terms.

vVe grant it should

But what are the facts?

Here, too, are

There is nothing derivative but what is

readily understooll hy the whole human family.

You say,

indeed, very justly, that we should look well to our translations
of the Holy Scriptures, and that this cannot be clone without
a knowledge of languages even more ancient than Latin and
Greek.

But this should be the work of the gifted and labori-

ous scholar. Great time and research are necessary for this.

It

may be said to be almost a profession in itself, and should be
set apart for a few.

The multitucle should receive it upon trust

as far surpassing any critical ability of their own, and employ
themselves after the manner of Christ and Lis Disciples. There
would be but little clone for the great objects of the Church,
and for the good of society, if all were to become Biblical
critics.

Still, we do not deny the ad vantages of scholarship

here as every where else; but we think it less essential than in
the other professions, and that it has too often gone in pursuit
of the letter rather than the spirit of the

vVorcl.

The business

f-

256
of this profession is to strive to attain, as far as possible, a
resemblance to their great Pattern.
"vVith regard to the Sciences, it is sai<l that a knowledge of
Latin and Greek enables us to understand the names and terms
employed in them.

This must be taken, also, in its eonnection

with the professions ; though it is mostly confine<l to Medicine.
There can be no doubt that there is considerable force in this.
But, is it not, after all, a certain degree of facility afforded by
this knowledge, rather than its necessity? Do we not ]earn the
derivative names and terms rather hy usage, and by their application to things according to their own nature and meaning ?
Or, in the same way as we learn the import of any new English
word or term that is not derivative ? Do Latin or Greek teach
us what is meant, in astronomy, by azimuth, altitude, parallax,
gibbous; or, in botany, the meaning of such terms as arachnoid
and areolate, and a multitude of others ; or, in chemistry, should
we know any better the meaning of chloride of sodium, or ·
proto-chloride of mercury, or that the former is common salt
and the latter calomel ?

These examples may be taken as of

universal application. To understand them, in any great extent,
r equires a stud y of the different sciences to which they belong.
They must be studied in connection with the objects to which
they are applied, mechanically, as it 'vere, and we then learn
their meaning just as we do the name of a horse or of any thing
else.
terms.

I

I

r
" '

They then become to us equivalent to English names and
The same may be said of the modern languages.

257

"As it regards the relative value of Latin and Greek, and
the modern languages, in the study of the sciences, the latter
are more important to those who wish for accuracy, and to
penetrate into the depths of science; especially where precision
is necessary, as in astronomy and chemistry.

Here, doubtless,

authors should be often read in the original lm1guage.
"We proceed now to consider the study of Latin and Greek
for their own sake.

That these are noble languages, and in

many respects very perfect, and that they abound with fine
specimens of literature, 1ve shall not for a moment dispute.
This literature, its strength and refinement, are also best learnt
from the originals.

nut we may also equally affirm that there

are some modern tongues that can boast of stars of genius,
whose literature is both highly instructive and amusing, and
more so in the original tongue than in any translation.
" There is one other ground which we have omitted, and
which those on the opposite side (or perhaps we should rather
say the zealots) are for ever bringing up; the utility of Latin
and Greek as an exercise for the mind.
prejudice as 1vell as reason

here~

nut is there not some

Is there not too much a spirit

of exclusion ? Is there no exercise of mind in the pursuit of
the modern languages? We think that the whole German class
will attest the truth of our assertion, that we have already had
some exercises that have tried our minds.

There are, however,

some other respects, intellectually considered, in which the Latin
and Greek languages have an ascendency.
33

Their elegance and

258

prec1s1on qualify us better to speak and to write our own
language with accuracy; but these are advantages which we
will rather leave for our opponents to disclose.

-.

vVe

are most

concerned about a fair estimate of tL e valu e of the principal
modern languages; and when we come to add to what has been
already said in their b ehalf the very important consideration,
that, during the three to five years that we pursued Latin and

r.'·•
.f

Greek before our connection with College, and the sul,sequent
two years, we have obtain ed a suffi cient knowledge of these
languages t o enable us t o understaml the etymology of most
words which are derived from them, both in our language and
the sciences, and that it is sufficient, also, to enable us to peruse
the literature of the ancients for any purposes we rnny desire in
after life; and when, also, we add the Gthcr advantnges of the
mod ern languages, their being spoken at the present day, and
their assistance in this respect in bringing us more into intercourse with the world, ancl increasing our interest in t11 e affairs
and welfare of other nations, aml last, though l)y no·rncnns least,
th e degree in which they increase the plertsure nml improvement
to he derived from foreign travel ; 1Yhcn ·we com e tu mlcl these
considerations to th e form er, we can scnrcely h esitate in selecting t11c modern langungcs for our Junior n,ml Senior Y cnrs, and
leaving t11c Ln,tin arnl Greek roots to t h1fre in the soil of our
successors.
" Hom:i:T Tnoul' PAINE.

" Harvard University, N ovember 1, 1840."

259

FORENSIC- ARTICLE XX.
" 'WERE TH E IIOi\IEIUC POENIS TIIE PRODUCTION OF A SINGLE i\IIND ('

"In this question the lmrthen of proof must, of course, be
on the negative side; while it is only necessary for those on the
positive to rebut the evidence of their adversaries.

It is proha-

bly evident enough that a poem, or any other production which
goes under the name of one man, and h as been received as his
alone for centuries, must be regarued as the work of that man,
unless proof can be shown that this opinion is false.

The case

is analogous to that of a criminal brought before a court of justice.

All that he has to do is to rebut the evidence brought

against him.

His innocence is a matter of course if his guilt be

not established.
"vVhat, then, are the arguments which learned individuals
of the nineteenth century bring against a point which was never
doubted by the critical Greeks, the countrymen of Homer, and
which has remained undisturbed ever since, embracing a period
of more than two thousand years? This naturally raises another
preliminary question ; whether it be not more than probable, if
there had been any substantial reasons against the point in question, they would have been 1Jrought forward by the ancients,
who lived comparatively near to the time of Homer ? But, as

260

no such reasons were alleged until the beginning of the present
century, we should strongly suspect that the late objections are
not well found.eel.

Let us see, however, whether they will bear
...,.

examination.

"The first and principal reason turns upon the point when
the art of writing was known among the Greeks ; and it is contended that it was not understood at the time when Homer is
supposed to have flourished.

Now, what is the proof of this?

Is it not the merest conjecture ? Who sha11 say, or by what
authority, that writing was not known to the Greeks as early as
the tenth century before Christ ? Who can at all define the
time when writing was invented by any people of high antiquity; since, especially, it seems to be almost as necessary and
natural to man as speech itself?

But let us hear the objectors,

who reason after the following manner :
" ' vVhen,' say they, 'it is considered that throughout the
Homeric Poems, though they appear to embrace the whole circle of knowledge then possessed by the Greeks, and enter into
many details on the arts of life, only one ambiguous allusion
occurs to any kind of writing, it is scarcel:y possible to avoid
the conclusion, that the art, though known, was still in its infancy and was very rarely practised.'
"If we reduce this reasoning to the form of a syllogism it
will read thus: "All the arts much noticed by Homer must have had con·
siderable pract~ce at the time of Homer ; the art of writing is

2Gl
not much noticed by Homer ; therefore the art could not have
been much practised at his time.

This mode of reasomng is

wholly repugnant to Aristotle's dictwn, and hP

~he

fault to

which Logicians give the name of illicit niajor.
" But, as Homer supplies us with ample proof of considerable perfection in many arts, which, generally, are introduced, or
at least brought to that degree of perfection long after the art
of writing, and always show a st.ate of advancement which supposes even a common practice of that art, the probabilities are
certainly in favor of the supposition that the art was known for
a consideraLle period before the time of Homer, and that at his
time it had arrived to quite a clegree of perfection.

" If we now turn to Homer himself, we shall find a very
forcible internal proof of the justice of our conclusion. For this
purpose we will be content with the statement already quoted
from our opponents, and from which they derive an exactly
opposite inference to our own.

vVe see, in that quotation, that

Homer ' enters into many details on the arts of life, but makes
only one ambiguous allusion to any kind of writing.'

Now,

since it was one of his objects to describe the useful arts, is not

the conclusion unavoidable that, if writing were then in its infancy, with all the stupendous force of such a novelty, he would
. w e l t upon it in greater detail than any other art?

But,

again, the Poems were written at some age or other, and it
should be plain enough that such Poems, surpassing all subse-

-

quent times, could not have been written without great facili-

262

ties for such a purpose.

The main argument of our opponents,

therefore, can have no possible bearing upon the time when.
"The foregoing probabilities will be greatly strengthened if
we can show that the art of writing existed among othe1'11t>le
as early as the fifteenth century before Christ, and can show,
moreover, how the knowledge could have been imparted to the
Greeks from that people, and can bring up tradition that it was
so imparted. Now, we find it often affirmed in the Pentateuch,
that Moses wrote these Books.

Take, as examples in proof of

this, Exodus 39, v. 30; Deuteronomy 10, v. 4; 27, v. 3; 28, v.
58; 29, v. 20; 30, v. 10; 31, v. 0, 19, 22, 24, 26; Joshua 1,

v. 8 ; 8, v. 31, 32.

And that this was so is also sufficiently con-

firmed by our Saviour, when he says, 'If they hear not Moses
and the Prnpltets, neither will th ey be pm·8'lwded tlwitgh one rose
frnm the dead.'

And again, 'I-lad ye believed Moses, ye woUld

have believed m e, f 0 1·

HE WROTE OF 11rn.

Bitt 1f ye believe not his

writings, how shall ye beh'eve my word8 ? '

'Mo8es W?'Ote this

precept ; ' &c.

"But, perhaps there may he some who will not be 'per- ·
suaded,' who will not 'believe.'
our former argument as to th e

"'his obliges us to return to
1possibility of assigning a

period for the origin of writing among any people of remote ~
antiquity, and the probabi1ity of its early invention among
other useful arts. vY e shall ])Ursue this inquiry, however, a
little farther as well for the sake of Moses as of Homer.

'

"We must suppose that Moses, who was skilled in all the

~
'

i

263

learning of the Egyptians, derived Lis knowledge uf wntmg
from that people, or that he received it at the Hand of Inspiration.

But, as the latter supposition would be a begging of the

question, we will aclhere to the former; otherwise, we might
see no good reason for rejecting the idt
the knowledge of writing immediately

that Moses received
·om Heaven.

It was

from that quarter he is said to have received the whole law,
and to have been eommamlecl 'to write it in a book.'

It is but

reasonable, therefore, to suppose that :Moses was provided with
the necessary means; and that they were Divinely imparted
seems not improbable from the statement that the Ten Commandments were 'written by the finger of Goel.'

The demotic

alphabet may have been at first employed; but another would
be very likely to have grown out of it, on account of what must
have been the great disinclination of the Israelites to preserve
any memorial of the past.

Or who shall say that the Hebrew

was not then a written language ? In about 400 years after
the Exodus flourished David and Solomon, and it will not be
doubted that the art of writing had grown old by their time.
The only question, therefore, that may rerru1in respects the time
of the departure of Moses from Egypt ; but this, we think, is
fully settled by the correspondence between the monumental

._.

authorities of Egypt and the calculations laid clown in Scripture.

.

" Having sufficiently established these points, we may safely
conclude that writing was well known before 1451 B. C., which

2G4

I

the best received chronology fixes as the time of Moses' deatli.
But, at any rate, Solomon's age wonlcl be sufficient for our purposes in regard to Homer; and there can be no doubt that long
b efore Solomon'::; time writing was well kno';vn at Tyre, which
was a powerful commercial City in Pho:micia 1200 years before
Christ.

Suppose, however, th~ch a commerce and a corre-

sponding advancement in other arts could have exist ed without
a knowledge of writing, ·we may lJe quite sure that Solomon
carried on a large commerce with that City, and hence cl educe
the certainty that he must have introducecl letters among tl1e
Phamicians. But this may be said to be rather a presumption
than a fact ; so that we will now show hy Scripture record , to
which we think we are fu]] y entitl ed, that writing was known at
Tyre lJeforc Solomon's intercourse with that place. Thus, in
2(~

Chronicles it is expressly stated, th:it 'Hiram, king of Tyre,

answered in w1·iti11g.'
"Now, in following out this chain of evidence, we know
that Cadmus, th e founder of Thebes, was a Phamician, and,
moreo,-er, there is n tr:idition tlrnt he introduced Letters into
Greece; tile very quarter from wl1ich we should expect such :m
introc1 uctio11, jf writing were not already kno1rn to the n-reeks.
"'\Ye knmi;, also, that Ca<lmus live· some time before the very
farth est period which is :fixed for
" But, it may

be~

~ue

existence of Homer.

saicl th at traditions are of no weight.

W e11, then, suppose we by aside the tradition till we may show
th at it is of some value.

It is, then, a matter of history that

.'

265

Cadmus founded one of the principal cities of Greece, some
1500 years B. C., that he was a Phcenician, and that the art
of writing was known to that nation.

Can we, then, enter-

tain the opinion, that, while the Greeks were making rapid
advancement in more difficult, although less important arts,
they could have remained ignorant of the simple, but all important one of writing; especially as they had intercourse with,
and partly derived their origin from, a nation among whom
that art was well understood ? But, we do no such thing as
to lay tradition aside ; for, although by itself it is of little
worth, yet when brought in as a corroboration of an induction from a long process of reasoning, it acquires a wonderful
strength.
"So far, then, as the art of writing is concerned, we can see
no reason to suppose that what are called the Homeric Poems
are not all the production of one man, even granting him to
have lived as long ago as 900 years before Christ.

But, while

we have run extensively into this question, we have been, in the
mean time, employed in considering others of greater importance, which involve, alo~th our imm~diate subject, the
authenticity of the Pentateuch, and the causes to which we may
look for the origin of writing among any people.
" Another argument brought up by our opponents is the
want of unity in the Poems, and some incongruities which the
critic has detected. But where is the work in which a want of
unity, real or pretended, does not exist?
34

The complaining

266

atheist sits in judgment even upon the grand and beauteous
Whole of Creation!

One of the incongruities in Homer, which

is often cited, is the case of Palmmenes, who is killed off in the
fourth or fifth book, and brought again to the scene of action in
the tenth book.

It is an incongruity, indeed ; but even were

they numerous, they are not the kind of objefons to be alleged
against the supposed authorship of any work,especially so long
a Poem as the Iliad.

It was never doubted that the celebrated

Don Quixote was written by one man ; and yet it contains
defects of the same nature.

Cervantes, for example, calls San-

cho's wife, at one time, Mary Gutierrez, and only a few lines
below Tereza Panza.

In another instance, among the adven-

turers in the Brown Mountain, at the top of the page he relates
the ingenious abduction of Sancho's ass from under him, during
the night, and at the bottom of the same page he represents
Sancho setting off with his master, and riding upon the same
ass.

Other incongruities more glaring than these occur in this

work of Cervantes, but which it is needless to mention.

They

are common in all departments of literature ; so common, indeed,
that contradictions may be detected on almost every page by a
common observer.
"It has been also said that, if such a man as Homer had
ever lived, we should certainly have had some account of his
life; whereas, we have no record of his birth, or even of his
existence.

But, then, there was a man, or men, who wrote the

Poems; so it becomes a question merely whether his name was

Homer.

The objection, however, will vanish when it is con-

sidered that Shakspeare, who, although a man,
' So near the gods that many cannot nearer go,'

and although he lived nearly a century after the invention of
printing, is still almost wholly unknown to us, except in his
productions.

And is it not, indeec1, possible that what little is

known of his history "·ill l>e 1rnried in oblivion long before
Macbeth and Othello shall cease to be the admiration of the
world?

If any thing shall be known of his life five centuries

hence, it will be owing entirely to the art of printing.
"vVe will conclude by examining the conjectures which are
entertained concerning the Authors of the Homeric Poems.
They are supposed l)y some to have consisted originally of separate parts, composed and sung by as many wandering bards,
and, at last, were compiled by Pisistratus, or, perhaps by some
one prior to him, and thus have been handed clown to us.
Others suppose that the Iliad and Odyssy, after the main event
in each had formed the subject of a separate poem, grew under
the hands of successive poets.
" This brings us to the evidence afforded by the Poems
themselves.

Do they

:o'tfn all their parts, all parts of the one,

and all of the other, breathe the same great genius ? A genius
which rarely honors mortal frames!

A genius of which no

nation can boast more than two examples ! And are we to
suppose that the Greeks abounded with this rare essence, that

268
they were blessed with a troop of men possessed of this heaven1y treasure ? For such, indeed, must be admitted if it be
supposed that the Homeric Poems had a multiplicity of authors.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE.

"Harvard University, April 25, 1850."

THESIS -ARTICLE XXI.
" 'THE NILE.'

After having stated the opinions of the ancients as to this
river, and described its overflowing, &c., he proceeds:
" Such are some of the wonderful effocts of the inundation
of the Ni1e.

How delightful to the curious traveller, after

having laboriously gained the top of one of the proudest monuments of art, to look out upon one of the most beautiful scenes
in nature.

There lies stretched before him, at on e time, an

extensive sea, with numberless villages and groves of fruit-trees
peeping above th e surface ; or, at another time, he looks down
upon vast fields and meadows, some of them overspread with a
carpet of emerald color, and rich1 y embroidered with flowers of
every hue, others nodding their yellow grain to the breeze,
while others still are shaded by the foliage of the orange and
lemon trees, whose blossoms load every zephyr with fragrance.

-- -'~=========:;;;;:::;;;:~liiiliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

.,;

269
, ~,

numerous herds of cattle, and gatherings of merry hus-

"': J>andmen, seek these spots as a cool retreat from the noonday

, ;ia1in, and impart animation to the scene.
"Nor does the story of the Nile end here; for it connects
• elf with the religion, the warfare, the commerce, and the
· g of the Egyptians.

All this is immediate with them,

V:t perhaps more or less remotely with all subsequent nations;
; if every individual live for good or for evil, is it not highly
bable that the achievements of such a mighty and learned
p.le must have exercised an influence upon the human race
~

h will be felt to the end of time, even though there shall
e. been lost all power of tracing it ? As in a river, which,

) : g with a small stream, gradually enlarges with the acqui1l,Of. the waters of other rivulets until it finally swells to a
' .lf' .1:

-t, the effects, or I should rather say the influence, of the
6Wst contribution is felt at its mouth, although we may be
to trace the separate current for only a short distance? So
time, which rolls onward and onward, mingling with the
e~t
,f..

currents of events that daily fl.ow into it, the influence

~,)'~~otest

current, though not distinguishable from that of

~,. )ls .of others, must yet be felt until the main stream is
. . oy_eQ, '1-P in the ocean of eternity.
· w.~J1aturally look for learning in those places where the

,,,;'bi~t.s are not obliged to toil incessantly for their means of

.i · ~d as the soil of no country yields its increase with

f • ~ility, or more abundantly, than Egypt, we accordingly

270

find that it was once the seat of a very powerful and learned
nation, the proofs of which, as they now exist in the monuments
that have come down to us, are sufficient to convince those who
lay aside the many contained in Holy Writ.

"It may be asked, why has Egypt ceased to be the fosterland of learning? Looking at the history of the instrumentality
of Providence in regard to the Jews, especially in its connection
with the Egyptians, we might say that it is because the wrath
of God rests upon the land in consequence of the ill treatment
of His chosen people, for, 'surely at the Commandment of the .
Lord came this upon' Egypt as well as 'upon Judah.'

But it

seems to us, that the rise, progress, and Jecline of learning
among the Egyptians, and what we see in other nations, is all of ;
a piece, and that there is no particular need of attributing this' "·
case to any special intervention of Supernatural Power.
ing is like the being who acquires it.

Learn~

It first hath its embryo,

then its 'seven ages,' the last of which
'Is second childishness and mere oblivion.'

" But, if we place the decline of learning in
the common ground of other nations, we may learn from the
analogy supplied. by the Sacred Record of events which must
have been among the principal causes, that an Overruling Providence is equally concerned in other cases, however the whole
may seem to have been the result only of natural laws.

God is ~

every where, and it is as unphilosophical as it is against Revela-: Jl

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271
tion to suppose that He ever leaves His second causes to their
own independent operation.
" Ronm1T T uou r PAL"'fE.

"Harvard University, April 14, 1840."

FORENSIC-ARTICLE XX.

" 'WHETHER THE I ~TERESTS OF TRUTH AND VIRTUE WOULD BE PRO·
MOTED BY SO FAR HESTRICTING THE FREEDOM OF THE PRESS AS
TO PHEVENT ANONY::IWUS PUBLICATIONS?'

'

"In discussing this question there are two ways in which we
may look at it.

We may regard it absolutely, or relatively;

or, perhaps, I should rather say theoretically and practically.

"In considering it theoretically, we have only to estimate
the amount of benefit and injury resulting directly to the cause
of truth and virtue from anonymous publications, and make up
our mind according to which preponderates.
" We may reckon, in the first place, detraction, vilification,
as one of the worst evils. How frequent, that the character
of the innocent and virtuous is assailed, and even wounded, by
this disgraceful weapon ! Our newspapers are daily more or
less devoted to writings of this kind, where some one is made a
victim either from private pique or political hostility.

Now,

with this fact alone before us, it can scarcely need an argument

(
272

to show that the tendency of disowning a publication, (by which
we include all printed articles), must be highly detrimental to
truth and virtue.

Why does an unexceptionable writer thus

disown his opinions ? It may be sometimes from fear of controversy or assault, or from diffidence or modesty.

Why then

encourage this dangerous practice by writing at all ? But why
are the personal and political articles to which we refer sent
into the world

~1ithout

a responsible name?

Plainly, from the

respect which the writer bas for his own character.

But why

should a man fear for himself who has truth and virtue on his
own side? Certainly no one does. It is the consciousness, then,
that these are not in his ranks which forms the very groundwork of the fear which prompts his concealment.
"Another objection, with many, to anonymous publications,
is the opportunity which they afford of diffusing vulgarity and
licentiousness. That this is a fact is beyond question ; and from
what we have already said, it may be supposed that we should
be a strong objector for this reason.

But we think it a difficult

matter to decide precisely what their ultimate effect may be
upon the cause of virtue. On the one band, it appears to us
that few mistakes are greater than the rigorous course which
some would pursue from a stern and forbidding sense of modesty ; as exemplified in expurgating (as it is called) some of
the text-books used in schools and colleges, or in parents withholding from their children some plays of Shakspeare, or certain
portions of Milton, and in the wish entertained by many of

273
expurgating even the Bible. Their intention, we grant, is laudable, though in respect to the Holy Scriptures there may be a
mingling of sectarian interest.

~othing

can be more Divine

than to purify the thoughts, and to thus suppress the licentious
and injurious habits which are too common among the young of
both sexes.

But may it not be asked, whether the critics are

not defeating their object by the very course t hey adopt?
Whether the very omission of the exceptionaule passages, the
very restraint practised towards the young, does not serve to
turn their attention into the very channel from which it is
sought to divert it?

Many a passage in Horace which is omit-

ted in the common text-books would have been read, as we
think, without producing any impression except, perhaps, of
disgust, but which has, by the attention being thus drawn to it,
been hunted up, and gloated over in the studio.

The imagina-

tion has thus become fired, and the final result has been an
obtuseness of moral feeling and the establishment of those
habits which waste the powers of manhood.

The case is liable

, to be even more dangerous in respect to the Bible ; for here,
:_ just in proportion as the reader may turn aside to seek for what
is expunged or modified, he will be apt to lose his regard for
Religion; and here curiosity would be greatest. Such omissions
or changes would look, also, like distrust of the Word itself;
and the same principle at work in this as in the former case
would thus acquire an additional effect, and infuse its poison
more deeply.

May it not, indeed, be a subj ect of fair doubt
35

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whether sin would have entered the world had it not been forbidden ?

vV as it not origina~ly a simple impulse of curiosity?

"Such, on the one hand. On the other, may it not be asked
whether the evil here referred to may not most effectually cure
itself? whether writings that are truly licentious have not, in
reality, an opposite effect to what many suppose, by creating
di8{fll.St

and a longing after those of purity and elevation of

thought? .Consult the diary of the physician, and see whether
the lamentable cases of disease arising from licentious habits be
not much more frequent among those who have been educated
under the supposed restrictions, than among those who have
But, while we contend that anonymous publications of

not.

licentious anJ vulgar writings are not as injurious to the cause
of virtue as many suppose, we would by no means intimate that
they are necessary to its advancement ; for there is enough
which is not anonymous which is sure to create a disgust in the
mind of youth, providing no pains be taken to keep it from
them.

But a difference will arise between the anonymous and

the acknowledged work, according as the latter may come
recommended l)y the name of its author.
"We have thus looked at the world as it is, without con·
sidering its plain duty and interest that it should be otherwise.
vVe have touchecl upon one of the highest questions in morals,
and have written as our mind considers the subject in its
youth.
" On the other side of our main question it is argued, that

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in prohibiting anonymous publications we should silence many
writers who come out against false and erroneous doctrines, or
to correct misrepresentations and false constructions.

It is true

that many, who thus lend their pen to the cause of truth, prefer
to remain unknown, and our chief o1Jjection is the encouragement which is thus afforded to anonymous wl'iters of less worthy motives.

But do they make it ct nece88Ct1·y condition that

they will withhold their productions unless they he permitted
to publisli them without signature?

Is it not merely a prefer-

ence they give to that mode which induces them to appear
anonymously~

vVe think it is only a preference; for surely no

one who is the real champion of truth can be ashamed of his
cause.

But, it is replied, although such is not his reason, he

may be distrustful of his ability to defend it.

To this we

answer that we want bold champions, those that will present
themselves night and morning, and defy the armies of their
adversaries.

In the moral warfare, as well as in civil, we want

picked men. Let the chicken-hearted and faint-h earted retire
to their homes.
"It sometimes happens, that, in order to give the effect
intended to the argument, it is necessary that the publication
should be anonymous.

This is the case with many ironical

writings, where the appearance of the author's name would
completely destroy the ironical character.

An instance may be

seen in a pamphlet containing historic doubts concerning the
existence of Napoleon, 'published,' as the author says in another

276

work, 'anonymously merely for the preservation of its ironical
character.'

In such cases, the prohibition of anonymous publi-

cations would, inclei;cl, lefeat the object of the writer, and, what
should be more regretted, it would deprive us of such contributions to tLc cause of truth.

But, it should be borne in mind

that such instances are comparatively rare, and that even where
such a style is employed, tLe cause of truth might have been
equally well defended in some oth er way which does not require
a concealment of tLe auth or's name.

Besides, it may be a sub-

j ect for consideration whether we should not gain more than we
should lose by the method we suggest, as the ironical style is
as often employed as the channel of error and sophistry as of
truth.
"So far as we have now gone, the balance, with one exception, seems not to incline much to either side of our question.
That exception is the liability of an innocent and virtuous person to he attacked ancl wounded by defamation (the cowardly
weapon of anonymous writers), ancl we cannot, therefore, but
wish, theoretically speaking, that publications of an anonymous
nature should be prohibited.
" Looking at the subject practically, we have not merely to
consider the amount of benefit or injury resulting di1·ect1;y to the
cause of truth and virtue, hut also inllirectly.

vVe

have many

collateral circumstances aml effects to hear in mind. It is, however, within the limits of our time to examine only a few of the
principal.

277
"Suppose the publication of anonymous writings were prohibited by law, what is to prevent any one from writing under
an assumed name ? How is it to be ascertained that the name
is not the real one of the author?

But, it being essentially the

same thing whether an author writes under an assumed name,
or anonymously, the laws are, of course, evaded.

Now, when-

ever laws are passed which are easily violated, we think that
by thus bringing the majesty of the law into contempt or riclicule, a severe shock is given to the progress of truth and virtue;
not that we agree with our standard authority, Mr. Whewell,
in thinking the law gives a nwral 8l(J11/ification to actions, but
that it serves to restrain many from the commission of oftences
who would not be deterred by the rules of morality. vVhat we
contend for is, that, as the general force of the law is lessened
in proportion as it is violated with impunity, and in proportion
to that failure of the law to maintain respect for itself, our land
will become the seat of vice and crime, and, therefore, any particular prohibition that tends, by its own impracticable nature,
to lessen the general regard for law is so far prejudicial to the
interests of truth and virtue.

"But again; the prohibition of anonymous publications
must not be regarded alone as si lCh.

It must be considered

also as a precedent; one, too, of a most dangerous nature, a precedent of infringing the liberty of the press. · · Our opponents,
however, may say, We do not ask for any fctrtlier restriction.
But, will the force of our principle admit even of this ? vVe

278
should remember how prone mankind are, when a thing is once
commenced, to push it continually, little by little; so that many
things, which in themselves are desirable, are to be shrunk from
with fear or dismay when viewed as precedents.

Suppose, for

example, the liberty of the press should be so far restricted as
to prohibit anonymous publications; no sooner would this law
be passed than another party might spring up and demand some
farther restriction, and, in process of time, upon the strength of
the precedent, and the effect of habit, carry their measure.
Thus it is clear that, by degrees, the last spark of liberty nlight
be extinguished.

The effect of this upon truth and virtue we

shall leave to be imagined.

We may say, indeed, that this

ought not to be so ; but we must take the world as it is. With
this danger, then, staring us in the face, and the great evils
which must flow from every restraint which has a tendency to
bring the law into ridicule or contempt, we say, God save the
liberty of the press uninfringed !
" RonERT Tuour P.AIN.E.
" Harvard University, October 25, 1850."

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279

FORENSIC-ARTICLE XXIII.
" 'SHOULD THE FREE STATES, IN DELIVERING UP FUGITIVE SLAVES,
SECURE '1'0 THE:H TIIE HIGHT OF TIIE WRIT OF IIAJ3EAS COHPUS,
AND TRIAL J3Y J UHY

?'

" In conceding it to be the duty of the Free States to deliver
up fugitive slaves, as enjoined by the national constitution, let
us see-

" Fint, what rights the Free States can avail themselves of
m discharging this duty, consistently with the general compact; and
" Secondly, let us consider the policy of exerc1smg those

rights.
"As the several States, individually, enjoy the right of legislation in all respects that are not interdicted by the Constitution of the Union, we must look to this instrument for the compact or law by which we are bound to surrender fugitive slaves
to their owners. The Constitution says, that, 'no person held
to service or labor in one State, under the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence of any law or regulation therein, be discharged from such service or labor, but
shall be delivered up on claim of the party to whom such service or labor may be due.' -Words so plain that 'he who runs

280

may read,' and not only so, but understand.

They direct that

fugitive slaves 'shall be delivered up,' in spite 'of any law or
regulation ' of the State to which they may flee. It is equally
manifest, also, that Congress may enforce this provision by any
laws not incompatible with other provisions; for where it may
exercise the right of action in one case, it is no less bound by
the restraints imposed in aU other cases. It is another principle,
also, that what is not prohibited to the individual States by the
Constitution may be freely exercisecl by them.
"Now, in the provision before us there is nothing which
directs the manner in which the fu gitives shall be delivered up;
though it is certainly competent fo r Congress to enact any law
for the purpose which may not conflict with the compact itself.

In other words, there can be no legislation by Congress which
interferes with the rights reserved by the Constitution, either
directly or indirectly, to the States, or to individuals.
" I t appears, then, that it is unconstitutional only for a State
to refuse to deliver up fugitive slaves ; and, so far as the clause
which we have quoted goes, it is not unconstitutional for a State
to require or not to require a writ of hahea8 cmpu8, or trial by
jury, before such delivery.

But, according to another clause it

would seem that it is unconstitutional to deliver up any person
withont allowing the writ.

Th e clause is this.

'The privilege

of the writ of lw!Jea.8 corpu.Y sha11 not be suspended, unless when
in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require
it.'

There is no obscurity here ; and -..ve can see no reason why

281
the injunction is not even more applicable to the case of fugitive
slaves than to criminal cases, nor why it should not be more
rigidly adopted in the fo rmer than the latter case. Injustice,
from false pretences, is certainly much more likely to occur m
relation to slaves, for the temptation is much greater. It is no
exaggerated estimate to state the proportion as one to a lrnndred.

But, however this may be, it cannot be doubted that

the privilege of the habeas co17nt8 is far more useful , far more
essential in the case of fugitive slaves than of fugitive criminals.
Our last citation, also, can leave no doubt, that it is not only
constitutional for a State to exercise the right in surrendering
slaves, but that it is unconstitutional not to do so. But should
a State disregard the clause last quoted, there is nothing whatever in the Constitution which prohibits the exercise of the
privilege in the case before us.
"Again, every State has not only a right to make any law
or regulation which is not contrary to the Constitution, but it
enjoys the right wherever the Constitution is silent upon the
subject.

' Th'e powers,' says that instrument, 'not delegated to

prohibited by it to
the States, are reserved to the 8tate8 ?'Mpectively, or to the
p eople.'
"As it regards the trial by jury, we cannot say that there is
any clause in the Constitution which enjoin8 it in delivering up
either a criminal or a slave; but there is certainly none prohibiting it. Having settled this point, before proceeding farther
the United States by the Constitution,

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282
with it, we must be careful not to fall into the mistake of supposing that the inclividual States have a right to clefeat the
Constitution, or any consistent law of Congress founded upon it,
by neglecting the privilege which is reserved to them by the
Constitution ; for, in such a case, the United States, through
their Executive, could proceed to seize · upon the fugitive in a
summary manner.
'

"

" Now, the words of the Constitution are, that the supposed
fugitive 'shall be delivered up on claim of th e party,' &c.; that·
is to say, according to the preceding part of the clause, shall be
delivered up by the State into which the fugitive may have
escaped.

H ere, then, it is clearly enj oined upon the States to

act in the premises, and it is no part of the duty of Congress to
interfere, nor has it a right to interfere till a State neglects the
injunction of the Constitution.

And, since the State must take

some action in the case, it is absurd to suppose that a law must
exist upon its statute-books requiring a surrender of every individual against whom an offence may be charged, without all
the inquiry that ma3r be necessary t o the full protection of inno'ti:. ~

cence. Incleed, a Stat e which should neglect this obvious precaution would be an offender not only against the privilege of
the lwueas c011n1,;s, at least, but certainly, also, against the common laws of humanity. The important point should b e also
kept st eadily in view, that the Constitution does not invest
Congress with the power of interfering, but, that it not only
expressly delegates it as a right to the individual States to legis-

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283

late upon the subject, but enjoins its exerclSe upon them as a
duty.
"We have thus endeavored to bring this mooted question
to its simple merits. vVe see that a Law of the United States,
or an act of the Executive, may be perfectly constitutional for
one State, and as unconstitutional for another State. \Vhatever
be the object, it is, according to the Constitution, only a law, or
an act, of coercion towards a clelinquent State ; and so far it is
just.

But, on the other hand, it is unconstitutional and oppres-

sive towards a State which has provided for the clause r equiring
the States to deliver up fugitives from service.
"This brings us to a farther consideration of the question
as to what are the rights of the States in fulfilling the duty imposed upon them by the Constitution.

These rights, as we

have seen, are either defined or tacitly yielded; and, according
to our premises a State may or may not require an examination
before a Justice.

This is the simplest view of the case ; and, if

the law of the land require such an examination, it will not be
objected that a State may, at least, do the same when it assumes
the duty enjoined upon it by the Constitution.
" Now, therefore, if a State possess that indisputable right,
why not, also, the right of directing its examinations by jury?
The former is no more enjoined by the Constitution than the
latter, and the latter no more prohibited than the former. Why
may we not assume like premises, in the case of trial by jury
before delivering fugitive slaves, and from these premises, by

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284

parity of reason, arnve at like conclusions ?

Then, having

shown that a State may make any regulation or appoint any
process of law not incompatible with the Constitution of the
United States ; and there being nothing in this Constitution
which is opposed to a trial b:T jury before delivering up fugitive slaves, the conclusion is, that every State has the right to
require a previous trial by jury.

The premises are certainly

undeniable, and it appears to us that our conclusion is unavoidable.
"But, supposing the United States should authorize a trial
by jury; it would still be a violation of the rights of the individual States. This, however, would probably give satisfaction;
and, theoretically considered, we think it would be the better
system.

But, the objection that it woul<l. not be in conformity

with the Constitution is conclusive against it.
" Having now shown that the free States have a right to
require a ·trial by jury in the case of delivering up fugitive
slaves, and that they not only have a right to require the writ
of habeas c011n1s, but are forbidden by the Constitution to dispense with it, we proceed to the consideration of the second
point, - the policy of exercising this right.
" We shall cease all discussion relative to the writ of habeas

c011n1s, as we believe it to be an oUligation, and shall confine
ourselves to trial by jury, which is optional with every State.
"As the writ of habeas C07'JJU8 is calculated to prevent, in
some measure, acts of injustice, by compelling the party claim-

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285
ing a criminal or a slave to appear before a magistrate and present his claim, so trial by jury affords a more effectual preventive, by securing a clue consideration of those claims, and providing against those cases where the magistrate is liable to
mistake from complexity or obscurity of proof, or open to
bribery, or may be overbearing, or influenced by prejudice.
The principle, so far as State or individual rights are concerned,
is exactly the same in both the cases; though, so far as justice
is interested, it gives a great preponderance to the right of trial
by jury.
"Here, however, we are met by the objection that a trial
by jury in the State to which the fugitive escapes, would be
useless, inasmuch as that is provided for him by the State to
which he is to be returned, and that we must suppose that justice will obtain in all the cases.
" But our opponents are here leaping over the threshold of
the question.

This is equivalent to denying the right of trial

in the State to which the fugitive escapes, and which we have
established as a matter even of duty.

vV e are willing to admit,

however, that justice mav be clone in the courts of the State
from which the fugitive escaped ; but what security is there,
with the balance of probabilities so greatly against the rights of
a degraded freeman charged with the crime of having lost his
liberty, that the reputed master, or a slave State, will perform
their obligations to so helpless and abject a being?

vVho is

there, we say, in a slave State to bring his case into court and

28()

assist him to prove his freedom ? Certainly not the master ;
and whatever be the humanity of the less interested, it is t oo
swayed by interest, prejudice, habits, and by the very nature of
the 'peculia?' instituhon,' to be active enough for the exigencies
of such a case.

There will be 'none so poor as do' the forlorn

negro so plain an act of justice. His case is hopeless, from the
nature of things, when he loses the safeguard provided by the

...

Constitution.

Let those who are not inclined to reason from

our premises, look at South Carolina, and see her imprisoning
free colored people who may be transiently visiting her soil

I '"1'

from other quarters, nay, seizing them from the vessels while
they fl.oat in her harbor, and in direct opposition to the Constitution, which provicles that 'the citizens of each State shall be
entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens in the
several States.'

Or, if this be not a sufficient index to our prin-

·ciple, consider, then, the treatment bestowed upon a respectable
delegate from Massachusetts, Mr. Hoar, who was duly authorized
by law to seek redress in the Courts of South Carolina for the
wrongs done to the colored citizens of Massachusetts.

Was

there any ·willingness manifested to indulge him in the object of
his mission? l\Ir. H oar, on the contrary, was olJliged to flee the
State from fear of assassination, so great and general was the
outcry against him. There the matter ended, and South Carolina triumphed.

vVe shall draw no farther inferences, unless it

be to point to the ascendency which the spirit of slavery has
obtained even over the free States.

287
" We might now go on to suppose that the contrary of all
this may happen; that the fugitive may be permitted to have
his case examined. But here we shoukl meet with new difficulties, and not less fatal.

Though a free man, snatched away

from his family hearth, or at best surrendered under the colJ.
formalities and doubtful integrity of an United States' official
examination, he is still the forlorn anJ. helpless negro.

Ile is

soon far removed from kindred and home, in the miclst of
strangers, who, if they throw open their doors of justice to him,
give him neither sympathy nor help.

Where will be his wit-

nesses to his freedom, and where his money to procure their
attendance or to fee his lawyer ? \ Vhat security will he have
against pe1jured witnesses, such even as may swear at the command of a master ? vVho that knows any thing of Courts in the
freest States does not know how easily and how often witnesses
are found for any occasion?

Or, should some rare justice or

accident gain the supposed fugitive his liberty, where are his
means for returning to his distunt home, or what security has he
that he will not be kiclnapped again before he is a dozen miles
on his way? Or, should he remain, and in possession of his freedom, upon the soil of slavery, how would it benefit him where
he would exist upon a level with the slave, and where there are
but few who would' give him leave to work ?'
"But think not of the individuals themselves only.

Think

of the lacerated hearts of bereaved wives and helpless children,
who depended for their support upon the daily earnings of a

I.',I'.... ==== ..
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288

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colored, but affectionate husband and father!

Scenes at which

humanity shudders ! Scenes which must bring down the wrath
of Him with whom is no distinction of persons ! Scenes which
make a mockery of freedom and equality, of which we profess
our country is the blissful abode !
"The remedy for the evils of injustice exists in the Constitution of the United States.

But here we are met with an

excuse for its Yiolation like the plea which we have just offered
in behalf of the supposed fugitive. It is said that, as the burden of proof would lie upon the pretended mast er, many slaveholders would b e det erred from making application for their
fugitives, or, if they do not, will be often unsuccessful in proving
their identity, from the expense and difficulties of obtaining
such witnesses as will satisfy a jury. But this can form no objection whatever, if we put the Constitution out of the question;
for the fundamental principle of all just law is, that the accused
shall be considered innocent of the thing charged until it is
proved upon him.

This is only a difficulty t o which all are

liable in their common transactions, and must be borne for the
proper endR of justice.
"But 1vo now come t o what is more like an obj ection, and
of more serious aspect. It is, that, on account of the prevailing
views of the people of the free States in opposition to slavery,
every supposed fugi tive 1voulcl b e tri ed before a prejudiced jury,
and their verdict would be rendered more in accordance with
their principles than with the evidence in the case.

We grant

289
that this would sometimes be the case.

We believe it to be im-

possible that it should be otherwise, for it would be contrary to
human nature. But is it not clear, from what we have shown,
that far greater injustice would be done if the supposed fugitive
were consigned to the captor, and with little certainty of a
trial by jury, or, at best, in a Stat e whose chief interest lies in
the institution of slavery? Let us also ask ourselves, let us ask
humanity, whether opportunity should be given for such offences, such heart-rending scenes as we have imagined, and
not without great probability, or whether it be not better that

I

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a slave-holder should now and then fail of his rights ? Nay,
whether it be not better that t en slaves should go free than one
freeman be made a slave? Then, too, we should take into consideration that it is from the cruel, tyrannical master that the
slave is more apt to flee ; for his condition is so degraded that
he prefers to serve the huma:ae and merciful master, r ejecting
even his offered freedom in words of childish dependence.
"What should be done by the people when Congress may
enact laws in opposition to the Constitution of the United States
may ultimately become a question of very grave importance.
The obvious means of redress, in the first instance, lies in the
Supreme Court of the land.

There may be wanting the means

of bringing the subject before that tribunal; but we may suppose that any State who feels its rights and dignity violated,
will be readily disposed to seek restitution, or that there will
be many sufficiently alive to humanity to carry out such a work
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290
of justice and benevolence. But here, again, the question is of
such vast importance in the estimation of the free and slave
States, and they are so entirely at issue, that the highest Court
may deem it their duty to give the same construction to the
Constitution as had been already done by the three branches of
Congress, rather than incur the risk of convulsing the Union by
setting aside a national decree that looks, on the one hand, to a
just preservation of the great institution of the Southern States,
and, on the other, to a fulfilment, though by a mistaken process,
of an important provision of the Constitution.

We would not,

for a moment, question the integrity of this enlightened and
independent Bench ; but we may suppose that their patriotism
may incline them to act in concert with Congress where the
aim has been the settlement of a great national trouble.

The

question b efore them will involve the Constitution and justice
on one side, and the peace of the country on the other. It will
be whether the first shall be violated, or the latter endangered.
In the mean time, and what is more important, the people will

still have the subject in their own hands.
advantage of a Republic like ours.

This is the great

The question may come

before the people at any successive election.

In this way they

may soon erase any unconstitutional law. The probabilities will

be strongly against its continuance long, especially if it should
be found to produce the evils which we have imagined.

There

will be likely to be always a preponderance of votes in behalf
of freedom and of the Constitution ; and should any persecu-

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tion of the Blacks grow out of the law, we need not doubt.
that it will awaken the humanity of the free portion of the
nation.
" RonERT TROUP

P.A.INE.

" Harvard University, June 27, 1850."

THESIS-ARTICLE XXIV.

" ':MEN

OF THE WORLD, WHO HAVE 'l'IIEIR PORTION IN THIS LIFE.'

'THE PSAL!>IIST'S IDEA OF A !tfAN OF THE WORLD AND OURS.'

"The words of our subject occur in the 14th verse of the
17th Psalm. 'From men of the world, which have their portion
in this life, and whose belly Thou :fillest with Thy hid treasure;
they are full of children, and leave the rest of their substance to
their babes.'
"David, and his son Solomon, were two of the most remarkable men of whom we have any knowledge. No characters are
more consistently drawn, both by themselves and others.

We

see in each the forbearance of God according to the circumstances with which He surrounds mankind, that He judges our
habitual motives, and has compassion upon the infirmities of our
nature.

All this is wonderfully exemplified in these two indi-

viduals; and we may carry out the principle which is involved

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m our several premises.

Although mightily endowed with

genius and wisdom, and having direct communication with
God, they lived at a rude age and among a licentious people.
They appear, moreover, to have been unusually sensual in their
nature; so much so as to have led both of them to adultery,
and one of them to murder, and the other to idolatry.

This

was owing, in part, also, to the times ; and these two were principal elements in the Psalmist's estimate of a man of the world.
He seemed to have reasoned as well from his own consciousness
as from what he saw around him, and the revelations which he
received went, also, to make up his views of the worldly man.
This would appear, too, from his general comments upon the
wickedness of his times.

His man of the world, therefore, was

a man of sin, and the enmity of others towards himself formed
no small part of the sinfulness which he attributed to them. It
was human nature in many of its worst conditions.

But what

is remarkable is the apparent fact that David should have made
himself so much the standard, when be often intimates that he
is free from the guilt which he charges upon others.

He was a

man, however, of great sensibility, and the enmity of his foes,
which he laments so much, being a judgment upon him, was
sorely felt ; and this, along with his actual consciousness of
heaYy sins, gives a strong coloring to his man of the world.
" But, language, and all forms of expression, share the common fate of a11 things else, - change, and with this change, a
change of ideas.

What the Romans understood by pietas and

;

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viJ·tu8,

is not implied in our piety and virtue.

So, also, many

words and combinations of words have entirely different significations at the present day from what they had in the days of
Chaucer and Spenser. It is not surprising, then, that we should
find a great discrepancy between David's ideas of a man of the
world and our ideas of the same.

Our man of the world is a

far nobler being; not, however, necessarily a man of piety,
though he has some sense of Religion and more so of moral
obligations.

But he is no hypocrite.

In another sense of the

word, he is a man of business, not only in name, but in reality.
No idle hours hang about him.

He has none for the gambling-

room and the house of revelling, and he makes no ' long prayers.'

No, he is all energy, all activity.

He 'forms schemes of

wealth and power, and pushes them night and day,' and when
he is gone, (the world is wiser and better for his having lived
in it.'
" In another acceptation, (man of the world' signifies one
who has seen the world; one whose ideas are not confined to
what he sees in the place of his nativity.

His idea of river

extends beyond the small stream which rumbles by his father's
mansion, for his feet have trod the banks of the Amazon, the
Mississippi, and the Rhine.

His idea of mountain is not bound-

ed by the sunny hill that forms the pasture for his father's
sheep ; for he has visited the Alps, the Andes, and the I-Iimalayas.

His views of happiness are not confined to the mode of

life pursued by those around him; for he has made acquaintance

......

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with the lazy African, the industrious American, the wealthy
Englishman, and the poor Laplander ; and it is his happiness to
see that they aU alike bespeak the Beneficence of the Creator
in adapting the whole to the circumstances which surround
them.

His Religion is free from bigotry, generally inclines to

no sect, and is charitable towards all people.

...

He supposes that

all Religions are based upon one grand foundation, however

'

great may be the errors of ignorance and superstition.

He

considers it essentially the same motive which prompts the
Christian to fast and pray, and the Indian to bathe himself in
the Ganges, or sit himself under the car of Juggernaut ; the
same belief and hope in future life ; the same reverence of the
Great Unseen, Whom he looks upon, not as the God of Christians alone, but the God of all mankind, accepting not alone the
services of any particular people or sect, offered in any particular place or under any particular form, but taking delight in all
the sincere adorations which rise as grateful incense from Earth's
great altar; a compound perfume, to which every people and
sect contribute some ingredient. H e is a sincere Christian himself, and is therefore charitalJle towards all, believing that all

,•

will be rewarded according to their sincerity and means of
information, and punished as those opportunities may be neg-

lect ed or perverted.

Such is properly a man of the world at

our day, a Christian and accomplished gentleman; and, being
'the highest style of man,' he is only rarely seen among a multitude who may be equally pure and worthy. vVith far greater

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devotion to the cause of Religion, the best example, perhaps,
may be seen in the chief Apostle of our Saviour.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.
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" Harvard University." [Without date.]
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THESIS-ARTICLE XXV.
" 'THE DISCOVERY OF A GOLD-MINE.'

" By this subject we understand that we are to consider the
advantages and disadvantages arising from such a discovery,
regarded both in a moral and political sense, and the general
effects of wealth upon Society.
" Riches possess a charm for all. However much the moralist may decry the love of gain, he still finds that he is in possession of that passion which he so much censures in others; that
he, in common with them, forms his schemes for the acquisition
of wealth.

It is this which drives onward the tide of life, and

forms the business of society. vVhat is so universal among individuals belongs, of course, to nations.
"Nothing, perhaps, tends more to a realization of this grand
object than the discovery of an inexhaustible mine of gold. By
this a State is made to lean upon its own resources, for it has
the fountain of wealth within itself ; and this brings us to consider the effect of such a discovery in our own country.

It is,

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296
of course, useless t o speculate on this point.

Let us go at once

t o history, and see what has been the case with nations who
have gone before us ; allowing, as well as we may, for those
influences which arise from the progress of knowledge. It is
from the past that ·we have mostly a right to judge of the
futur e ; especially upon questions that concern the nature of
man.

That seems to have been without change, morally and

physically ; otherwise, we should be unable, on the one hand,
to appreciate the beauties of David and Horner, and the vices
of the ancients ; nor, on the other, should we find the same
effects from the same physical causes, from their earliest record.
This consideration, which may be indefinitely carried out in the
past, gives us the right to conclude that the same things will
continue to have essentially the same effect upon the moral and
political state of society at the present day as they had in the
days of Home and Carthage.
"Let us, then, look at the question politically, in respect to
those two nations.

As long as they continued in a state which

did not excee<l. the necessary means of independence, in which
each one had only the fruit of his own labor, they were happy
and harmonious compared with their condition when that flood
of wealth poured. in upon them after their conquests.

It is this

upon which we must look as the cause of those awful dissensions
which took place between th e common people and the aristocracy, and which often shook the empires to their very centres,
and, at last, proved their destruction.

I

Such were then the

297

effects of wealth in introducing corruption, and in making it
the st andard of respectability and rank; and the modern history of Spain will show us that its effects, at least when wealth
is suddenly and easily acquired, are the same now, in their
political aspect, as in ancient times.
" What, next, was the effect of wealth upon the morals of
those

nations~

In the early stage of their existence they mani-

fested a great respect for religion, such as they had.

We find

them regular and frequent in their sacrifices and feasts in honor
of the gods, and these, too, performed with zeal. This religious
sentiment, however astray from the truth, cl eterred them from
the commission of crimes and gross excesses; and so it continued
until the torrent of wealth poured in upon them.

Then how

changed the scene ! 'The ancient piety and reverence for the
gods gradually disappeared, and the sacrifices and festivals,
which had formerly been celebrated in honor of the gods, with
rustic simplicity, now served more as amusements and shows fo r
the multitude, which Lecame the more pompous as the people
became more and more accustomed to splendor and magnificence. The higher and educated class began to show symptoms
of skepticism and a disbelief in the efficacy of the religious rites;
and from this time we not unfrequently meet with instances of
an open disregard of the ordinances of religion.'

And now it

was, we may add, that the people not only turned their attention from the good attributes of their gods, but worshipped and
magnified their licentious ones.
38

What shall we say, also, of the

298
system of extortion which was daily carried on by the governors
of the provinces, and the constant bribery which was practised
at home ? What depravity arose among females ! What disgusting gluttony among the people in general!

Among the

various details of history, it is stated that 'a slave, who was a
good cook, now fetched a higher price in market than any other
slave.'

Such was the state of things at Rome, and certainly

they were as bad at Carthage.

We might now inquire, again,

as to Spain; but here the consequences are fresh before the
world.
" May we not, therefore, justly fear that sudden wealth
would entail the most serious evils upon our own dear Country?
Forbid it, gracious Heaven!

Give me neither poverty nor

riches.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

" Harvard University, November 4, 1848."

THESIS - ARTICLE XXVI.
" ' IS THE DESIRE OF PROPERTY AJ.'l" IKSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLE

?'

" In considering this question we intend to inquire whether
the desire of property be wholly an instinctive or rational principle ; and, if not, how far it is entitled to the one, and how far
to the other appellation.

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"In order to be an instinctive principle it must first have
universality, or very great generality; and, secondly, it must be
greatly conducive to man's welfare, as an animal, intellectual,
and moral being.

Some will say, that it should be common to

man and the lower animals.

But this is not at all necessary ;

for, as the latter possess only the animal being, their instincts
are necessarily limited to this.

Man, on the contrary, having

also the intellectual and moral being, must be provided with
instincts adapted to these as well as to his animal nature. That
such is true, may be readily seen in his curiosity, conscience, and
sense of dependence upon a Superior Being.

Still, however, if

we find that animals also possess the desire of property, it
would be a strong proof that this desire in man is instinctive,
although, for the reasons which we have stated, it would be no
proof against our ground should we find it to be otherwise.
" The desire of property appears to be necessary to man's
animal life.

When he was created, he was endowed with hun-

ger, in common with the lower animals, to warn him of the
necessity of nourishment.

Now, if he were intended to inhabit

those regions only where all nature buds and blossoms as the
rose, and there were no necessity for toil in supplying his daily
want of food, hunger alone would answer the purpose.

But

man was destined to penetr:::te every region and cover the
whole Earth; as well where winter r.eigns as eternal spring.
Hunger, in this case, is wholly inadequate to the preservation
of his being.

Had the Almighty left him, therefore, without

300

an instinct to p1'Dvide beforehancl for his futur e necessity, the
Sacred Historian could not have said, 'And God saw every
thing that H e had made, and behold it was very good.'

But,

in His unerring Wisdom, H e provided for man in this respect,
also, and made the desire of property, at least as far as his
physical wants are concerned, a part of his nature.
" Some will say, that, so far as this desire prompts man to
supply himself with nourishment for future use, it is merely a
modification of hunger.

But, it is the peculiarity of hunger, as

soon as its cravings are satisfied, to cause us to he disgusted
with what before we earnestly sought after.
loatheth the hone3T-comb.'

'The full soul

Hunger, therefore, being very tem-

porary in its nature, its end soon answered, and creating even
an aversion t o foo d as soon as satisfied, it must be very different
from th e desire of property in its relation to our provision of
food, which is constant.
"Now this desire of property b elongs mostly to the intellectual part of man, although we find that animals possess something very much like it.

But, in man it extends to a great

variety of things, arn1 which refer as much to other obj ects as
to food, while in animals it is limited to food alone. \Vhen the
squirrel has taken his hearty meal of butternuts, he will carry
t o his nest, one l1y one, such as may remain , until, in this manner, there may be more than a bushel which this little animal
has industriously collectecl. But some may say that the squirrel
manifests this disposition only at a certain season of the year,

201
while man does it at all times. This is true of the animal in his
wild state, because the food upon which he lives can be found
only at a certain season.

The case, however, is very different

where he can get at foou at other seasons.
observed in a squirrel kept by myself.

This I have often
vVhen offered nuts,

after satisfying his hunger, he would deposit such as might
remain under the rug, or in the corner of the room.

But the

principle went farther than this; for, whenever admitted again
into the room he would immediately examine the places where
he had bestowed the nuts.

If he found them safe, then all was

peacable ; but if they were removed, he would show violent
signs of discontent.
"We might now follow the subject into those details which
show how far the desire of property is intellectual in man, and
how it it differs from the hoarding propensity of lower animals.
This would lead us to consider it in its other connections with
the manners, comforts, and luxuries of life, and to examine its
various modifications in relation to other desires, as manifested
in the love of dress and equipage, in laying up property for
children, and in avarice; but we havtl probably said enough to

answer the intention of our subject.
" RonERT TnouP PAINE.

"Harvard University, October 4, 1849."
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THESIS-ARTICLE XXVII.

" 'A CIVILIZED NATION WITHOUT FREE ACCESS TO BOOKS-PROBABLE
METHOD OF SUPPLYING THEM.'

" However difficult it may be for us to imagine a nation in
a state of civilization, and at the same time deprived of what we
suppose to be the source of that condition, and however impossible such a coincidence may be in the future, history assures us
that such has been the case.

No one, for example, can regard

the Egyptians hut as a civilized nation.

What mean those

mighty piles, the wonder and admiration of all ages ? Their
surpassing skill in embalming the dead?

The needle-work of

'blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen' employed
by the Israelites in constructing the tabernacle?

For, there is

no reason to doubt that they obtained their learning from the
Egyptians, as, indeed, we are assured they did. What do these
facts argue, and others like them, but a high state of refinement; surpassing in some of the arts and branches of learning
. even our own times, with its myriads of books ?
"That the Greeks anJ Romans were highly civilized nations
no one will for a moment doubt.

It may be said that they bad

books. It is true, there was here and there a manuscript locked

303

np in the cabinets of the rich ; but the people, as a mass, were
excluded from these advantages.
"The question, then, naturally arises, what were their substitutes for books, with which we should think it impossible to
dispense ? How came they by all this learning ? One great
means, no doubt, was their traditions.

These were connect ed

with every thing ; with their religion, their state, and their
being.

In fact, t he great mass of their literature is founded

upon traditions.
"Next, are the festal games, which were among their greatest ad vantages.

·I

It was these, indeed, that called forth the

brightest displays of genius.

On these occasions there was

assembled a mighty concourse of people from all parts of the
country ; and, as authors took these occasions to bring forward
their productions, there must have been an opportunity to

..

acquire an immense amount of information, and that, too, of

..I.

the best kind, as few but those of superior talents contended

I
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for the prizes. There were, also, orations by the best statesmen

l

and orators, which offered facilities to a great body of people.
And when, besides this, we take into consideration the numerous schools taught by some of the greatest philosophers that

l

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have lived, we can see that the deficiency of books was tolera-

.l

bly well supplied.

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There was, indeed, this grand difference;

literary knowledge ~as then obtained by the ear, as it is now
In

principally by the eye.

Then the philosopher taught.

short, he was the book.

Now, his office is, generally, to see

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that his pnpils app]y th emselves to their studies. Thus, in one
case, a great amount of knowledge was imparted, in the other
none at all.
" But, besides aJl the knowledge gained and diffused by
such means, there was much which we shou lcl 1)e at a loss to
account for, except Ly supposing it to have originated with
them. Is the human mind to be compared to a barn which can
contain nothing but what is gathered into it?

Is it not rather

like a beautiful vale, where bloom, in uninterrupted succession,
most beautiful and fragrant flowers, which are, as it were, the
children of the soil ? Indeed, if it had no pon·er to originate,
it could not be formecl in the image of that Mind -Which is the
Origin of all things.
" vVe cannot heJp deploring the mistaken principle ·which
too many, in our day, act upon ; that all learning is to be
obtained from books.

Oh! that every one woukl consider

well the immensity of that treasure which is within him ; that
every one would appreciate the ancient precept,
T vw'::ri O'EauTov.

" RonEr.T TRour PAIKE.

" Harvard University, March 3, 1840."

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THESIS - ARTICLE XXVIII.

I

" ' HE WIIO DE CIDES FOR IIDISELF I:\ REJECTIXG WHAT AL~WST ALL
OTHERS RECEIVE. '

"How cur10us is the contemplation of the nobler part of
man !

I

How amazing the different dispositions of the mind !

How entirely the reverse may one man be of another!

\Vhile

one will 'sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster,' another will

•

' with mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; ' one will
regard his parents with respect, another will stain his chariotwheels with a father's blood; one ploughs the main, another
the land; one delights in the clash of arms, another in the
quiet of a villa; you can persuade one that the moon is a green
cheese, and turn to the next man, you will find him doubting
his own existence, or resolving it into nothing but ideas; one
will interpret an important passage of the Bible one way,
another will iuterpret it the r everse.

"There are certain things, however, which every one allows.

In many cases, if any one should reject that which is received
by the multitude, he would · b e justly subjected to t he imputa-

I

tion of skepticism, and, perhaps, of folly; while in other cases
he alone may be right.

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" What, then, is the boundary line ? I-Iic labol', hoc opu8.

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In the first place, there are many things which are self-evident,
things which every one is bound to admit; such as two sides
of a triangle are longer than the remaining one, or that one
straight line can cut another in only one point.

So, also, of the

several obvious qualities which a substance may present to the
senses, as extension in length and breadth, color, odor, &c. To
say that these effects are produced by nothing, would be a
palpable absurdity; and yet even these have been ingeniously
denied by some philosophers.
" There are other things, also, in which, although they are
not self-evident, every one is e21..'Pected to go with the multitude. Examples of this nature abound in biography, history,
geography.
"On the other hand, if hobgoblins, witches, and other creatures of superstition, were now, as formerly, objects of common
b elief, he would certainly be praiseworthy who should array
himself in opposition.

If the world should relapse into that

darkness which once
raise the torch of truth would write
fame.
''The question now naturally arises; why does one, who
<lifters from the multitude, expose himself to censure, or to the
imputation of skepticism or eccentricity, and even to ridicul8;
while another, equally at variance, is not only justified, b~ ;
applauded ? Whence this apparent injustice ? \Ve think tbi·
explanation may be found in the following considerations: :

307

" When any one refuses his assent to the common views on
a certain subj ect, he is censured or praised (as the case may be),
not from the mere fact that he differs from the multitude, but
according as his opinions may be founded in reason and truth.
The multitud e is sometimes wrong, and sometimes right; nnd,
accordingly, he that differs from it must either rise or fall.
" Let every man be upon his guard.

Let him take reason

as the rudder, and his vessel must glide triumphantly over the
angry sea.

vVhile he avoids singularity in trifles, let no one

believe because another believes, or deny because another denies, for that were to be a slave.

But, let every one proudly

maintain what is dictated by reason, though his name be Solus,
and, in the end, he will find that ' Wisdom is justified of all her
children.'
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE.

" Harvard University."

THESIS-ARTICLE X.XIX.
"'ALTHOUGH HE W.A.S ALMOST ALWAYS LOWEST IN ALL HIS CLASSES,
HIS COMPAN IONS AND UIS llI.A.STERS LOOKED UPON HIM, IlY COMMON CONSENT, AS FIRST.'

"This is one of the many instances in which merit and success, in schools and colleges, do not go together. It is one of the
greatest mistakes to judge of the talent of any individual by

308

his standing in his class. High rank is often attained by the
most ordinary minds, while others with splendid endowments
are often compelled to take a lower seat.

This is evident when

we come to compare the requisites for excellence, in schools and
colleges, with the many ways in which talent manifests itself.

" In the course of education how various are the studies !
Look only at the multiplicity pursued in this College. Now,
the standing of every individual is determined not only by his
success in all these studies, but, also, not a little by his observance of certain rules which have no relation to his acadei:nic
pursuits.
"As far as studies are concerned, success requires a wellbalanced mind, and a good memory.

It must be as much at

home in one branch as it is in another.
genera11y a particular turn.

Talent, however, has

The mathematician, for example,

comprehends, at once, the great laws upon which the Universe
is founded, and penetrates into those great truths of Nature
which are hidden from the mental vision of the great bulk of
mankind.

But he can bear the palm only in those studies

which belong to the mathematical department.

His aptitude

is generally limited here, and his memory is commonly deficient,
though good among the stars. H ere, therefore, may be great
genius with only a moderate college rank. Sir Isaac Newton,
the author of natural philosophy, and of whom it has been ·
justly said,
' So near the gods, man cannot nearer go,'

309
entered at Cambridge University when eighteen years of age,
and, till he graduated, appears to have been only known as a
student of mathematics, and this mostly to the Professor.

Or,

who will believe that our own prodigy in mathematics, Truman
Henry Safford, now thirteen years of age, will, if he live, sus, tain the highest rank in his class, according to the ordinary t est
of College merit ?
"Again, genius manifests itself at other times, in remarkable
. ' powers of the imaginati0n. Here we should look for excellence

in theme-writing, and in those studies which require memory.
,.: But this would be no surety for success in oratory, while there
i would be a deficiency in those pursuits which require deep

..
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_-. reasoning, the mathematics, intellectual and moral philosophy,
forensics.
·. ~ass,

These individuals, therefore, would be low in their

although they might possess the genius of a Milton, or
And so it commonly is throughout the

.. ,

In whatever way talent manifests an unusual
.a9ility for any particular branch of learning, or occupation, the

.,<·

.individuals are generally less qualified for success in other
, ,..;:i;~nches, especially those of an opposite nature. H ence an

~

m P.inary but well-balanced mind will often procure for its pos-

:~

or a higher grade in his class than one of superior order.
".By neglecting, moreover, to observe strictly the rules
. \ iliich have no relation to study, the greatest intellectual merit

~d the highest attainments, along with the strictest course of
<:>,rality, are made to yield to the same standard which meas-

.t.
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310

ff

ures the degrees of absolute knowledge and industry, and thus
may fall below the rank of a very ordinary mind.
" If we now take up the catalogue of graduates, year by

year, we shall find our conclusions verified in the frequent obliviousness of those who had received the first honors of College,
while others of the lowest rank have caused the world to stare
with admiration.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Harvard University, November 22, 1849."

THESIS-ARTICLE XXX.

" ' WAS MARY ACCESSORY TO THE DEATH OF DARNLEY

?'

" 'Guilty,' or 'not guilty,' is a point which never can be
determined at this day, when all we have is a general statement
of facts without those minutia:i which are so necessary in every
case where guilt or innocence is not at once evident.
"Being ourselves rather inclined to think that :Mary is innocent (although we must say that there are strong arguments
for a different opinion), we purpose a brief statement of the
reasons upon which our mind is turned towards this belief.
" vVhat tends most to her conviction is the confession of
Paris, a French servant of her household, who testified concerning a conference of :Mary and Bothwell before the murder, in

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311

which that event was plainly alluded to.

Here, to be sure,

they had an important witness ; the only human being who
could testify to a fact which they were so anxious to establish.
But, it should be remembered that this confession was wrung
from. him by torture, and by those who were most deeply
interested in proving Mary's guilt; and the circumstances are
so suspicious throughout that little or no reliance should be
placed upon them.
" There is no other direct evidence, excepting the well
known 'silver box.'

This was said to have been found in pos-

session of the Earl of Morton, and to have contained letters,
contracts, and sonnets supposed to have been addressed by
Mary to Bothwell.

Now, although it is a curious fact that

Morton, at his death, confessed that he promised to join the
conspiracy against Darnley, if Bothwell could procure a sign of
the Queen's consent, but which he was unable to do, he said not
a word about the box.

Dalgleish, also (in whose possession

the box was found, while he was bringing it from the castle,
where it is saiu Bothwell had left it for safe keeping, and had
sent his servant Dalgleish to fetch it there), died asserting the
innocence of the Queen.
" vVhen, therefore, we come to consider that Morton was a
most bitter enemy of the Queen, and that he could have had
no possible object in confessing what was so much against his
character, and so much in favor of his determined adversary,
and that the confession of Dalgleish was made in his dying

312
hour, and when we add the improbability that Bothwell would
preserve these papers which were of no use to him after his
marriage with the Queen, and which contain perfect evidence
of the guilt of both; that when his aftairs were in the most
threatening position he would have left these papers in a castle
where he dared not take refuge himself, and that he would
have sent a servant to bring them through the midst of his
foes, and that Balfour, the governor of the castle, who had
already turned against BothwelJ , would have given up the box
without hesitation; when we come to form these considerations,
we say that we are authorized in the belief that these letters.
and signature were counterfeit ; and we are the more confirmed
in this belief when we bear in mind that forgery was no uncom- ·
mon thing in those days. Randolph, the agent of Elizabeth, is
well known to have forged letters to advance her ally, the Earl
of Morton.

Kirkaldy was imposed upon by a forged letter in

the hands of Morton.

And, as Maitland acknowledged to the -

English Commissioners at York, that he bad often forged the
handwriting of Mary, it is not unreasonable to suppose that he
did it on this occasion, when his own safety was so deeply concerned.
" If Mary had wished to have got rid of Darnley, she could
have done it by other means than causing his death. She could
have obtained a divorce, and, indeed, she had been offered one.
But she refused it, saying that her husband might reform. She
appeared, also, to show great kindness and affection for Darnley,

313
although he was a desperate wretch ; and there is no evidence
that she was not sincere.
" These considerations, and the great uncertainty connected
with every circumstance alleged against her, should dispose us
to think favorably of her; although, as we have said, they by
no means prove her innocence.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AIN.E.

"Harvard University, December G, 1849."

THESIS-ARTICLE
"'SHAKSPEARE'S

xxxr.

.MIRANDA.'

"The Tempe8t, in which Miranda plays so distinguished a
part, is, perhaps, one of the most brilliant productions of Shakspeare, not only for the different characters which are there
represented, but for the truth with which each one is carried out.
" Miranda may be looked upon as representing the realities
of life, under the special circumstances which are supposed to
have attended her mind and person.

She is designed by the

Poet as an example of the human mind developed by the early
influences of a right education, the inculcation of moral and religious sentiment, enforced by a correct example in her parent,
and unaffected, through early seclusion from the world, by any
40

! '·,,·
.,

·~

'i

314
influences of an opposite nature. True, there was that wicked
Calibau ; hut the great depravity of his disposition, contrasted
:! '

'

.

with the amiability and virtue of lVIiranda's father, must only
have served the purpose of increasing her detestation of vice.
" W e see, too, in Miranda, an illustration of the original

4'

',

'

Ill~~-

'

dignity of human nature ; and if this he apparently contra-

~· ..

dicted by the character of the fiend, it must be recollected

II!:·

th at his early life was moulded hy a savage, which serves, like

'•

.

'

the other instance, as a proof that 'as the twig is b ent the tree's
inclined.'

Again, as this contrast in character corresponds with

what we commonly witness from opposite modes of education,
it becomes an evidence that the Poet has been true to Nature
in the personification of Miranda.
"And now, while contemplating the manner in which virtue .
and vice are here presented, especia11y as the former is contrasted with the latter, we find that some moralists are mistaken in
their opinion that no instruction can be derived from dramatic
writings.

-what a lesson, ind eed, <lo we read here !

What

admirable simplicity, what coiTectness of principles in Miranda!
vVhat charming humanity; and, above a11, her affection for her
parent, which, springing forth in the midst of her other noble
qualities, is 'like apples of gold in pictures of silver.'
"There are fe w things ·which are a greater ornament to man
,

,

than a r espect for those ·who gave him birth.

Indeed, it is the.

high command of H eaven, and upon it has been made to depend our success and respectability. It is this which lies at the

315
foundation of love to our neighbor.

How incumbent, t hen,

upon parents to instil early into their children the principles of
· rectitude, at an age when their minds are tender and :flexible.
There is a common opinion that the child must come to years
of discretion before he cau be a fit subj ect for the influences of
Religion.

Such was not the idea of Prospero.

"There is in Miramb one trait which appears, at first, to be
open to censure.

It is the precipitnncy which she manifests in

her love affair ; what some may think to be rashness.

But

v:rhen we consider the peculiar circumstances under which she
was placed, it will be seen that, so far from being a blemish in
her character, it is necessary to its consistency ; that it was
natural for her to give away her heart as soon as she found a
suitable obj ect, and that, in so doing, she was only acting out
the promptings of her innocent disposition.

This, however,

forms one of the rare instances in which it may not be always
safe to represent human nature in its most amiable simplicity;
for it will not answer in the practical world, where we must
restrain our natural impulses and exercise deliberation.
"We have not taken that limited view of Miranda which
most Commentators have clone, but the comprehensive one
intended by the Creator in real life.

vVe have regarded her

as an example of purity, in which that which is considered hy
most as the essence, forms but an incident.
"ROBERT TROUP PAINE.

"Harvard University, October 14, 1848."

316

.
THESIS-ARTICLE XXXII.
" 'THE ORIGIN OF OUR FRIENDSHIPS.'

" When man was created, he was endowed with certain
instincts and propensities, both for the preservation of the individual and the perpetuation of his species.

Such are hunger,

thirst, the fear of death, parental and filial affection.

This is

all that would be necessary to man as an animal being, unless
we include, also, the desire of property, or some instinctive propensity analogous to it.

If the Creator had ceased here, He

would have left the best part unprovided for, and there would
have been but little difference between a man and a dog.

But,

the Creator intended man for a higher sphere, endowed him
with intellectual powers, and gave him appropriate propensities
for the exercise of those powers.

Among these is the principle

of curiosity, the desire of property, the desire of power, and
others analogous.

Had the Creator gone no farther than this,

man would be able to elevate his mind above sublunary things,
and, moving among the stars, to have become acquainted with
the beautiful symmetry of the Universe. But, had He stopped
here, how faint an idea should we have had of the passage,
' Goel created man in His own image ? '

9
r"'

If Phidias, in his

317

statue of Olympian Jupiter, bad omitte<l. the head and shoulders, his work would have been about as complete as the image
of God would be, if man had only intellectual endowments.
But the Creator is a better Designer than to have committed
such an error as this; for, to man's intellectual faculties He
added one still higher, the moral faculty, and associatecl with
it peculiar and appropriate propensities, such as gratitude, compassion, patriotism, universal benevolenre, jealousy. Still there

is another thing needful to complete His work, without which
the moral faculty would be in a very imperfect state, and man
could claim very little resemblance to that God, vVho, Scripture
says, 'is Love.' But it has pleased that God, in the formation
of man, to give him, also, the spirit of zo,ve and jl'iend.ship.
"Thus, we think that the true origin of our friendships must
be referred to an ultimate fact in our nature. Still, however,
like other endowments, it may be called forth and modified by
circumstances. Owing to those influences, and the peculiar
nature of friendship, it can exist in its full extent and purity
among comparatively few. But this should be no argument
against its being an inherent principle of our nature. It is not
necessary to this conclusion that it should be generally manifested, but generally possessed. We might equally say that
parental affection is not an instinctive principle, because parents
do not always exercise it, as to deny the constitutional nature
of the other for a like reason.

Indeed, however latent it may

be, it is common to all, or there could be no reclamation of

.

'

-..

318

the hardened sinner.

It must therefore exist in the breast of a

Nero as well as of a John.
"As to the circumstances which have m"t>st influence upon
friendship, we may say, in the first place, that, as this feeling,
in its proper acceptation, can be exercised towards only a few,
it will naturally be most frequent and intense among those who
are most intimate, particularly such as are associated in their
daily pursuits. Hence it is, that ties of the warmest friendship
are found among classmates at College, particularly chums; so
much so that he (as President Sparks said in his address) must
be wanting in the finest feelings of our natu.re who would not '
grasp the hand of a Classmate with unusual zest, wherever he
might find him.
" Secondly, friendship, as known to all who h~ve enjoyed it, ,}'
is strengthened by similarity of tastes an<l. habits. This, too, is very generally exemplified. among classmates, and among Chris- ·.;
tian brethren.

""·

There is often something here like what may -·

be called a moral electricity.

But, while they are bands of ~-­

friends, respectively, the one may have only a formal respect -.
for the other.

..,.. .

!

"Thirdly, the bond is more firmly united by our dependence
41'
upon each other. With what feelings do we regard him who -; :
smooths our brow in sickness, or comforts us with kind words ·

t

when downhearted!
" How beautiful the summary by Pope, in the
lines:-

319
' ' Vants, frailties, passions, closer still ally
The common interest, and endear the tic.
To these ire 01Yc true friendship, lorn sincere,
Each home-felt joy that life inherit5 hero.'

"RormRT TnouP

PAINE.

"Harvard University, September 27, 1840."

THESIS-ARTICLE XXXIII.
'"

1

CICERO, I N A LETTER 'l'O TRETIATI US,

'l'IIEN WI'l'll THE ARnIY IN

.GAUL, LAUGHS A'l ' HIM FOR HIS CI:IILD ISII IIANKEHlNG AFTER TUE
CITY.'

" ' Tl:ere are, who, distant from their native soil,
Still for their own and country's glory toil ;
While some, fast anchored to their parent spot,

In life are useless, and in death forgot.'

" The whole of this letter is nothing more than a paraphrase
of 'the wise saying of an Eastern sage,' - ' vVlwtsoevm' thy hand
.fondetli to do, do it ?JYitli thy niiglit.'

Yes, industry and perseverance are peculiarly the characteristics of him whom you can

truly call a man. They alone are the guides to honor, to worth
and true respectability.
highest end of his being.

By them alone can man attain the
He may sometimes seek recreation

from the busy scenes of life in those of fashion and elegance.
He may do it, too, with profit and amusement. But, to be the

320

creatures of fashion, to live to-day regardless of to-morrow, is
,.

the act of the butterfly, which, sporting thoughtlessly
upon the
,
summer breeze, suddenly finds the variegated dust of its gorgeous wings scattered to the winds. But the creature of fashion
and the butterfly differ in this respect.

The latter is acting out

the purposes of his being, while the former not only cuts sh<l!'i
the brief span allotted to his kind, but spends it in a strange '
perversion of Nature's plans.
' In life he's useless, and in death forgot.'

"Another propensity, which is inconsistent with
spirit of a man, is an excessive attachment, a childish respect
for one's native spot.

This is to be overcome only by the spirit ·

of industry and perseverance, a firm determination to fight
bravely the battle, wherever the scene of action may be. We
'.<:I ,

do not mean to say that one should choke all warm feelings for - ::r
the place of his birth ; for we believe them to be consistent

~·
-~

with the highest and noblest spirits, nay, perhaps one of their ,
universal characteristics. How delightful is it when in a foreign -~
land, engaged in the arduous duties of life, to now and then
transport yourself on the wings of memory to the place where
you have passed childhood's golden hours ! What a balm does
it diffuse over your manly toils !
"But, while we admire and sympathize with such a spirit,
how differently, on the other hand , do we regard that slavish·

I

321
ness to one's natal spot, which disqualifies man to act in the
drama of life.

The former belongs to minds of greatness and

energy ; but the latter is al ways significant of ·weakness, and
feebleness of purpose.

The cases are much analogous to one's

affection for his mother ; for, while there can be no greater
ornament to a man than a heartfelt care, and love, and reverence of her who gave him birth, still, upon whom clo we bestow
greater contempt than upon him who is 'tied to his mother's
apron-striug?' ·(See page 153.)
"RonERT TnouP PAINE.
"Harvard University, June 20, 1850."
The following Thesis, written a little more than five months
. before his death, was found among his private papers, forwarded
to his Parents from Cambridge.

It appears to have been read

before one of the literary Societies with which he was connected; and the Parents have printed it to show the nature of his
contributions to those Societies, his expanded views, his aspirations after knowledge, his universal philanthropy, and as giving,
also, a right construction to his Letters relative to the Cholera.
(Sae page 153.)

Coming from a Youth, it may go with the
rest, too, in promoting sympathetic views in other youthful
minds.

The manuscript will be bound with the folio volume

mentioned hereafter; as will be, also, those of A rticles II. and
1

III., and of the Prayer of his early. Childhood.

,

The beginning is torn away.
. TA.GES OF TRA.YELLING.
41

The subject is the ADVAN·

~

l!

322

! .

•'

THESIS-ARTICLE XXXIV.

*

*

*

'+ -

"The world is filled with scenes to which

spirits of every cast must respond with delight.

Almost·every

step the traveller makes lays open to him a new theatre of
pleasure, drawn either from the place itself or the associations
with which he surrounds it."

(Herr again nearly a page of the

manuscript is torn away.)
" To the Divin_e the land of Palestine, once the scene of the
labors and ad ventures of the great and the good, must be a
source of enjoyment which he can find in no other country." ,
(Torn again.)
"Even the book-worm, shou1d he ever be tempted to leave
his closet, can find in other lands libraries where he is able to
satisfy an appetite which the scanty means he enjoyed at home
served only to increase.
'' While to the universa1 traveller, to the man whose atten·
tion is fixed upon every thing, there is no place that has not
a charm, the sublimities and the beauties of Nature, and the
magnificence of Art, combine to form the spell which is strength· · ·
ened by the variety they afford, and he, of all men, feels pecu·
liarly the truth of the saying, 'variety is the spice of life.'
"But the pleasure of which travelling is the source is not

323
confined to the time actually spent in it; for the various scenes
and adventures fill the mind with pleasing recollections which
spread a smile over the countenance of the aged man, and gladden those clays of which he might otherwise say 'I have no
pleasure in them.' Travel, then, is to man a source of the most
exquisite and rational enjoyment ; one, too, most lasting in its
nature.

If this were all that could be alleged in its favor, how

incalculable would be its benefits.
"We now come to consider our subject in a higher point of
view; the value of travel as a means of the acquisition of knowledge.
"As a certain degree of book-learning greatly enhances the
enjoyment of travel, so that, in its turn, must vastly increase
the stock of information which has been obtained from books.
This benefit is extended to men in all the departments of science
and literature.

It is in this way, alone, that the naturalist can

be successful in his labors.
observed.

Nature to be described must be

Before lier secrets can be published to the world

they must be discovered. It was thus that Pliny, Bu:ffon, Audubon, Wilson, and a11 other great naturalists, have become so
intimately acquainted with Nature, or certain departments of
Nature, and have gained that fame which so justly attaches to
their names.

The chemist, too, and the natural philosopher,

now in the laboratory or the studio, examine more or less into
the laws of Nature; the one, those which concern the particles
of matter, tD.e other, those which regulate huge masses. But

'

324

when they come from their retirement, and gc forth into the
world, the great Laboratory of Nature, they then observe the
operation of those laws, and are able to see a demonstration of
their reasonings.
"But, although the chemist can now conduct most examinations successfully in the laboratory, it was not so in the beginning ; for the £rst examinations bad to be made upon Nature
herself, or, rather, by the experiments which she performed;
as the laboratory is only a bumble imi+,ation of Nature.

When

the chemist, by means of re-agents, decomposes a certain compound into its elements, or unites them again to form a new
'I

'.

compound, be merely imitates what goes on in the world
around us on an extensive scale; or, when by the beat of his
furnace be breaks the union between the particles of matter, it
is but an imitation of what is carried on by the great internal
£res of the earth.

Had it not been for the travels of such men

as Black, Berzelius, Davy, and Humboldt, where must have
been the sciences of chemistry and natural philosophy; especia11y chemistry, which, although now one of the most advanced,
must otherwise have been still in its swaddling clothes.
"To th e botanist travel is of peculiar advantage. It needs
no argument to show that the £rst knowledge of the .beautiful
order w bicb exists in the vegetable kingdom must have been
derived from the observation of living plants; and, although
one may now obtain much information from an examination of
herbariums, yet who shall say that labors spent upon fresh and

325
verdant Nature are not crowned with much greater success
than those bestowed upon the dried-up and mummified specimens of which botanical co1lections are composed!
"To the geologist travel is imlispensable.

He has to do,

not with any particular stratum in any particular place, hut
with the general conformation of the earth.

He has to observe

many different strata in regions remote from one another ; and,
by comparing those that he find s in one with those that he
finds in another, he makes deductions, and arrives at general
, conclusions with regard to the whole.
"I cannot dismiss this part of my subj ect ''"ithout speaking
of the physician, a character in whom many of us may hereafter
be particularly interested.

If he be a man of observation and

correct judgment, travel must be to him a great source of improvement.

It is thus he can become acquainted with a11 dis-

eases and all stages of the same disease.

Thus he enters into

the philosophy of morbid nature, and what to many of his profession who have been less favored with opportunities appears
to be wrapped in mystery, is to him perfectly plain and simple.
It was thus with Hippocrates and Galen, and most others whose
names stand forth in bold relief in the great Temple of Medicine; and thus it must be with most of those who hereafter
shall wish to follow in their paths.
" It must not be imagined, however, that the benefits of

travel, in this respect, are confined to the individuals themselves.

T1cl world at large has a share in them ; for the

326
researches thus made, and the information thus gained by the
naturalist, the chemist, the philosopher, and the geologist, are
not allowed to be imprisoned in their brains, for each vies with
another in the respective sciences in publishing to the world
new truths ; thus affording an opportunity to multitudes of
others, less favored with the advantages of travel, of gaining
a general knowledge, though by no means so extensive as when
the study of their works is accompanied by actual observation
of Nature.

'What is it, too, more than the knowledge first

acquired by opportunities of travel, aided by the art of printing, that has served to dissipate the thick shades of ignorance
and superstition, so characteristic of the middle ages, and diffuse that general information by which we are so happily distinguished from all who have gone before us?
"But, it is not in the knowledge itself that these benefits
end; for it is the application of this knowledge which constitutes many of the useful arts to which we owe so many of the
outward comforts and blessings of life. H ere, again, it behooves

~·

me to r ecur, above all others, to the physician, whose personal :'
knowledge forms so small a consid eration when compared with ~
the smiling looks, the ruddy cheeks, the happy firesides, which
hail him as the greatest benefactor of his race-as ttuly 'the ·~
man of God.'
"In treating of the second part of our subject, then, we

have considered the direct benefits of travel to the individual ;
himself, either as an opportunity of discovering new truths, or ·,

327

as a means of facilitating their study from books; also, of the
advantages accruing to the world at large from the diffusion of
this knowledge, its application to the useful arts, and, above all,
its influence on the practice of medicine.
"But let us go one step higher, and view our subj ect in a
still nobler aspect; the effects of travelling upon the mind.
Here, then, what a mighty difference between the man who
shoulders his carpet-bag and the man who trots the baby!
How expanded the mind of the former ! How broad his
ideas! How liberal his views! How changed the whole inner
man from the time he first crawled forth from the narrow
limits of his domicil ! He not only must have the superiority,
but must feel it. The traveller must regard the man whose
world has been his house very much in the same light that the
Senior looks upon the Freshman ; with feelings, however, of
pity, never of contempt-for the man who has never travelled
may be truly styled the Freshman of the world.

But let us

pursue the matter a little more in detail.
"First, then, travel serves to free the mind from the shackles
of bigotry, a spirit one of the most universal yet the most conceited, most selfish, that the human breast can harbor. The
man, whose ideas have been enlarged by travel, can have no
fellowship with the narrow-minded who condemn all others who
happen to differ from them in belief or opinion, even upon the
most trifling subjects, and this, too, in the most unimportant
ceremonies of Religion.

The traveller learns to look through

328
the outward form to the spirit of which it is the manifestation;
and, while he himself adopts a certain creed, and engages in
certain acts of devotion, he extends tuat charity to others, who
differ from him in either, that he would have others extend to
him ; bearing in mind that it was not ordained that all should
think alike, and that the same spirit of devotion may be expressed by totally different acts.
" But his views extend, in this respect, still farther than the
different sects of his own Religion.
Religions.

They extend to different

He has seen the Hindoo sacrifice himself beneath

the car of J uggemaut, the Chinaman prostrate himself before
his God Josh, and the fire-worshipper do homage before the
hallowed flame.

He has reflected upon the various pictures

before him ; he has pitied these creatureEI.._ of superstition, and
wished them a thousand times the acl vantages which he has en-.
joyed.

But he penetrates beneath the outward acts, and finds

them prompted by the same zealous spirit which actuated the.
breast of the most pious saint, and he certainly cannot doubt of
its acceptance:::-

He finds, moreover, not only the spirit of all

R eligions to be the same, but also their object, namely, the
homage of a Being · superior to man, and upon Whom man
every where feels himself dependent.
¥'

Thus he unites under

Our S::n~our appears to have gone much farther than this in his compassion of

ignorance :-" Father, f orgive them, for they know not what they do." It is a godly
example for us, not only of forgiveness, but that we should " J udge not according to
the appearance, but j udge righteous judgmen t." Also, Romans, chapters 2, 5, 14.-

(Trrn p ARENTS.]

329

the same bond of broth erhood not only all sects of the Christian Religion, but all religions. Not now, as perhaps once he
did, does he look upon his own sect as the privileged few, but
sees even in the sincere pagan a fellow traveller t o the Land of
Bliss.

Not now does he look upon the Object of his worship

as taking pleasure only in the incense offered in the temples
where his ow n creed is preached, but as a Being
" ' Whose Temple is all spn cc,
\V1iosc Altar, Earth, Sea, Skies ; '

taking delight in all the incense that rises from this great Altar;
a compound pc·rfume, in which that offered by each creed, sect,
kindred, or tongue, forms one ingredient.
"But, not only are the views of the traveller himself thus
enlarged, but it is through him that the same spirit of liberality
must be diffused in the world, that hostility between different
bodies of Christians, arising from the spirit of sectarianism,
must be finally quelled, and all sects be brought to feel that,
although they are apparently different, they are essentially the
same, and have one common object. It is through the traveller,
moreover, that the tirades against the world and its innocent

•r

pleasures must be suppressed; for certainly no one but he who
has never seen the world can give vent to such language as is
too common, hut which, to say the most, is a poor compliment
to the Creator.
"Not only, then, does the traveller become freed from big42
l

"i•

330

otry, but his ideas upon all subjects
among others, upon that of happiness.

b~come

extended, and,

All of you must have

met with multitudes of those who think that none can be
happy ·who are addicted to different habits from them; who
follow a different occupation, or are placed in different circumstances ; who live under a different government, or inhabit a
different clime ; in fine, that they and a few others, who live in
the same manner and are situated the same as they, are the
only happy of th e Earth.
"There is another class, too, with which all must be more or
less conversant, who are continually thinking, ' Oh ! if we only
had this,' or ' we only had that, how happy should we be ! '
Perhaps it mfly be wealth, power, knowledge, or a particular
combination of outward circumstances, in which they conceive
this treasure, happiness, to dwell.
delusion of such spirits.

But the traveller sees the

He finds that happiness has no par-

ticular home; for the tenant of the frigid zone proclaims it as
his own," 'Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And liis long nights of revelry and ease.
The naked negro, panting at the line,
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.'

" The traveller finds that happiness may be possessed alike
by all, the learned and the ignorant, the high, the low, the rich

L

'

M

I

l

..''
331

the poor ; that neither education, nor outward c1rcumcan bestow this precious gift, that alone
" ' - - - conte nt can spread a charm,
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small,
H e sees his little lot the lot of all ;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To shame the meannrss of his humLlc shed ;

No costly lord the sumptuous ban<J.uct deal,
To make him loathe his Yegetable meal ;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.'

Thus the traveller finds the great means of happiness pro"in our nature; so that, wherever he goes, among men of
r'.

' ver mode or condition of life, he still meets with the

.heart and the cheerful look. The whole world, in fine,
". o him a Winnipisseaukee. *
::

~~ ~

ut, it is not only with a part of our nature with which
·traveller becomes acquainted.

"? -

The whole of it lies before

(He · sees the original, in the correct copy of which rests
·_. fame of the great Shakspeare. What more interesting !
t more elevating than the study of human nature ! To

,e working of the passions, nay, of all the inward springs
·- J>robably the true Indian name of the Winnipisseogee Lake, and expressive of
' ~ty· of_it.<i scenery, "which is considered superior to any thing else of the kind
. .. mted States." The Lake is twenty-five miles long, and ten broad, abounds
contains 365 islands. -[THE PARENTS.]

and

332
of action ; to watch the actions of others, and from them to go
to the motives of which they are only the manifestation; to fol.
low on the one hand hypocrisy, knavery, and intrigue, through i'
all their forms, and then to turn to all that is great and noble; "·
and, in viewing others, as in a mirror, to see yourself-thus.·
being able, literally, to fulfil the the precept of the philosopher, ~·;:
T11w{ft ut:avi-oY.

"It remains now to consider the benefits of travel to Society•.'··
As the good of mankind is of paramount importance to that of;
an individual, and as every individual forms a part of societY~
we rank the advantages which may come under this divisioi:i: ~f
our subject as first in importance. Travel serves, then, to briDJ

•

;;

all orders of men together.

It is thus the educated and ·

ignorant, the monarch and the dumpling-woman, meet in so~;
intercourse.

It is needless to say how much this brings all ·.

'~·

classes into their natural relations, and to realize more forcibl7 ·
the tie of common brotherhood ; while this serves to 'crea_
general good feeling, and would b e particularly the ease r.
what formerly was known by the ' ties of hospitality' coUl~ :
now be carried out.

But the enormous increase of travel

rendered this utterly impossible in many places ; so that, ins
of becoming a private guest, the traveller takes shelter in

hUll
"'

public house. Still, there is many a wild sequestered spo~ M>,
which the traveller, seeking for novelty, winds his way, ail
greets the peasant's hut with his cheerful presence, partalrnlJ·
the frugal board, and relates a merry tale to which the

1

333

and anon, proclaims his satisfaction by exclamations of
nder. It is this, moreover, that serves to unite all nations
. kindreds, all ranks and conditions, in one common interest,

.

'"makes each feel his dependence upon the other, that in
It is this feeling that has done so

, of late, to improve the condition of society throughout
orld. It is this which, when it has consummated its work,
~ :finally

unite, firmly and everlastingly, all the families of

~-·

")

h under the bands of Peace.
· ut,~ as you are now saying in your hearts, ' Quousque tan-

•

~

hutere nostra patientia,' I must halt in my career, bearing

d 'the wise saymg of the Eastern Sage,' ]J!tya

. t.'

eptember 20, 1850."

" RoBERT TnouP

xaxo11

P.AINE•

