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335

THEME - ARTICLE XX.XV.

ere is implanted in the breast of man a feeling of fond-

OJ

his country, for his native town, and for the place

~e has passed his early days by the social fireside in the
.. .,
. of an affectionate family. This is observable in all na-

'.kindreds, and t ongues, from the time when Adam, with
nsort Eve, was driven from the earthly Paradise, to the

"

You may even distinguish it, in some degree,
abs of the desert, and in the wilder savage. You may

•:in·* .the
~

.~
.~.

ignorant idolater as well as among enlightened

; among the inhabitants of the Pacific Islands as well
This feeling, moreover, is not

to the human race. Brute animals have a fondness for
They cling to it, they flee t o it ns a place of

~

... t

e .comforts of home are innumerable.

<t~

•

It is there that

~lite supplied, and wishes are gratified. There, are friends

iti in calamity, and afford us comfort in sickness and misfor6:: ,·There, we have

the society of our parents till the cold

,of death severs the tie, and the spirit returns to the God

/ ..

' .

Ii'' .

336

r.!'···

That gave it. Time, at length,
p_1idst of many children.
" Thi'> affection for home is displayed wherever -·,
be ; in whatever land his lot may be cast.
battle-field.

Go with ~

There, his dear family and sweet home

uppermost in his mind.

There, amidst the roar of ~a p

clashing of swords, the pleasant scenes of his boy~ ·:'t'
under his father's roof, form the subjects of his re:O.e .·
remembers those hours when he wa1; a stranger to

sp

grief had not as yet descended upon nis brow. H~ . r
his boyish sports ; and carrying his thoughts

b~{

times long since gone by, he will even now imagi~e ~moment as he had been engaged in the game of ball, 'a.

J>;;t

,

taking a part in the chase, and at another pulling out '11
sparkling brook the spotted trout.

'"

':'hen his family -~

again upon his miml, and he is encouraged to fight .,_'
Knowing that both his and their safety may depen4{!
valor, he fights for his life, his country, and his hom~·r:; ·
!•;
him to whatever quarter of .the globe you please, an
r ~·,

;J

any irnaginahle circumstances, you will see the same
concern for his family.
" We can plainly discern, from a little observation,
is merely carrying out the great design which the Almig
made for the happiness and well-being of His creatUfes,;I
is not only true of the whole human family, but each'
animals, and every species of vegetables, have a cliin,

337

adapted to their subsistence.

.. ,

Even this latter condition is

.;. n among certain tribes of men. Take the black African from
sunny clime and carry him to the frigid zone, he will soon

· .;

. i•

e away, and pale death will soon spread its mantle over that

,4which a short time ago was delighting in a scorching cli-

te. So take the orange from its native country, where it is
.

1

een and flourishing tree, and attempt to cultivate it in an

•:
qsp~ere

of the Middle States, it dwindles into a shrub. The

principle is carried out in the two living kingdoms.

I,t was the comforts and attachments to home that our Sa-~ .. beautifully referred to in the :finest and most instructive
·~~ parables.

The prodigal son, having wasted his living in

country,
came at length to himself, and was compelled to
.....

~">•

-'How
many hired servants of my father's house have
•.,
,e;i?ugh, and to spare, and I perish with hunger.'

It was

~~-~hat the blessings of his home, and a father's care and
.1!f'u~p.ess

presented themselves to his mind, as a reprover of

~~vic~edness and folly ; and he at length broke forth in the

;:.~~ss eloquence of woe.

' I will arise, and go unto my

,er, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against

... ~

ven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called
,~ son; make me as one of thy hired servants.'
1

See now,

p .before he reaches the house he begins to realize the bless-

~ of that dear home which he thought so little of before ;
f

,while he is 'yet a great way off,' his ever affectionate father
to meet him, falls upon his neck and kisses him.
43

He gives

'

.

j

•1

..'

'

I

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l

!

338

him nc n1:mrimand, but tells his servants to bring forth th~.
robe and put it on him, and to put a ring on his finger ,
r

t.

t·

' .
" Here is a picture of home painted by the Saviour. H.,!

But this parable would not confine the mind to earth. ·_.y'f ;f

it

lead it far above the stars, into regions of never fading

has a higher aim than merely to describe an earthly sc~f1C
rec~v1

under the type of the affection of a parent, who

demonstrations of the greatest joy his penitent son, numbers him in the bosom of his family, is shown

the ~

mercy of our Heavenly Father in pardoning, and eve
with His Holy Spirit the sinner who is truly sorro
faults; and, under the symbol of the comforts and . p1.
an earthly home, compared with being an outcast '
land, is sho\\·n the enjoyments attendant upon the piit.
and contrasted with the wre ·~chedness that accompafil..:
wickedness and folly; for ' the ways of wisdom

.

are

pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.'
parable there is more instruction to be derived than·
sermons, or t en thousand no.vels.

'

"'i

Such is the co:tic'

Scripture. There is often to be found in a few lines

w

would spin out into volumes and volumes. As a stan :
of this, take the very commencement of Holy Writ, tli
I

~

tiful and sublime chapter concerning the Creation of t1i
which stands unrivalled in the vast field of literatute.
conciseness is, in my opinion, one of the greatest
the Divine origin of the Bible.

evid~

339
• l!ii.

'

"But to return more to our subject.

Great and innumera-

. ble as are the blessings of home, still how many are there who
.

. ·are not aware of the favors they are continually receiving from
• It<

-:their Creator, and from their kind parents, and whose unnatural
'

.· hearts are perfect strangers to love ; hut the time "-ill come
hen they will repent in sackcloth and ashes. That time will be
,

~

en those blessings have ftec.1 away as the noonday shadow-

. eto return no more.

Then will they rise before the offender, ·

battalions, to remind him of .the ingratitude of his early days,
d floods of tears will roll down his cheeks as he reflects upon
other's anxious care or a father's watchful eye, and in the

'ef of his heart he will smite upon his breast, and exclaimbe merciful to me a sinner ! '
" ' Why does the mind, where'cr we roam,
Cling to the spot our earliest horne ?
The heaith, the board, the social glee,
Are fondly kept in memory.
" 'The little group, so thoughtless, gay,
The pastimes at the close of day,

By grief untouched, unknown to sorrow,
No sad forebodings of to-morrow.

..

~

" 'The mild rebuke in kindness given,
The lips that taught the way to H eaven,
The watchful eye, the anxious care,

...

The love unfeigned - a.11, all were there.'
" ROBERT TROUP

',

p AINE.

~·1Golumbia College Grammar School, April, 1E!tA."

.

i

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~

i'

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340

'l'IIEME -AR'rICLE XX.XVI.

" Night may be considered under several significations, some
of which are distinguished by comforts, pleasures, and blessin~ .~
and others by woes. First in order comes the natural
and the great uses for which it is ordained.

nigh~

f

This appears to be ,

the season designed in the economy of the Creator for reviving.~~
languid and drooping Nature.

Who can declare its seemingly '\. •

miraculous ·power ? The animal kingdom, fatigued, worn out,

!

in the brevity of a day; the weary limbs, the broken heart, the :. . ·
deathly looks, the feverish skin, drooping vegetation, the

parch~ ~

eel earth and the fading leaf, all lift up their voice to Heaven, .' .
and cry for rest and refreshment; and while the word is yet in
~·

"'

their mouths, Night, in her mission of mercy, is fast advancing, \['
bearing healing in her wings, in her right hand 'Nature's sweet
restorer, balm~' sleep,' and in her left the dews of Heaven. In
the morning, how is the scene changed !

The fatigue, the

stupor, the listl essness, that a few hours before held undisputed
sway, are now turned to vigor, and universal mirth and happiness.

This, succeeded by the early beams of Phcebus, shining · '

with sparkling lustre upon the drops of dew, as they cling to
the verdant grass, or hang suspended from the tender leaf; the

341

bling songsters, and the cheerful song of the merry hay-

ers, serves

to produce a scene which truly shows forth the

and the loving kindness of Him vVho ruleth among the
en of men, and to describe which, in its proper colors,
d be beyond the power of angelic tongue .
.1But that is not all. Look at the canopy of Heaven. vVhat
Even to
oughtless or uneducated the glittering points are objects
~ 'ration

in their external appearance alone; but the man

ection discovers in them the sublime as well as the beau• ' In them he can see his Maker ; in them he can see
ted, as in a glass, his own comparative littleness, and he is
hen he considers that those bodies, which appear to be
eeks, but mites, are suns, in magniti de and splendor like
1

,n, and that, around each of them probably revolves a
• y system, 'guided' like ' Arcturus and his sons.'

His

r. increases when reason and analogy lead him to reflect
each of these worlds contains as many, and, perchance,
times as many inhabitants as our own favorite Earth.
hat can he say when he turns his eyes to the milky-way,
~ nebulm, and considers that their light is produced by the
ed light of myriads of separate stars, more distant, per' from each other than our sun from Sirius, and which, like
. that shine by themselves, are as many myriads of suns,
. d which also revolve systems that are probably inhabited
innumerable beings like ourselves!

Thul?, liP, soon finds

...,

342

himself lost in the immensity of space ; lost in devotional feelrng.

And, surely, these thoughts should be enough to break

the pride of science, o:i· of the most haughty and cruel tyrant.
If only indulged, they must lead the vainglorious to more
humble views of themselves, and all earthly greatness must
appear to them an insignificant thing.

For what is a Newton,

or the greatest monarch, when weighed in the balance with
countless myriads of rational beings like themselves!

These

are the greater wonders, wonderful as are the tributary spheres.
•
What exalted ideas must, then, be entertained of Him Who
spoke but the word, and they sprung into existence, and Who;

'§ ,

ever since their Creation, has continued to rule the motions 'of ·'~;, ·
the heavenly bodies, and to shower His blessings upon everf

·~'

creature, thinking not even the meanest insect beneath His n:cf.

'I .

tice, or unworthy of His Almighty Protection.

And what

an ' ::

encouragement to every human heart to know, that, although
it is but one among so many countless myriads, not one ' good 1~:~
thought, not one good word, will pass unobserved, unreward , ·
by Hirn Who is righteousness itself.
" But we must not stop here.

Although the stars and the

planets are the first things in Creation that attract our observ&o ,
tion, and are best calculated to draw off the mind from earth, ' ·
shall we find nothing to admire, as a munificence of Night, ,m,

}

the trailing or hairy comets, no instruction to draw from th~ <,
mysterious bodies, about whicb, although passing so near th~ ~~
earth, we know nothing as regards their composition, or the ~.

343

purpose for which they were designed-no analogy whatever
to guide our inquiry?

That remains known, uuthought of, t o

the Mind alone by vVhich was :first formed the phn of their
Creation. They startle us with their appearance, they confound
us with their disappearance.
"And shall we not add t o our nocturnal ,·iew that soft and
, gentle light which rests upon the northern horizon, on a still
evening of Autumn, or flashes up to the zenith, and which
defies the pencil of an Apelles, or the pen of a Virgil or a
Homer?

No heart has been obtuse to this, nor will it ever

cease to be the admiration ·of all who behold it.

The literary

will continue to describe it, and the scientific more vainly to
fathom its objects.

Or shall we pass in silence the fiery mete-

ors, as they shoot athwart the heavens, or as others descend like

ashower of stars ?

To the contemplative mind there is no one

of them that does not yield the richest instruction, or improve
his heart; and to every observer they are among the wonders
of the Night.
"After subj ecting these wonders to our deliberation, we
may truly say, that the book of Nature i'3 most voluminous in
the heavens, and may well exclaim with the Psalmist:
"'The heavens declare the Glory of God, and the firmament
showeth His handy work.'
" RonERT TnouP PAINE.

" N. B.

To be continued."

344

THEME -ARTICLE XXXVIL
"' NIGHT.'-CONTINUED.

"Night is the season most adapted to silent meditation, self. · :~
examination, fervent prayer, and thanksgiving ; for, the ~orlJ, ..
shut out, and harassing cares banished from the mind, the heart

•t>f ..

must b e better qualified for holding communion with

its -~··

and the Christian alone within his closet, or surrounded by

,¥f ~ '

family, while perusing the sacred pages of the Bible, or eng~ x.-t

l".

in prayer, must feel a degree of reverential awe and holy, ~ . ~g;
pervade his heart, which the noise and bustle of the day ... ,,
never inspire, but which, on the contrary, only tend to <Ip. ·
out all serious thoughts, holy desires, and emotions of gratitud ·1 .·
Or, when laying his head upon the pillow, how often are•.
misdeeds of his past life, the unbridled tongue, the idle ho .
profaned Sabbaths, injured neighbors, and the slighted wido~
wont to rise in legions before him; and, while reflecting

u~

these, his countenance is changed, his thoughts are troubled,~ ·, <11
mind is completely overcome with grief that he should

have '

thus pursued a perverse course, notwithstanding the many bleat · ·
ings which had been daily showered upon his head-a grief..
which no tongue can utter, no words express, which can only~ ·:;:
felt by its unhappy victim.

-I

Sleep goes from him and leaves

345

him tossed upon a troubled sea of anguish, until he has sincerely
repented, acknowledged the goodness of Heaven in not cutting

him off in the midst of his career, but thus enabling him to see
him.s,elf and to form new r esolutions for the future, ::md, smiting
himself upon his bosom, has prayed Goel to be merciful to him
a sinner, and to enable him to direct his steps aright.
:« .. "Night, however, in the case of many, presents an entirely

l

different picture from that described above.

Its shades are

f-;. particularly grateful to the murderer, the thief, and to all others
of a malicious character. How many a blade has r eeked with
the life-blood of the unwary ! How many a traveller robbed,
stripped, then left alone ;

110

one to bewail his misfortunes or to

take vengeance on his cruel oppressors ! How many a quiet
citizen has been despoiled of his goods, or been waked from his
slumber by the crackling of merciless flames - overwhelming
some, scarcely sparing oth ers ! H ow many women have been
compelled to forfeit their
scoundrel !

virtu~

and honor, by some lascivious

And all these offences perpetrated under those

visible glories, those eyes of Heaven, which, if they see not, are
not less significant of an All-seeing Providence.

But Night

shuts out the vision of man, and therefore the wicked 'prefer
darkness to light because their deeds are evil' in the sight of
man.

It appears, indeed, to be the season best suited for the

exercise of any predominant passion, whethl r good or evil.

In

one case, however, its influences are upon the soul; in the other,
it merely aftords opportunities.
4-1

It is probably from the latter

..

.;

.'

"
•

.

'""".

346

circumstance, that the ancients made Night the mother of discord, fraud, 'i,nd many other vices.

The Romans personified

her under the name of Nox, and worshipped her as one of the "
earliest deities.

She was regarded as the mother of Day, arid

Dreams, and Death, and black sheep were offered to her as the
mother of the Furies.

We read, also, that the Cock was saeri·

:ficed to her, as that bird announces the approach of day. Other ·
things are said of her, which have, also, their significant m ·~ ··
ing.

..
.,
t ~·
~

The ancients paid her homage, no doubt, out of resp ··

I;

for the relief which she brings to weary and drooping Nature
for, although she was considered the parent of so many

e·
''

~

.

and herself a daughter of Chaos, she was also looked up9p.
the mother ·of mankind and of all other gods.

But,

~el

return our thanks to Him from Whom she cometh, in conn
·"':-?
tion with every other good and perfect gift.
l .
J_~,.

rr
'

I<

t

" N. B.

To be continued."

~-

Other essays upon Night were written, but of which
ments only remain.

In one of them he considers Night '

applicable to that state of the mind which is darkened by·
ranee, or debased by superstition, cruelty, and vice."

t.

l

347

THEME -ARTICLE XXXVIII.

"' CHRIST::'IIAS HOLIDAYS.'

"The holidays commenced on Tuesday, December 23, 1845.
The afternoon was agreeably spent in purchasing presents for
my young relatives and friends; and when I eturned home
with my freight, a stump of a clay-pipe and a little beard was
all that was necessary to make me pass for that good and veneraQle old friend, Santa Claus.

There was certainly no lack of

toys; for kaleidoscopes, dogs, rattles, whistles, trumpets, smelling-bottles, paint-boxes, and other things which once gave happiness to myself, 'were thrown over my back, and I looked like
a pedlar just opening his pack.' The evening, I may truly say,
I spent in joyful anticipation of the ensuing days ; for· these
were all that employed my thoug3ts, nay, I seemed as one robbed of all the powers of his mind. I then retired to my couch,
where I spent the awful silence of the night in calm and peaceful slumber.
"The next morning I steered my course to Brooklyn, and,
on my way thither, I observed nothing worthy of record, except
the fountain in the Bowling Green, the appearance of which was
truly sublime.

The huge mass of rough and ?onderous stones,

'

348

piled up in cc ii.fusion, and which received but little adornment
from the fallmg jet, was now decorated with a most splendid
variety of icicles, some of them huge at their root and gradually
tapering to a point, in some places resembling frozen foam, and
the basin around one mass of ice, excepting here and there a
leaden pipe was seen projecting through the frozen sheet, sending forth small columns of water, which served as a beautiful
contrast with the surrounding objects.

This was due to the

accident of frost, which had thus changed a rude mass of stones
into a magnificent spectacle.
" Thus each season has its peculiar characteristics and enjoyments.

Beautiful, however, as all this appears, it loses nothing

as Spring advances, and yet the latter season brings a joyful
contrast; for, then, as the fetters fell from Peter while in the
dreary cell of a prison, so Nature seems, as it were, to break
loose from the rigid chain of Winter.

The trees shoot forth

their buds, the young plants peep above the ground, a mantle
of

gr~en

takes the place of the snowy-white.

Now, too, the

lambs may be seen skipping joyfully around their dams, the
feathered warblers return again to pay us their annual visit) and
to delight us with their songs while returning praise, as it were,
to their Creator and Preserver. But Summer soon follows, with
new sources of happiness, completing what Spring has begun,
and presenting Nature in all her gayety.

All is a scene of

amusement and pleasure; which may be universally realized in
the squirrel when jumping with transports of joy upon the tops

349
of the stately trees, or the robin on some low bush pouring
forth his melodious music.
" ' See o'er the hills aclYancing,
Like youth in morning prime,
In verdant robes adorned with flowers
\Ve hail the Summer time.
Her voice is as the m ice of song,
A hymn at opening day ;
The echo of a thousand lyres
As evening fades away.

,,
" ' The tall acacias waving
Their feathery plumes on high,
The maple, and the mountain ash,
How lovely to the eye !
The cedar, ·in her fadeless green,
The elm's luxuriant shade,
With all the wilderness of bloom,

So richly now displayed.
" ' While roses blush in beauty,
And lilies fair unfold
Their glossy leaves o~ various hue,
White, orange, blue, and gold;
The peony, with drooping head,
Has bloomed a transient hour ;
Now gently shaken in the breeze
Descends a crimson shower.
" ' The fragrant pink, of every shade
From deepest red to pale,
And sweet-brier, with its thorny st- m,
That scents the passing gale;

' f

. ·\

:j

350
The luscious strawberry crowns the board,
And ripening cherries say
The gatherer's hand may well be filled
Upon some future day.'

"Autumn comes, and again how changed the scene, and yet
every thing to gladden the heart.

Nature gives up new be~~~

ties in the yellow sheaves of corn, and in various other rew

I .
~.

f'' .
I

of agricultural industry. The birds, it is true, take their ·a:
parture, but only for a season, and we know it is for ho .,.
-~

which they cannot realize with us.

Oh! how astonishing is

this ! Who does not behold with admiration such a scene
instinctive movements, - the

lo~g

all

i:
'

train of cackling geese, so. ·

ing in the dim regions of space, and the martin and the swallo
"'~:

gone on a determined day ! What tells them of the appro ·
of cold and famine ? What guides their unerring way? The
understand not the movements of the heavenly bodies; the
have no landmarks for their undeviating course.

They

ha~

no wisdom, no reason ; and, although we call it instinct, it is ·
knowledge from on high that the season of death (if I may
it so) is at hand in our clime, but that beyond our borders ~
sunny lands of enjoyment; and is not the same Almighty Hand .
observable in guiding their course through the trackless paths
of air ? And what a lesson to man ! If God so take care of
the birds, will He not much more take care of you, 'Oh ye of
little faith ?' If He have not given to man that amazing knowledge through which He directs the migration of animals in

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351
their pursuit of happiness, He has told him of a far better
Country, and marked out the path to that Land of Promise.
So let the Bible be our guide, and lead the way to a more
blessed place than this, and let our praise, as incense, rise to the
King Messiah.
"True to the harbingers, winter comes again, and again the
joyous youths are skimming, with their iron shoes, the surface
of ponds, crossing each other's path as intricately as the Asteroids intersect each other in their annual revolution.

Such are

but hints of what we see, and well may they lead us to exclaim,
Oh God! 'manifold are Thy works, and in Wisdom hast Thou
made them all.'

d at hair pas
he question has often been
oes it give grace and ease to the
Were I to decide this point from a
view of my own case merely, I should answer no; for I have
perceived no such effects upon my own person.
to health?

Is it beneficial

The response is, not so much as the more lively

and animating amusements of the day;.

Nay, it is rather injuri-

ous in the mode in which it is now often con ucted.

rooms, ana at late

ours.

In h t

Oh, the folly ! Oh, the madness !

Although it may not have any pernicious effects on those who
only seldom indulge in the practice, it is otherwise witl. those
who make it a habit; for it is apt to sow the seeds of an 6arly
death, especially in females, soon weakening the frame of its

352
wretched victi; '11 and causing her to pass the remainder of her
days in sickness •.md sorrow:x·
" I passed the evening of this day at a friend's house, in
reviewing and anticipating; and after a night of sweet repose,
I awoke just as rosy-fingered Aurora shed her first beam over

;:··

this happy land.

It was Christmas, ' merry Christmas ! '

And

while I repeat it, ,methinks I hear a startling sound-not of
mighty rushing waters, not the rumbling of an earthquake, nor
the whirlwind-but the voice of an Angel, saying, 'Fear not,
for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall
be to all people.

For unto you is born, this day, in the city of

David, a Saviour, Which is Christ, the Lord ; ' 'And, immedi-

r.

ately, a heavenly Throng, singing, Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good will towards men.'
"As this da should not be considered as one to be wholly
devoted to sport and amusement, I attended Church in the
mornm . Why, indeed, should not this day be held sacred, as
the one on which our Lord, for our sakes, took upon himself the
form of a Servant, having not where to lay his head?

The

text was appropriate-' Great is the mystery of Godliness;
God manifest in the flesh.' Yes, Christ is equal with the Father
in the eternal GoclheaJ. Still, His Father is greater than He ;
but only so in the temporal and human acceptation. With the
Holy Ghost, they are separate Persons in the Trinity; and yet
¥:

Robert was always much averse to the dancing-school, and was soon ·withdrawn

from it. He had always, too, equally a dislike of gay society, and steadily avoided it.

353

all Three are One.

This is the mystery ; and yet it is no

greater than Self-existence.

And do not the Character and

t eachings of our Saviour b espeak Divinity ? Is any thing 'impossible with Goel ? '

Nevertheless, Jesus Christ, Who never

but once before was seen by mortal eye, did, on this day, throw
aside His robes of Glory and became a Babe; a Babe, not laid
in a king's house, not rocked in a cradle of silver or gold.
there was no room for Him even at the inn.
for the Creator of the Universe !

No,

vVhat ! no room

No room for Him Who

formed the shining stars, that galaxy, those multitudes of
nebuhi that adorn the nocturnal sky, and Who, in infinite
Wisdom, marked out the orbits, and appointed the motions of
the various planets and satellites!

No, a manger was the only

place for the Lord of Life and Glory ! His birth was not announced to the monarch, nor to princes.

It was not announced

to the warrior, nor to the mighty conqueror ; but
" ' Shepherds, on Judea's plain,
H eard ye not the blissful strain,
When the messengers of light
Broke the silence of the nig ht ?'

" Therefore,
" ' Let tIB chant the solemn lay Let us celebrate the dayliail with joy the atIBpicious morn
·when the Son of man was born.
45

•

354
" ' Then tell the wond rous story
Where rolls Salrnti)n's wave,
And give Him all the glory,
Who came the lost to save.'

" In the afternoon I went to my Uncle E--'s, by invitation, where, after partaking of a sumptuous and social dinner,
and after my annual distribution of presents, I amused myself
for the rest of the day; now in the pleasures of conversation,
now in the animating sport of dominos, now in the intricacies of
chess. Among the choice presents which I received was a copy,
in French, of Plutarch's Lives in fifteen volumes, given me by
my Mother. After ten o'clock I returned home.

Sweet home !

What place is there like home ? It is here that our wants are
supplied, and our wishes gratified; here we have friends to pity
us in calamity, and to comfort us in sickness and misfortune;
here we have the company of our parents, until the cold band
of death severs the paternal tie, and the spirit returns to the
Goel That gave it.

Oh, the comforts of home ! But there are

many, I say many, who appreciate not its blessings, until they
have fled away like the noonday shadow.

It is then that they

rise before the offender, as it were in battalions, to remind him
of the ingratitude of his early days, and floods of tears roll
down his cheeks as he reflects upon a mother's care, or a
father's watchful eye, and, in the grief of his heart he smites
bis breast, and exclaims, 'God be merciful to me a sinner.'

'

l
f

1

355
" ' Why does the mind, where'er we roam,
Cling to the spot, our earliest home ?
The hearth, the board, the social glee,
Are fondly kept in memory.
" 'The little group, so thoughtless, gay,
The pastimes at the close of day,
By grief untouched, unknown to sorrow,
No sad forebodings of to-morrow,
"'The mild rebuke, in kindness given,
The lips that taught the way to Heaven,
The watchful eye, the anxious care,
The love unfeigned- all, all were there.'

" On Friday afternoon I paid a visit to the Battery, to look
out upon the beautiful Bay, and listen, if possible, to the roar
of the Ocean ; that vast expanse of water which has withstood
the ravages of time; the mighty chain of Continents, the sporting-field of Levj.athan and his myriads of subjects ; a wondrous spectacle that can infuse the utm9st delight, or inspire the
deepest awe in the breast of the beholder, or strike a deadly
terror into the hardy and daring seaman. What thoughts and
feelings must it awaken in the man, who, perhaps, is leaving for
the first time his wife and children, to sail over its treacherous
paths!

It is then that he thinks of the uncertainty of life.

It

is then, perhaps, he feels the first spark of anxiety, or the first
flash of love towards his relatives and friends. It is then that
he feels his dependence on Him Who alone is able to rule the

356
billows and the storm.

It is then he feels that he is powerless

himself, and unless upheld by a more Mighty Hand, he must go
the way from which he never can return.
" But, perhaps, he has none of these feelings.
may be of impe~etrable stdf.
awaken, fear may do.

His heart

And yet, what love cannot

Let but a storm arise, the rain descend

in torrents, the lightning flash around him, the heavens roar
above his head, and the billows sweep the deck, he will probably be as much affected as Constantine was when he beheld the
blazing cross.

" In the evening I had company at home, and we passed
our time very agreeably till the hour of rest.

The next morn-

ing, in company with a friend, I directed my course to the distributing reservoir, and, just as Phooton was mounting the horizon, we reached the destined spot.

It was an animating scene,

and the long walk had imparted a fresh and lively vigor.

I

was not satisfied ; but my companion left me for the City, while
I went in pursuit of the enjoyment of a purer air, and, what
might be gleaned from the country.

It was not a scene, it is

true, for the imagination of a poet.

There was no carpet of

emerald color, embroidered with flowers, and the trees were
leafless.

But I was treading upon snow that was not wanting

in delightful associations ; for I could fancy that, in another
form, it had been but lately dashed against the stones of Patmos, tossed in the surges of the Atlantic, or rolled in the billows
of the Pacific.

All was as still as night, excepting, now and

357

then, the barking of some distant dog, which served as a beautiful contrast with the reigning silence. What was solemn and
sublime in each increased the effect of each other. In short, it
was a scene of the utmost pleasure that mortals can enjoy.

I

certainly cannot express, in words, my feelings on this occasion.
Nay, it would require the melodious voice of an A rchangel, or
some other mysterious being from the Tabernacle of H eaven,
to t ell my thoughts, or my enjoyment during this solitary walk.
Finally, I reached the secornl reservoir, b ut sought in vain for
admittance at this early hour.

I then retraced my steps, and

when I reached home Lhad tra elled more than eleven miles
before breakfast.

My dolphin·::- had passed the hour of t en.

Late, indeed, for breakfast, but better for the walk. This, however, is not the usual opinion; for a full stomach is commonly
supposed to be the best state for exercise, and an empty one
the worst.

But such is not my experience.

Every step before

eating animates·the frame, and gives additional strength to the
great organs of life; while, on the other hand, the useful effect
of exercise, after the cravings of hunger are satisfied, is certainly
diminished one half.
"A Eortion of the afternoon I spent in writing this Compo-

-

sition ; an unimportant circumstance, like the rest, but it is the
•

•

met od which I have adopted fGI' my subj ect.

I may say,

therefore, that I passed the evening agreeably in playing chess;
a game which will endure till 'time shall be no more.'

*

His watch, in form of a dolphin.

Why

358
should it not?

It is the game by which man is improved, the

powers of the mind strengthened, and morality is even the bet-

It is the game that shows, at once, man's elevation

ter for it.

above the brute.

It throws open the best doors of society,

insures a cordial welcome, and is a passport to a good player
among all ranks of mankind.

Strange to say, however, it has

one peculiarity which accompanie:· no other intellectual pursuit;
that is, after the body h as been violently exercised, the mind,
as a general rule, becomes disqualified for this great and glorious sport.*
" Q,n Sunday morning I attended the Roman Catholic
Church.

This Church has been, £erhaps, one of the greatest

enemies to true and sincere Religion.

At first sight, it may

appear to be holy and undefiled; and there are many, I say
many, who follow its precepts and doctrines, that have never
applied themselves properly to see whether they be right or
wrong.

Indeed, it is of such unhappy and deluded individuals

that this Church is mostly composed.

On a little careful exami-

nation, however, it must be evident, one would think, to those
who place any reliance upon the truth of the Scriptures, that it
is only an ingenious system of idolatry, beginning with the worship of a fellow-creature possessed of no more understanding,

* At the age of tweh·e years, Robert played with accuracy and skill a part of a
game (about twelve moves) with his back turned to the board. His parents moved
the pieces ; and here they arrested the game from fear of its effect upon his brain,
and the experiment was never repeated. (See N om, page 10.)

359

and rio more power than ourselves, and makes her an intercessor
between the Son of God and man ; when, too, every page, I
had almost said every line of the New T estament, enforces it
upon us, that J esus Christ is the only Advocate between God
and man, and that there is no one subordinate to Him.

And,

Oh, how terrible is the thought, and how deep the sin, that
takes away from Him a portion of that high office, and bestows
it upon a human being!

Upon one who was chided for seek-

ing Him when lost, - 'Wist ye not that I must be about my
Father's business ? '
is my Mother? '

And, Who 'answered them, saying, Who

Aye, and 'He saith unto her, woman, what

have I to do with thee ? '
"What means that incense, also, when it is expressly said,
'Incense is an abomination unto Me ? '

How mournful, more-

over, to see the deluded victims bend the knee before a piece
of wood in the shape of a Cross ! True, it is said in defence,
that they bow to the Saviour through that wood, and that
the mind is assisted through the senses.

This is not so con-

sidered in Heaven, for we read that, 'Abraham saith unto the
rich man, they have Moses and the prophets ; let them hear
them. And he said, nay, fa' her Abraham ; but if one went
unto them from the dead,

trn:.~

will repent.

And Abraham

said unto him, if they hear :c 'lt Moses and the prophets, neither
will they be persuaded, though one rise from the dead.'

And

so say I, neither will they be persuaded by any of these devices
of man.

Ob, how great is the deception that is here observa-

.·

-

360

ble ! But, if we a<lmit that the enlightened are not beguiled,
it is greatly to he feared that there are multitudes, not understanding the object said to be designed, bow in honor of the
wood itself.

Another awful and horrid practice is that of con-

fessing sins to a priest, in th e belief that through his agency
their very crimes are blotted out in Heaven ; or, should he say
to them that they are not absolved, they are equally credulous.
It is, however, said, that the priest does not exercise this inter-

ference, but merely declares to his subjects, when he considers
them sufficiently penitent, that they are pardoned by the Almighty.

Oh, the delusion, the great delusion ! Who knoweth

the mind of the Lord, or who c.an comprehend His ways? Who
can know when a person is sorrowful for his sins; for repentance
is the work of the heart, and not of the body, and who can
search the soul of man save the Great I AM ? Moreover, none
can expect absolution, unless he entreat forgiveness at the
Throne of H eaven in the Name of the Son of God. The priest,
therefore, is only entitled to say, that, if repentance be sincere
it is accepted by Him Whom the sinner has offended.

But we

must be charitable towards this Church, and believe that the
blame rests greatly with its officers.

And is it not perfectly

astonishing, when we cast a glance at their artful plans for sustaining their religion, and k eeping their victims under subjection ? In the £rst place, they })rohibit their congregation from
reading the Scriptures, t elling them that these writings are too
holy for them to examine, and too deep for their minds to com-

3G l
prehend.

Secondly, there are a multitude of deceptive forms,

which are intended to inspire awe in the hearts of the people,
and, we have reason to fear, more for the priest than for the
religion.

These, besides others, which neither my time nor

your patience will allow me to state, are the devices resorted to
by the officers of this Church.

They have, indeed, the wisdom

of serpents, but without the harmlessness of doves.

(See page

192.)

"The text was uttered by the priest in so low a voice, that,
probably, not a dozen in_the church could have repeated it after
him.

The sermon, however, was an excellent one, except where

the priest treated of Catholic persecution.

He very coolly said

that the Catholics had been the most persecuted people upon
the face of the earth, that they had been driven into exile,
burnt at the stake, and, in fine, had suffered every ignominy for
the sake of their religion.

Now, on the other hand, let us take

a look at the Protestants, and see what cruelties they have
undergone during the comparatively short time of their existence.

Look at the pages of history, survey them well, and you

will find them shockingly stained with the tales of Protestant
suffering. You will find that the priest has mistaken Protestant
for Catholic, and that all his sorrow should have been given to
the former.

By whom, I say, was all this cruelty perpetrated ?

vVho was it that drenched the ground of England, and France,
and Italy, with Protestant blood ? To them we say, as Nathan
said unto David-' Thou art the man ! '
46

Doubtless, Thou wilt

362
'let him be known in our sight by the revenging of the blood
of Thy servants which is shed; and will render unto our neigh!

I
t:.-1

bors sevenfold into their lJosoms their reproaches wherewith
they have reproached Thee, 0 Lord.'
"In the afternoon I repaired to St. Mark's Church, where
Religion is taught in its purity-= But, although this society is a
portion of the Episcopalian, and the Church has been widely
separated from Romanism from the moment it declared its
secession, I am much afraid, from the spread of P1tseyi.rmi, that
it is gradually returning to papal tyranny and superstition.'+
But thanks be to God, if this course of things be arrested here,
and the original purity of our religion again return, and the
Church become firmly united by the bonds of friendship and
fidelity.
"The remainder of the day was agreeably spent in pleasant
conversation, chess, and dominos.
from the former to the latter game.

How great is the descent
It is like standing upon a

* In Robert's record of se11nons, to which reference has been made (page 28),
after making a sketch of one deliYere<l by the Rev. Dr. Anthon, at St. Mark's Church,
on the morning of May ID, 1844, in which the Rev. Doctor took for his text-" For
there is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ Jesus,"
an<l pointed out the fallacy of addressing prayers to the Virgin, and Saints, Robert
finally remarks that, wh en the audience were leaYing the Church, he "heard some
one say that 'nobody would think of worshipping any being but God.' But it is probable she forgot the stir made by the Puseyites, who believe in prayers to the Saints,
in the City of New-York. I think,'' he ad<ls, "that this Sermon ought to be published."

:JG3

lofty precipice and jumping to the pleasant valley below.

One

is all mind, the other all chance ; one all silence, the other all
talk. Neither, like cards, are useLl for the purpose of gambling.
But, it must be said, in behalf of cards, that gambling is an
abuse of the game, and has no more necessary connection with
it than with chess, or the clerical game of backgammon.
Amusement is one thing, and gambling is another.

Perhaps

I detest this crime as much as any of you here present.

But I

am considering the game of cards as it shoulcl be, according to
the nature of the game itself.

It certainly appears to have the

objection of possessing temptations, as gambling has come to he
connected with it.

This, too, is not only a sin in itself, but

leads to still greater ones ; and the perpetrator, step by step,
may at last find himself in a prison, or suspended from the gallows. Cards have, undoubtedly, led to such a series of offences;
and but for them, men who would have proved good citizens,
and useful to their country, have been gradually advanced from
gambling to the highest pitch of crime.

Card-playing is also

liable to beget inclolent habits; and indolence, without gambling,
may plunge a man into the deepest wretchedness.

~1

(i

" vVhy these differences should exist among games, it is not
easy for me to sax. The are all upon one ground, considered

.. ~

''
·i
•:'l
• ;·

f>

I

I•
~

I
I

as ames · and yet some are used for amblina, while the·
rarely perverted to that use.

One may require as much skill

as anot er, and afford an equal interest ; yet the former is considered immoral, while the other is universally approved.

The

.,

3G4
distinction seems to be more artificial than natural ; and it is
probably in this usage that we must look for the morality of
the one

01·

of the other.

" Tuesday morning I took a refreshing walk before breakfast to tLe fir:::t r eservoir.
the soum o

All was silent, except now and then

t e sledge-hammer, or of some cart-wheel as it

rolled along the Lard and banen ground, broke like music upon
the ear. It was even so.

There was music in those sounds as

they contrasted with the solemn stillness, and awakened their
natural associations.

TLey came from tLc joyful laborer, who

was marking out new streets, and preparing the way for a beautiful am1 mighty City.
future

greatne~s,

Am1 there, too, was an index of its

the aqueduct and reservoir.

"In th e eYening I attem1ed the exhibition of Mr. Lyon's
school, at the Broadway TalJernaclc.

There was a very strik-

ing difference among the speakers ; some of them making that
vnst house ring from ern1 to encl, while it was utterly impossible
f .

to say wheth er others were speaking E nglish or Hebrew, until,
by chance, near the end of their speech, I would sometimes
catch a glimpse of ou1· Yernacular in an and, or an

OI',

as it

droppeL1 a little more heavil y from the mouth of the orator.
There

1Y n .-;

oue young geutlomau whom you might well have

imagin ed to have been Demosthenes disguised as a youth, but
thundering with all tho eloquence of his manly years.
Cicero, do I say, but D emosthenes.
b tmY?

Not

\Vhat higher praise can I

Fello11· Classmate.'- ! Declamation i;,;, at this cl ay, one

'{;

JG5
of the much neglected branches of knowledge. It is bill aside
as a minor acquirement, scarcely clcserving our attention.

But,

although it be thus disreganlec1, it is like a buried gem, which
will for eyer retain its r esplendent brightness, and, whenever
discoYered, will again as ever adorn its possessor.
wherewr tlisplayed, the public 11·ill most a,pplaucl
1Yill.

It cauuot llo otherwise.

It is this,
It certainly

It is this t hat places you a,t

once on a pinnacle alJove your follow-men. I t is this, in fin e, by
which you may atfain an unenc1ing renown.
you h:i.ve not a, voice.
ample.

You may say that

Take Demosthenes ·for your bright ex-

Behold him, at one moment, in his subterranean study,

attending there to the improvement of his vocal powers ; at
another, upon t he sea-shore, striving to overcome the loud roaring of the deep.

' Go, then, aml do likewise.'

And now let us

start together, and search for that pearl of great price, hearing
in mind that whoever shall finJ it shall win a, crown of glory
for his head; for the ways of eloquence, like t hose of wisdom,
'are m:i.ys of pleasantness, anil all her paths are peace.'
" \Y ecluesclay, DecemlJe r 3 l st.

The fo renoon was s ent in

e;sercise and conversation, and a part of the afternoon was given
to this com )OSition.

The evening was occupied in playing two

games at ch ess ; the last of which was th e most interesting that
I ever playecl.
half.

It occupied a little more than t1vo hours and a

Near the end of it, my adversary had a knight and a

bishop against my three pawns.

Soon, however, I had the

good fortun e t o make the queen, and consequently came off

366
victor.

I had formed 8ome thoughts of going to the theatre ;

but while reflecting for a moment, methought I could hear a
voice whisper in my ear-theatres, as they are at present conducted in this country, are very pernicious in their effects, as
well as low and vulgar in their entertainments, and are generally
frequented by the frivolous and unprincipled, since they are not
calculated to afford pleasure to the polished and educated, as
they were in former times.

Such, indeed, has become the

degradation of the stage, that, instead of a play in which virtue
and religion are inculcated, you witness only some foolish performance intended merely to please the worldly and vulgar,
and where, in the place of good sentiments, you often hear cursing, and sometimes swearing.

Such, I am sorry to learn, and

have been twice a witness, is the condition of the stage in the
United States of America; and I think you will agree with me
that these are not only unsuitable places for cultivated people,
but are merely the schools of Satan, and the colleges of iniquity.
But, if the theatre, under its present management, be a highway
to infamy and crime, it is not the intrinsic fault of the institu,,1111

:I

tion, for it has enjoyed an elevated state.

There were seen

within its walls a polished, educated, and refined class of society.
Then, instruction as well as amusement, was afforded by the
play. But, even in this state of the stage, it is not creditable to
have frequent recourse to the theatre; but it is perfectly proi1

per, and may prove highly advantageous to occasionally visit it.
Every thing should be done in moderation, especially what is

I'

l'l!I
r·c

367

not a direct duty.

In this manner, even wme may promote

health, and comfort, and improve the spirits of him that drinks
it ; but when used to excess, it is notoriously a rank poison.
"The next clay was New Year's ; a fruitful subject for very
weighty reflections. Another year has been swept away by the
everlasting hand of time, to be remembered only with those
that shall be no more. "What, another year expired ! Yes,
gone into the awful abyss of .eternity, never to be recalled.
Yes, it died at the midnight hour, and vainly did I strive to
grasp it, to detain it only for one moment longer. It would not
stay ; no, it would not stay.

What have been its scenes, its

trials, and its events ! Where are many, who, three hundred
and sixty-five days ago, were seated by the merry fireside, surrounded by joyful friends and kind relatives ? Ah ! they, too,
have disappeared, some to shine as a diadem in the Saviour's
Crown, others to have their portion in gloom and darkness,
where pleasure never is, where hope never comes; some to partake of the joys of Heaven, others of the woes of hell. "Where
are some of those kind persons whom, but these few days ago,
I wished a cordial, happy new year? Where are they, I say?
They are gone; and while I repeat it, methinks I hear a whisper, - 'Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' What has
been our conduct ? Can we look upon the past with tears of
joy in our eyes, or is a fearful void presented to our view ? If
the latter be the case, then let us form new resolutions for the
future, this day, this hour.

368
"And now, fellow Classmates, I may hope that you began
this year as agreeably, at least, as myself ; for the fort;y visits
which I made renewed many pleasant acquaintances, and gave
me a chance of witnessing a great deal of happiness in others.
Gentlemen talk of giving up this ·practice.

But this should

never be clone, for the obvious reason of keeping up good feelings among friends, and of binding them more strongly in the
bonds of friends1:ip and fidelity.

D oubtless, you will be also

interested with knowing that I devoted the evening to chess ;
and thus ended, with me, the first day of the year 1846.
" What happened in the wide world on the following day, I
can scarcely say, as I spent the greater part of it at home. But,
I would call your attention to the menagerie, where I paid a
visit in the evening, and where may be seen representatives of
many climes, telling in their own peculiar way their own stories
of each, and relating many marvellous things of themselves,
from the porcupine, that defies the most ferocious, to the mighty
king, whose roar
' The forest beasts "ith horror fly,
And echoes to the vaulted sky.'

"I have but little to sav in commAmoratirw• "' 2
a~

0

-'---~d<>y,

it was mostlv devoted to rambling in the countrv under a

g!oomy sky, and over muddy roads, and to writini;r composition.
But I must tell you of the finishing touch to my amusements
for the the holidays.

T?is was the double game of chess, with

369

which I whiled away the evening.

You will find it one of the

finest sports that a young man can possibly have.

It sets in

operation the thinking powers, and strengthens the understanding.
" One thing I have neglected to mention.

During my ad-

ventures on New Year's clay, while I happened to be at a clergyman's house, I heard an individual remark that the clerical
order was entitled to more respect than any other class of men.
This will depend entirely upon their purity and Christian deportment.

It is not their vocation, but the manner in which it

"

,11

is discharged, that can justify the claim.

The minister of Reli-

gion is one thing, and the man is quite another.

The office

demands respect in proportion to its fulfilment.

But, if its

I

duties be neglected, or its precepts violated, then we become
participants just in proportion to the degree in which we approve its ministers, or exalt them above other members of society.

I do not now speak of individual exceptions, unless such

instances are supported or tolerated by the Profession. For the
same reason, there should be, at the same time, more charity
towards each other in matters of opinion than exists among
other classes of men, and of this they should exhibit public
examples in their conventions and other meetings.

If gross

indecencies, and other outrages be committed by Clergymen,
and they be afterwards allowed to remain connected with the
holy calling, we must strive the harder to uphold the purity of
Religion ; but we cannot do it by paying homage to the men.
~7

,!
'<I'

370

No, far from it.

I never, no, never will uphold a bishop, a

minister, or any other officer of the Church in the commission
of an offence against his calling, much less a crime, although he
be my nearest relative, or of my own sect. No, he is worthy of
the greater condemnation for perpetrating his crime under the
cloak of Religion.

He shall never 'win my confiden ce again,'

for it is only the Searcher of hearts Who can truly know his
sincere repentance.
"Sunday, J .an. 4th, I attended Church twice.

The text, in

the morning, wast e 10th verse of the 14th Chapter of Job' Man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost,
and where is he?' The sentence of death has been passed, with
only two exceptions, upon all mankind, so that we may truly
say that all men

die~

The monarch, the beggar, the high and

the low, the rich and the poor, all come under this general rule.
'There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout
again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease.
Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock
thereof die in the ground, yet through the scent of water it
will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant.

But man dieth,

and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is
he ? '

·where, do I say?

He either appears in the bosom of

Abraham, or in Hell doth he open his eyes, desiring a drop of
water t o cool his burning tongue.
" The text, in the afternoon, was the 11th verse of the 8th
Chapter of Ecclesiastes - ' Because sentence against an evil

371

work is not executed speeclily, therefore the heart of the sons
of men is fully set in them to clo evil.'

Does not daily experi-

ence show to us the truth of this ~ Does not our own conscience
convict us? Does not each one of us often say, Oh well! this
will be certainly overlooked fo1: once - surely so slight a crime
will never be remembered against us ? It is not because the
.i:-'llmighty disregards the crime of sin that He does not give it
immediate punishment.

But, it is Mercy that intercedes for us.

vVere it not so, we should be swept away from the face of the
earth by the very breath of a moment, and plunged into the
dreadful void of Eternity.
"Monday morning.

I am sitting down and giving a :finish-

ing touch to this Com )Osition.

And now, let us apply our

hearts unto knowledge; remembering that if we sow in wisdom, we shall reap -honor and enjoyment, but if in ignorance,
we shall reap trouble and despaiT.
"ROBERT TROUP PAINE.

"Columbia. College Grammar School, Monday, Jan. 5, 1846."

372

THEME-ARTICLE XXXIX.
"'PLEASURES OF CHRISTMAS AKD KEW-YEAR.'

" What a pleasure was it, on Christmaa, to reflect that eighteen hundred and forty-three years ago, The Lord and Maker
of all things condescended to be made manifest in the flesh, ancl
that His birth was not announced to the mighty of the Earth,
but to shepherds while they watched their flocks by night, and
that they should have found Him wrapped in swaddling clothes
and laid in a manger. What a pleasure, I say; for what a practical lesson of humility, what encouragement for the needy and
friendless. And all this at the very beginning of the life of the
I

.

Son of God.
" It is a pleasure to give presents to our friends, and to
think that we are keeping up a custom which took its origin at
the birth of Christ.

II

And well may our hearts throb with gb<l-

ness when we shall hear the great I AM say, that, 'inasmuch as
ye did it unto the least of these ye did it unto Me.' Children
generally look forward with joy to Christmas, though not
always on account of the event which happened on that clay,
which made angels and archangels sing - ' Glory to God on
high, and on earth peace and good will towards men,' but because it is a day of sport and frolic.

373

"When the twelve-striking clock beats the death-gong of
the departing year, then issues forth the new-born one, delighting, as doth a giant, to run his course.

A memorable clay for

the institution of that rite which gave place to the baptismal,
beginning with Abraham and ending about the time of Jesus
Christ.

vVhat a pleasure is it on this day to look back upon

our conduct during the past year, and endeavor to recall the
numberless mercies of Goel.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

" Columbia College Grammar School, January, 1844."

THEME -ARTICLE XL.

" ' THE THL."fGS THAT BELONG TO OTHERS PLEASE US MORE, AND THOSE
WHICH ARE OURS ARE MORE PLEASING TO OTHERS.'

" What is that dire passion, that rages in many a human
breast, which moved the hissing fury, Alecta, to roam among
the peaceful inhabitants of Lrttium, infusing Gorgonian poisons,
stirring up strife and war, and embroiling the surrounding
nations in the same wretchedness and carnage ? vVhy were
the winds unlocked by the idle curiosity of the companions of
1Jlysses, and why did they wreak devastation upon all sides but
upon the ship alone which bore the hero?

"What is that which

renders the highest station in life inferior to a more humble

374

grade ? What that which makes the most wealthy monarch
poorer than the poorest subject, or Dives at the banquet than
Lazarus at the gate ? "'What led Charles the Fifth to exchange
an empire for a monastery ?

Why did Solomon bewail his

riches, his power and greatness, and, at last, turn himself to
idolatry?

What led our first Parents to eat of the forbidd en

fruit?
" Surely, was it not di8content, the bane of human life?
These are only strong examples of its influences, which, like
those of othP,r evils, are seen in all parts of our glolJe, and too
generally in all stages and conditions of life.

Indeed, if it

make its appearance at all, it generally does so in early youth.
It is witnessed in the child as soon as it can articulate 'I don't
like this, I don't like that ; ' and even before lisping begins, a
'crying-spell' is frequently an indication of this untoward emo/tion. But these are merely sparks, which, if not quenched here,
are destined to increase into a mighty flame that will, in after
'I'

lJi
,I

life, render its possessor weary of existence, and an object of
odium to all around him.

Such is the beginning.

Indulgence

or neglect will do the rest.
"Nor is this unhappy spirit confined to individuals; nor are
!,!l'I

'11ii.!"'

they alone its victims, or alone the authors of evil to others. 1t
bas been the primary cause of the downfall of many a nation.
Such as have been once the terror of the Earth it has laid in
dust and ashes.

Before civil history begins we have an exam·

ple of the kind even in God's own people. And what an exam·

......

ple, or, rather, series of examples ! How often did they complain against Moses and Aaron, and that, too, soon after their
mighty deliverance from the hand of their cruel oppressor aft.er they had seen their enemies swallowed up in the deep, had
witnessed the piling up of the waters, and had walked 'through
the depths' upon which those waters had rested. 'They remembered not the multitude of God's mercies, but provoked Him at
the Sea, even at the Red Sea.'

And how often, in consequence

of the same spirit of discontent, were they chastised by pestilence, thousands upon thousands perishing in a day!

For what

else did the host of Israel fall in the wilderness ; none, save
Caleb and Joshua, of the original emigrants, reaching the land

Did they not, as a finishing stroke to their fate, persist in desiring a king, until the
AlmightJ:, in His Anger, granted them the object of their wishes, although He had previously warned them, in the strongest
words, of the dangerous and ruinous effects which such a change
was calculated to have upon that unhappy people ? Royalty
established, the way was paved for their ruin. The wealth, and
pomp, and the power of a monarchy, were well adapted to turn
away their hearts from every thing that was moral to the commission of lewd and horrible crimes. ·what has since followed
may be traced up to the same principle. Discontent, though
not the immediate, was still the primary cause of the final
sworn to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?

rejection and destruction of this once mighty and favored
nation.

376

" But the fiend stops not her e !n its general ravages. \Vhat
shall we say of Greece, and of R ome ; successively the masters
of the world, before whose power other nations tremlJled, and
kings became as nothing?

Where are those Cities that were

once the centre of power, magnificence, and wealth ? Where
are those countries that so lately wielded the sceptre over the
lands of the Earth ?

They have fallen to the dust, are but

little better than the habitation of the cormorant and the bittern, containing few monuments of their former grandeur, but
many of the luxury and vice of their wretched people.

Was

it not discontent that prompted Greece and R ome to extend
their happy empires by bloody battle and unjustifiable slaughter ; the Great Alexander, notorious murderer ; the cruel Crosars, with their other respective conquerors, to drench the Earth
with blood and the tears of the mourning ; to bring kings that
were ruling in tranquillity into chains and slavery?

This done,

the current of luxury and depravity that was continually :flowing in from the subjugated provinces, together with the horrid
state of affairs which this abandonment of all that was just and
moral must necessarily have produced, were more than enough
to have overwhelmed, in their destructive :flood, these lands of
tyranny.

Oh, Greece and Rome ! Had you been content with

the territory of your noble ancestors, refraining from blood and
conquest, cultivating arts and sciences, and pursuing avocations
that elevate and expand the mind, then might be heard in your
land, at this day, other voices like those of Demosthenes and

377
Cicero ; other moralists wiser than Socrates might be uttering
their wisdom in your streets ; other poets, as renowned as Homer, Virgil, and Horace, would have carried on your immortality in epic and lyric strains; and you might have bounded
your fame and existence by the encl of time.
"Oh, America! America! Art thou beginning, in these thy
early days, to taste this same deadly poison; a poison to thy
vitals, thy fame, and thy morals?

Art thou, too, already dis-

satisfied with the confines of thy vast and thrice happy land ?
Art thou beginning to encourage a wanton waste of human
life ? Art thou now engaged in a :fierce and unprofitable war
of aggrandizement?

Unprofitable, do I call it?

Though it

may seem in thy mouth as sweet as honey, it shall be in thy
belly as bitter as gall. Oh, that such had ended with the pagan
Greeks and Romans ! Dost thou not fear that it may render
thee unworthy of the name bestowed upon thee by one of the
most powerful Kingdoms, a name never before applied to any
people, the name of 'The Great Nation'?

How unworthy of

the spirit of 1776 ! That was the spirit of Patriotism, Liberty,
and Equity; this, of tyranny, discontent, and avarice!

And

how incompatible with the glorious light of the Gospel, with
which thou professest to be illuminated ! Has that Gospel
never taught thee the value of human life ? H ast thou never
thought upon the fact that a whole world is not ·worth the sacrifice of an innocent drop of blood ? Hast thou never considered
how many thousands of thy countrymen are laying down their
43

378
lives for thee, in the delusion of doing honor to thy greatness;
unconscious that plunder is thy object ? If thou hast not, learn,
then, to 'Jove thy neighbor as thyself.'
per, ' go and sin no more.'

If thou wouldst pros-

Let thy fame, in war, America,

begin and end with \V ashington ! Thou hast already achieve,d
more than any other nation has, or will.

Let this suffice thee.

No other victories can add to thy glory or happiness.

A11

others are beneath thy dignity, and a blight upon thy ultimate
prosperity. All the conquerors thou canst ever produce will be
less in comparison with Washington than a grain of sand to the
Universe.

Let him stand first and alone in thy midst; first

among ten thousand heroes ; superior to all that ever have, or
will exist, combined.

No, America, it is for thee to build upon

the fame of the Revolution another far excelling that; one
which no arms can beget, no battle win, but science and literature alone.

Let these be thy jewels, Oh, America!

Take for

thy motto, 'Knowledge is power.'
" Although I have drawn this gloomy picture of discontent, let it not be supposed that there is no spot on the Earth
which it does not sway; that there is no heart into which it
has never entered ; that there is not for this viperous poison
an all-sufficient antidote, which, if administered in due time,
may save its drooping subject though even upon the brink of
the grave, may heal those broken in spirit, give relief to the
affiicted, and wipe away tears from the eyes of the mourning.
Yes,-

1

111

.l!l

37\)
"'There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy,
No chemic art can counte1feit;

1'111

111

It makes men rich in greatest poverty,
)fakes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain.
Seldom it comes, to few from Heaven sent;
That much in little -all in thought- content.'

,11
,11

" Heavenly Virtue ! Celestial being ! It is by thee 'kings
reign and princes decree justice,' the nation is established, the
sceptre confirmed, and existence prolonged.

Look at contented

China ; vast, ignorant, and happy, but contented.
her origin in immemorial time.

She dates

She saw the beginning, the

conquests, and the fall of the Jews.

She saw the first clays of

Cicropian Athens, Lelegian Sparta, and all the powerful nations
of the Greeks, their rise in fame, their fortune in . war.

She

looked unmoved upon the conquests of Darius, Cyrus, Xerxes,
and Alexander. There was no jealousy there. Thou lookedst
on with complacency, China, when nations were brought into
being long after thyself, and rose to a glory far above thine
own. But, China, thou hast followed them to the grave ; thou
hast placed them upon the funeral pile, and hast performed the
last duties of a friend.

And why have these people, the coun-

trymen of Homer and Demosthenes, once the terror of the
world, been cut clown like the young and tender flower, and
thou, China, art yet permitted to raise thy head among the
mighty of the Earth ? Because, Greece knew how to die, but
thou knowest how to live.

!'

380

" One word more for thee, America, and I have done. Let
this lesson
y sou , and may
it be good
Make contentment thy
sist er ; engrave her upon the t ablets of thy heart ; and thou
shalt :find in her a 'price above rubies,' and she 'shall be an
ornament of grace unto thy bead, and chains about thy neck.'
" ROBERT T ROUP

p .A.INE.

.,.,.,,,,

"Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 19, 1846."

THEME -ARTICLE XLI.

" 'WHAT MOS'l' \\"E WI SH W ITH EASE WE F ANCY NEAR. '

" There bas existed in the mind, e1er since the fall of man,
an attribute which we t erm hope, or wish. Nay, was it not the
very cause of his fall ? H ad he not hoped for something better
than he enjoyed, there had been no transgression. It seems,
t herefore, to have been impressed upon the original nature of ,
man, and to have been the origin of sin.
so?

And why was this

Certainly not that sin might come into the world.

given to man for good and not for evil purposes. Jt

There wa.f" .
thus an imperfection in man from the very lJeginning. It is so •
even with the Angels, or there could have been no fall the~
It was necessary t o our proper understanding of the perfectio~
t ended to conduct him to H eaven and not to hell.

I~

I

It was
iu·

W:l.'i

381
of the Creator.

The contrast was wanted, and was implied by

the prohibition enjoined upon our first Parents.

But it could

h:iYe existed in a state of consciousness only; for the same prohibition denoted what we all knew to be true, that is, an ability
to have done what was right, and along with this freedom of

will was associated conscience, or ability t o distinguish between
right and wrong. This would have been sufficient to have
shown the dif'ference between perfection and imperfection, to
have kept mankind in the way of duty, and to have inspired a
love of God as a Being free from evil.
said of faith.

Hence why so much is

To meet the sin of disobedience a merciful provi-

sion was at the same time made in opening a way to repentance
and salvation. But, transgression having once b egun, the enjoyment of self-will once felt, it was agreeable to our nature that
man should continue t o seek an improvement of his condition,
or yield, at least, to his feelings of independence, and hope
ripened at once into rebellious sin.

That is my opinion of the

origin of sin ; that it was founded in benevolence towards the
crPature, that he might the better understand the perfection of
his Creator.

But 'I speak after the manner of men.'+:-

'1' Our first P arents were forbidden to do evil, and it was not likely, therefore, that
other laws ·would deter manhincl from the commission of sin. Still 'they were added
because of transgressions, till the seed should come to whom the promise was made.
If there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should
have been by the law. But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the promise by faith of J esus Christ might be given to them that believe. But before faith
came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be

382

"The Majesty of Heaven stood thus before our first Parents ;
nnd, although in this manner ' they knew God, they glorified
Him not as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in
their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.' Punishment followed upon the offences ; but still the desire of
something better than God had ordained, especially of what
He had prohibited, went on increasing; till 'He gave them up
to uncleanness, through the lusts of their own hearts.' Finally
the Deluge comes, and mankind began anew.
would not answer.

The old propensities continued, and wick-

edness again increased by its indulgence.
''; ·

But all this

It was the same

thing when the Israelites demanded that' a king should reign
over them when the Lord their God was th eir King,' and the
same when 'the Lord said to Samuel, hearken unto their voice,
and make them a king,' as when Eve partook of the forbidden
fruit.

She wanted something better than happiness, and the

Jews wanted a better king than God ; and the wishes of both
were granted.
l'

IJ]~i

There was an increasing hankering after some-

thing forbidden both by law and conscience, while, also, 'the
invisible things of Him from the beginning of the Creation of

f··

.j.

revealed. \Vherefore the law was our school-m aster, to bring us unto Christ, that we
might be justified by faith. But, after that faith is come we are no longer under a
school-master.' But truth and conscience and Nature have always been the s:uno, .
and we may so far say equally to the earliest as to the latest of ou;. race, ' IYho did
hinder you that ye should not obey the truth ? This persuasio; cometh not of Ililll

...·.,
;..~]

r

That calleth you.'

383

the world were clearly seen, being understood by the things
that were made, even His eternal Power and Godhead ; so that
they were without excuse.'
as useless as ever.

Punishments and mercies were still

Something better was desired than truth

and the bounties of Providence.

'They changed the truth of

God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more
than the Creator ; and for this cause Goel gave them up to vile
affections,' 'gave them over to a reprobate mind,' 'who, knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things
are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure
in them that do them.' And how is it in these days ? Let our
own generation say.
"Such, then, in part, is what I imply in the word wish, or
hope. But it may equally aim at some real improvement, something better in morals and Religion, some relief from suffering
or want, or some rational increase of happiness.

But, which-

ever it may be, whether for good or evil results, it is the same;
always hope of something better.

It is this which rules the

affairs of men.

It is Hope, the oldest goddess, that works to

will and to do.

She presides every where, from the throne to

the dungeon, and from the dungeon to the death-bed.

vVhat

hes at the foundation of Governments? vVhat covers the ocean
with fle ets, and drives them from one continent to another?
What has occasioned the great change that this country has
experienced during the few past centuries ? vVhat has changed
its forests into populous Cities ? vVhat has settled it so thickly

384

with the white man? What has introduced into it the arts and
sciences ? \Vhat the love of literature and learning ? Vlhat, I
say, has brought about this mighty revolution?

H ope ! H ad

Columbus not taken Hope for his pilot, his ship would have
e t the port.

Had he not 1Jeen animated by her, he

1voulcl have been terrified by his crew.

In a word, had it not

been for Hope, this country would still have remained a desolate waste, wrapped in superstition and mental darkness.

•

" Hark ! Methinks I hear the voice of music.
sound of a distant hymn.
What mean they?

It is the

Methinks I see the bowing knee.

I say, it is hope and gratitude comlJined.

" I have stated that hope has been the common attribute of
the human mind ever since man's creation; that it is present in
every deed, and in every thought; that, whatever a man does,
it is with an idea that it will be productive of good either to
himself or his neighbor; that it is absent from no situation, no
station in life ; that the poorest wretch has as great a share of
it as the proudest Monarch.

But I have never said nor never

'

will, that we always expect what we wish.

'

Diel not Adam,

when driven from the aarclen desire to enter its blesse<l con<=>

'

fines again, although the Cherubim, and the flaming sword,
drove e.iqJectation to despair-trembling with horror?

Did

not Jacob, when the coat of many colors was presented to him,
drenched as he thought with the life-blood of his beloved son,

'

'

desire (and what could he desire more) once more to lay bis
eyes upon him, the obj ect of his affections?

But, how di<l it

385
rnock his utter despair, when he exclaimed-' An evil beast
hath devoured him.

Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces!'

The pages of sacred and civil history abound with such examples, and they are examples, too, of what is occurring in the life
of every individual.

Is not man now what man was; and will

he not remain the same until the rapid car of time shall have
reached its goal?

Cannot hope exist now without the least

shadow of expectation, as well as six thousand years ago ? Is
not hope an inmate of every dungeon, even when the realms of
despair?

This, however, is not essential to our subject, though

one of its remarkable features.

But, the most remarkable of

all is the controlling influence of a Power Who gives to hope
its promise, or turns it to disappointment ; vVho renders its
ends useful, or permits them, for the present at least, to be prolific of woe.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, - -, 1846."

49

386

THEME-ARTICLE XLII.
"'PROCRASTINATION.'

" How disgusting must it be to the conscience of a man
who is prone to this great evil, to reflect, at the end of each
day, that new duties have been left undone, and old ones have
not yet been accomplished, and that, if he do not alter his
course of life, his procrastination will turn into idleness, and
that, at last, he must be plunged into irremediable ruin.

It is

true, he may flatter himself with hope ; but the examples
around him can scarcely fail to awaken his apprehensions.
"We are here for a few years to prepare ourselves for eternity.

Youth is especially the season for this preparation ; the

time in which the seeds of future happiness must be sown: If

l:

delinquent, therefore, in our duties then, how can we have enjoyment hereafter? How can we expect to reap now, or in the
world to come, where we have not sown, and gather where we
have not strewed ? If an of you have permitted the weeds of
procrastination to s ring u in your minds, cast them out, and
it, you can have no profitable harvest till you
" RoBERT TR01JP

P.A.INE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, May 27, 1844."

387

THEME -ARTICLE XLIII.
'"CAPITAL

PUNISHMENT.'

"If we examine the pages of history, both Sacred and civil,
we shall find among almost all nations, notwithstanding the
many wars and contentions that have arisen, that there has
generally existed a reverential regard for the life of a human
being, and that a cold-blooded murder has generally met with
the severest punishment. This has been common in savage as
well as civilized society. At any rate, we shall see that in the
laws· of almost all communities, the crime above mentioned
stands at the head of all others as the one of the deepest die,
and that its perpetrator has been doomed to suffer the most
rigid penalties, although now and_ then, through the violence of
party spirit, or the partiality of judges, the offender has been
allowed to go unpunished.
"Tl1is respect for life, and the guilt that attends its destruction, are particularly shown in the murderer himself; for,
although he may go unpunished by the hand of man, or his
crime remain unknown until, in the bitterness of his grief, he
may acknowledge it upon his dying bed, he is not without his
penalty. There is something within his bosom which continu-

388

ally pricks and goads him, something which cease:; 110t to b
up his offence and present it fresh t o his memory. It

iaf,

sting of conscience, a spark of that fire which 11cvcr shall ·
quenched, a similitude of that worm which clietl1 110t,
whatever place he turns, to whatever region he bO'Oes ' thoro. .
tormentor follows him.

It is within his breast ; it i ~ a pllrt.

his being, a part of himself.

Oh, wretched creature !

1

'fk
~

is no peace, saith my God, t o the wicked.'
" Having thus shown the value of life, and tho
which it is regarded by mankind, let us now proceed to
tain the measures which should be taken to preserve it
the outrages of daring and unruly men.

The propriety of 91

tal punishment has, for some time, t aken up the attention;
the civilized world.

The topics commonly discussed under .·,

head are, first, the right of government to inflict the pu
ment of death ; secondly, the expediency of such punishmon
, l

thirdly, the crimes to which, if any, it may be most propol
applied; fourthly, the manner in which it should be inflictedi.
" The right of society to punish offences against its 8 ._
and good order cannot be doubted by any considerate pe
By the laws of Nature, individuals have a right to guard
selves, their property, and their lives, from injury and viole
If a person attempt to take the life of another, the latter haa.
undoubted privilege to protect himself against the assault
all means within his power · and if he cannot secure hi .

'

'

except by taking the life of the assailant, he has

1•

assuredly~

1111

389
right so to do.

If this be denied, self-preservation must be for

ever laid aside, and we should lay ourselves open to every sort
of indignity, and insult.

Nay, it would be the same as laying

our heads upon the block, to let him that pleases come and
strike them off.

But who is he that would permit another to

destroy him so long as he may be able to prevent it ?

You

may roam from Arctic to the Antarctic, but you will not find
him.

No, you will not find him.

vVhat is this, then, but pun-

ishment by death ? The punishment is the same in both the
cases. It differs only in the mode of inflicting it.

vVhy, then,

J ask, has not a community or nation a right to invest its public
officers with the power of administering this penalty; for what
does it signify whether an o:ffender be requited by the individual whose life he attempts, or by some person appointed for
the purpose after he has succeeded in perpetrating the crime ?
Is it not, moreover, fully as much an act of self-preservation in
the case of a community as in that of an individual?

And let

me ask, is not the protection of the former of as much importance as the safety of the latter ? I appeal to reason for the
answer. The reply is in the affirmative. We arrive, therefore,
at the conclusion, that punishment administered by the public
authority is as much in accordance with the rules of equity, ,and
as much a matter of self-defence, as taking the life of a highway
robber in the more summary manner.
"My opponents may say, that, when an individual is attacked by the daring burglar, or by the cold-blooded murderer, he

390

has no other resort than that of terminating the life of his
assailant; but that, when the murderer escapes and is detected
after the commission of his crime, the dreary cell will answer
the same purpose as the gallows, and, therefore, to make use of
the latter would be a wanton destruction of human life. But
it must be remembered that all punishment is inflicted more
with a view of deterring others from crime than of chastising
the malefactor. Besides which, it should. be borne in mind thn".
the penalty of death must necessarily strike a greater t error of

••

the commission of capital crimes, than the most gloomy dungeon
that art can devise. There is no prison without hope, and. this
hope of ultimate escape would be felt by the murderer before
he inflicts the blow ; but he knows that the iron grasp of death
will never r elinquish its hold.

Moreover, a murderer, or a

pirate, confined in prison, is likely to give rise to public excitement, ofte:µ to great and corrupt efforts to obtain his release,
perhaps to open quarrels, or even to riotous mobs.
"Let us now examine the subject in a moral point of view.
Many· may say, because human life is regarded as sacred by
The Almighty, that ther e is no crime, h owever great it may b e,

that will justify its destruction.

We might just as well affirm,

because the soul of man is of inestimable value in the eyes of
God, insomuch that He gave His only begotten Son to die for
its preservation, that there will be no punishment in the world
to come. Allow this, and we may throw the Bible aside. There
will be no sin ; because, whatever we do we are going straight

_,

391
to Heaven.

There could be no law; for ' sin cometh of the

law,' and 'the wages of sin is death.' The rule, according to the.
early law given to the Hebrews, was, that ' he that sheddeth
man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.'

Many may say,

that the Old Testament is not the ·guide for our conduct.

I

would answer that it is in those things which are not changed
in the New Testament. They may reply, that, according to its
own words, we should abolish capital punishment as contrary to
the doctrines of the Christian Religion.

It is true, our Saviour

says, 'Do ye unto others as ye would that qthers should do unto
you ; ' ' When thine enemy smiteth thee upon one cheek, turn
to him the other also.'

But, this certainJy does not forbid capi-

tal punishment, for, if it forbid that, it forbids all punishment ;
and this, as I have said before, would be the same as laying our
heads upon the block.
and devastation.

Nay, all would be a scene of murder

This, therefore, could not have been the

meaning of Him Who is called ' The Prince of Peace.'

It

rather tea~hes us not to be continually troubling others, and
thwarting and bringing their plans to naught; not to be vexed
and to fly into a passion at every trifle which may turn up
during our worldly career, but to bear with patience any little
thing which may happen contrary to our wishes. Read the
parable of the talents, and some other things said by our Saviour, and you will see an adaptation of punishment to the
nature of the offence, both now and hereafter. But there is
this difference.

In the present world it is strictly punishment,

•
392
and designed for the public good, or for individual reformation.
In a future life it can scarcely be called punishment, because it

flows naturally from a sense of guilt and from the inability of
the unrighteous to enjoy the things ·of Heaven, and without any
view to reformation or to the good of others.
" My opponents, however, may say that to hang the murderer is sending a soul unprepared to meet its Judge.
need not be.

This

There generally is, and always should be allowec:

to the condemned an interval of from six months to a year
before his execution. This is ample time ; for a day, nay, less

•

than a day may raise a man from death to life, who is truly
sorrowful for his sins, and places full confidence in the blood of
The Lamb. He may be called in at the eleventh hour, and
enjoy everlasting bliss in the regions above.
reply of our Saviour to the dying thief.

Remember the

But I would not be

thought, by what I have said, to be in favor of delaying repentance until the late hour of death.

No, far from it.

I would

have all live as if to live for ever, and live as if to die to-day.
crimes by which life is either lost, or stands in great jeopardy;
' such as murder, arson, piracy, highway robbery, burglary,' and
sometimes treason. All, too, should equally suffer ; the high,
the low, the rich, and the poor.
" Finally, we are to consider how this punishment should be
inflicted. All cruelties, such as burning, starvino- crucifixion,
and the like, ought to be for ever discarded as they are,

Ill

393

'•1'·1

themselves, sins of the deepest dye, and a foul reproach to any
nation.

Having set _these aside, among the milder modes of

punishment by death, hanging and shooting may be reg~rd~ ~
as the shortest and least painful, and should be, therefore, I/'
~

always employed.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

" Columbia College, March 8, 1846."

THEME -ARTICLE XLIV.
"'THE EVILS OF WAR.'

" Man was first created in a state of innocence, in the Image
of his Maker, and was placed in a garden to dress and to keep
it; Nature's noblest employment. It was a garden not planted
by the sweat of the brow.

It was planted by Him Who made

the heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that in them is. It was
not a garden crutivated by incessant labor, attended by vexa. tion and disappointment.

No ; we have reason to believe that

the nursing of it was a matter of recreation and amusement.
Such was the place first inhabited by man and his consort.
They, too, were well suited to such a place, for they were made
•
only a little lower than the Angels, and crowned with glory
and honor, and had dominion over all terrestrial things. And
now, who may undertake to utter the enjoyment that was expeso

I

394

rienced there, or the gratitude that was there poured forth ?
Who can describe the feelings that pervaded the heart of man
in th!s state of innocence, enjoying the smiles of an uno:ffended
God, and surrounded by a11 the gayety that Nature can possibly display.

To describe this happy scene would have defied

the imagination of Homer, and have baftl.ed the pencil of the
great Apelles.

This blessed condition, however, man was soon

obliged to forfeit; for woman, not contented with the multitude
of delicacies which she enjoyed, was, ere long, persuaded to try

•

for something better, especially something prohibited.

Truly

hath the Latin poet said, 'varium et mutabile semper foemina.'
At this moment, sin, death, heD, and all the curses and evils
that infest our being, were ushered into the new-born world,
delighting, as cloth a giant, to run their course. Then, all Nature seemed, as it were, in a state of gloom and utter despair ;
for man, who, a short time ago, was endowed with immortal
happiness, is now lost, lost for ever.

But, stop.

\Vhile Adam

was in this state of deepest anguish, he heard proclaimed to the
serpent by a voice from on high, 'I will put enmity between

.<I

thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed ; it,
sha11 bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel' Glorl~ ·.
ous promise ! Made at the very fall of man, .and accomplished
in due time, fully in accordance with the words uttered by The
Almighty.
"Now, one of the consequences of that unhappy event is
war. Yes, that bane of human life, that enemy of all happine.84

395
and enjoyment, took its rise from that act of disobedience.
Yes, we can trace its course from that time down to the present
moment. It .was the same spirit which prompted the murder
of Abel, the same that brought about the destruction of J erusalem, the downfall of Greece, and a multitude of similar calamities. It is this which causes one nation to decay, and another
to spring up upon its ruins. It is this, in fine, which rules the
fate of kingdoms, and the destinies of empires.
" Let us now, for a moment, turn our attention to the evils
of war. These are of two kmds, physical and moral.

ln every

battle tnere are two parties, tne conquerors and the conquered.
vVhile the one party exults in victory, the other is reduced to
wretchedness.

The latter display the effects.

Their country is

plundered, their houses · are burned, their olive-yards and vineyards are demolished, and they themselves are visited by
famine, or are Ld away in chains by their proud and insolent
foes to a miserable slavery.

Such, at least, is the history of all

but the little band of Christians; and how :fiercely will they
fight, and only stop short of absolute oppression ! There is also
much wailing and sorrow occasioned on the side of the victors.
Although the great body of them may rejoice, still in many
a dwelling there are silent tears poured out by a fond mo.ther,
an affectionate father, a dutiful son, and many a gray head is
brought clown in sorrow to the grave. Its bad influences are
also observable in the arts, sciences, and all literature.

How

many have perished in battle who would otherwise have proved

396
the greatest and brightest ornaments in the scientific world;
who would have shown brighter in that horizon than yon blazing sun in the vast canopy of heaven! Besides, when nations
are engaged in war, they are withheld from making improvement in what is likely to prove useful to them, and to all posterity.

But the greatest, and most fearful consequence I have

neglected to mention ; its effect upon the immortal soul.

How

many millions have been ushered into the presence of their
Judge with little or no preparation for such a meeting, and, at .
fae very moment · of their death, in the heat of the conflict,
tossed with the fury of passion, and cherishing hatred of many,
and deep enmity towards their foes !
100:.1

i~·I

" Now we come to the immorality of war.

We can plainly

perceive that battle is in direct opposition to the fundamental

''. 'I\

,j !

laws of the Christian ReJlgion ; for, by these we are enjoined
to 'live peaceably with all men as much as lieth in our power.'
And what meaneth this - ' Now abideth these three, faith,

Hil

hope, and charity, but the greatest of these is charity' ? Is it
not, therefore, truly astonishing that nation should rise against
nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and this, too, from almost
insignificant causes ? May we not well e:s:claim, 'Why do the
heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?' Yes, war
is a vain thing ; for, in prospect it is animating, and promises
good, but delusive in the end, when, too late, its votaries bitterly lament their wickedness and folly.

If war must be the
4

' ultima ratio regum,' it should be the last means of settling

397
difficulties between nations.

But, may the time come when

wars, and rumors of wars, may cease for ever, and the wolf
dwell with the lamb, and the leopard lie down with the kid,
and the calf, and the young lion, and the fatling together ; and
when a little child may lead them.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

" Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 2, 1846.

"Post8C1'ipt.-Some of you, perhaps, may ask me what
alms-giving has to do with war.

To such I would reply that

' charity' first bore the meaning of love, and was not used in
the acceptation in which it is now generally understood.

For

St. Paul himself says that, 'although he bestow all his goods
to feed the poor, and though he give his body to be burned,
and has not charity, it profiteth him nothing.'

Our Saviour

has the whole of my subject in a single sentence: - 'Blessed
are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of
God.'"

398

THEME-ARTICLE XLV.

"

~i

1

CRUSADES.'

'I

"These expeditions, which began about the end of the
eleventh and continued till the expiration of the thirteenth
century, were undertaken at the instance of Peter of Amiens,
commonly styled the Hermit, along with Urban II., for the
avowed object of driving the Turks from the Holy Land, and

J.•"\

- obtaining possession of the Sepulchre of our Saviour, then held
by the Mahomedans.

This desire was not only natural with

sincere Christians, but praiseworthy ; although we cannot jusl"

:ii.!
i~:
I

I

Tf: 1
Jl!.:

I

'I

j:

•' 'l"~.,,.11 1
J ] 1,.1

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tify the means of carrying it out.

""\\Te look upon the Holy

Land as Christian property, and these recollections are apt to
grow into zeal for its possession when we reflect that there was
enacted the event which gave salvation to mankind, that there
was entombed the Chief \.Yho is to lead us on for ever to the
highest destinies of our race.

Are our dear friends laid in a

foreign land, we wish to reclaim their bodies.

Does a Hero

perish far from the home of his glory, a Washington or vVellington, and in the midst of abject infidels, his countrymen has·
ten to recover his remains, and no obstacle will prevent them.
It is true, our Saviour's body was not there; but there, as the

399

captain of a dozen fishermen, He fought the greatest battle
which this earth has ever seen.

He conquered the common

enemy of man, past, present, and to come, and stamped holiness upon the land.
Crusades.

But do not think me a defender of the

I am now upon another subject.

I am talking of

the human heart, or what it ought to be.

I say that their

object was praiseworthy, so far as it was sincere.

What indi-

vidual of our nation, not an entire stranger to good feelings and
religious emotions, could station himself upon the top of Sinai,
and not recall with emotions, the event, the memorable event,
that. occurred ages and ages before he became a citizen of the
world ?

vVould not a lively glow pervade his heart when

thinking that upon the place where he now stands, the Lord
of Heaven descended amid clouds, flame, and smoke, thunder,
lightning, and the blast of the trumpet, to give His commands
to His disobedient servants?

Or, let him repair to the Sepul-

chre, will he not be awe-struck at the place which once contained the cold and lifeless Body of his Redeemer ; will he not
be led to reflect upon life, death, and eternity ; will he not
mourn that it is desecrated by the foot of the infidel ? But
distance canliot affect the reality.

That remains the same as if

our whole nation were spectators. It is the 'sign,' and the
want of it, which makes the difference between the beholder
and those that do not see it.
" Such, however, was not the spirit of the Crusaders.

It is

·horrible to reflect that plunder, and a freer intercourse with

400

the East, were their piratical objects.

And Oh, what dire ·

wickedness was there in doing all this under the cloak of Religion.

They were truly wolves in sheep's clothing.

'vVoe unto

you, scribes, pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited
sepulchres, which, indeed, appear beautiful outward, but are
within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.' These
words are as applicable to most of the Crusaders as to those
against whom they were uttered.

Grant, however, that the

design of all was good ; will it appear so from the measures
which were taken? I answer no; for then they should have
carried civilization and Christianity among the ignorant ancl
superstitious Turks, instead of slaughtering them, Cortez-like,
with an unrelenting hand.

This was the way for them to have

procured that respect for the Sepulchre which was their pretended olJject.

Put up thy sword, was the command of Jesus

when a certain person, in defence of his Lord and Master, smote
off an ear belonging to a servant of the High Priest ; from
which it is evident that, if warlike . instruments were not permitted in the defence of our Saviour, they surely ought not to
have been employed in the case of the Sepulchre.

vVbich

should receive the greater reverence the Tomb or He that

'

'

once lay therein?
"vVhatever may have been the advantages that flowed . from the expeditions of the Crusaders, or how great, mighty, . ~
and glorious they may have been in their nature, no one

CllJl

conscientiously say that they were worth the blood that was

401
shed in their acquisition.

And, that I am borne out in this, let

us look at the nature of another Crusade which is yet to be
undertaken against the Holy Land, when 'many people and
strong nations shall come to seek the Lord of hosts in J erusa~
lem, and to pray before the Lord.

In those days it shall come

to pass, that ten men shall take hold, out of all languages of
the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a
Jew, saying, We will go with you; for we have heard that God
is with you.'
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE.

" Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 8, 1845."

THEME -ARTICLE XLVI.

"'LIFE OF HOR.A.CE.'

" . .When I cast a glance at the present condition of the arts,
sciences, and all literature, I am led to ask where shall we find
the men who have been the greatest ornament to their country,
and the greatest honor to their race ? Shall we look for them
at this age of high advancement~ I answer that we must go
back to years long, long since gone by, to the comparative
infancy of knowledge; and, although on our way thither, a
straggling poet, or a Newton, may shed a dazzling lustre upon
the path, still, it is after an interval of more than eighteen huns1

r;I

.!

402
''Iii

dred years that we suddenly come upon the multitudes of ora~l~l
Ii\.

tors, poets, sculptors, philosophers, and other men who have
shone with the blaze of genius.

I

L

It is here, or beyond, that we

meet with Homer, Socrates, Sophocles, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca,
Thucydides, Herodotus, Hippocrates, Demosthenes, Apelles, Virgil, Cicero, Horace, and a multitude of others which these names
are only intend ed to suggest.
" Horace, the greatest of the Latin lyric poets, was born 65

U!
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•IO,

B. C., of low parentage, as were most of the great and renowned men of antiquity ; such as Virgil, Sallust, Homer, &c.

His

father removed from Venusium to Rome in order to give his
son the advantages of an education, when the latter had attained the age of nine or ten years.

Horace received there the

instruction of the ablest preceptors, while his father was engaged in the public sales, striving to lay up a small sum to pay for
his son's tuition.

H ere is an example for imitation.

Here we

come upon the apparent mystery which attends the sudden disappearance of great men (as· to number at least), and the continued void to the present generation. It is the want of oppor·
tunities for education.

Let the poorer class of people be better

instructed, let the spirit of MfficEmas return, and there will be
no lack of philosophers, poets, orators, and other apparent prodigies of mind.
as ever.

They will again appear in as great a multitude

The neglect of general and thorough education is the

cause of their scarcity.

There is no degeneracy of the human

mind, but, on the contrary, it has received additional strength '

403

every moment of its existence.

No; it is the absence of the

public schools of Greece, and of that generosity that pervaded
the heart of every true native of the Latin race.

The parent

would rather be a beggar than that his son should be deprived
of the blessings of an education.
Look at the contrast.

This is the true reason.

How few have been the descendants of

wealthy and noble men who have written their names, indellibly, upon the pages of history, compared with those of obscure
and humble origin.

Take, for example, Milton, Virgil, Homer,

Demosthenes, and Cicero.

The :first three, the greatest poets,

and the last two the greatest orators the world has ever witnessed, were born of poor, and almost insignificant parents ;
besides which, it should be also remembered that Milton and
Homer were blind, and Virgil labored under a complaint termed the asthma.

Pursue the inquiry, and it will become more

and more evident that there is nothing to be expected from
riches, but, on the contrary, that they are one of the greatest
obstacles to worldly fame. They encumber the mind, and withdraw it from those higher objects to which it would naturally
incline. It was to this complete control of the mind that our
Saviour alluded when He said, 'a rich man shall hardly enter
into the kingdom of Heaven.' The fault, however, is not in
the wealth, but in those who make it the great object of their
affections, and, as it were, their god.

Virgil expresses beauti-

fully the same doctrine when he speaks of those suffering punishments in the world below, -

404
'Aut qui divitiis soli incubuere repertis,
N ec pm-tern posuere suis ; qure maxima turba est.'

" But to return once more to our subject.

Horace read

with his preceptors the most ancient poets of Rome.
turned his attention to the literature of Greece.

He next

At the age of

twenty-one he was sent to Athens to complete his education.
He had for his fellow-disciples the son of Cicero, V arius, ancl
young Messala.

He professed to have no partiality for any

school in particular; although it is said that his writings evince
the spirit of Epicurus. During his stay at Athens many changes
had been brought about at Rome.

Cresar had been assassina-

ted, and, upon the ruins of his power Anthony was seeking to
raise a more terrible despotism.

Brutus and Cassius, who were

the only hopes of the faint spark of liberty that still remained,
had arrived in order to collect the students of that place; ancl
among their troops the youthful Horace was :finally enlisted.
And here I may remark, as a verification of what I stated a few
minutes ago, that the Poet himself exclaims, 'Poverty drove me
to write verses.' Among the friends who principally encouraged
his efforts were Virgil and 'varius. He was introduced by Virgil to Mrecenas at the age of 27.

When he held his first inter-

view with Mrecenas, he gave him a very brief statement of his
former life.

Nothing more occurred for nine months, when

their acquaintance was renewed, and from that time they continued to be the warmest friends until the cold hand of death

405

separated them for ever.

His patron bestowed upon him a

romantic villa at Tibur, and a secluded farm in the country of
the Sabines.

But what conduced most to his prosperity was

the favor and good will of his imperial master.

Though he

enjoyed some of the highest privileges, had Augustus for his
protector, and Moocenas as his friend, still he had resolution and
firmness in a sufficient degree to prefer his lowly abode on the
Esquiline, his villa at Tibur, or his sequestered farm, to all the
splendors of his royal friends.
said in praise of his wise choice.

Too much, certainly, cannot be
But though Horace possessed

very many good qualities, he was guilty of much misconduct
which is, in the highest degree, disgraceful to man.

We should

remember, however, that we all have our faults ; that some fail
in one thing, others in another.

We should therefore take his

good principles and make them our.pattern.

His bad ones we

should pity, but not justify him. In person Horace is stated
to have been below the ordinary size, and inclined to corpulence.

According to his own account he was abstemious in his

diet, and divided the day between reading, writing, the bath,
and the tennis-court. Horace survived his friend Moocenas only
a few weeks, having died in his 57th year, and his remains were
deposited on the Esquiline hill, near the tomb of Mrecenas.
Thus ended the career of this great and noble bard.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AJNE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 23, 1846."

',1.,:

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406

THEME -ARTICLE XLVII.

"'HISTORY.'

" -while looking around us, and only at the present, we are
led to consider whether we are the :first of the human family,
or whether we have been preceded by others ; whether we

i
~I

shall be for ever permitted to imagine ourselves lords of all we
survey, or shall soon be succeeded by others ; whether we are
always to inhabit the Earth, or are destined for a higher and

~1

happier state.

These, and the. like inquiries, can be answered

only by the voice of history.

It is this which raises the dark

curtain of the mysterious past, and opens the future to our
VIew.

i~I

Here we learn our origin and destination.

Here we

learn from what has been the things which are to come.

Here

we overlook the procession of events from the beginning of
time ; the long line of philosophers, poets, orators, and states·

11·1
I.Ii,

men ; heroes and armies ; battles and murders ; the infancy,
rise, and fall of nations, succeeded by others as one generation
takes the place of another ; men distinguished by their virtues,
and others illustrious for crime ; but all so ingulfed in the
past, that there is but one great moral for the whole - the
instability of all human affairs-.that 'man is as the grass of

407

the field, which to-day is, but to-morrow is cut down.'

But,

from the same source we learn that man is a progressive being ;
that the good which is done by one and another may never
cease to be useful and to increase with its age; that knowledge
is the accumulated work of all generations ; while thes0, and
similar disclosures show us that, although man is as a shadow
that passeth away, he leaves something behind him of imperishable value, or, on the other hand, inflicts and perpetuates the
greatest evils upon his race.
u But let us come to individual examples to illustrate these
general lessons of history.

Here we see how a nation may be

afflicted by a malicious and tyrannical king, or, how vastly a
good and wise monarch may improve the condition of his subjects.

Take the reigns of Solomon and Rehoboam.

During

all the days of the former the children of Israel were at peace
with their enemies, were contented and happy, and apparently
making daily advancement in piety, knowledge, and wealth.
But, how different with Solomon's successor.

Then the current

of events took an opposite turn, corresponding, as in the former
case, with the character of the Sovereign. vVars broke out.
The .Egyptians came up against Jerusalem, and made plunder
of the House of the Lord, and of the king's house ; besides
which Israel became embroiled in domestic dissensions, whereby ten of the tribes revolted.

The history of these events

might have served them as a history of the future; and certainly the future continued to be marked by the same trains of

408
causes and effects, not only among the Jews, but among all
other nations.
tory.

Such, then, is the most invaluable legacy of his-

It shows us bow we ~ay avoid troubles, how we may

be prospeTOus and happy, or how as certainly the opposite will
befall us; what are the rewards of virtue, what the sure punishments of vice ; what is the difference between homage paid to
Jupiter, Apollo, Neptune, or the cats and clogs of the Egyptians, and the Goel of the Christian ; how to 'discern between
the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God
and him that serveth Him not ; ' that a man, like Epaminondas,
may be celebrated for centuries because he never told a falsehood, or another, like Aristides, may be as long proverbial for
his justice.
'' Such, then, are the bearings of history upon the conduct
It directs them what to do, and

of individuals and of nations.

saves the~ the necessity and uncertainties of future experience.
By its aid we may also look, upon some important matters, into
the most distant future.

We see, for example, that all men,

with only two exceptions, have come under the general sen·
tence, 'dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return;' from
which we have reason to believe that the sentence will continue
to be fulfilled.

We have beheld the rise and downfall of king•

do ms from .the earliest records ; and we may therefore suppose
that such will continue to be the course of events to the end of
4
the world. On the other band other tbino·s have been steadil Y
'

0

advancing, as the arts, science, civilization, Christianity; and W'O ~

I'"

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409

therefore infer that they will continue to do so.
regularity of events is observable in Nature.

The same

The earth, and

other planets, move now in the same orbits that the finger of
God first marked out for them.

vVater, on being evaporated

from the sea and rivers, forms itself into clouds, which discharge
themselves upon the earth, and after having thus served the
purpose for which Nature borrowed it, is again evaporated and
descends again in the form of rain, snow, or hail, till, at last, it
:finds its way to the seas or rivers from which it came.

Thus it

happens, also, that the water which we drink to-clay may have
been drank a thousand times before; the clouds which concealed
the sun yesterday may have done so before.

H ence we infer

that this will continue to be the order of Nature. This kind of
observation, which is equivalent to history, teaches us that, out
of the grouncl is formed the herb of the :field.

This, being

eaten by animals, ente~s into their composition.

The animals

die, and moulder away, when their vegetable matter goes back
to plants.

Thus certain particles of matter may have been

many times through the three great kingdoms of Nature. This
is certainly astonishing.

But we :fincl it to be true from every

clay's observation. If this, therefore, have been the case ever
since the creation of the world, why ought we not to suppose
that it will be so until it shall be announced that 'time shall
be no more?'
" ROBERT TROUP p AINE.
" Columbia College Grammar School, 1846."
52

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410

THEME - .ARTICLE XLVIII.
"'EVACUATION DAY.'

" Evacuation Day is connected with a long and interesting
history.

In the year 1492 Columbus discovered America; and

about the thirtieth year of the seventeenth century the British
came over to this region of the Continent, and subdued the
Indians, killing some of them, and driving others to extreme
parts of the northern and western wilderness.

Fro?1 this time

the Britons bore rule here for about the space of a hundred
and thirty or forty years.

They also imposed such heavy taxes

upon the colonists that payment was £.~ally refused.

For this

cause, particularly, Great Britain began hostilities against the

Ui

Americans, and a war of about seven years ensued, in which
George vVashington, the General of his people, the father and ~
hero of his country, proved victorious, and brought the British to terms of peace. Then, on the twenty-fifth of November, tho
enemy left the City of New-York. Hence the name of Evacu· jl
ation Day. It was then that liberty shed its :first bright beam._
upon this happy land. Then the Smiles from on High descend• -' l
eel like the dews of heaven upon our nation. Then we couL
have our own form of government, live by our own law

,

411

appoint our own punishments for wickedness ancl vice, ancl
our own rewards for virtue ancl uprightness. It was then that
every man could sit clown under his own vine, with a light ancl
joyful heart. Then it was that a spark came into existence that
shall kindle all the nations of the earth. vVashington ! George

·washington !

There is a magic in thy name which should

thrill the heart of every one of thy race.

Shall not we hold in

grateful remembrance the man who obtained liberty for us, the
most pleasant thing enjoyed upon earth, and more to be desired
than gold, yea than much fine gold ? Let us ask ourselves if
such be not the value of liberty.

Let us go back t o the early

history of the Jews for a proof of it. There we shall find that,
when they turned away from The Lord their Goel, ancl wor-

.

shipped graven images, captivity was their punishment, and
freedom their r eward when t hey again paid homage to the
Almighty.

Shall we, or our posterity, lay aside the name of

one who was unto our nation what David was unto Israel ? Let
us look at the parallel.

David slew Goliath, and won many

vVashington did all this excepting the private combat. Was not the Goel of battles equally
with both ? That was, at least, W ashington's opinion. The
former was king of his nation ; the latter was ruler of his people. David was just and upright, and so was Washington. I
appeal to reason for an answer to this question. The reply is,
if we allow the memory of our Champion t o sink into oblivion,
we shall be guilty of the greatest ingratitude, and unworthy
battles against powerful odds.

412
the blessings which we inherit. What joy! What thankfulness
must have :filled the hearts of the Americans when they beheld
the British abandoning their shores, and looking back upon
their seven years' war, through which a handful of brave men
had reduced to submission the most powerful nation of the
earth ! How pleasing must it have been to see the British flag
1~11

il!

torn down, and the American hoisted in its stead !
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 26, 1845."

1
,l:1"n:h~l1·1

THEME-ARTICLE XLIX.

"

1

THE RELATIVE 11.~FLUENCE OF MEN ~""D WOMEN.'

" To whatever page of history we turn, either sacred or
civil, we there trace something besides the hand of man. l\fan
may perform the work ; b~t what is it that prompts him? Is
it not greatly woman, whether his deeds be for good or for
evil ? Is it not very much as she inclines one way or the
other? Yes; we see that in the case of our Mother Eve, who,
by influencing Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit, introduced
sin and death into the world. This, the most unhappy of all ~
events, was effected by the· hand of woman. Did not Abrahlllll, · .
by the influence of his jealous wife Sarai, turn away Hagar tl.Dd '.

413
Ishmael, who had so long been his housemates, to seek their
fortune in a dreary wilderness ? Joseph, through the influence
of a woman, was cast into prison. It was the beauty of a female
that prompted the greatest sin recorded in Holy vVrit; namely,
that of treating Bath-sheba, the wife of Uriah, with indecency,
and, after that, of placing her husband in the front of a hot
battle, in order that he might be slain, and that it might enable
him to take Bath-sheba to be his wife.

It was by the influence

of his deceitful spouse that Samson was at last prevailed upon
to tell where his immense strength lay; to his own injury and
the gratification of his enemies.

Was not Solomon, after hav-

ing received the three Di vine gifts of wisdom, long life, and
great riches, and after having written a book of Proverbs, a
great part of which were against· idolatry, influenced by his
wives to worship strange gods?

Edward the Third, after hav-

ing besieged Calais, and after having reduced the inhabitants to
the last extremity of hunger, so that they were compelled to
surrender, vowed that he would put them all to death for having made so obstinate a resistance.

Six of the citizens, how-

ever, having presented themselves as a voluntary sacrifice for
their countrymen, the king was prevailed upon by his amiable
wife Philippa, and pronounced a general

par~lon.

Helen, too,

was the cause of the ten years' siege of mighty Troy.
"Although man is employed in the out-door business of the
world, still, in this he is influenced by woman ; for a man will,
in all probability, try to please his wife, the object of his affec-

414
tions.

However cruel in disposition he may be, however fixed

in his resolves, still there is one entreaty to which he has to
submit; still there is one voice that overcomes him, and his
murd~rous

designs, or disgraceful plots" are for ever aban-

doned.
" For woman have many men become servants.

\Ve have

an instance of this in the patriarch J acob, who served Laban
seven years for his daughter Rachel, and being deceived with
Leah, he served yet seven years more for the object of his
desire.
" Moreover, a very great influence that ·women exercise is
in the education of th eir children.

It is the mother, generally,

that lays the foundation of the future happiness or misery of
her child, by imparting to him early the principles of Religion,
or by neglecting to do so until he become hardened in vice.
'Train up a child in the way that he should go, and when he is
old he will not depart from it.'

How little, on the other hand,

is the influence of man compared with that of woman.

Man,

indeed, performs the exploits, but his wife, or some other female
relative, affects his designs.

So, it is evident that woman not

only very greatly influences the business of the world, but, also,
its morals.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE.

"Grammar School, Columbia College, March 17, 1845."

415

THEME-ARTICLE L.

"'WHICH PRODUCE THE MORE BENEFICIAL INFLUENCES ON Ji[.A.J.'fKIND, CLASSICS, OR MATHEMATICS

?'

" On first thoughts, a person would be in favor of the
former; but, on farther consideration he must undoubtedly
decide on the side of the latter.

Let us, for instance, take two
1

men just beginning to act upon the stage of life, the one having an extended knowledge of mathematics, but being an entire
stranger to classics, the other well versed in the latter, but
altogether ignorant of the former ; and let us watch these in
their ca:.:eer through the world. We shall thus plainly see that
a man, although he may never have heard the name of a Virgil,
a Homer, a Cicero, or a Plato, still, if he enter into the depths
of mathematical science, will glide through this world of anxiety and care more peacefully and more honorably than that
individual who, although he may be able to repeat all the
actions that have been done, and all the words that have been
uttered, since the creation of the world, or may know by heart
the productions of the ancient bards, is yet ignorant of the
rules of arithmetic.

Let us also take two men, the one possess-

ing a little knowledge of mathematics, but being a great classi-

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416
cal scholar, the other somewhat acquainted with the eloquence
of Demosthenes, or Cicero, or with the poetical raptures of Virgil and Homer, but at the same time being exceedingly well
versed in numbers, and let us accompany these through the
labyrinth of life. vVhat a change!

vVhat a different aspect

do we perceive ! Here the classical man is uppermost to our
view.
th ~

It is he who most distinguishes himself ; it is he whom

public voice most applauds; it is he, in fine, upon 1vhom

the highest dignities and honors are conferred.

Let us no·w

look again upon the former of our cases, and see the relative

•

influence upon the human mind between classics and mathematics ; which is the most important point ·to be discussed.
The one man, while perusing the works of the ancient authors,
can, in imagination, ascend to Heaven, and there behold Jupit er wielding the sceptre of the Universe, and darting forth
his forked lightning, or engaged in repelling the assault of the
Titan throng ; or, he can descend into the bowels of flaming
Etna, and there behold Vulcan fashioning at his fiery forge the
thunderbolts of omnipotent Jove ; or, in a moment he may see
him cast headlong to the island of Lemnos from the golden
mansions of lofty Olympus; or, he may pay a visit to the infernal regions and gaze on Pluto, surrounded by all the terrors of
the world below, sitting in judgment against defenceless criminals, or on the dire avenging Furies, executioners of the £erco
wrath of the hellish king · or to refresh himself after this

'

'

scene, he may glide o'er the watery \\aves, and see Neptune

417

one moment doomed to servile work under Laornedon, king of
Troy, and, _a t another, ruling with his mighty Trident the
raging billows of the sea; or, as a close of·his amusements, he
may direct his steps to th e rocky abode of JEolus, and there
find him, by means of chains and a prison house, keeping under
restraint the mighty and turbulent winds of Ocean, or releasing
them from bondage, bidding them, at the same time, to carry
all before them, and, in their track to leave nothing but desolation and ruin.

Still, after all this, the faculties of his mind are

not improved, its powers are not invigorated ; nay, it is no
stronger than at the commencement of his journey. The other
individual, pursuing the mathematical road, will soon :find himself stationed among the stars, solving problems the very sound
of which will almost give a death-blow to the classical man,
and calculating the motions of the heavenly bodies for thousands, or, perhaps, tens of thousands of years to come, all of
which will happen, for they are founded upon the immutable
laws of Nature.

This. is what daily gi'»es additional force to

the intellect, and improves the powers of the mind.

Thus we

see that mathematics will advance a man to the far higher
glory, if unattended by classics ; but, if joined together, the
latter, fignrati vely speaking, has the same effect upon the
former as nitric acid upon silver, -while, in order to rise even
to a slight degree of renown by the aid of classics, mathematics
are absolutely necessary.

Moreover, while through the assist-

ance of the latter we are meditating upon the splendor and

418
regularity of the various bodies of the Uni verse, we are led to
sublime thoughts of Him Whom the 'Heaven of heavens cannot contain.'
" RoBERT TnouP PAINE.
1
'

Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 1, 1845."

THEME-ARTICLE LI.
"'FRIENDSHIP.'

" Friendship is a tie of affection produced among people,
generally, by a long intimacy with each other, though all persons that have lived, and are now living, had it not been for
sin, would naturally be friends and relatives to one another;
for, out of one blood has God made all the Nations of the Earth.
Hence the black Africans, with their thick lips and fiat noses,
and the tawny and wandering Tartars, would have been nearly
as much bound to us by the ties of affection as our home-bred
relatives; though many people would not believe this.
is easily proved.

But it

Supposing a man had twenty children; they

would be brothers and sisters to each other. Just so, soon after
the Creation of the world, God made one man and woman,
from whom all people have descended.; and then, of course, on
the same plan, though larger scale, the man is the Father, and
the woman the Mother of all living, and all indi,iduals descend-

419
eel from them are brothers and sisters to each other ; and certainly every thing that is bound by blood should l)e bound by
friendship also.

But sin has turned this friendship into enmity,

:ind in this way almost all people that would have lived in perfect love and harmony with each other, have been made great
eneimes.

As there are substances that will break all material

things, so friendship, though it be stouter than iron, firmer than
brass, deeper than the ocean, may be broken by one thing, i. e.
the whisperer; who, as the wise man said, separateth chief
friends.

For instance, suppose that a man, who has the charac-

ter of a whisperer, should become acquainted with two persons
who are very great friends with each other, he would, perhaps,
immediately begin to tell one lies about the other, and in this
way the

t~o

that were a little while ago the most cordial

friends are now bitter enemies.
"ROBERT TROUP PAINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, June 21, 1844."

420

rrHE:ME -ARTICLE LII.
"'THE DTJTY OF CHILDREN '.1'0 PARENTS.'

" 'Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be
long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee,' was the
fifth Commandment that the Almighty gave forth from Mount
Sinai, encompassed by a cloud, from which proceeded fire and
smoke, thunder and lightning.

This is also called the first

Commandment of promise, because, if properly kept, it is sure
to bring to the person by whom it is so observed a long life;
for ' God is not a man that He should lie, neither the son of
man that He should repent.'

"It is the duty of children to love, respect, and obey their
parents for two reasons ; the first, because God has commanded
them to do so, and the second, because their parents have done

so much for them ; for they have watched over them with tender and affectionate care when sick, have provided their medicine and furnished their food and raiment; and, in fine, some
parents have done every thing for their children that it is in
the po1ver of mortals to do.
"Though it may be the duty of every child to obey his
parents in every thing that is right, yet it is equally his duty

421

to disobey them in every thing that is wrong.

For instance, if

a parent were to ask his child to steal, or to t ell a lie, or to do
any thing that is wicked, h e would be justified in disobeying
him, and not justified in obeying him.

St. Paul says, 'Obey

your parents in the Lord ; ' that is, do every thing that they
wish, which is at the same time according to the will of God,
but not do any thing that they desire if against the Commandment of the Almighty.

And every body should be careful not

to pay that respect and love to their parents which is clue to
Him alone vVho is able, in a moment, to take away parents and
friends, ancl Who is the Father of the fatherless and widow;
and Christ says, ' H e that loveth father and mother more than
Me is not worthy of Me.'
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 5, 1844."

'l'HE:ME-ARTICLE LUI.
" 'GOOD EDUCATION.'

"Good education is a highly cultivated state of mind. In
order to be well educated, you must acquire good principles
and manners, as the ground upon which you would build hereafter.

Is it possible to erect a house without placing it on the

ground ? No.

But when you can destroy gravity, then you

422

can construct a building in the air, then you can form a goocl
.!

education without any support for it to rest upon .

As Jong,

however, as you cannot do this, you will be obliged to by a
deep foundation first ; after which, in order to complete your
education, you must learn to speak and write your own language with correctness, study history, geography, arithmetic,
algebra, trigonometry, &c.; have some acquaintance with astronom:y, and the fine arts, and understand a few foreign languages.

·~.Ii I

But, above all, whatever you do, do it well, bearing in mind

I

that it is better to learn one page well, than to study fifty pages

::J11,I

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slightly, and even then to know nothing about them.

Be care-

ful, also, to read such books as will teach you what is correct.

fl·,

.

" You need but little intercourse with a person to know

;

I

whether he is well educated.

If he be so, he will express him-

self with more elegance, display more knowledge, better principles and ideas, more refined manners, than one who has paid
less, or but little attention to the culture of his mind.
tree is known by its fruit.

Every

Therefore, as a good tree cannot

bear corrupt fruit, or an evil tree cannot bear good fruit, so the
educated and refined man cannot say the things that belong to
the ignorant and foolish, and the ignorant and foolish cannot
give utterance to the thoughts that belong to the educated and
refined.
"How much more happ:y, too, is the well educated than the
uninstructed man ; for the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

Such was the experience of

423

a man whose choice was wisdom rather than riches or length of
clays.

vVhile the educated man is walking with the honorable

of the earth, and making still higher attainments in knowledge,
the ignorant man is classed with the lowest, and is, perhaps,
every moment growing still more hardened in wickedness and
crime.

But, it should be remembered that, as a man's educa-

tion increases, so do his responsibilities also.

The wise man is

:more blamable if he do wrong, than the uninstructed ; for,
those persons who know their Master's will, and do it not, shall
be beaten with many stripes, while those who know not His
will, and commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with
few stripes.

Justice and mercy are always the same.

make up a part of truth.

They

The penitent prodigal will always

be forgiven, and God will be merciful when Jonahs are not.
He will always' pity the persons that cannot di5cern between
their right hand and their left hand ; ' and the learned Paul
says to Timothy, 'I was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor,
but I obtained mercy because I did it ignorantly in unbelief.'
And again to Titus, 'not by works of righteousness which we
have clone, but according to God's mercy He saved us, by the
washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.'
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINF.

"Columbia College Grammar School, June 17, 1844."

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.'l'HE:ME-ARTIOLE LIV.
"'FEAR.

1

" Fear is a certain agitation of the mind, occasioned, generally, by objects of a hurtful or deadly appearance.

Experience

teaches us all the nature of the feeling ; for it attends all periods of life, from the newly born infant to the man of an hundred years.

It has been the cause of a great deal of good, and

the means of deterring many from evil. It is often at war ·with
hope, as where the wicked are intent upon unlawful gain.

One

or the other will then prevail, as expectation of reward or
punishment may affect the mind, or as conscience may happen
to direct; for 'the wicked :flee when no man pursueth.'
"Fear bas been the occasion of many of the most important events of the world ; sometimes through its effect upon
individuals, and at other times upon nations.

It saved the life

of Lot; it secured Most:.•s in the bulrushes ; it drove David
into caves and the mountains, nncl made him generous tmrards
'God's anointed·'
the children of Israel unwilling
' it rendered
.
to go into the promised land ; it is the last gracious pleasure
of the Almighty in behalf of sinners, when His promises foil.
There is no other passion of such various effects; genera1ly nse-

425

fu1, or if injurious it is mostly by affecting the health, or causing insanity and sometimes death. There have been many
cases of insanity during the last year, which arose from a belief
in the supposition propagated by Mr. Miller, that the Day of
Judgment was to come in the year 1843.
" RonERT

T1wur

PAINE.

"Columbia Col1ege Grammar School, March 18, 1844."

THEME -ARTICLE LV.
" 'WHICH MAKES THE GREATER MAN, GENIUS OR APPLI CATION?'

" Genius _is natural talent, while application, in the sense
implied by the question, is the effort that a person makes to
gain a certain point without any great natural ability to do so.

vV e see the former displayed in a variety of ways, and in all it
may be without any particular effort ; as in painting, music,
mathematics, languages, mechanical skill, &c. The latter always
requires effort. To show the difference between them in a practical view, I will suppose two men travelling in different clirections to a distant country. To the one the road is level and
easy, offering no obstacles to his progress ; while to the other
the road is extremely hilly and full of stones, and occasionally
he meets with immense rocks, which he is obliged to blast in

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order to reach bis journey1s end.

This is a fair comparison

between the man who possesses genius, and him who depends
upon constant application; for, while the form er is travelling
on in Nature's easy path, the latter is struggling with innum erable obstacles.

Thus, some persons can learn more Latin in

half an hour than others can in two hours ; because to the
former belong genius and application, while the latter is wanting in the natural talent.
"And now arises the question, which makes the greater

•

man, genius or application?

I answer that neither of them

alone will make a great man, but, that application will make
the greater of the two.

It takes both combined to make a

truly great man ; for it requires persevering industry to give
effect to that talent which is more to be desired than gold, yea,
than much fine gold.

Otherwise, it will be like the treasure

hidden in the earth.

ii
'!i

"But ge11ius often counts wholly upon itself, and laughs at
the industry upon which others rely for success.

~!

What will be

the excuse when the Lord shall come and require the tn.1eut
with usury?

'Ah!' the man of genius will say, 'I knew that

Thou art a bard man, reaping where Th~u bast not sown, and

!11

gathering where Thou hast not strewed, and I was afraid, and
went and hid Thy talent in the earth.'

"

Qli

But will that be satis-

factory?
"ROBERT TROUP PAINE.

j ~\

"Columbia College Grammar School, March 4, 1844."

11,

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'rHEME-ARTICLE LVI.

"'THANKSGIVING.'

"Thanksgiving is a day appointed by the Govemor of the
State for giving thanks to God for His numberless mercies
throughout the year.

It is a day, however, on which every

thing is done except study.

Some spend its forenoon in the

most noble way, viz., going to Church; and in the afternoon,
when they eat their sumptuous dinners, they eat for something
else than merely to gratify their carnal desire.

Others spend

it in skating, sliding, playing ba11, &c. Others in rioting, drinking, cursing and swearing.
"It is not on this day only that God should be thanked, but
every day.

It is thought a gross impoliteness among mankind

not to thank each other for every little act of kindness.

How

much more irreverent is it then to the Almighty, to allow His
mercies to pass over our heads unacknowledged and unregardecl, and the least of which we do not deserve.
" RonERT TROUP PAINE.

" Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 18, 1843."

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"

THEME-ARTICLE LVII.
"'EARLY RISING.'

" It is an excellent practice to rise early, J. 1rticularly in the

country.

At an early hour Nature is at its height of beauty;
.

I

.

for then the lambs may be seen skipping about their dams;
-

•[;
rE:

·-.

then the lilies, wbile wet with the dew of heaven, appear more_
grand than did Solomon in all his glory ; then all is still to th~
J

ear, except now and then the note of some little songster, or
. the drumming of some distant partridge, breaks upon the

mei;

ancholy stillness; it is then that the sun may be seen to dfil:i
forth its first golden beams into the pure and salubrious. air'i
and, to the pious man this may be the time for the most devout
• J.•

meditation.
"The ancient Jews used always· to rise early, particula:-rly
when they had any thing unusual to do.

..

This is often men-

tioned by Moses. We read, for example, that when Abraha111;
went to offer up his son, he rose early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took Isaac and two of his young men with
him ; a~d again, that Abimelec1i rose up early to declare to the
people what God had said to him in a dream ; and again, that_
Moses rose up early in the morning, and went up into Mount
t'·

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429

Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him ; and again, he rose up
early in the morning and builded an altar; and Jacob rose up
early to set up a stone that should be for God's house ; and the
children of Israel rose up early in the morning, and got them
up into the top of a

mo~ntain j

and again, when they had slain

the tribe of Benjamin, all Israel rose up early in the morning to
build an altar, and very often when they had battles to fight.
Solomon recommends early rising.

Darius rose very early in

the morning, and went unto the den of lions to see whether
Daniel was still alive.

Twice was Moses ordered by God to

rise up early and stand before Pharaoh.

Jeremiah says that

for many years he prophesied to the people early in the morning ; and he says, moreover, that the Lord Himself rose early
to send His Prophets.

Now, why is all this about early rising

so particularly and so often stated in the Holy Scriptures?
"A person, by rising two hours earlier every day, may save
at the end of one year thirty days and ten hours, and in twelve
years may save one year.

Thus, in a life of seventy-two years

he will gain six years.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, June 15, 1843."

430

THEME-ARTICLE LVIII.

" ''WHICH IS ?i[QRE USEFUL, AGRICULTURE, OR MAN UF .A.CTURES AND
co:m.rERCE? )

•

"This is a question which should not be hastily answered .
Let us first compare the relative use to mankind between Agriculture and Manufactures and Commerce. Then ]et us endeavor to ascertain which conduces more to the prosperity and
glory of a nation.
"Agriculture was the occupation of man while in a state
of mnocence.
ments.

It forms the ground of all other employ-

The want of it would put an end to all nations.

Nay, in a word, the whole human family would perish, and
the world become a scene of horrid desolation, wrapt in the
awful silence of the tomb, to be broken only by the Archangel's trump.

Manufactures and Commerce, on the other

hand, are, comparatively, mere luxuries. W e could certainly
live without the former, and continue to exist though ignorant of the latter, if we supposed the limits of our v1s10n
were the boundary of Creation.

This is sufficiently shown

by the savage races ; and, although they may subsist for a

431
while upon animals, they must ultimately come to the fruits
of the earth.
"Having thus taken an abstract view of our question, let us
now examine it in its broader and more extended meaning, which is most advantageous to a nation, where the several pursuits are followed together ? This will clepend much upon the
extent of territory, and how far the soil is unoccupied.

So far

as there is room for agriculture, this must yield the greatest
amount of happiness and of wealth, as it supplies all the most
important wants of man, and is the only truly productive labor.
vVhat was said by the wise man of Israel of the individual,
applies equally to the mass - ' I went by the field of the sloth-

ful, and by the vineyard of the man wanting understanding,
and Jo ! it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had
covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken
down.

Then I saw and considered it well ; I looked upon it

and received instruction.'
" vVhen, however, a country is beginning to have an overgrown population, manufactures and commerce not only increase
their wealth, knowledge, and happiness, but may take the lead
in their prosperity.

In all these respects agriculture has its

fonit, and no nation can arrive at excellence by that pursuit
alone. But as soon as the products of the soil exceed the wants
of a people, commerce will yield innumerable advantages, and
manufactures will come in aid of their power, wealth, and fame.
"Agriculture, therefore, is most important ; manufactures a

432
handmaid when agriculture is overgrown; and commerce at
last carrries a nation to its highest glory.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 17, 1845."

THEME-ARTICLE LIX.
"'SHIPS AND SHIP-BUILDING.'

" Ships were known to the ancients in the time of Solomon ;
for we frequently read that the ships of Tarsus were used to
import various articles for the building of Solomon's Temple,
and to export goods in return for those that ·were imported.
Whether the ships of Tarsus were made in the same manner

a.q

ours, I cannot tell; but it is probable that they were much
more magnificent_

Ships are almost indispensable to man, for

it is by means of them that nations hold intercourse with each
other.

Without them we could not traverse the mighty deep.

Without ships the Kingdom of Divine Grace could not lJe
spread among the lonely islands of the sea.

And, alas, how

many millions would die who had never heard of Jesus, or of
that other world in which they are to live hereafter, because no
one had ingenuity or industry enough to make a ship!
" ROBERT TROUP p AINE.
June 3, 1843."

433

THEME-ARTICLE LX.
" ''l'HE COMPARATIVE ADVAN'l'AGES Al.~D DISADVAN'r.A.GES OF CIVILIZED
Al.~D SAVAGE LIFE.'

"This is a question about which mankind have always been
at variance, ever since civilization dawned upon our world.

I

will now add one opinion to the many thousands which have
been expressed upon this subject.
"Look at the Indian in infancy, and you can trace no particular difference between him and an infant of a civilized nation.
Take him in boyhood, and you see the peculiar traits of his
disposition 1:eginning to manifest themselves. You observe him
one moment with his bow and arrow, at another with his tomahawk, learning to use them as some of his brave ancestors had
clone.

In manhood, at one minute in the deer-hunt, when

pleasure shines brightest in his eye; at another engaged in the
bloody battle; at another holding up his string of scalps, and
boasting over them as the evidence of his valiant deeds. One
day you see him here, another day fifty miles distant. In fine,
he is like the wind, which 'bloweth where it listeth.' Look
at him in his gray hairs ; you notice him now pouring forth his
praises to the Great Spirit for the success which has attended
55

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434

him in hunting anJ in battle.

Now you see him relating to his

fellow savages bis exploits in the chase of the buffalo, and bragging of his heroic actions in war.
bed; he dies in hope.

Follow him to his death-

Ab, what hope!

with God and the Lamb for ever.

Not that of living

No; he is deluded

~y

the

vain expectation that he shall have better bunting-grounds in
the Eternal World than he had on earth ; and, accordingly,
when he is laid in the cold earth his weapons are buried by the
side of him.
" Let us examine, for a few moments, a civilized life; of
which there are two kinds, city and country life.

In the city

civilization is carried to a far greater extent than in the country.
Take ~ citizen and look at him when a boy, and you see him,
instead of learning archery and to handle the tomahawk or the
scalping-knife, studying his

books~

In manhood you behold his

brow, not impressed by the prints of voluptuousness, but marked with care and anxiety.

In old age you observe that bis eye ·

does not brighten- up at the recollections of the past, but that
it glistens at the hope of a happy futurity, or is darkened by despair at the thought of living in another world.

Go with him

to his death-bed, and you notice him either raving when calling
to mind that there is an Eternity beyond the grave, or calm
and pacified at the anticipation of a glorious resurrection.
" Country civilization is the connecting link between a savage and city life. There you can have almost all the sports of
thB barbarian together with the advantages of civilization. The

435
city, to be sure, contains theatres, circuses, and other places of
like nature ; but it has no active and healthy amusements.

In

the country, on the other hand, you ca11 have the first occupation of man in its perfection. There, too, you may see, at times,
men shouldering their guns or handling their fishpoles ; and
how delightful, moreover, to observe the different changes of
Nature as the seasons roll round in their appointed order.
" Now let us proceed to answer the question ; which is better, a civilized or savage life?

Notwithstanding the sports and

enjoyments of the latter, yet man in this situation is not capable
of knowing as much of his Maker as if he lived in a polished
nation.

All that he can ascertain concerning Him must be

done by his external senses, from the objects of Nature around
him ; and, although no one has a right to form an opinion as to
the final lot of the barbarian, still it is this that gives a civilized
life the great ascendency above that of the savage.

A country

life, howeve.r, is far superior to that of the city; for in the latter
men are more or less corrupted by its luxuries, led into bad
company by its places of amusement, or lead a life of care and
sorrow, while in the former all is harmony, innocency, and enjoyment.
" ROBERT TROUP

p .AINE.

" Columbia College Grammar School."
Without date, but written probably·in 1845.

The manuscript

will be bound with the folio volume, as intimated of others.

436

i» ·
It was written whi1e attending tho

The following Theme is the earliest which remains au<l

'

'

the on1y one of 1842.
"Primary School" of the University of the City of Nc\\'-York

,

where Robert was placed before entering the Grammar School
of Co1umbia College.

i.

There will be seen in it the same charac-

teristic traits that mark his latest compositions.

The rna11u·

script will be preserved as intimated of others at p. 321,

11.'l

will

several others not mentioned at that place.

r
I'I

:IIle

THEME-ARTICLE LXI.

I

"'A

C0 U N T R Y

0 R

C I T Y.'

"A country life is altogether preferred by the admirer
Nature; a city by the admirer of the taste and workmanship of

~I

art. Persons that live in the country possess a great many
advantages that they that Jive in the city do not. They havo ·;·
more room for taking exercise, for attending to the religious im• :"'·
provement of their minds, for there is nothing to call off theu:',· j
minds from the great Being of their existence. When they go ,,i

II

out on a p1 easant Sunday morning, they do not hear the dis- '..,
agreeable sound of Sunday morning news, swearing and cursing

.11

mixed therewith as we do in the city· but on th e contrary, the

'

'

'

sound of a distant be11, losing itself gradually in the immensity

; \

I

~I
1~ /

-

of space.

Every thing seems so p1easant that the l1in1s them•

1

''

,,1

437

selves seem to praise God.

The city has but one advantage, in

my humble judgment; that is, of public schools for educating
children.
" It is the ambition of too many in the city to become rich
or illustrious in the world, and in order to become illustrious
they must be wise respecting the things of this world.

But the

Bible says that the 'wisdom of this world is foolishness with
Goel.'

' The fear of the Lord,' says the Wise Man, 'is the be-

ginning of wisdom.'

Thus it is plain that a knowledge of bat-

tles, tumults, bloodshed, Latin and Greek, is not even the beginning of true wisdom. But, at the same time, I do not say
but that men can be great and good in this world, but that
they generally are not.
" Your affectionate Scholar,
" ROBERT TROU P PAINE.

" January 30th, 1842."

438

l
l

·111
•L•

'11 HEi\1E-ARTICLE LXII.

"' I S THE HOPE OF REWARD, OR THE FEAR OF PUNISHMENT, THE
GREATER INCENTIVE TO EXERTION.'

ib!

Jlt

" Let us first consider the propriety of exertion ; secondly,
what should be its inducements ; thirdly, which, generally, bas
the greater effect, reward or punishment.
':That industry is highly commendable in every station of
life, nay, truly essential to its enjoyment, and even its maintenance, few will deny.

\ Ve see it every where among animals;

and we may almost imagine the same thing to exist among the
heavenly bodies. The principle, or something like it, is every
where throughout God's creation.
" But animals are concerned alone about their means of
living.

Man bas higher duties to perform; or, if he labor for

his temporal life only, what does he more than the brutes?
His duties are higher as the soul is superior to the body, and
eternity longer than time.

H e has mind to cultivate, tn·o

worlds to govern, one within him and one without, vices

t~

shun, and virtue to win, a God to praise, and a H eaven to gain.
Now, what should prompt him to pursue the straight path,

I'

and keep him from the erroneous way ? Surely, it should be

439

neither the hope of reward, nor the fear of punishment.

A

narrow-minded man must he be who labors only to obtain his
daily bread, and contemptible is the man of wealth who spends
his time in idleness and pleasure.

A great patriot must he be

who defends his country merely to obtain the olive-crown.

A

fine Christian, indeed, is he, who obeys merely from the hopes
of Heaven, or from fear of hell, and who would not care, provided he could obtain the former, and avoid the latter, whether
he bless or curse his Maker.
" There is certainly too much of selfishness abroad in the
world.

We should do good for the sake of doing right, let that

follow which may.

Before we enter upon any common enter-

prise, we should not ask merely whether it is to be attended by
a reward, or punishment, but in the first place, whether it be
right or wrong, whether it is to be of advantage to mankind.
If so, let us then enter resolutely upon it, resting assured that

some good result will always follow.
"But, we must take the world as it is, and keep the question
before us.

H ere we must leave argument, and depend upon

observation, and what we know of ourselves, for the answer.
vVe shall then necessarily arrive at the conclusion, that, unless
considerably hardened in crime, the hope of reward has a much
more powerful effect than fear of punishment. The law,' whoso
sheddeth man's blood by man shall his blood be shed,' never
troubles the peaceful citizen, nor do any other penalties.

He

looks up to a good conscience, a heaven within him, and the ap-

ii

440
lj

·1
'<

.

probation of his fellow-men. The deserter's fate never trouhlott 't ,.
the mind of the brave warrior.
"On the other hand, to the mind of him who wisl1cs to in·
dulge in midnight robbery, a :flame of a candle, the creak of n
door, or the rustling of the wind in the chimney, may present

1

the prison-house or the gallows, and he :flees in t error when uo
man pursueth. After such an alarm, he abandons for ever this .
course of felony. No hope of reward would have ever tumod -~
him from his course · of crime.
what governs the Christian,
to him.

But fear of punishment is not

Hell itself is not an object of fear

He loves virtue and holiness for their own sake; Lut

Heaven operates as a bright inducement to persevere in the path
of rectitude. But, to many a one, no doubt, ·1rilo 1: ::; fo rmed
the plan of suicide, hell, and all the powers of darkness Lave
risen in bold array, and separated his intended crime

flB

from him as the East from the West.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE.

"Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 30, 1846."

for

f. .·

441
It is difficult for Parents situated like Robert's, and with

.
l

such a treasure before them, to know where they should stop,
or what they should exclude, in their effort to illustrnte his
character and render his life useful to others.

Many exempli-

fications of his beautiful mind, his noble principles, and his refined epistolary style, might be selected from the profusion of
his letters to his P arents ; but this seems to be superseded by
e1

the variety of his Essays, and would involve the necessity of
another volume, which might be regarded as an indication of

a

inconsiderate zeal.

To make known his disposition is the great

u.

object of interest.

His letters abound, as will probably have

been inferred from such as are connected with the Memoir,
with the most affectionate solicitude about the health of his
Parents and devotion to their wishes and happiness. He theretr

fore appreciated fully his importance to them.

This feeling is

manifested throughout his correspondence, from the first to the
last.

In one of his earliest lett ers written to his Father while

· on a visit to Saratoga Springs for the benefit of his health,
there is much of the same alarm manifested as appears in those
relative to the Cholera, at p. 154.

An extract from his Father's

answer to that Letter represents exactly the confidence which
he never failed t o entertain in his son, and his own devotion
to him :

·~r
..
'

·T

442

L

"SARATOGA SPRINGS,

,;(

.Hay 22, 1845.

" MY DEAR RonERT :-It was very kind in you, my dear
child, to address me so affectionate a letter.

I am proud of so

excellent a son - always dutiful, affectionate, religious, and industrious.

Your manliness and independence have relieved me

from much care and solicitude.

Be _always thus, and you will

secure happiness to yourself as well as to your Parents.

•

,,

·t.• ''

" I am taking every possible care of my health, and quite as
much for your sake and your Mother's as for my own.

I am

fully sensible of the importance of my life to you and to your
Mother.

I was very glad you wrote me freely on the subj ect,

as I hope you always will on every other that may be interesting to either of us.
"My health is vastly improved.

But I was quite ill, and it

was natural that you should feel alarmed.

I could beat you

now, however, in chasing a deer, or in following the flight of a
pigeon."

In about a week after the foregoing Letter, the Father, on
returning to New-York, was precipitated down a precipice, in a
stage-coach, which occasioned the fracture of ribs, &c., that con£ned him to the bed for six weeks.

During this time his son

was with him, and scarcely left the bed-side for any purpose bnt
I

..

I1

sleep.

443
On reviewing Robert's correspondence, the alarming Letters
relative to the Cholera (page 154), leave more and more the
impression that reason was then liable to temporary affections,
and occasionally lost that ascendency over the moral emotions
which had distinguished his former life. How far that discipline
generally extended is well represented in a letter to his Father,
dated, at Cambridge, Sept. 30th, 1848, in which he says:
" I am much grieved to hear that Mother is not equal to
the journey here, as I had anticipated great enjoyment from
her visit ; but, as Providence has ~rdered it so, I ought not to
complain, but be thankful that her life has been spared so long,
and that she is stronger than she used to be.

I hope that she

may be able to come on with you at Christmas, and go home
with me in the vacation.
ters.

I can find her very comfortable quar-

Grandma will not be on before November, as she will

make a visit to great Aunt S - - previously."

These, however, are only examples of what rush in crowds
upon the memory, and which awaken in his Parents not only
the sentiments which are common to all on the occasion of great
bereavements, but a profound sense of gratitude that he has
left nothing behind him but an example in every respect
worthy of their close imitation.

Their only regret upon this

subject is their want of ability to bring it into the same practical influence upon others; though it is their earnest prayer that

444
such a direction may be given to their efforts hy an all-sufficient
Power.

It has been stated, among other things, of Hobert's habits
of independent thinking, that he would never receive any aid
in writing his compositions, or permit any alterations to be
made, and that he never copied· them.

On two occasions he

forwarded from Cambridge two of his Forensics for his Parents'
perusal, and with a particular request that they should be returned without the alteration of a word.

One of them was

upon the subject of a new translation of the Bible (page 37), in
which his Father objected to one expression as beneath the dignity of the subject, and which is expunged.

Robert, however,

was not disposed to recede, and sustained himself in the followmg manner :
"CAMBRIDGE,

"DE.An FATHER:-*

frivolous.

* '"'

«·

October 15, 1850.

I acknowledge the idea to be

If it were not so, it would not baYe answered my

purpose, which here was ridicule. To be sure, ridicule does not
properly belong to Forensic, which, in the strictest sense of the
word has to do only with argument.

But as I regard the ques-

tion of a new translation of the Bible as scarcely worthy of
grave discussion, and totally unworthy of Forensic, I thought,
after I had condescended to enter into a serious argument, I
might indulge somewhat in ridicule; not only as more suitable
to the question, but as serving to break the monotony whieh a

445
composition is apt to assume when carried on wholly in the
serious style.

What better suited to a subject which we should

approach with reverence than to associate it with another which
every one will allow to be ridiculous and absurd, yet which is,
in reality, thus attended with advantages?"

Robert inclosed, also, to his Father, the Letter addressed to
the Rev. Dr. Stuart (page 21), requesting his opinion as to the
propriety of sending it.

The Father replied that the difference

in age rendered it inexpedient, though it would be perfectly
proper to express his sentiments through some public channel;
and, accordingly, his Father immediately handed the Letter to
Mr. Bryant, of the Evening Po8t, without any farther consultation with his Son.
The following correspondence, in relation to that subject,
discloses Robert's habitual disposition to yield his contemplated
action to the wishes of his proper advisers, while he sustained
his own judgment until convinced of its error:
"CAMBRIDGE, J une 25, 1850.
" DEAR

FATHER : -

-r.· ~~ .;:. -::·

I was much pleased to think

you liked my letter to the Professor; but I really must say that
I cannot view the sending of it in the same light as you do with
regard to age.
"There is no one perhaps who venerates age more than I.

446
But I think that there is such a thing as false modesty, which
forms no part of veneration.

I think, also, poor must be the

reasoner who is obliged to bring his greater age to the support
of his logic, and tries to escape by charging his younger opponent with 'the atrocious crime of being a yoitng ?nan.'''' I have
expressed my letter in terms the most respectful, while at the
same time it is written in a dignified style, and one in which
I have .studiou8ly avoided any inferiority on account of age.
Logic holds itself amenable only to the tribunal of Reason and
not to that of Time.
" Still, as the propriety or impropriety of sending that letter
I

:I

is not at all a matter of logic, but one to be referred to age and
experience, I shall abide by yours and Ma's decision; but I
should like to have you, before making that decision, consider

ll

what I have said in this letter, and see if you do not agree
with me.

;11
1I

" If I send it, I suppose I ought to sign my name, as an

anonymous letter seems to me to have a sneaking appearance,

fl \

and as if the writer was ashamed of himself. (See page 27 5.)
" Your affectionate son,
" ROBERT TROUP PAINE."

Next came a letter to his Mother in his usual alternate
order of writing his Parents.

*

'

Robert bad misapprehended bis Father upon this point, as was immediately

explained to him.

447

" CAMBRIDGE,

"DEAR lV!oTHER

J une 27, 1850.

:-I was most happy to hear that Uncle

E-- liked my.letter, as I always set a good deal by his opinion, as I do likewise by yours and Pa's, and when the three
coincide the weight is vastly increased, and I feel myself pretty
well fortified.
"I have no objections to the printing, if it should seem
good to you three ; but I think you must have changed your
minds on the subject, as I have received no paper.

However,

the mail failed us this morning ; it may be in that.
"I am now writing a Forensic on the following subject:
"'Should the Free States, in delivering up fugitive slaves,
secure to them the rights of the writ of Habeas Corpus and
trial by Jury ~ '
"It will be, when finished, nearly twenty pages in length.
I shall ask permission of Prof. Walker to send it home before
giving it in (permanently).
"I have no more time to write, as the Forensic must be
ready this afternoon. So good-bye.
" Your affectionate son,
" ROBERT TROUP

I

"P. S.

p AINE."

Give my love to Grandmother when you see her,

and tell her I intend to write her soon."
The next following Letter concluded the subject.

448

" C.BIBHIDGE,

J une 29, 1850.

"DEAR FATHER :-I was very happy to receive a letter
from you last evening, and to learn that I may anticipate a
visit from you on the 3d proximo.

Tell Ma I am sorry that

she cannot come along with you.
" How I should like to t ake a look at your garden ! l\fa
writes very graphic accounts concerning it.
" I have received the newspaper.

I see but two mistakes ;

the word another for one (see errcd,u m ), and the word promise
for honor, which last, however, was probably altered before it
went to press.

Good-bye until the 1st or 3d.
" Your affectionate son,
" ROBERT TROUP p AINE."

It will have been seen that Robert was a good deal attracted by chemistry and physiology. This proceeded as well from
his love of Nature as of science ; and he applied his know ledge
of these branches to a philosophical inquiry into the difference
in the properties and laws which govern the two great Kingdoms of Nature.

He was thus conducted to that enlightened

view of the subj ect which led him to deprecate the evils
which chemistry has inflicted upon the science of organic life.
These remarks are intended to introduce an extract from a
Letter dated May 24th, 1850, to enable him to show for himself the early elevation of his scientific pursuits, and that be

449
frowned upon the doctrines of materialism.

In that letter he

says," The Chemists appear to be getting a little bothered ; for
Prof.

showed us the other day a piece of apparatus for

determining the relative quantities of heat given out by different kinds of fuel, and remarked that, in this way could b e t old
the quantities of heat resulting from the-combustion of different
kinds of food consumed by cli:fferent animals. But, said he, the
amount of heat resulting from this combustion would be considerably less than that actually evolved by the animal.

Now,

said he, the question is, whence is this extra amount of heat?
For the solution of which the French Academy have offered a
large reward; 'but which solution,' he added, 'is probably
wrapped up in the

L.~ws OF VrTALITY,

into which we cannot

penetrate.' "
In another letter which quickly followed the foregoing, he
says,-" I should like to know particularly if you received a
letter . from me elated May 24th, as in that I wrote something
important about the Chemists.

I did not put it into the Post-

office myself."
In another letter, dated June 19th, he recurs to the subject

as follows : " In your letter you say that my criticisms on Chemistry are
just.

I wish you would read my letter of May 24th again, and
57

I

\

450
you will see that those remarks are not mine, lJut those of the
l:'rofessor; and this constitutes their importan ce, as they are
the ad11iissions of a chemist, and show that they are coming
round.
" I was much amused by your account of Dr. P oppinjack,
and also lJy that part of your letter where, speaking of our
intended journey to the Lakes, you say 'we will penetrate by

canctls and_mivroads into the wild and itnf1·equented parts.' '~

•

In connection with what is here said, it may be stated that
his views in regard to the soul as distinguished from the body,
and from all chemical doctrines, were such as have been advocated by his Father, and that, in a conversation with his F ather
but a short time before his death, he told him that he considered his vYork upon that subject incontrovertible.

But, whether

so or not, that was the opinion of the Child, and is now a consolation to the Parents.

It may 1Je said, also, that he was

a £rm

believer in the literal interpretation of the Mosaic Narrative of
Creation and the Deluge, and that it was a knowledge of this
which led his Father to say in the foregoing vVork that, in
event of his "failure to complete the V.,Tork written by himself upon Theotetical Geology, the manuscript will be left to
the disposal of his 8on."
A s time rolls on, and memory freshens of th e past, the Parents can find nothing to add that will reflect any farther light
upon one of the most startling events upon record.

P erh:tps

451
too little has been said of Robert's application to his studies as
a probable tributary cause of his insanity; though it may have
been sufficiently set forth in the R ev. Dr. Anthon's Obituary
Notice.

The following extracts of letters from Robert's Mother

to his Father express his habits of application.

The letters

were written from Cambridge, and are elated D ec. 20, 1850,
and J an. 12, 1851; shortly before his death.

"Robert does not seem to have many associates.
alone generally.

H e walks

The President remarked of him, that " he

pursues knowledge for its own sak e, and not for the distinction it brings."

(See Article 29, page 307.)

h e studies more than any one of his Class.
is employed.

"Robert says

A sketch of how he

Every minute yesterday, excepting the hour from

half pa8t three until prayers. After prayers, wrote in my room
until eight.

Then went to his room to write upon another

Thesis until nine. Then bed.

To-clay, studied history . here

until half JXt8t nine. Recitation, ha1j' p ct8t ten.
wrote half an hour by my side.

Returned, and

Eleven o'clock, lecture; twelve,

recitation ; one, dinner. Then, until th1·ee, preparation for recitation.

At three, recitation.

I-Ictlf p cl8t four, prayers. Then

In the evening, he will write or read to us, or
attend some Society; one or another of which he has alway"
done except in two or three instances. For some of the Societies he writes pieces, of various descriptions (Article 34, page

free until tea.

452

323 is one of them) ; but he often speaks before them extemporaneously.

He is never absent from recitations, and has no

amusements but walking, conversation, and reading Shakspeare
and Hume's History.

Paley is one of his studies.

He cavils at

some of his propositions as not being sufficiently guarded against
the attacks of the infidel."
Thus fortified in mind, education, virtue, Religion, enter-

r

prise, and youth, blessed in his friends, and with the brightest
future before him, the Parents have sought, with great diligence,
to ascertain if there were any cause that might have
his happiness.
any.

distur1~d

But they have been unable even to imagine

At the University he was treated in the kindest possible

manner by the President and Faculty, and was a favorite with
the Students.

He had, also, other warm and generous friends

around him. His Parents have no recollection of having denied
him the gratification of a single wish.

On the contrary, they

were unceasingly devising means for promoting his happiness ;
and in this they were not a little actuated by the pity which
they never ceased to feel for the sufferings and privations which
he endured in infancy and childhood. A statement, however,
so un.reserveil, renders it proper to say that o::i one occasion his
Father endeavored to i)ersuade him to abandon a favorite wish.
This was a desire, which sprung up about two months before
his death, to be supplied with a horse at Cambridge for the
mere purpose of exercise.

The wish was conveyed to his

453

Father by his Mother, who was then at Cambridge.

Nearly

the whole of the Father's answer, which was addressed jointly
to the Mother and Son, will be now given, as nearly the whole
was intended to dissuade Robert from his project, and to prevent any feeling of disappointment; as well, also, to convey
renewed assurances of the great satisfaction entertained by the
Father.

It should be said, too, that this letter has been added

to the Memoir since the Mother's death.

"NEW-YORK,

" MY DEAR MARY
on hand your

~hree

ANN, AND

Dec. 31, 1850, 10 o'cloclc, P. M.

DEAR RoBERT : - I have now

letters '(not Robert's), of the dates of the

25th, 28th and 29th; and, as it will require a good while to
reply to the contents of the.whole, I shall not get through with
my letter till next year.

In the mean time, as the present is

drawing to a close, I hope you may enjoy its departure, particularly in a serenade, and be prepared to ' turn over a new
leaf.'
"As usual with me, I look upon the past with many thanksgivings, and murmur at no dispensations of Providence, which
have always been, indeed, to my advantage.

I contemplate

suffering with satisfaction, so far as it concerns myself; while I
have had an offset in the best enjoyments that could be allotted
to man.

The greatest of these has been all that I could desire

in yourself and Robert; and, as the next great blessing has

454

been the satisfaction which I have derived from my literary
pursuits, I must also connect Ma with them, on account of her
t
!I

own mind, education, similarity of taste, and the assistance she
has re.! l ered.

I enjoy, too, my reputation, but more highly on

Roben/s account, though I have rather interrogated the future
than the present.

A new source of happiness is now rapidly

opening, and that is the promise which Robert affords in the
expansion of his mind, his knowledge, and virtues.

I am ex-

ceedingly gratified by your high eulogiums upon him, and I am
sure we shall not be disappointed in the objects at which we
have been striving.

On the other hand, I hope he will have no

occasion for disappointment in what he anticipates from us. I
am sure that he will not in all things that may advance his
knowledge and usefulness, and in pleasures of a tributary nature. Some of these, and the greatest, are not far distant; such
as travelling in foreign Countries, &c. To carry out these great
objects, a great deal of money is

n ecessar~;

and we had better

make, for the present, some sacrifice of minor pleasures that
may be expensive, to meet the exigencies of Robert's progress
in life.

Now, all this, I suppose you begin to suspect, is pre-

paratory to one of those small disappointments in anticipated
pleasures which may be well endured for the sake of greater
gain at a time a little more distant."

" If a thousand dollars

were wanted to secure him a high honor at Commencement, he
should have the amount forthwith.

Besides, I have promised

him a horse in the fall, so that there will be only a short post-

.• 11\

Iii
.. ·11

11

.,.I

455

ponement of a little pleasure.

But, in this I may be mistaken,

as horses have their various uses.

To Richard the Third the

object was so important that any old nag would have brought
his Kingdom.

I have had patients buy them to travel half

across the Continent, and their lives were saved by the purchase.

Others buy horses to explore the country in pursuit of

information, or for lucrative objects.

Now, if a horse will pro-

mote Robert's studies at Cambridge, or contribute to his standing in his Class, I will get him one without any farther ado
about it.

As h€, however, is the party most interested, he may

not like to offer l:l.n opinion, in which event I will he entirely
satisfied if he will bring me a line from the President recommending the provision.

Mr. Sparks is a very canclid and ob-

serving man, and Robert's kind friend; and as Ma, among her
pleadings in behalf of the horse, says that many of the students
are supplied with horses, the President must certainly know
whether they are tributary to education and rank.

But I

would not make this a requisite, put for the reason I have
stated.

There was a time, in Robert's Sophomore year, when I

thought his health might be benefited by riding on horseback,
and I then wished to send him a horse from this G'ty; but he
considered walking more useful."

His Mother replied that Robert was amused with the letter,
and heartily abandoned the project.

456

A DESCRIPTIVE ALLEGORY.
,,Ii
i1

r"

i

THE following Poem, if it may be so called, is not supposed
by its Author to possess any other merit than that of a descriptive character applicable to its subject. It was an accompaniment of the Allegorical Picture, designed and executed by
Robert's Mother, and intended to represent the progressive life
of the Youth, and his faultless character, exactly as it was regarded by his Parents.

They could in no other way so clearly

and fully convey to him, and perhaps now to others, the sentiments they entertained of the extraordinary purity of his whole
life.

But, it was as much the simplicity of his character, and

his affectionate nature, which suggested a tribute on his attaining twenty-one years, that might. not have been otherwise appropriate to his age, talents, and education; and it is obvious
that the last event of his life has alone prompted the exhibition
of the Picture or the Poem to his Friends. For that reason,
and as explanatory of the allegorical group of Flowers, and in
the hope that the sentiments, which are intended to represent
his youthful mind, may prove attractive to the young, the
Father is inclined to connect the Poem with the Essays of his

457

Son, that it may go with those in the fulfilment of his objects.
It is but just, also, to state, that, what is said of "vVild Oats"
was purely playful, and that its natural contrast with the rest
was greatly increased by its entire want of application to the
individual case. The closing stanzas were especially inappropriate, excepting in their general relation to the early period of
life; and so far the metaphor was necessary as an integral part
of the Design, and to relieve the more sentimental parts.

The

mournful event, too, which leads to this connection of the Poem
with the Memoir, imparts to these stanzas an undesirable effect
which did not attend them before.

They always grated, how-

ever, upon his Parents ; as the general tenor of the poetry
expresses their habitual feeling, and what they had often expressed to others, that a solemn mysteriousness surrounded
their Son during his infancy and much of his childhood, both
as to his piety and the preservation of his life.
It will be observed that the associations are not so much

suggested by the arbitrary system known as the "Language of
Flowers," as by the popular names, many of which have their
origin in the uses, or in the supposed mystical virtues of plants.
This principle, indeed, pervades the allegory, as the names are
generally sufficiently significant; or, when otherwise, some particular characteristic of a plant suggests the com~ent, or is associated with what the name implies.

A few explanatory notes

are added.

The group of flowers is reduced to one-fourth of the natural
53

458

size.

A single copy, however, of a folio edition of the Memoir

has been printed, in the hope that the original painting may be
preserved in the Library of Harvard University.

At the end

of that volume will be bound many of the original manuscripts
both of the Essays and Letters written by Robert, as the best
mode of preserving such relics as are most valued by the
Parents.

•

The flowers were collected by his Father at Wells' Beach,
Maine, from October 1st to the 10th.

\Vhile this and the

painting were in progress, Robert was making a solitary tour
among the Lakes and Mountains of Maine, where he stopped
for a day or two at a Farmer's in the township called Letter B,
on the border of Lake Umbagog, and where he met with an
Artist sketching the romantic scenery.
Eleven days before his death (the day of his departure from
New-York to Cambridge-see pas-e 65), he addressed a letter
to that Farmer, desiring him to deliver some message to one of
his neighbors, and apparently, also, to make an arrangement
for another visit to that region.

An ans1-rer was returned to

Robert at New-York, and was received by his Parents at the
time of his death.':

It is inserted hei-e to show the nature of

his deportment in the humble walks of life, and how his amiability commanded, at once, the lasting esteem of all.

*

•

No gen-

It may not be inappropriate to refer to this, and to other coincidences which

will probably attract the attention of readers, and to the preservation of all his writings
and letters, as remarkable in their relation to the objects of this Memoir.

459
era! statements can unfold the character and disposition of a
man in any comparable degree like the internal evidence which
is afforded by such testimonials as the following.

(See page

332.)
"LETTER

"DEAR

B,

MAINE, ~March

3, 1851.

FRIEND :- I rec~ved your letter of February 26th

and read it with much pleasure.

vVe are all well, and have

enjoyed good health ever si.nce you were here.
speaks of you ; also Charles.
always well.

My wife often

He and sis grow like weeds ;

Sis can run alone, and is into every thing.

I

want you .to come to Letter B once more, and explore the
Lake.

vVe have had rather a mild winter here, but I have

not seen any violets yet, but expect to see them soon.

There

is only four feet of snow h ere now, for we have had two or
three rains lately that have settled the snow nicely, and I think

. .

.

sprmg 1s near.
".1\iy wife has done the errand to Mr. G-- , as you requested. He was much obliged, and would like to see you once more.
He and I will wait upon you any other time than haying.
Come, if you can, and as soon as you can, and stay a month.
You shall have the little b ed-room. It is plastered now. vVrite
soon, and I will endeavor to be punctual in answering.
"Respectfully yours,

"A-- vV. S- -."

460

The foregoing letter illustrates, also, by its familiarity, the
former part of a statement which occurs at page 7, nmnely" And now began a display of that remarkable combination of
the child and the man which distinguihsed his whole subsequent
life," and serves to interpret, in a measure, the motives which
prompted the allegorical group of flowers, and why the Youth
himself is made to relate the story.
This child-like feeling was so constitutional with him, that,
although antagonistic to his unfailing dignity in his intercourso
with his seniors, he was entirely unconscious of the fascinating

•

simplicity of his nature; and even the occasion to which the
foregoing letter refers supplies an instance in illustration, as
shown by the following extract from a letter to his Parents,
written while at the house of Mr. S--, in which he overlooks
the principle within himself, and carries the whole to the social
disposition.
"END OF CREATION,
"DEAR FATHER

.

Avg. 13, 18GO.

:-Here I am with Umbagog full in view

from the room in which I am writing.

Came down safely from

the top of v\lbite Cap (a mountain), from which I wrote a letter
to Mother, and another to Grandmother. H ad a most delightful ride yesterday afternoon over the mountains, and some most
beautiful scenery.

It is most delightful here, and seemingly

the perfection of Earthly bliss.
are all politeness and sociability.

The people around this region
l\fr. S--, with whorn I put

461
up last night, seemed as glad to see me as if I had been his own
son. You know what this is to travellers. I am now in 'Letter
B,' at Mr. S--1s, but shall go over this morning to Merril,
N. H., on the other side of the Lake, where I shall commence
operations again.

vV ent yesterday morning to Friar's Halls, a

chasm in the rocks in a wild wooded mountain, through which
falls a stream of water, some fifty feet, into a basin thirty feet
deep ; quite wild.
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP

p AJNE."

Robert devoted nearly a fortnight to this excurs10n, and
was with his Parents about a month more at vV ells' Beach.
Here he employed himself much in reading History, waiting
upon his :M:otber, and in promoting the happiness of many children who had come with their Parents to this summer retreat,
and were also stopping at Mr. Titcomb's most agreeable "Atlantic House."

vVhile here, the attention of strangers frequently

turned with admiration to the contrast between Robert's intellectual conversation and dignified manners, and his frolics with
the children upon the beach; particularly by the abruptness
with which he would sometimes abandon a discussion upon sci-

ence or Nature at the call of "Robert! Robert!" as it came
from his little favorites without. In vain, too, did their Parents
chide them for calling and addressing him in that familiar

462

manner.

This disposition continued to display itself up to the

evening before his death. (See Mrs. Clarke's Letter, page 81.)
The remarkable versatility which the foregoing letters and
statements are intended to illustrate was so ingrafted upon the
nature of the Youth, that it may reach, in its import, beyond
the olJject which is here contemplated, and may connect itself,
constitutiona11y, with that sudden aberration of reason which
led to his death.

Something analogous, too, will be seen in

an undefinable warmth of feeling, and sometimes of language,
which appears in some of his most logical essays, and in the
sudden transitions in his Article upon the Christmas Holidays,
where he repeatedly passes with abruptness from his religious
acts and infusions to his amusements and their description, and
vice versa.

"'\Vith all of which, however, in making a just anal-

ysis, should be connected his logical mind, soundness of judgment, and erudition, his complete exemption from credulity,
bigotry, and superstition, and his perfect purity and happi-

~i

ness.
As showing, also, how deeply founded was his child-like
amiability (which his Parents admit is a trait in his character
most valued by them), he refe"l·s, in one of his Letters to his
Mother from Cambridge, to the delight and ad vantages he had
derived, at an early age, from the perusal of Mr. Goodrich's
publications for the benefit of Youth, under the title of "Peter
Parley," and declares his intention to call upon the Author,
who resided not far from the University, and express to him

463

his gratitude for the entertainment and services he had thus
rendered him.

This characteristic extended to every thing ;

and, as has been already seen (page 56), constantly displayed
itself, and to the last, in the solicitude which he manifested, in
his correspondence with his Parents, about a squirrel, of very
advanced age, which had afforded him happiness in his early
childhood.

In one of his letters, which is an example of the

whole, he says, "Have Ann take good care of Bunn, especially to keep heL'
clean; her spoon (from which the animal drank), her mug, her
plate, and her cage.

The blinds ought to be open in her room,

and the window open unless uncomfortable to you."
In another letter to his Mother, dated October 8, 1849, he
speaks of the tribute which he paid to the squirrel in a Forensic, which appears at page 301.
" I handed in my first Forensic," he says,

'l

last Thursday.

Subject-' Is the desire of property an instinctive principle?'
I took the affirmative to a certain extent.

I brought up some

traits in my old squirrel in arguing upon the desire in its relation to the necessaries of life. Thus, even in our hours of
pleasure we often gain facts to illustrate great truths.
"You spoke about the German.
and has very melodious rhyme.
Goethe.

It is a beautiful language,

I close by two stanzas from

Pronounce as if it were English, and see if it :is not

464

beautiful.
]J

It is entitled the Erlkeing. Scott has a £ne transla-

tion of it.

i

" ' Ver reitet so spate dursh nasht und Vind ?

I

Es ist der Fartcr n:rit semen kind ;

~:

..!

Er hat den Knaben vohl in dem Arm,
Er fast in sisher, er halt in varm.

lill
l'i

" 'Mine Sohn, yas birst du so bang dein Gesisht ?'
' Sist, Farter, der den Erlkeing nisht ?
Den Erlkeing mit Kron und Sch"ife? '

Iii
,fl

'11

~i!
,,1
1·

'Mine Sohn, cs ist em hebelstrife.'"

" '\Vho rides so fast through night and wind? It is the Father with
his child. He has the boy safe in his arm. He holds him fast and keeps
him warm.
" 'My son, why dost thou so fearful hide thy face?' 'Seest thee not,
Father, the Erlkeing? The Erlkeing with crown and train ? ' 'My son,
it is a streak of mist.' "

As farther introductory to the allegorical group of Flowers,
it may be said that Robert always wrote to his Mother on her
birth-day.

But, the spirit in which he wrote can be understood

only from his own language. The following, therefore, are presented as examples.
" CAMBRIDGE,

~·

" HONORED AND RESPECTED

April 17, 1848.

l\fOTllER : -

"'Her children arise up and call her blessed ; her husband,
also, and he praiseth her '

465
"This day completes your 50th year.
·fl.own!

Fifty years have

"'Time, in advance, behind him bides his wings,
And seems to creep decrepit with his age.
Rebold him when passed by. What then is seen
But bis broad pinions swifter than the wind 1'

" That God may grant you many more years of honor,
h ealth, and prosperity, sweetened by each other's society, is
the prayer of your affectionate son.

"A year ago to-day we launched our Husband and Father
upon the mighty deep, uncertain whether we should again meet
him this side of the vale of death, but trusting to Him vVho
numbereth the hairs of our heads.

Through His Blessing the

voyage was the means of improved health., and may it bring
him many years of happiness.

;(-"

The following is the last of that series which he was "permitted" to write.
" CAMBRIDGE, April 17, 1850.
" DEAR MoTHER : - Having been once more permitted to
see the dawn of your natal day, I cannot refrain from taking
up my pen to renew my wishes for your health and prosperity
for another year, and commend you to the Care of Him by
Whom even the very hairs of our heads are numbered.
59

*

'~

*"

I

' I

1

.1,

466

m1

Jilli

Another Letter, not long before his death, contains, probably, the only poetry he ever attempted to write.

This effusion

is, of course, preserved for the sake of its sentiments and feel: I

ing; while the lameness of . the poetry will serve to illustrate
what the Youth says in one of his Theses (page 178) of transmitted resemblances.

The Jetter, however, has all the marks of

being hastily written.
,

I

" CAMBRIDGE,

July 12, 1850.

" DEAR MoTHER : - I was very sorry that Pa did not come
on. But it was just what I expected; for you can place no
more reliance on doctors than on shoemakers.

However, the

time is but short before we shall all meet again.

I shall go to

Groton to-morrow, where I shall remain till vVednesday mornmg.

If you should start on that day, l will meet you at any

place you may appoint.

"TO MY :MOTHER.

"vVhcre'er I roam, where'er I stray,
Through fertile vale, or o'er the sea,
In life's rough 'mys, or easy paths,
Still may my heart fly back to thee.
" In futme days, in life's bold strife,
I would recall the placid hours
You and I have spent together
In home's, sweet home's 1lessed bowers.

467
" ·when with the partner of my joys
I walk iu even's ruddy glow,
May my warm heart that glow reflect,
And to thee peace and friendship flow.
" When at the festive board I sit,
Auel the pale wine is sparkling bright,
And mirth and gladness flow around,
I would fill to thee with delight.
"·when age my locks does silver o'er,
May I to childhood's golden joy
Fly often back on memory's wing,
When on thy breast without alloy.

•
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE."

In a letter from his Mother to his Father, dated Cambridge,
Jan. 7, 1851, two months prior to his death, she says of him:
" He is the best Son to me that ever was; kind, affectionate,
always ready to do. any thing at my suggestion, and always
patient. I am glad that I came again to Cambridge, if only to
have the demonstrations of the greatness of his mind and the
nobleness of his character."

\

468

Of the following Poem it should be said, that Robert kept
it entirely to himself ; probably having never shown it to any
one, and the floral group to only his most intimate friends.
His modesty, which even avoided praise, was the principal
reason, and would alone have deterred him from exhibiting
the Poem; but it is not improbable, when bis attention was
thus drawn to the simplicity of his nature, that bis other
characteristic of dignified manliness could not well brook the
contrast- and this, especially, as he is the narrator. It is also
due to him to say, that he expressed to his Mother a desire
that t]ie Poem should be restricted to his family.

Perhaps it

should be so now; but his Parents think otherwise, and m
this opinion advisers have concurred.

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469

DESCRIPTION OF AN ALLEGORICAL GROUP OF FLOWERS

DEDICATED TO
ROBERT TROUP P .A.INE BY HIS MOTHER,
ON HIS ATTAISING THE AGE OF 21 YEARS, AUGUST 10, 1850.

BY HIS FATHER.
I.
THE RosE·BUD decked my infant year,
And true to Nature's holy law
Has bloomed around my onward path,
Inspiring hope, subduing fear,
Or white or red, as Britain saw,
Unite in one to conquer wrath.

Thou emblem dear of all that's good,
Unfolding Nature's richest charms
Replete with virtues bursting forth,
Though thorns surround thy graceful wool /

To warn us of life's many harms,
I'll cherish thee as full of worth.

470
'T is wonderful, indeed, how all
In Nature corresponds in end,
And how what suits the fragile plant
Or others stately tow'ring tall,
In all their ends and aims will lend
A moral thought and wisdom grant.

A thousand things attend the Rose,
From opening bud and balmy smell
'11 0 prickles that protect the whole,

\Vhich one may use who only kno>vs
\i\That I shall now proceed to tell,
As having all in my control.

I learnt the secret when a child,
And Nature gave it then in charge
That I to others should impart
The soft. impressions or the wildAnd thus the ends of life enlarge
By stamping Nature on the heart.

And now my friends, my prelude o'er,
You'll· please to listen to the play
\ Yhere NA'l'URE holds the mirror upBy far transcending Thespian power
Or all the power of Poet's lay
Howe'er derived from Nature's cup.

!i

471
Upon the Rose I long might dwell,
Regale you with its varied hues
And nrious other things that show
How this sweet plant on life doth tell The whole of which were charming news
From one so qualified to know . .

II.

But other Blossoms came along
And mingled oft their fragrant charmThe

:MORNING-GLORY

spread its bowl

And drew around the birds of songBut quickly sped the Sun's alarm
And cast a sadness o'er my soul.

It seemed the harbinger of day
That summoned forth the Sun and all,
Which then the Sun in envy killed
As well as drove the
BL1t

though such thi

~irds
I

_6S

away;

did all befall,

The sun remained for what 'twas willed.

Ii

472
But I remarked that every morn
New Glories hailed the sunny rays,
And then it seemed as though the Sun
Became the parent of the born For though so shortened all their days
They never failed this course to run.

Strange Emblem this of real life,
And stranger still my doubtful dream,
And still 't is strange how I apply
This youthful charm to worldly strife,
And find in that a cheering beam
\Vhich no rude fortune can defy.

III.

Sweet

-WILLOW-HERB,

of blushing white,

That modest tenant of the lawn,
Lent an enchantment to my view
And moved my heart with soft delight
In welcoming the jocund dawn

Of years as swiftly round they flew.

47 3
Sweet W illow-herb! What mc:rit thi L-::
'l'o teach your modest ways to :nen !
For though obtrusive y ou may seem
In such profusion as you shi ne,

Your teaching then is only wh'::n
·w ith blushes you may teem.

And so it is with all around,
The Hare, the Girl, the Brute and .i\fa:::. vVhere'er we turn our wanderin.s eyes
The more does modesty aboun d,
The more of this in Nature's plan,

So we the more abundance prize.

Yet more than blushes muse the praise
Of this and all the Flowers that blooCT,
For 't is their nature to sojourn
Where solitude at last betrays
A charm in being all alone,
\Vhen beauties every one adorn.

474

IV.
/'

;

The sp]endid Oncms p1ayed its part

In tricking out life's gayest day,
Just as it decorates the swamp
Where oft I've strayed like bounding hart,
And wallowed through the miry way

In chase of this bewitching pomp.

l!I

Unmindful of the toil it cost
Or other levies on my zeal,
I've come at last by slow degrees
To learn that labor is not lost

In private or in public wea1,
And thus to sacrifice my ease.

v.
'l'he

LILY

with its roseate head

(Of meadow lawns the gayest pride)
Presaged to my ardent mind
A toilless road and downy bed,
An ever flowing onward tide
That leaves all troubles far be:.iind.

475
What though "it neither toil nor spin,"
Nor fail in aught of Nature's care,
It is to man more kindly given,
(As though a recompense for sin,)
That with his 1-faker he shall share

In working out his way to Heaven.

VI.

The GOLDEN-ROD essayed its dayBut not in terror's fearful threat;
Its radiate plumage pierced my eye,
And thus delighting found its way
To depths of joy, and then as yet
Endeared itself by strongest tie.

While casting back this pleasant glance,
And how all other rods were spared,
It is not difficult to see
How Childhood's hope and merry dance,
With heart and manners so prepared,
Should with the Rod of Heaven agree.

47G

VII.
Say, towering

PRIMROSE,

erst the while

The proudest of thy joyful trainSay, on thy pride, doth waning age
Adorn thy robe, improve thy smileOr didst not teach that e'en 't is gain
To leave awhile this earthly stage ?

I saw thee carry out thy end,
I saw thee fade, and droop, an d dieBut ere I wiped the tear of grief
I hailed again my early friend.
Thus tears and joy, I knew not why,
Gave to my heart alike relief.

So shall our mortal coil descend
With all its frailties to the dust To rise again in H eavenly dress
If only we those frailties mend,

.And, Eke the Flowers, confide our trust
To Him the "Sun of Righteousness."

477
" The winter 's past, the rain is o'er,
The Flowers appear upon the earth,
The singing birds abide their time,
The turtle's voice is at our door,"
A SuN that gave to all their birth
Takes charge of all in every clime.

"No more the sun shall light thy day,
No more the moon give light to thee,"
No more his rays shall cherish life;
Another SUN shall hold His sway,
"An Everlasting Light to be,"
Withering, scorching worldly strife.

That SuN shall dry all tears away,
Or those alone of joy be shed;
No parting then shall rack the soul,
No more the new-born flowers decay,
But o'er the whole a Power shall spread
A never-ending, safe control.

478

VIII.
The DoG's-B.Ai'\E held my fears in check
By shielding me from canine harm,
And thus it stretched its silent sway

li

O'er all my thoughts, and at whose beck
I felt at last no more alarm,
And other terrors died away.

Thus fancy cures its own conceit
By shedding softly on the mind
The bracing tone of safety's bliss May no rude hand this power defeat
By stern command or arts unkind,
\Vhich always show themselves amiss.

IX. (1)
The V ERV AIN, of Druidal fame,
Reared stately up its purple bloom
And pointed to the Hosts of Night
As guardians of my tender frame,
And threw its magic o'er the gloom

In which mysterious Sprites delight.

479
I tasked thee in thy name to know
The secret Nature of thy power
Which made thee sacred in the past ;
But Amulets will better show
The rule they hold o'er evil's hour
Through the long length of time they last.

Oh! sweet illusion of the child!
As all the castles built in air
That stretch their reach to highest heaven ;
Though stamped by reason as the wild
Bewitching bait of pleasure's lair,
It serves the future as a leaven.

Should storms impend, or troubles lower,
Or fortune frown, or ills attack,
Or, worse than all, the lovely fair,
I still will seek the Virgin's-bower,
Or with good speed will hasten back
To my old castles in the air.

480

And oft docs memory fondly dwell
On

MAD-DOG·SCULL-CAP'S

dreamy hour,

So full of promise to the ear
r.l'hat nought but reason can dispel
The wild illusion of its powerOr what from Doctors we do hear.

Thy helmet, too, that much I ween
A "signature" to all has been
Of all the doctrines of thy skill ;
For I remember it did seem
As though a safeguard to all men ,
And so became the Doctors' pill.

ENCHANTER'S NIGHTSHADE

wove its spell

And held me in its mystic sway,
I

I

Though mostly so at evening's shade,
Or when the Curfew tolled its knell.

Other Genii ruled the day
And other contributions made.

481
My dreamy sleep revived the day,
And painted deeply Nature's hues,
From whence I roamed to Heavenly scenes
And mingled in Seraphic play
Among the stars or grander views And so I learnt what Nature means.

Thus all commingling as they bloomed,
All harmoniously conspired
To hasten on what most we prize
But to an early grave is doomed;
And yet it leaves us all inspired
With views that lay beyond the skies.

XII.

But BITTER-SWEET was always near
To check in time my buoyant hopes,
And faithful to its gentle powers

It prompted oft a generous tear, .
And pointed out the dangerous slopes
Concealed around by other Flowers.
61

\'

482

It whispered softly in my ear
The worth of sorrow here below
And all lifo's great diversity;
Nor failed in aught to rcncler c1car
\Vhat very few appear to know The "jewel of adversity."

But more than all, it leaves a stamp
On a11 the plans of later days ;
While hope and fear, and grief and joy
Become alike a guiding lamp
Throughout the many doubtful ways
Which otherwise our lives annoy.

XIII.

My glowing fancy thus was tuned
As days and nights rolled softly on,
And o'er the ·whole the VIRGIN's-BoWER
Its graceful ringlets twining plumed From many a Nymph by Cupid won
And rendered sacred to this Flower.

48 3
Hail, lovely Bower! so dear to me
vVhen girls and I encamped beneath
Thy climbing, curling, bending boughs,
To latest life I 'll worship thee
And thou shalt be my wedding wreath,
Should e'er I swear eternal vows.

XIV.

In

LoosE-ST~IFE,

too, I took delight

As ever and anon it strove
To j oin WILD-OATS in lots of fun,
A nd laughed to see their rueful plight
'When caught in nets that each had wove
To trip the other as they run.

And well I mind how skilful Oats
Disarmed me of the mirth I made,

Whene'er it failed to win the game,
By pointing out the sundrJ moats
That shew how much of care I paid
To guard myself from Oatses fame.

484
And well to heart I'll lay the hint
Of doing what I would have done,
And try to practise what I preach
And yield to others without stint
The fruit of lessons I have won

•

When striving hard Wild-Oats to teach .

xv.
The

ARROW-HEAD

pricked up its ears

And roused me to the sportive :field,
Or pointed out where honor lies -

But changed the scene in after years
And taught me how itself to wield

In shooting folly as it :flies.

So wisdom blends itself with youth,
And draws upon its glowing zeal
To wing its own majestic way

In search of happiness and truth,
Where

all may soar

and all may feel

Still greater bliss than Childhood's day.

485
And still I turn to Arrow-Head
·when buoyant Hope takes on the dream
Or Pleasure dances round my ways,
And by its index would be led
To things more real than they seem
When lighted up by sunny days.

What though an emblem of the field
Where Death and Havoc ruin rule,
'Tis only Nature's guide for all
To wear alike a harmless shield
And be prepared in Flora's school
For great events as well as small.

To soothe and mitigate disease
All·circumspicient HEAL-ALL watched,
Ordained to Nature's highest charge ;
And thus I glided on at ease
As if by Magic's wand were touched
Or wafted in some Fairy's barge.

'.
Thou gatheredst round my couch of ills
The dearest friends I have on earth,
And summondst all the healing plants
From dale and meadow, plain and hills,
vVhich thou couldst think of any worth
To be thus ordered from their haunts.

And I would mention one or two
vVhich I remember bore their bloom The Virgin's-Bower and Golden-RodBut will not say 't was you or who
That saved me from an early tombBut this I know- by Grace of God.

"'11 he silver cord was nearly loosed,
The golden bow1 almost was broke,
The pitcher scarce was made to hold,
The wheel of life was slow at most, "
And Death seemed ready with his stroke
Through many years-as I've been told.

\Vhile thus thy watchful care instils
A grateful sense of life prolonged,
Thy head of eyes a moral yields
Which he that watchfully fulfil s
Shall gain more valor than belonged
rro Argus with bis hundred shields.

'

I

487

XVII.
But

S~AKE'S·HEAD

ruled the power to heal

In virtue of an ancient rightEnchanter of the Art Divine !
E'en now a reverence I feel
For snakes and physic, and delight
To pay my tribute at their shrine.

Nor may I yet dismiss the claim
Of reverent thoughts to Childhood born,
But farther say that Manhood's eye
Discerns a God in Physic's aim,
\¥ ho sends a balm for every thorn
In every thing beneath the sky.

XVIII.
The STEEPLE-BUSH is not forgot,
Nor last nor least in memory's eye Its hallowed name shall never cease,
Whatever come, whate'er my lot,
Howe'er temptations strongly try,
A thankful feeling to increase.

488

To all who walk in Nature's ways
Thy turret says that God is here!
And warms the heart with reverent joy
To hail His Power and sing His praise,
And yield to Him their manhood's tear
As to the Flowers when yet a boy.

'T was thus from infant life I've felt
What sweetens most this natal day,
The charm which holy thoughts have shed
O'er all the blessings God has dealt,
O'er all my buoyant, joyous way For Thou, 0 God, hast ever led.

XIX.

And thou, the gayest of the gayThou

CARDINAL

of all thy tribe,

Fit Emblem of the virtues, too,l'll cherish to my latest day,
And hold thee up a lawful bribe
When some fair damsel I may woo.

489
\\~h[lt

other gains may swell my tide,

Or how o'erflowing pleasure's bowl,
Howe'er enriched by aid of wealth,
Thou Cardinal shall be my guide
And lend enjoyment to the whole
As virtue yields a zest to health.

Old HARVARD soon will send me forth
From her rich halls of learned lore,
\Vhere once my Sires and kindred dwelt,
And I must emulate the worth
Which thou and they have laid in store
For others' good where mind is felt.

Oh Harvard Halls!

Oh happy days!

I almost weep the future tear
Which I foresee must drop for thee
When thinking o'er thy charming ways,
Or as I turn the listening ear
To joys that ne'er again will be.

Yet other hopes and other joys
I'll trust await the coming years,
When Manhood stretches out its power.
But these are not the charm of boys
U nminglecl with life's later fears,
Though greater when some clouds may lower.
62

490

On desert sands, or fertile plains,
LIFE-EVERLASTING met my tread,
As fresh in winter as in spring,
And told me of unnumbered pains,
And countless tears that must be shed,
Ere manhood's spirit takes the wing.

It taught me how to brave the storm,
How winter's terrors to resist,
How to attain an endless life,
Radiant with Angelic form,
Though seen but dimly through the mist
Which hovers o'er this world of strife.

And thus it tempered joy and hopeSave all but joys and hopes to come While Steeple-Bush, and Cardinal,
And Arrow-Head, in terms bespoke
The harmony which all, as one,
United in the Carnival.

491
And every other hallowed Flower
Enforced what Nature has ordained,
That pleasure is to virtue given
For eking out life's little hour,
While thus a prelude is obtained
Of what awaits mankind in Heaven.

Is virtue doomed to suffer wrong ?
Then we its greatest worth avail,
For then its charms beguile our woe
As sung so oft in David's song,
Or as the Flowers when crushed exhale
A sweeter perfume for the blow.

·.But niost I pray ye to impart
The generous zeal that -bloomed to bless
Your lovely HOURS a devoid of guile i
And Oh ye Hours ! inspire my heart
With kindly feeling for distress
And every where to light a smile.

Oh ! teach me how to imitate
The God-like Nature I adore The Flowers that bloomed for us aloneAnd i;:iay I never prove ingrate
For all the blessings yet in store
As gems around the H eavenly Throne.

492
And Oh ! ye Flowers, that so exhaled
A balmy sweet on Childhood's day,
May I as you be true to Earth
And all that Earth's Design entailed,
'11 rue to my Soil though far away,

And true to Her who gave me birth.

\Vhat though ye Flowers my soul inspired,
'T was thou, Oh Mother! led the way,
'Twas thou who tuned the whole for me
In all my ardent eyes admired,
'Twas thou who .bent their gentle sway
Ere I had strength to bow the knee.

But memory scarce can trace the day
\Vhen first my glowing thoughts were born
Of Him Who thus delights our eyes.
It seems as though they led the way
Which other things did but adorn
And taught me how the Flowers to prize.

Stamped with Designs that far excel
The wisdom of the wisest man,
May not your other charms concea1
The Being That doth in you dwell,
And may I never fail to scan
"'What those Designs so well reveal.

493

Strike down the infidel with faith !
Strike the clairuoyant with dismay !
The blaspheming spirit-rappers! b
For thus the Gou of Yengeance saith
'l'hrough yo ur Designs, in full display,
I will have no competitors!

Of such of ye as bloom unseen
And waste your sweetness on the air
A sainted vision I invoke,
That I may prize what does but seem .A_

Sister, Brother 0 - Spirits fair

Ere I to infant life awoke.

This debt for living all must pay
And all to H eaven their souls resign;
But Oh ye Flowers! 't is sweet to know
. That what is held as naught but clay
To you the Laws of God consign
Where friend s may mingle here below;

And ere to realms of bliss they go
Y e blend their tears in every tint,
The same to ye of joy or woe
As like they are where' er they flow;
And every hue is but a hint
Of all the favors ye bestow.

494
This, for the pleasure of the eye,
'l'hat, for the h appiness of mind ;
The former gazes on the frame
And fills the mind with wonder why
It doth not there the beauties find,
But only in th' ethereal flame.

'T is that we worship e'en on earth
And just as that is innocent.
The casement does but serve to hold
The flickering flam e, of Heavenly birtL;
And this to me 's omnipotent
That mind is cast in God's Own Mould.

What other loss than this is felt ?
The joy which beams from infant smiles?
The

promise~

of buoyant youth?

The manly thoughts, or knees that knelt?
\Vhat dwell they on o'er thousand miles
That separate the friends of truth ?

Where lies the grief in infant cries?
Vvhere, from the follies of the boy,
Or from the vice of later age ?
Not in the fabric, not our eyes,
But the same thing which raised our joy
When scanning o'er the brighter p:lge.

And so it is when death befalls.
The grave repels, the thing 's not there ;
The thoughts, the words, the acts alone
Engage our care, and Nature calls,
In weal or woe, to seek it where
Those thoughts, and words, and acts have flow n.

Ye sainted Ones! So sweet on Earth
As oft parental tale has told,
I'll tune my thoughts to meet Above
And mingle them in all the mirth
Of all the sports that I may hold,
That so my thoughts may turn to love.

So may SUPERIOR NA.TURE rule
In other breasts as well as mine
To render good what vice destroys,
And make them wise that play the fool,
.All that are false to truth incline
As honey-bees the flower decoys.

T each all the proud humility,

Teach all the cowards to be brnve,
Teach all the selfish to be just,
Instil in all sweet industry,
·w ithdraw all terrors -from the grave,
Inciting all to be the fi1,,,

49G
Learn a1l th e cruel to be kind,
The froward how to curb the will,
The quarrelsome to calm their ways;
May all to Nature be inclined
\\bile none to Nature's God are blindA.ncl Gorl may lengthen out their days.

There's naught that crawls that does not feel A ye, and life's pleasures, too, like us;
Who then shall wanton1y destroy
Or with th e brute in aught shall deal
To make that life a farthing worse
Than what we 'd take as our alloy?

'l'his duty done, the next to hail
Are blessings scorned. or thrown away,
As pride may prompt, or folly spurn,
Or reason in its sway may fail,
And thus our highest trust betray
Ere we its plainest diutates learn.

With love of knowledge all inspireThat

fon~tain

of morality!

May all drink deeply of its streams,
And as they drink yet more desire
In prospect of mortality'l'h us turning all from vicious schemes.

497
To all thy fond endearments yield,
Nor give a pang where love may sway
But lead us all by love of thee;
To truth and virtue be a shield
To render smooth life's stormy way
While sailing o'er its dubious sea.

May Temperance guide our bark along
O'er the full tide of prosperous life,
That no rude blast may raise alarm
When ad verse Fortune strikes her gong.
Then Fortitude shall stay all strife
And all the Furies shall disarm.

Those halcyon days of time expired
When nought of sorrow did I know, 1
As fresh in fancy as in fact
And full of magic once inspired,
Shall prove a balm for every woe
Though tossed by grief or suffering racked.

But much I fear that pleasure's round
May breed a selfish, thoughtless life
Exuberant with boyish glee
While blessings unalloyed abound.
T' were well, I ween, if not so rife,
And more of trouble I might see.
63

''

~I
i\

498

Adversity is honor's post,
And he that towers above his grief
And Cato-like maintains the truth,
The God Who tries him honors most ;
And hapless he who 's no relief
From ceaseless pleasures of his youth.

XXL(")

\Vhile musing thus, came ToucH-ME-NOT
Snapping at all the fairy host,
And side by WILD-OATS took its stand.
OATS pricked its sides-when such a rout
IMPATIENS ne'er before could boast
As then befell its magic wand.

"What means," says Oats, "this hurly-burly?"Smoothing its beard with slyest skill;
But Touch-me-not stood firm its ground
Till Oats grew bold and rather sur]yFor all the Flowers opposed its will
And no excuse at all was found.

499

A Council held- they all agreed
That Oats in mischief far excelled
And often thwarted all their views In Council, then, it was decreed

That OATS henceforth should be expelled,
And ToucH-ME-NO'.I:' should spread the news.

500

BOTANICAL NAMES OF THE PLANTS WHICH COMPOSE THE
ALLEGORICAL GROUP.

1.

THE RosE. .

2.
3.

WILLOW-HERB.

4.

0RCHIS . .

5.
6.

GOLDEN-ROD . .

7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.

MORNING-GLORY.

WILD LILY.

TREE PRIMROSE.
DoG's-BANE.
VERVAI.i'<.

.

•

MAD-DOG-SCULL-CAP.
ENCHANTER'S NIGHT-SH.A.DE.
BITTER-SWEET.
VIRGIN'S-BOWER.
LOOSE-STRIFE.
ARROW-HEAD.
HEAL-ALL.
SNAKE'S-HEAD.
STEEPLE-BUSH.
CARDINAL-FLOWER.
LIFE-EVERLASTING.
ToucH-ME-NOT.

Rosa Vulgaris.
Oonvolvulits &pium.
Spircea Sali'cifoli'a.
Orchis Fimbriata.
Lilium Oanadense.
&lidago Oanadensis.
<Enothera B iennis.
Apocynwn Oannabinwn.
Verbena Hastata.
Scutellaria L ateri.fiora.
Oirccea Alpina.
&lanum Dulcamara.
Clematis Virginica.
Lysimachia Oiliata.
Sagittaria S agittijolia.
Prunella Pennsylvanica.
Ohelone Glabra.
Spircea Tomentosa.
L obelia Oarclinalis.
Gnaphalium Plantagineurn.
I mpatiens Noli-tangere.

I.

501

N0 T ES TO T HE P0 EJf.

" The VERVArn was employed by the ancients in religious ceremonies, and particularly by the Druids. The celebrity which the plant obtained without possessing one
apparent quality, or presenting any myste1ious character, to arrest the attention or excite the imagination, is, indeed, very extraordinary and unaccouut.."tble.

Most nations

venerated, esteemed, and used it. The ancients had their verbenalia, at which period
the temples and frequented places were strewed and sanctified '"ith vervain; and beasts
for sac1ifice and the altars were verbenated, the one filleted, the other strewed with the
sacred herb.

.,;

I

No incantation or lustration was perfect without the aid of the plant.

It was in equal veneration among the Priests of Rome and Greece, the Druids of Gaul
and Britain, and the Magi of India."

The spikes of the flowers are numerous, long,

and very erect.

X.(2)
A "signature" to all has been. - An opinion once prevailed in medicine, called

the " Doctrine of Signatures,'' that plants possess certain physical peculiarities, either
in the form of some of their parts, or their color, &c., which denoted their adaptations
to diseases.

Thus, the Mandrake (l"lfandragora officinalis) having a very large ·root

cleft in two parts below, and two oft:shoots above, with its low stem and leaves, resembles the human form. For this reason miraculous powers were asetibed to it. J osephus says that Solomon had such a plant, by which he drove away demons. Pliny
giveR directions how to dig it up. - The juice of the Celendine ( Clielidoniuin majus),
being yellow, was used in cases of jaundice. It is, or was lately, retained in the Edinburgh Pharmacop::eia as an ingredient in a compound decoction for that disease. And
so of Liverwort (Hepatica triloba), from the shape and color of the le:wes. - The
seed-vessel of the A'Iad-dog-scull-cap resembles a helmet; and hence the application
of this plant to disease,
under the " Doctrine of Signatures."
_,..

I

""

i
,I

"'II

502

EKCHAKTER's Nwrrr-SHADE ( Circam al:pina), from Circe, the famous enchantress,
rn mythology; in reference to the fru it of this pbnt, ''"hich is covered with hooked .
prickles that lay hold of the clothes of passengers, as Circe is fabled to have clone by
her enchantment-;.

XVI.(')
"Al1-circumspicient H EAL-ALL watched."

This low plant has a large cylindri cal

head studded all around 'rith florets, of purple and white, which may be supposed to
have the office here assig ned to them ; and perhaps this was the origin, under the
doctrine of " Signatures," of the supposed virtues of the plant as a panacea.

LIFE-EVERLASTING ( Gnaphalium plantagineum).

A hardy, h erbaceous plant,

which, like many others of the genus, retains permanently its natural appearance
after being killed by frost.
midst of rigoron;; winter.

It presents, therefore, all the appearance of life in the

H ence its popular name.

XXI. (6 )
Tou cH-~IE-NOT

(Impatiens noli-tangere).

·when the seed-Yessel of this plant 1s

slightly touched, it bursts with violence, and scatters itself and seeds with such instantaneousness as to startle the young.
~Note

a. - HouRs (Horro).

The three Sisters, Eunomia, Dice, and Irene, who

were the same as the Seasons that presided over spring, summer, and winter, and
are represented by Homer and other P oets as opening the gates of Heaven and of
Olympus.
~Kole

b.-Those scions of infidelity known as clairvoyance and sp1nt-rappings

were spreading widely in the community.

The pretended raising of the dead, and

audible conferences with them, grew out of the former novelty, and supplies a remarkable instance of the force of habit in relation to credulity as distinguished from Faitl1.
The impostors, in both the cases, were numerous, and their victims multitudinous.

Note c. -ELIZABETH IV. PAINE, who died at the age of two years and fo ur
months; and ELIJAH P AIKE, who lived about two weeks.

503

SUPPLEMENTARY.

SrncE the foregoing Essays were printed, others of an early

date have been discovered, which are distinguished by the same
religious and moral sentiment ; and, as the manuscript of the
following will be bound with the folio volume (see page 458),
it is accordingly printed with the Memoir.

It is without date,

but the hand writing and orthography show it to have been a
very early production, however it may be thought to denote a
greater maturity of mind.

But, it is far less an object with his

Parents to set forth any precociousness of the Youth, than to
illustrate his disposition and principles ; and this, they have
supposed, is what will most interest the reader. The Theme
which follows is upon a subject that governed all his opinions
and conduct throughout his life.

The ~ame delicate regard for

the right, the same spirit of charity and forgiveness, as appears
in the Theme, mellowed all his thoughts and actions. His forbearance and his friendships were the same as manifested by

504

David when the grave had covered a foe and a brother" Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives,
and in their death they were not divided.

Ye daughters of

Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you," &c.

His unfailing

rule of action was-" Judge not, that ye be not judged ; for,
; with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with
what measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again."

He

took the Injunctions and the Revelations of Scripture as he
found them, and left the rest to Heaven.

'

THEME-ARTICLE LXIV.·"
"'JUSTICE.'

"Justice is the disposition of doing the same to every person in the same condition, whether friend or foe. For instance;
suppose two persons were convicted of the same degree of theft,
the one to be a bitter enemy, and the other a very intimate
friend of the Judge who is about to pronounce sentence; it
would be very unjust in him to condemn his enemy t o prison
a longer time than his
leges than the former.

~riend,

or to grant the latter more privi-

It would only be right for him to con-

demn them according to the greatness of the offence, without
*Two Theses are numbered Xill.

505

any regard either to hostility or friendship, for then mercy and
justice should reign; mercy towards his enemy, to suppress the
anger that might be kindled in his bosom by his dislike for
him, as thus he might be induced to pronounce a more severe
punishment than his foe deserves, and justice towards his friend
to quell the inclination that he might have to favor him.
Again, suppose two men in the State of New-York to have
been condemned for murder, the one to have been pious until
within a few years of the murder, but the other to have been a
scoundrel all the days of his life; how unjust would it be in the
Governor to delay the execution of one, because he had previously been a good man, and not of the other because he had
always been wicked.

He should only look at the offence for

which they have been condemned, and not make the former

'

righteousness of one to be a propitiation for his crime, for
'when the righteous man turneth away from his righteousness,
and doeth that which is evil, his good works are not remembered with God.'

If, then, this saying is so perfected with the

Almighty, ought not, at least, some trace of it to be found in
the creatures of His hand ~
" How merited was the royal and godlike epithet of the
Just by Aristides, who wished rather to be just than to appear
so, and who opposed both friendship and favof~ resentment and
hatred, in behalf of what was right. vVas it not he, who, on
one occasion, when a criminal had been accused, and the Judges
were unwilling to hear his defence, stood forth and prayed
G4

506

them that the prisoner might be allowed to spealc for hirnself,
and to enjoy all the privileges of the laws; and, at all times
did he not strenuously exert himself to have justice clone to his
fellow-beings? His title was royal, because it was one above all
others that man could acquire, and godlike, because Justice was
one of the great Attributes of God ; for by that He has ruled,
by that He rules, and by that He will judge all the world.
ROBERT TROUP

p AINE."

507

POSTSCRIPT.
BEFORE the printing of this Memoir was completed, one of
the Biographers was restored to the Child who had been so
recently withdrawn from her affections.

She c1iec1 on the 10th

of January, 1852, of congestion of the brain, of about three
weeks' duration, at the age of 53 years."

* Mrs. P aine was

the daughter of Ezra W eeks, Esq., a distinguished Architect in

this City, and who, for many years, took a very active part in promoting its various
interests.

Besides those which related to his particular avocation, he was, for a long

period, one of the foremost in the Vestry of Trinity Church, where his counsels exerted great influence; for many years one of the most efficient Governors of the NewYork H ospital ; a member and liberal patron of the Academy of Fine Arts ; a member of the Lyceum of Natural History; Vice-President of the New England Society;
the first P resident of the Dry Dock Bank, &c.

Indeed there were very few public

enterprises in which he did not participate actively.

He enjoyed the confidence and

friendship of the distinguished men of the City, Alexander Hamilton, Rufus King,
Robe1t Troup, Fulton, &c.

But what should be particularly noted was his infle:dble

probity, his indomitable industry and perseYerance, and the piety of his latter years.
But, most of all is the writer prompted, in making this brief sketch, by his sense of
obligation to the P arent for th e opportunities of education which he bestowed upon
his children.

Their intellectual culture was the leading object of his ambition till

they became independent of his care.

H e died in the City of Ne w-York in June,

1849, and his death was the immediate occasion of that display of alarm which may

be seen in Robert's letters written at that time, and which may ha\·e left a permanent
impression upon his brain.

508

It remains for the husband to pay no ordinary tribute to
her memory; for it would he difficult to find an example of
greater intellectual and moral excellence.

To a mind of the

highest order, accomplished by the best advant ages of education, reaching to the Latin, French, and Italian Classics, and an
ardent devotion to science, literature, and painting, there was
united the inexpressible charm of all the domestic virtues,
which rendered' her a fountain of usefulness and happiness to
her family.

No mother was ever more watchful and devoted,

no wife ever more conduci:re to the well-being of a husband.
Although the subject of unceasing infirmity of health for more
than twenty years, and often during that long period suffering
vfolent attacks of bilious remittent fever, few women, if any,
have been more useful within the domestic circle. H er devotion to her children was, indeed, natural for a benevolent and
cultivated mind ; but the husband feels it difficult t o express
the constant sacrifices which she made, espPcially of health, to
facilitate his pursuits, and how muc)J. he was thus aid.eel in his
avocations.

She accompanied him in many of his scientific

labors, not only from an earnest sympathy, hut from a love of
philosophy. And here it may be said, that these inquiries were
the more inviting to her as they constantly opened to her admiring view an accumulating proof, and a deeper realization, of
the dependence of all things upon an Infinitely Beneficent and
Almighty Being.

She had lJeen taught that "a little philoso-

phy inclineth man's mind to infidelity, lmt that depth in philos-

\

509

ophy bringeth man's mind about to Religion; for, while the
mind of man looketh upon the second causes scattered, it may
sometimes rest in them and go no farther, but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate and linked together, it must
needs fly to Providence and Deity;" and she was early admonished by such observers as Bacon, that, "learned times, especially with peace and prosperity, are most conducive to infidelity;
for troubles and adversities do more bow men's minds to Religion.'~

Another conspicuous trait of her character was an elegant
refinement of taste.

This led her to the perusal of the best

literature, and to avoid the frivolous.

It was also manifested

in a great admiration of Nature, especially the beautiful or sublime.

Her pencil was ever active in delineating the scenery

which met her view in her many journeys in the Northern
States ; and the series of landscapes, and hamlets; and villages,
which were thus depicted, formed, as it were, a continuous jourI

l

nal of her travels.

Her skill in this respect was also tributary

to useful purposes, among which there remain nearly two hundred paintings of the vegetable Materia Medica, executed in
beautiful style and on an enlarged scale, for the assistance of
her husband in that branch of his professorship. She rendered
him, also, invaluable aid in reading and comparing with him
all the proof-sheets of his publications, and by her critical
remarks, and he1; sound judgment.

There seemed, indeed, no

encl to this kind of labor, for she generally read over the proofs

510
as often as four or five times to insure at least typographical
accuracy ; and she may be almost said to have died with those
of her Son's Memoir in her hand.

It is truly observed in a

letter of condolence from one of her friends to her husband" How beautifully has she used her own accomplishments for
the furtherance of your interests, and how cheerfully turned she
from her own pursuits to identify herself with yours.

She had

one single dream, and that of you. Every thing else was secondary and subordinate to that one idea."

Her parental devotion

was not less unceasing, and, as Robert says of the bees (page
35), when her children wept she wept.
Such, then, being her occupations, she had no leisure for
pursuits ·which she might have carried to a degree of excellence
that would have placed her memory upon the scroll of Fame.
Her enjoyments were limited to these pursuits, and to such as
were incidental to them ; and although a great sufferer from
disease, and with an allotment of sorrow beyond the average
experience, she regarded the past as having been crowded with
blessings, and among her last words was a grateful tribute to a
"World which is designed in the best possible manner to introduce us to Eternity- that " her life had been a happy one."
It cannot be said of her that, "In the day of affiiction there
was no more remembrance of prosperity."

This was due as

well to the fortitude with which she bore adversity as to the
gratification of her fondest hopes ; and she realized, therefore,
that the former is th e greatest temporal blessing of the Chris-

(.

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511
tian Dispensation, as distinguished from . the prosperity of the
Old Testament by its moral and religious t endencies.
She was as much an advocate of mental culture as h er Son
represents himself in some of his Essays, and encouraged ambition in its pursuit of honorable fame. She saw that a principle
so universal must be deeply founded in the great ends of Providence, and she saw, too, its exemplifications of usefulness

::1,
"I

\

I

throughout the history of mankind ; and, in the language of
Robert, "that the good wliich is done bJ: one and another may

I
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never cease to be useful and to increase with its age," and that,
" although man is as a shadow that passeth away, he leaves
something behind him of imperishable value, or, on the other
hand, inflicts and perpetuates the greatest evils upon his race ; "
(page 407.)

But she was also impelled by a belief that a vir-

tuous fame will follow us to the future World in proportion to
the good which posterity may derive from the labors by which
reputation is gained. And herein she saw a motive for surviving
friends to convert, as far as possible, the labors, and virtues, and
worthy examples of the dead to the welfare of the living, as
being likely to be registered in yet higher Mansions of Heaven
in behalf of those who may be already there-something which

may well take the place of the best intended supplications I

•!

something as consistent with Divine Justice and lVIercy as it is
agreeable to our own reason and benevolence.

These senti-

ments flowed. as well from her respect for industry as from her
enlightened and amiable mind ; and sh e r epeat edly ejaculated

''f.

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512
of her Son, that - "He died at his post ! "

But her most fre-

quent expression of contentment was, that, from his childhood
he prayed "particularly for faith and trust in God," and that
his prayers appeared to have been as fully answered as Solomon's desire for wisdom.

(Page 17.)

Her voluminous letters to Robert during his four years at
Harvard University, and many antecedently, are elegant specimens of epistolary writing, and abound with the noblest principles and great tenderness. It is to

b~

regretted that a selection

of these letters would add too much to the extent of this Work.
The following, however, must not be excluded, as it was addressed to Robert on his 21st birth-day, while her pencil was engaged
at the allegorical group of :flowers, and Robert ·on his temporary
absence.

(Page 458.)

"IVELLS'

BEACH,

August 10, 1850.

" JYiy DEAR CmLD: - For such will you ever be to your
Mother, although even now I am writing to commemorate your

twenty-first birth-day. That you will be ever a child to me,
neither the progress of years nor distance can alter, and that
you will prove an affectionate Son, I know.

The artificial dis-

tinction which the law establishes between a minor and one
who has reached his birth-day of twenty-one, can have no connection with the tender relationship of Parent an<l. Child.
Whatever their relative ages, the feelings of each to the other

513
must remain the same ; the bond of affection must still continue
unbroken and without diminution.

I congratulate you most

sincerely, my dear Robert, that you have reached this period
with reputation unsullied, with character for all the virtues and
all the attainments suitable to your years, in the opinion, not
only of the world at large, but of those who know you and are
interested in your welfare, and above all in the eyes of your
nearest and your dearest. Your every good quality is cherished
deeply in our hearts as an .earnest of future good and respectability. The point that you have already attained is a foundation
upon which to raise a superstructure whose summit may reach
to a height yet unthought of.

vVith so firm and broad a base,

upon yourself now depends the fashion, style, and quality of
what may hereafter be erecteJ; and, in looking around me,
nowhere do I see one in whose power lies such a vast amount of
materials to give solidity and usefulness and adornment to the
edifice.

That all these various parts, so adapted to each other,

and so easily combined to construct one harmonious whole, shall
be allowed to waste by their gifted Proprietor, I cannot for one
moment anticipate, when the reverse of the picture presents
such a glowing aspect, beaming with the brightness of cultivated talent, triumphant genius, high principle, and unfeigned
Religion. Let the picture I am contemplating be your heraldic device, be your coat-of-arms.

4

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With it, you may defy the

changes of fortune ; for the frowns of the world you could
never then have. With it, wherever your lot may be cast m
65

514

the civilized world, you will command respect, attention, and
be the esteemed among men.
"Good resolutions, I have no doubt, have had a share in
your thoughts this day, although solitary in the middle of Lake
Umbagog. We were happy to learn from your letters that you
were £nding so much pleasure, and particularly that you were
' as happy as a clam.'

Continue to keep us informed of your

adventures, and let us have time to see you a little more before
the Term commences.
writes, also, to-day.
very pleasant.

Pa's health has improved much.

He

I am improving daily, and £nd it still

Be careful, dear, how .you risk yourself in

leaky boats, &c. &c. &c.

All you know here are constantly

inquiring after you.
" Good-bye, my dear Son, and may Heaven preserve you to
the comfort of your affectionate
" MOTHER."

The following unfinished letter will serve, also, as another
specimen of her habitual mode of addressing her Son, and will
be interesting, perhaps useful, for the reflections it may awaken.
She bad already written him a long letter the same week, and
wrote the following on Saturday, the clay of his death ; but,
from feebleness of health, she laid it aside for completion on
Monday.

Before, however, she could resume it on that day,

and while sitting for her portrait as a memorial for her Son, the

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515
news of the bereavement involved the letter in the common
wreck of the" imaginations which are there shadowed forth of
what will be."
"NEW-YORK, March

8, 1851.

Ro BERT: -As I feel a sort of yearning to write you,
I may as well indulge it;{\- particularly as I am alone, and have
" DEAR

been thinking much of you to-clay-thinking how pleasant it
would be to have you coming in occasionally.

But that time

will come, and my imaginations are but the shadowing forth of
what will be.
"I have been amusmg myself in reading Mrs. Osgood's

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poetry. It is very beautiful. There is a little piece called the
'Language of Gems;' from which I must quote a couple of
verses.
I

" ' The diamond ;emblem of Genius would seem
In its glance like the lightning, wild, fitful, divine;
Its point that can pierce with a meteor-gleam,
Its myriad colors, its shadow and shine.'
" 'And more in that magic, so dazzling and strange ;
Let it steal from Apollo but one sunny ray,
It will beam back a thousand that deepen and change,
Till you fancy a rainbow within it at play."

*This is singularly expressive of an undefinable solicitude which was awakened
by the several little incidents mentioned at page 147, and is one of those internal
proofs of an amdety which it was as impossible to describe as it was to assign the
cause ; nor was any allusion to it made to the rather.

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516
" I never met with a more beautiful idea than that contain;
ed in the last line.

It is worthy of being treasured up.

"Much variety, originality, and fancy, combined with great
delicacy and purity of thought, con~titute the charm of these
pieces.

This writer was the wife of Mr. Osgood, who is paint-

ing my portrait. She died last year. The portrait has been
seen and approved by your Father and Uncle. I much wish,
whenever you see Mrs. - - , that you would inquire if she has
any knowledge of Mr. C-- 0--, the painter, who has your
Father's portrait. · In that way you may get some clue to it. If
you should hear any thing

~f

it, I should like to know it."

The writer draws reluctantly to a close. He has endeavored
to limit himself in this Notice of the deceased to the privilege
afforded by her connection with the Memoir of their Son, while,
also, an opportunity is supplied of exhibiting the advantages
which the Son enjoyed in the never failing watchfulness and
example of one who was peculiarly qualified for the responsible
duties of a mother.
The ten months which intervened between the death of her
Son and her own were spent in cherishing his memory, and in
a happy preparation for the great end of her faith.

She had

been from early life a communicant in the Episcopal Church,
and was thoroughly acquainted with the Scriptures.

This

became at once a fountain of great solace ; .for her faith in all

517
Revelation was as perfect as in her own existence.

Grievous,

therefore, as was the bereavement, it was received in great submission, and yielded the peaceable fruits of righteousness.

It

was an unusual wreck of earthly hopes, which rendered her
quiet resignation an affecting display of the power of Religion.
These consolations, and the fullest conviction that the last act
of her Son would not be imputed to him, but that he would

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be as ever the delight of her soul where no care or sorrow will
disturb the happiness of their mutual love, bore her along without the usual bitterness of so great an affiiction, and enabled
her, therefore, to look forward to an early death, not with the
despair of grief, but·with the bright hope of a Christian spirit.
She indulged her imagination in all the prospective enjoyments
of a future life which are so happily portrayed by Addison;
and she had but one regret, and that was as deep as it was disinterested.

But, in view of Eternity, her " sweetest canticle

was-nunc dimitti8."
The following letter, addressed to the Survivor while he
was attending his venerable Mother* at Haverhill, in her last

* The writer cannot again pass this name without expressing his deep emotions of
reverence and gratitude.

Next to his Parents, she was the most valued of Robert's

friends ; and this note is in part designed to illustrate his veneration for virtuous old
age.

His ardent attachment to her appeared to increase with her years. He made
her frequent visits, of forty miles from the University; and this was mostly his recreation in Term time, and frequently in vacations. (Pages 65, 149.) She died as she

518
and fatal sickness, and displaying confidentially the deep recesses of the heart, may be an appropriate seal to this Memoir.
"NEW-YORK,

May 2,6,

185~.

"MY DEAR HusBAND :-"Although you may not receive
this letter before you shall have left Haverhill, it is an alleviation to my loneliness to write. I wish, too, to put upon record
some things that have occurred to my :µi.ind. When I read the
Bible, and as I read each one of its beautiful precepts, every
time the conviction comes up that Robert kept this one; then
another-and also this, I say; then that; and this, I will say
·to myself, he was most particular in regarding; then another ah, here, I say again, we see the cause of such and such actions
and opinions, as they manifested themselves from time to time.
Not six verses can one read but his Image comes forward to
say- Did I not fulfil that Command, or adopt that Precept?
Nevei; is a sentiment to be found that is holy, or an elevated

had lived, exemplifying the Christian spirit in its loftiest sense.

With a highly intel-

lectual and accomplished mind, and devoted to history and polite literature, her whole

life was distinguished by habits of useful industry. She bad no moments of idleness,
even in her latest days ; and her labors were especially directed to the well-being of
her family. One trait may be particularly stated, as unfolding the general constitution of her mind; in which she exemplified remarkably the union of great fortitude
with great sensibility. She could have borne any calamity of life without failing, as
the performance of a duty; and yet she told the writer just before her death, that she
had never been able to read the Parable of the Prodigal Son from beginning to end
at one perusal, having always found its pathos peculiarly affecting.

I

519
thought, of which we can say-herein was Robert deficient.

I

feel, as it were, when I read, as if I had become Robert's Con-

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science-trying him by the high standard of Holy Writ; but
never do I find him wanting.

How beautiful is this ! Is it not

worth a thousand years-for,' an unspotted life is old age'' for his soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him
away.'
" I thought to-day, although it was a sad indulgence, I
would go up into Robert's room among his books. I thought
I would more fully realize having him near me by going there.
The place is becoming sacred.

I feel as if no person should

enter there but such as reverence Robert; and no one does, for
I keep it locked.

The place possesses a sanctity which I intend

shall not be violated while I live.

I found one volume of his

Sunday records - texts, the Preachers' names, their remarks
condensed, and often criticisms.

No California gold-hunter

ever seized a large lump of the precious ore more eagerly than
I do these testimonials of himself.

They seem to exist in all

that he has left. Do .not think, dear Doctor, I am very sad
because I have thus written. Not so. I feel thankful that the
Lord thus took him under His special care ; that he was thus
ripe for Heaven.
" Your affectionate wife,

"MARY ANN."
I

Since the completion of this Memoir, the following Letters, addressed by Robert
to Mr.

~'

of Township Letter B, in Maine, (see page 45 8,) have been kindly

forwarded by Mr. S- -, and they are added to illustrate still farther the remarkable
amiability and affectionate disposition of one whose heart could be thus permanently
influenced by a very temporary experience of kindness and honesty in the solitudes of
humble life.

He boarded with Mr.

S- - to his Father.

~

one week, according to a letter from Mr.

These letters to a stranger serve, also, to show the deep sin-

cerity of that refined sentiment, and the elevated feeling, which pervade many of his
Theses, and how naturally it flowed from his pen on all occasions; as in Articles 2, 3,
5, 35.

The Letter to which reference is made at page 458 was not among the number
forwarded by Mr. S- - .

The others will be included in the folio volume.

ROBER'!' '.l'O MR. S- - .

" BosTON1 October 5, 1850.

It was with much pleasure that I
received your letter of the 3d September, which, however,
did not come to my hand until about two weeks after date ;
as I was not in Boston till that time. I am pleased to hear
that you are all so well, and Charley and Sis have escaped the
rash which was p~evalent when I was there.
" I should like, most exceedingly, to be with you, and
should certainly go and spend a month or more, if I possibly
could. I am very much engaged, and shall be so for some
time to come. At Thanksgiving I shall be at leisure a few
days, but ~ the time will be so short, I really clo not know as
I shall think it worth while to visit you until I can have a
longer time to enjoy myself. I may, however, go ; if so, I will
probably write you beforehand as to the precise time.
" DEAR

FRIEND : -

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522
"I have been to hear Jenny Lind. The only description I
can give of her singing is to say, that it is perfectly woi1derful.
She may well be called the ' Queen of Song.' (Page 48.)
"What lovely weather we have had ! I do not remember
so beautiful a fall for many years.
" Remember me kindly t o your wife, and kiss Charley and
Sis for me. Also remember me particularly to Mr. G- - and
any inquiring friends. So for the present, 'good-bye.'
" Your affectionate friend,
" RO:BERT TROUP p AINE.
" P. S. - Do not forget that beautiful name for your town
- Vinooski."
" BOSTON, November 16, 1850.
" DEAR FRIEND: - It is with much regret that I write that
I shall not be able to visit you the coming Thanksgiving. It
would not be possible to leave here until Tuesday night, Nov.
26th, and should be obliged to be back the next Monday. I
should therefore have only a day or two at the Lake, which
would not be worth the j ourney nor the expense.
" I had promised myself much pleasure at your fireside ;
but I shall be obliged to defer it until a future day, when I
can have much longer time to stay. .
" We have had a glorious Fall. The weather has been
extremely mild and pleasant almost all the season. It is
rather cool here at present; but I suppose that you have
snow at the Lake.
"Remernber me kindly to your wife and Mr. G- - , and all
inquiring friends, if there be any such. Kiss Charley and Sis.

't
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"

523
Hoping that you are all in the enjoyment of good health, I
remam
" Your affectionate friend,
cc RonERT T1wuP PAINE.
" P. S. - I suppose before long I shall be able to direct to
' Vinooslci,' instead of Letter B. I wrote you a letter in October, acknowledging the receipt .of your kind letter of Sept 3d."

The next letter was from the Natural Bridge, Va., from whence he wrote two
others, about three weeks before his death. (Pages 62, 126.) It explains some
remarks in the letter of Mr. S - - relative to Spring, at page 459.
" NATURAL BRIDGE, VA.,

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Feb. 11, 1851.

<' DEAR FRIEND : - I have at last found my way to one of
the greatest curiosities of the world. The Natural Bridge is
situated little south of the centre of Virginia. The stage-road
goes over it. You approach it from the top of a hill, and in
descending the hill you cross the bridge. When you are on
it, you would not know that it is a bridge ; for, although you
look down into a vast -ravine on one side, yet there are rocks
and trees on the other, so that you appear more to be upon the
side of a hill. But, go below, and you have one of the most
stupendous scenes you can imagine. On both sides you have
the wild abyss, winding its way until it loses itself among the
surrounding hills, while overhead is the magnificent arch of
rock, 90 feet long and 80 feet wide, stretching over the fearful
chasm at a distance of 215 feet above the creek which rolls at
your feet. It is, ihdeed, one of the wonders of the world !
"Since I left home I have also visited vVeyer's Ca,ve, about
80 miles from here. This contains twenty-three rooms, and

524

extends under ground 1600 feet. When I see you I can give
you a description of it.
"I have also visited the Warm Springs, and the Hot
Springs, in this State. They are both situated in glens of the
Alleghany mountains, :five miles apart. · The temperature of
the water of the \Varm Springe is 98° . . The largest bath is a
round basin seven or eight feet deep, and 40 feet in diameter,
which is always full. Perhaps nowhe_re else in the world can
he seen such a quantity of heated water. It is an astonishing
sight! The water of the Hot Springs is 106° degrees, and will
boil an egg. The volume of ;.vater, however, is not near so
large as at the Warm. One hundred yards from the spouts of
hot water there is a cold spring.
" We have had a very mild winter this way, and to-day I
found a wild violet. \Vhat would you think in Maine of a wild
violet in February!
"Remember me particularly to Mr. G--. Also to your
wife and Charley, and kiss Sis for me.
" I remain your friend and well wisher,
" ROBERT TROUP p A.INE.
" P. S.- It would give me great pleasure to hear from you,
and if you have time, I hope you will direct a few lines to me
at 386 Fourth-street, New-York.
" Have you named your town? If so, I hope you have
called it Vinooslci."

ERRATA - SUPPLEMENT ARY.
Page 458, ninth lin e from top , for October read A1,g11s/.
" 518, fourth line from top, for 1852 read 1851.

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At a Special 1Yleeting of the P1·esident and Fellow8 of rla1·vcml
College in Boston, Januw'y 21, 1854,

THE President represented that Robert Troup Paine, of the Class
of 1851, having almost completed his College Course, died suddenly, thereby disappointing the confident hopes which the early
promise of his genius and character had awakened; that degrees
are often conferred on students who have not remained in
College so long as he did; that it is the earnest wish of the
Classmates of Paine, that his name should be inserted in its
place with theirs in the Triennial Catalogue; that this favor
has been granted before in respect to one who did not live to
graduate with his class : and, finally, that it would be highly
gratifying to his father.-He now asks that he may see the
name of his only son enrolled with his own and those of his
father and grandfather among the sons of Harvard, that this

• remembrance of him, at least, may be left upon the earth .
Whereupon it was
Voted, That, with the consent of the Board of Overseers,

the name of RoBERT TROUP PAINE, conformably to the foregoing request, be inserted in the next Triennial Catalogue.

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At the Annual Jlieeting of the B oa;rd of Ove1·seer.s- of H arvanl
College, in the S enate Chamber, Boston, Janua1'y 26, 1854,
The question of concurrmg with the Corporation in the
above vote being put to that Board was decided unanimously
in the affirmative.
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[ C'opied froin the R ecord.1.
Pn1 NTE 1> F0 1! T H E

l\'h·:,rmH

OF

H . T. P.

i"

