ck, but, as far as we can
judge by an inspection of the inventories, there is rarely
any store laid in.
· With the sincerest wishes for the success of any pro-
gramme having for aim the bettering of man, or his condi-
tions, we still can entertain but faint hopes where we per-
ceive the scheme rather than man is placed first in impor-
tance. That there is to be a gradual outworking of socie-
ty, a vast progress for mankind, cannot be doubtful to the
steady observer. A sufficient arc is known to prove the
fact of a concentric orbit. But that orbicular track cannot
be calculated by the moral astronomers, who are not cen-
tralized beings. It is a calculation, too, which cannot be
put beforehand into books, and systems, but must be real-
ized, day by day, from the centre itself, as are the planeta-
ry motions. Skeptics and scoffers of social melioration
have yet some misgiving of their wit, and their objections,
but they are rather confirmed than converted by preorgani-
zations never realized, and which, at the same time, serve
rather to disappoint than to encourage the faithful.
Various smaller associations in England and America
might be spoken of as either in existence or proposed. But
for all those which are not bound down by theological tests,
it may be remarked, that they are yet in so incipient a state
that their immediate observers, or even the members them-
selves, can scarcely pronounce decisively on the elucidation
of any one principle. For material results, the period is too
short; for mental order, the elements too chaotic; for spir-
itual growth, the subject too little heeded.
(To be continued.)
C. L.


1843.)
87
A Song of Death.
A SONG OF DEATH.
Death is here and death is there
But the shattered shaft and dome,
Emblem of a stern despair,
Mark that utter sorrow, where
Faith yet wants a home.
Yonder with the blue-veined lid
Closed o'er eyes whose light is o'er,
Like twin angels that forbid
Beauty to be widowed,
Though they come no more;
So he sleeps! The day is fair,
Summer breezes come and go,
Gambol with his curling hair,
And no wail of sorrow bear
On their sunny flow.
Give the flower unto the earth,
But salt tears will blight its bloom ;
All that in him was of worth,
Let it find in thee new birth,
Not a shrouded tomb.
Bury him at morning time,
When the dew is on the grass,
Then the fox-bells ring a chime,
As from out some warmer clime
Morning breezes pass.


88
(July,
Notes from the Journal of a Scholar.
NOTES FROM THE JOURNAL OF A SCHOLAR.
NO. II.
WRITING OF JOURNALS.
I CANNOT pinch the Genie, and shut him into a casket.
The life that I live is a various, salient, wide-lying life.
The spirit of the creature is not to be expressed in senten-
ces of a journal, but lives and leaps along the uneven road
of human affairs, — now wrangling with obstructions, now
manfully overcoming, now sportful, now prayerful. It is
not the pieces, it is the forming whole I study. If I chose
to press flowers of conversation, like a hortus siccus in my
book, and keep them to entertain me in a winter's day,
when no such flowers bloom, — I might, — such flowers I
find and pluck,- none fairer, sweeter; but I wear them in
my heart. They go to perfume and enrich the imagina-
tion, a garden where they drop their seed, and spring again,
after snows and dead leaves have covered and deformed
the ground.
NATURE.
May.—I do not know but one of the ancient metamor-
phoses will some day overtake me, and I shall shoot into a
tree, or flow in a stream, I do so lose my human nature, and
join myself to that which is without. A few days ago I
spent the afternoon in the warm hollows of Canterbury.
The robin, the blue-bird, a moist frog with green uniform
and gold enamelled eye, were my companions, rather than
W. with whom I went, for we straggled wide apart. I found
the saxifrage, just urging through moss and leaves its little
ear of buds. And now, a glass of water is on my shelf,
wherein are met, drinking sociably together, anemones and
hepaticas, the pearly fair arbutus and crimson columbine,
with other green, white, and pink friends from the fields.
We are so near to nature, and yet so far! Glorious kind
moon and stars that beam love; air that sweeps and sings
through the chambers of heaven; flowers, beautiful and
sweet; — you have your life, and I mine, and a different


1843.)
89
Notes from the Journal of a Scholar.
one ; I cannot wholly possess you. We draw near to each
other, — perhaps a delicate and passionless kiss is breathed
towards you, but you live on in vestal state, and I am eve-
rywhere repulsed from an embrace that shall mix our
natures.
July 9. – Verily your seal and beaver and the submarines
are your only comfortable livers, when the mercury stands
at 98 in the shade. A little aspen has flourished two
summers in the spout of a building on Cornhill; and nod-
ded kindly to me each day, but I doubt the zeal of this
sun will burn up its roots.
Aug. 2.- The fields grow yellow to the harvest; the
autumn flowers are budding; the industrious globe hastens
to finish its year. I like to tell at the top of my page
what's o'clock. It is pleasant to be folded in the arms of
a celestial order, and the course of seasons, days and years
is like a rocking motion which tranquillizes our tumultuous
thoughts.
Aug. 22. - Almost autumn, the sunsets say, and golden-
ly publish along half the horizont, — and I am glad. If
oaks have spiritual creatures, whose being is linked with
the life of the tree, I do not know but there is a like sym-
pathy between my nature and the seasons. In spring,
there leaps up a fount of love, and hope, and animal exhila-
ration ; in summer, I suffer a Hindoo repose; in autumn,
a broad clear spirit is mine, which, if it partake of a stoical
scorn, is perhaps the stronger armed to endure the labor
and pain of living.
Sept. 21. - Autumn is the afternoon of the year ; but
there are those whom the afternoon pleases more than the
fresh morn. Autumn is the Odyssey, wherein the genius
of nature blazes less high than in her lliad summer ; yet
the season, like the poem, hath those who set its beauty's
praise above its brilliant sister. I feel so much stronger as
the sun goes off the back side of the world, that o'er the
ruins of the year I savage exult.
The days go, and come, and go. Here from my win-
dow towards the East, I shall presently peruse at length
large-limbed Orion, my shining chronicler of many a
winter. God be thanked who set the stars in the sky,
planted their bright watch along the infinite deep, and or-
dained such fine intelligence betwixt us and them, yea, God
VOL. IV, NO. I.
12


91
(July,
Notes from the Journal of a Scholar.
be thanked for all in nature that is the symbol of purity
and peace.
Nov. 10.— I have spent my Sunday in God's first temples.
The wind was choir and organ, now singing its anthems,
now whispering its dirges. For Bible and psalmbook, I
had the grand page of nature, and many a holy verse I
read from off the brown sward and the trees. But my
sermon came to me from the distant hills, and the blue
heaven on which was traced their profile. They preached
strength and a serene trust. I found me a sunny, sheltered
chapel framed of the living rock, and there I prayed as I
could. It was high holiday in the fields. Old Mother
Earth said, she had ceased from her labors, and no more
for one while was she to pour her life-giving juices to be
sucked up through all the arteries of this lavish vegetation.
The woods too said, — we have done; we will rest, we
have fetched and carried up and down our old trunks the
sap that fed these frivolous leaves, that now drop from us
at the scent of a cold breeze. “Off, off' you lendings !”
We will battle it alone with winter. The leaning stalks of
the aster and the golden-rod, and the red flaunting wax-
work, that had climbed over the walls and the savin-trees to
show its pomp of berries, – and the dead stems of hun-
dreds of little flowerets, each holding up its ripened plume
or pod of seed,— all said, “We have done, we will rest,
we have borne, each after his kind. Son of Man! who
hast come hither to look at us, do thou too bear thy fruit,
then too around thee shall it hang ornaments and trophies;
thou too shalt rest, while over thee the sky shall be blue, the
sun shall be bright."
TRUTH.
Let us not vail our bonnets to circumstance. If we act
so, because we are so ; if we sin from strong bias of temper
and constitution, at least we have in ourselves the measure
and the curb of our aberration. But if they, who are
around us, sway us; if we think ourselves incapable of
resisting the cords by which fathers and mothers, and a
host of unsuitable expectations, and duties falsely so called,
seek to bind us, --- into what helpless discord shall we not
fall! Do you remember in the Arabian Nights the princes
who climbed the hill to bring away the singing-tree, - how


1813.) “Notes from the Journal of a Scholar. 91
the black pebbles clamored, and the princes looked round,
and became black pebbles themselves ?
I hate whatever is imitative in states of mind as well as
in action. The moment I say, to myself, “I ought to feel
thus and so,” life loses its sweetness, the soul her vigor and
truth. I can only recover my genuine self, by stopping
short, refraining from every effort to shape iny thought after
a form, and giving it boundless freedom and horizon.
Then, after oscillation more or less protracted, as the mind
has been more or less forcibly pushed from its place, I fall
again into my orbit, and recognise myself, and find with
gratitude that something there is in the spirit which changes
not, neither is weary, but ever returns into itself, and par-
takes of the eternity of God.
Do not let persons and things come too near you. These
should be phenomenal. The soul should sit island-like; a
pure cool strait should keep the external world at its dis-
tance. Only in the character of messengers, charged with
a mission unto us from the Everlasting and True, should
we receive what befals us or them who stand near us.
This is the root of my dislike to laughter, and nervous
hands, and discomposed manners ; they imply too close a
neighborhood of sensible objects. Even love is more ex-
quisitely sweet when it marries, with the full consent of the
will, souls not lightly moved, which do not take the print
of common occurrences and excitements.
Life changes with us. We have perhaps no worse
enemy to combat than a bad recantation of first love and
first hope, a coxcomb-like wrapping of the cloak about us,
as if we had a right to be hurt at the course which the
world takes, and were on cool terms with God.
SELF AND SOCIETY.
It is a miserable smallness of nature to be shut up within
the circle of a few personal relations, and to fret and fume
whenever a claim is made on us from God's wide world
without. If we are impatient of the dependence of man
on man, and grudge to take hold of hands in the ring, the
spirit in us is either evil or infirm. If to need least, is
nighest to God, so also is it to impart most. There is no
soundness in any philosophy short of that of unlimited debt.


Manhood.
July,
As no man but is wholly made up of the contributions of God
and the creatures of God, so there is none who can reason-
ably deny himself to the calls which in the economy of the
world he was provided with the means of satisfying. The
true check of this principle is to be found in another gen-
eral law, that each is to serve his fellow men in that way
he can best. The olive is not bound to leave yielding its
fruit and go reign over the trees; neither is the astronomer,
the artist, or the the poet to quit his work, that he may do
the errands of Howard, or second the efforts of Wilber-
force.
MANHOOD.
Αδάκρυν νεμώνται αιωνα.
DEAR, noble soul, wisely thy lot thou bearest,
For like a god toiling in earthly slavery,
Fronting thy sad fate with a joyous bravery,
Each darker day a sunnier smile thou wearest.
No grief can touch thy sweet and spiritual smile,
No pain is keen enough that it has power
Over thy childlike love, that all the while
Upon the cold earth builds its heavenly bower;
And thus with thee bright angels make their dwelling,
Bringing thee stores of strength when no man knoweth :
The ocean-stream from God's heart ever swelling,
That forth through each least thing in Nature goeth,
In thee, O truest hero, deeper floweth ;
With joy I bathe, and many souls beside
Feel a new life in the celestial tide.
C. A. D.


1843.)
93
Gifts.
GIFTS.
Now that Christmas and New Year are at a safe dis-
tance, and one can speak without suspicion of personality,
I have a word to say of gifts. It is said, that the world is
in a state of bankruptcy, that the world owes the world
more than the world can pay, and ought to go into chancery,
and be sold. I do not think this general insolvency which
involves in some sort all the population, the reason of the
difficulty annually or oftener experienced in bestowing
gifts; since it is always so pleasant to be generous, but
very vexatious to pay debts. But the obstacle lies in the
difficulty of choosing; if at any time it comes to me with
force that a present is due from me to somebody, I am puzzled
what to give, until the opportunity is gone. Flowers and fruits
are always fit presents ; flowers, because they are a proud
assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of
the world; and fruits, because they are the flower of com-
modities, and at once admit of fantastic values being
attached to them. If a man should send to me to come a
hundred miles to visit him, and should set before me a basket
of fine summer fruit, I should think there was some propor-
tion between the labor and the reward. For common
gifts, necessity makes pertinences and beauty every day,
and one is thankful when an imperative leaves him no op-
tion, since if the man at the door have no shoes, you have
not to think whether you could procure him a paint-box.
And as it is always pleasing to see a man eat bread or
drink water in the house or out of doors, so it is always a
great satisfaction to supply these first wants. Necessity
does everything well. Also I have heard a friend say,
that the rule for a gift was, to convey to some person that
which properly belonged to their character, and was easily
associated with them in thought. But our tokens of com-
pliment and love are for the most part barbarous. Rings
and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only
gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me.
Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd his
lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter,
his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.
This is right, and we feel a profound pleasure, for it re-


94
(July,
Gifts.
stores society in so far to its primary basis, when a man's
biography is conveyed in his gift, and every man's wealth is
an index of his merit. But it is a cold, lifeless business
when you go to the shops to buy me something, which does
not represent your life and talent to me, but a goldsmith's.
This is fit for kings, and rich men who represent kings,
and a false state of property, to make presents of gold and
silver stuffs, as a kind of symbolical sin-offering and payment
of tribute.
But this matter of gifts is delicate, and requires careful
sailing, or rude boats. It is not the office of a man to
receive gifts. How dare you give them? We ask to be
self-sustained, nothing less; we hate to receive a gift. We
hate the hand that feeds us; we can receive anything
from love, for that is a way of receiving it from ourselves,
but not from any one who assumes to bestow. We hate
the animal food which we eat, because there seems some-
thing of degrading dependence in living by it.
“ Brother, if Jove to thee a present make,
Take heed that from his hands thou nothing take."
We ask all; nothing less than all will content us. We
quarrel with society, and rightfully, as we think, if it do
not give us love also, love and reverence and troops of
friends.
Who is up so high as to receive a gift well? We are
either glad or sorry at a gift, and both emotions are unbe-
coming. Some violence I think is done, some degradation
borne, when I rejoice or grieve at a gift. I am sorry when
my independence is invaded, or when a gift comes from
such as do not know my spirit, and so the act is not sup-
ported; and if the gift pleases me overmuch, then I
should be ashamed that the donor should read my heart,
and see that I love his commodity and not him. The gift
to be true must be the flowing of the giver unto me, cor-
respondent to my flowing unto him. When the waters are
at level, then my goods pass to him, and his to me. All
his are mine, all mine his. I say to him, How can you give
me this pot of oil, or this flagon of wine, when all your oil
and wine is mine, which belief of mine this gift of yours
seems to deny? Hence the fitness of beautiful, not useful
things for gifts. This giving is flat usurpation, and there-


1843.)
95
Gifts.
fore when the beneficiary is ungrateful, as all beneficiaries
hate all Timons, not at all considering the value of the gift,
but looking back to the greater store it was taken from, i
rather sympathize with the beneficiary than with the anger
of my Lord Timon. For the expectation of gratitude is
mean, and is continually punished by total insensibility.
And truly considered, it is a great happiness to get off
without injury and heart-burning from one who has had
the ill luck to be served by you. It is very onerous busi-
ness, this of being served, and the debtor naturally wishes
to give you a slap. A golden text for these gentlemen
is that which I so admire in the Buddhist, who never
thanks, and who says, “ Do not flatter your benefactors."
But the reason of these discords I take to be that there is
no commensurability between a man and any gift. You can-
not give any thing to a magnanimous person. After you have
served him, he at once puts you in debt by his magnanimity.
The service a man renders his friend is trivial and selfish, com-
pared with the service he knows his friend stood in readi-
ness to yield him, alike before be had begun to serve his
friend and now also. Compared with that great good-will
I bear my friend, the benefit it is in my power to render him
seems small. Besides, our action on each other, good as well
as evil, is so random and remote. We can seldom hear
the acknowledgments of any person who would thank us for
a benefit, without some shame and humiliation, for we feel
that it was not direct, but incidental. We can seldom
strike a direct stroke, but must be content with an oblique
one; I mean, we seldom have the satisfaction of yielding a
direct benefit, which is directly received. But rectitude
scatters favors all around without knowing it, and receives
with wonder the thanks of people.
I like to see that we cannot be bought and sold. The
best of hospitality and of generosity is also not in the will,
but in fate. I find that I am not much to you, you do not
need me; you do not feel me; then am I thrust out of
doors, though you proffer me house and lands. No servi-
ces are of any value, but likeness only. When I have
attempted to join myself to others by services, it proved an
intellectual trick, no more. They eat your service like
apples, and leave you out. But love them, and they feel
you, and delight in you all the time.


96
(July,
Past and Present.
PAST AND PRESENT.*
Here is Carlyle's new poem, his Iliad of English woes, to
follow his poem on France, entitled the History of the French
Revolution. In its first aspect, it is a political tract, and
since Burke, since Milton, we have had nothing to compare
with it. It grapples honestly with the facts lying before all
men, groups and disposes them with a master's mind, and
with a heart full of manly tenderness, offers his best counsel
to his brothers. Obviously it is the book of a powerful and
accomplished thinker, who has looked with naked eyes at
the dreadful political signs in England for the last few
years, has conversed much on these topics with such wise
men of all ranks and parties as are drawn to a scholar's
house, until such daily and nightly meditation has grown
into a great connexion, if not a system of thoughts, and the
topic of English politics becomes the best vehicle for the
expression of his recent thinking, recommended to him by
the desire to give some timely counsels, and to strip the
worst mischiefs of their plausibility. It is a brave and just
book, and not a semblance. “No new truth,” say the
critics on all sides. Is it so? truth is very old; but the
merit of seers is not to invent, but to dispose objects in their
right places, and he is the commander who is always in the
mount, whose eye not only sees details, but throws crowds
of details into their right arrangement and a larger and
juster totality than any other. The book makes great ap-
proaches to true contemporary history, a very rare success,
and firmly holds up to daylight the absurdities still tolerated
in the English and European system. It is such an appeal
to the conscience and honor of England as cannot be for-
gotten, or be feigned to be forgotten. It has the merit
which belongs to every honest book, that it was self-ex-
amining before it was eloquent, and so hits all other men,
and, as the country people say of good preaching, “ comes
bounce down into every pew.” Every reader shall carry
away something. The scholar shall read and write, the
* Past and Present. By THOMAS CARLYLE. Boston: Charles C. Little
and James Brown.


1843.]
97
Past and Present.
farmer and mechanic shall toil with new resolution, nor
forget the book when they resume their labor.
Though no theocrat, and more than most philosophers
a believer in political systems, Mr. Carlyle very fairly finds
the calamity of the times not in bad bills of Parliament,
nor the remedy in good bills, but the vice in false and
superficial aims of the people, and the remedy in honesty
and insight. Like every work of genius, its great value is
in telling such simple truths. As we recall the topics, we
are struck with the force given to the plain truths ; the
picture of the English nation all sitting enchanted, the poor
enchanted so that they cannot work, the rich enchanted so
that they cannot enjoy, and are rich in vain ; the exposure
of the progress of fraud into all arts and social activities;
the proposition, that the laborer must have a greater share in
his earnings ; that the principle of permanence shall be ad-'
mitted into all contracts of mutual service; that the state
shall provide at least school-master's education for all the
citizens; the exhortation to the workman, that he shall re-
spect the work and not the wages; to the scholar, that he
shall be there for light; to the idle, that no man shall sit idle ;
the picture of Abbot Samson, the true governor, who“ is not
there to expect reason and nobleness of others, he is there to
give them of his own reason and nobleness ;” and the as-
sumption throughout the book, that a new chivalry and nobili-
ty, namely the dynasty of labor is replacing the old nobilities.
These things strike us with a force, which reminds us of
the morals of the Oriental or early Greek masters, and of
no modern book. Truly in these things there is great re-
ward. It is not by sitting still at a grand distance, and
calling the human race larve, that men are to be helped,
nor by helping the depraved after their own foolish fashion,
but by doing unweariedly the particular work we were
born to do. Let 'no man think himself absolved because
he does a generous action and befriends the poor, but let
him see whether he so holds his property that a benefit
goes from it to all. A man's diet should be what is sim-
plest and readiest to be had, because it is so private a
good. His house should be better, because that is for the
use of hundreds, perhaps of thousands, and is the property
of the traveller. But his speech is a perpetual and public
VOL. IV. — NO. I.
13


98
(July,
Past and Present.
instrument; let that always side with the race, and yield
neither a lie nor a sneer. His manners, – let them be hos-
pitable and civilizing, so that no Phidias or Raphael shall
have taught anything better in canvass or stone ; and his acts
should be representative of the human race, as one who
makes them rich in his having and poor in his want.
It requires great courage in a man of letters to handle
the contemporary practical questions ; not because he then
has all men for his rivals, but because of the infinite en-
tanglements of the problem, and the waste of strength in
gathering unripe fruits. The task is superhuman; and the
poet knows well, that a little time will do more than the
most puissant genius. Time stills the loud noise of
opinions, sinks the small, raises the great, so that the
true emerges without effort and in perfect harmony to all
eyes; but the truth of the present hour, except in particu-
lars and single relations, is unattainable. Each man can
very well know his own part of duty, if he will; but to
bring out the truth for beauty and as literature, surmounts
the powers of art. The most elaborate history of to-day
will have the oddest dislocated look in the next generation.
The historian of to-day is yet three ages off. The poet
cannot descend into the turbid present without injury to
his rarest gifts. Hence that necessity of isolation 'which
genius has always felt. He must stand on his glass tripod,
if he would keep his electricity.
But when the political aspects are so calamitous, that the
sympathies of the man overpower the habits of the poet,
a higher than literary inspiration may succor him. It is
a costly proof of character, that the most renowned
scholar of England should take his reputation in his hand,
and should descend into the ring, and he has added to his
love whatever honor his opinions may forfeit. To atone for
this departure from the vows of the scholar and his eternal
duties, to this secular charity, we have at least this gain,
that here is a message which those to whom it was ad-
dressed cannot choose but hear. Though they die, they
must listen. It is plain that whether by hope or by fear,
or were it only by delight in this panorama of brilliant
images, all the great classes of English society must read,
even those whose existence it proscribes. Poor Queen
Victoria, - poor Sir Robert Peel, - poor Primate and


1843.]
Past and Present.
99
Bishops, - poor Dukes and Lords! there is no help in
place or pride or in looking another way; a grain of wit is
more penetrating than the lightning of the night-storm,
which no curtains or shutters will keep out. Here is a
book which will be read, no thanks to anybody but itself.
What pains, what hopes, what vows, shall come of the
reading! Here is a book as full of treason as an egg is
full of meat, and every lordship and worship and high form
and ceremony of English conservatism tossed like a foot-
ball into the air, and kept in the air with merciless kicks
and rebounds, and yet not a word is punishable by statute.
The wit has eluded all official zeal; and yet these dire
jokes, these cunning thrusts, this flaming sword of Cheru-
bim waved high in air illuminates the whole horizon, and
shows to the eyes of the universe every wound it inflicts.
Worst of all for the party attacked, it bereaves them before-
hand of all sympathy, by anticipating the plea of poetic and
humane conservatism, and impressing the reader with the
conviction, that the satirist himself has the truest love for
everything old and excellent in English land and institu-
tions, and a genuine respect for the basis of truth in those
whom he exposes.
We are at some loss how to state what strikes us as the
fault of this remarkable book, for the variety and excellence
of the talent displayed in it is pretty sure to leave all
special criticism in the wrong. And we may easily fail in
expressing the general objection which we feel. It ap-
pears to us as a certain disproportion in the picture,
caused by the obtrusion of the whims of the painter.
In this work, as in his former labors, Mr. Carlyle reminds
us of a sick giant. His humors, are expressed with
so much force of constitution, that his fancies are more
attractive and more credible than the sanity of duller men.
But the habitual exaggeration of the tone wearies whilst it
stimulates. It is felt to be so much deduction from the
universality of the picture. It is not serene sunshine, but
everything is seen in lurid stormlights. Every object
attitudinizes, to the very mountains and stars almost, under
the refractions of this wonderful humorist, and instead of
the common earth and sky, we have a Martin's Creation or
Judgment Day. A crisis has always arrived which re-
quires a deus ex machinâ. One can hardly credit, whilst


100
[July,
Past and Present.
under the spell of this magician, that the world always had
the same bankrupt look, to foregoing ages as to us, - as of
a failed world just recollecting its old withered forces to
begin again and try to do a little business. It was perhaps
inseparable from the attempt to write a book of wit and imag-
ination on English politics, that a certain local emphasis and
of effect, such as is the vice of preaching, should appear,
producing on the reader a feeling of forlornness by the
excess of value attributed to circumstances. But the splen-
dor of wit cannot outdazzle the calm daylight, which al-
ways shows every individual man in balance with his age,
and able to work out his own salvation from all the follies
of that, and no such glaring contrasts or severalties in that
or this. Each age has its own follies, as its majority is
made up of foolish young people ; its superstitions appear
no superstitions to itself; and if you should ask the contem-
porary, he would tell you with pride or with regret (accord-
ing as he was practical or poetic) that it had none. But
after a short time, down go its follies and weakness, and
the memory of them ; its virtues alone remain, and its
limitation assumes the poetic form of a beautiful supersti-
tion, as the dimness of our sight clothes the objects in the
horizon with mist and color. The revelation of Reason is
this of the unchangeableness of the fact of humanity under
all its subjective aspects, that to the cowering it always
cowers, to the daring it opens great avenues. The ancients
are only venerable to us, because distance has destroyed
what was trivial; as the sun and stars affect us only grand-
ly, because we cannot reach to their smoke and surfaces,
and say, Is that all ?
And yet the gravity of the times, the manifold and in-
creasing dangers of the English state, may easily excuse
some over-coloring of the picture, and we at this distance
are not so far removed from any of the specific evils, and
are deeply participant in too many, not to share the gloom,
and thank the love and the courage of the counsellor. This
book is full of humanity, and nothing is more excellent in
this, as in all Mr. Carlyle's works, than the attitude of the
writer. He has the dignity of a man of letters who knows
what belongs to him, and never deviates from his sphere;
a continuer of the great line of scholars, and sustains their
office in the highest credit and honor. If the good heaven


1843.] -
101
Past and Present.
have any word to impart to this unworthy generation, here
is one scribe qualified and clothed for its occasion. One
excellence he has in an age of Mammon and of criticism,
that he never suffers the eye of his wonder to close. Let
who will be the dupe of trifles, he cannot keep his eye
off from that gracious Infinite which embosoms us. As a
literary artist, he has great merits, beginning with the main
one, that he never wrote one dull line. How well read,
how adroit, what thousand arts in his one art of writing;
with his expedient for expressing those unproven opinions
which he entertains but will not endorse, by summoning
one of bis men of straw from the cell, and the respectable
Sauerteig, or Teufelsdrock, or Dryasdust, or Picturesque
Traveller says what is put into his mouth and disappears.
That morbid temperament has given bis rhetoric a some-
what bloated character, a luxury to many imaginative and
learned persons, like a showery south wind with its
sunbursts and rapid chasing of lights and glooms over the
landscape, and yet its offensiveness to multitudes of reluctant
lovers makes us often wish some concession were possible
on the part of the humorist. Yet it must not be forgotten
that in all his fun of castanets, or playing of tunes with a
whiplash like some renowned charioteers, — in all this glad
and needful venting of his redundant spirits, — he does yet
ever and anon, as if catching the glance of one wise man
in the crowd, quit his tempestuous key, and lance at him
in clear level tone the very word, and then with new glee
returns to his game. He is like a lover or an outlaw who
wraps up his message in a serenade, which is nonsense to
the sentinel, but salvation to the ear for which it is meant.
He does not dodge the question, but gives sincerity where
it is due.
One word more respecting this remarkable style. We
have in literature few specimens of magnificence. Plato is
the purple ancient, and Bacon and Milton the moderns of
the richest strains. Burke sometimes reaches to that
exuberant fulness, though deficient in depth. Carlyle in his
strange half mad way, 'has entered the field of the Cloth
of Gold, and shown a vigor and wealth of resource, which
has no rival in the tourney play of these times ; – the
indubitable champion of England. Carlyle is the first
domestication of the modern system with its infinity of


102
(July,
Past and Present.
details into style. We have been civilizing very fast, build-
ing London and Paris, and now planting New England
and India, New Holland and Oregon, - and it has
not appeared in literature, there has been no analogous
expansion and recomposition in books. Carlyle's style is
the first emergence of all this wealth and labor, with which
the world has gone with child so long. London and
Europe tunnelled, graded, corn-lawed, with trade-nobility,
and east and west Indies for dependencies, and America,
with the Rocky Hills in the horizon, have never before
been conquered in literature. This is the first invasion
and conquest. How like an air-balloon or bird of Jove
does he seem to float over the continent, and stooping here
and there pounce on a fact as a symbol which was never a
symbol before. This is the first experiment; and something
of rudeness and haste must be pardoned to so great an
achievment. It will be done again and again, sharper,
simpler, but fortunate is he who did it first, though never
so giant-like and fabulous. This grandiose character per-
vades his wit and his imagination. We have never had
anything in literature so like earthquakes, as the laughter
of Carlyle. He “shakes with his mountain mirth.” It is
like the laughter of the Genii in the horizon. These jokes
shake down Parliament-house and Windsor Castle, Tem-
ple, and Tower, and the future shall echo the dangerous
peals. The other particular of magnificence is in his
rhymes. Carlyle is a poet who is altogether too burly in his
frame and habit to submit to the limits of metre. Yet he
is full of rhythm not only in the perpetual melody of his
periods, but in the burdens, refrains, and grand returns of
his sense and music. Whatever thought or motto has
once appeared to him fraught with meaning, becomes an
omen to him henceforward, and is sure to return with deeper
tones and weightier import, now as promise, now as threat,
now as confirmation, in gigantic reverberation, as if the
hills, the horizon, and the next ages returned the sound.


1843.)
103
An Old Man.
AN OLD MAN.
Heavy and drooping,
By himself stooping,
Half of his body left,
Of all his mind bereft,
Antiquate positive,
Forgotten causative, -
Yet he still picks the ground,
Though his spade makes no sound,
Thin, fingers are weak,
And elbows a-peak.
He talks to himself,
Of what he remembers,
Rakes over spent embers,
Recoineth past pelf,
Dreams backwards alone,
Of time gnawing the bone.
Too simple for folly,
Too wise for content,
Not brave melancholy,
Or knave eminent,
Slouched hat, and loose breeches,
And gaping with twitches, —
Old coin found a-ploughing,
Curious but cloying,
How he gropes in the sun,
And spoils what he's done.


104
(July,
To Rhea.
TO RHEA.
Thes, dear friend, a brother soothes
Not with flatteries but truths,
Which tarnish not, but purify
To light which dims the morning's eye.
I have come from the spring woods,
From the fragrant solitudes,
Listen what the poplar tree
And murmuring waters counselled me.
If with love thy heart has burned,
If thy love is unreturned,
Hide thy grief within thy breast,
Though it tear thee unexpressed.
For when love has once departed
From the eyes of the falsehearted,
And one by one has torn off quite
The bandages of purple light,
Though thou wert the loveliest
Form the soul had ever drest,
Thou shalt seem in each reply
A vixen to his altered eye,
Thy softest pleadings seem too bold,
Thy praying lute will seem to scold.
Though thou kept the straightest road,
Yet thou errest far and broad.
But thou shalt do as do the gods
In their cloudless periods ;
For of this be thou assured,
Though thou forget, the gods secured
Forget never their command,
But make the statute of this land.
As they lead, so follow all,
Ever have done, ever shall.


1843.]
105
To Rhea.
Warning to the blind and deaf,
'Tis written on the iron leaf,
Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup
Loveth downward, and not up.
Therefore who loves of gods or men,
Shall not by the same be loved again ;
His sweetheart's idolatry
Falls in turn a new degree.
But when a god is once beguiled
By beauty of a mortal child,
And by her radiant youth delighted,
He is not fooled, but warily knoweth
His love shall never be requited,
And thus the wise Immortal doeth.
It is his study and delight
To bless that creature, day and night,
From all evils to defend her,
In her lap to pour all splendor,
To ransack earth for riches rare,
And fetch her stars to deck her hair ;
He mixes music with her thoughts,
And saddens her with heavenly doubts ;
All grace, all good, his great heart knows
Profuse in love the king bestows;
Saying, “Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air !
This monument of my despair
Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair.
Not for a private good,
But I from my beatitude,
Albeit scorned as none was scorned,
Adorn her as was none adorned.
I make this maiden an ensample
To Nature through her kingdoms ample,
Whereby to model newer races,
Statelier forms and fairer faces,
To carry man to new degrees
Of power and of comeliness.
VOL. IV. — NO. I..
14


106
(July,
The Journey.
These presents be the hostages
Which I pawn for my release;
See to thyself, O Universe !
Thou art better and not worse.”
And the god having given all,
Is freed forever from his thrall.
THE JOURNEY.
A breezy softness in the air
That clasped the gentle hand of spring,
And yet no brooklet's voice did sing,
And all was perfect silence there,
Unless the soft light foliage waved;
Those boughs were clothed in shining green,
Through which ne'er angry tempests raved,
And sunlight shone between.
Beneath an oak a palmer lay,
Upon the green sward was his bed,
And rich luxuriance bound the gray,
The silver laurel round his head.
A picture he of calm repose,
A dateless monument of life,
Too placid for the fear of woes,
Too grateful to be worn by strife ;
I should have passed, — he bade me stay,
And tranquilly these words did say.
“O curtain of the tender spring !
Thy graces to my old eyes bring,
The recollection of those years,
When sweet are shed our early tears ;
Those days of sunny April weather,
Changeful and glad with everything,
When youth and age go linked together,
Like sisters twain and sauntering
Down mazy paths in ancient woods,
The garland of such solitudes."


1843.
107
Art and Architecture.
NOTES ON ART AND ARCHITECTURE.
(Note. A few sheets have fallen into our hands, which contain such good
sense on the subject of architecture, that we shall not be deterred by their in-
complete method from giving them to our readers, in the hope that they will
come to the eye of some person proposing to build a house or a church, in time
to save a new edifice from some of the faults, which make our domestic and what
we call our religious architecture insignificant.)
ART.
There are three periods of art. First, when the thought
is in advance of the execution. Second, when the expres-
sion is adequate to the thought. And third, when the
expression is in advance of the thought. The first is the
age of the Giottos and Cimabues; the second, of Raphaels
and Michel Angelos. The third is the only one we know
by experience. How inexpressibly interesting are those
early works, where art is only just able to shadow forth
dimly the thought the master was burdened with. They
seem to suggest the more, because of their imperfect utter-
ance.
True art is an expression of humanity, and like all other
expressions, when it is finished, it cannot be repeated.
It is therefore childish to lament the absence of good
painters. We should lament the absence of great
thoughts, for it is the thought that makes the painters.
Art is the blossoming of a century-plant. Through hun-
dreds of years the idea grows onward in the minds of men,
and when it is ripe, the man appears destined to gather it.
It was not Raphael who painted, but Italy, Greece, and all
antiquity painting by his hand, and when that thought was
uttered, the flowers dropped. The aloe blossomed in the
Gothic Architecture of the middle ages; — and Bach and
Beethoven have in their art unfolded its wondrous leaves.
In this belief may we find consolation when all around
us looks so cheerless. The noble plant whose blossoms we
would so fain see, must have its root, must have its slow
growing, massive leaves, must have its cold and retarding
spring, its green growth of the stalk, that it may in summer


108
(July,
Art and Architecture.
bring forth its flowers. Shall we not then honor earth,
root, leaves, power-stalk, nay, shall we repine that we must
perhaps by our destiny be one of these, since these are
part of the flower, and the flower of them, the flower is the
sum of their united force and beauty transfigured, glori-
fied.
The artist who is fast-grounded in this pure belief is
beyond the reach of disappointment and failure. If he
truly loves art, he knows that he is bearing on his should-
ers one stone for that stately future edifice, not the key-
stone, perhaps, but a necessary stone, and silently and
faithfully he works, perfecting as he may his talent, not
looking to outward success, but to inward satisfaction.
Such a man knows that to advance the edifice at which he
labors, are needed not gorgeous successes apparent, but
conscientiousness, severity, truth. What would Angelico
da Fiesole have done, had some devil tempted him to work
out effects, instead of painting from his heart. These men
who laid the foundation of the great Italian art were relig-
ious men,- men fearing God, and seeing his hand at work
even in the mixing of their colors, — men who painted on
their knees. Such too were the forerunners of the great
German musicians, such the Greeks,- such men have laid
the foundations of greatness everywhere.
ARCHITECTURE.
What architecture must a nation situated as we are
adopt? It has no indigenous architecture, it is not there-
fore a matter of religion with us, but a matter of taste.
We may and must have all the architectures of the world,
but we may ennoble them all by an attention to truth,
and a contempt of littleness. Nay, is not our position, if
we will use our advantages properly, the more fortunate,
inasmuch as we are not by the force of circumstance or
example, bound to be or to build in this or that particular
way, — but all ways are before us to choose. If our posi-
tion is unfavorable to a speedy development of national
taste, it is most adapted to give fair play to individual.
The crowning and damning sin of architecture with us,
nay, that of bad taste everywhere, is, the doing of unmean-
ing, needless things. A Friends' meeting sits silent till one


1843.)
109
Art and Architecture.
has something to say; so should a man always, - so should
the building man never presume to do aught without rea-
son. To adorn the needful, to add a frieze to life, this is
Art.
Rightly does the uninstructed caviller ask, when he sees
a fine house, for what purpose is this balustrade, or that
screen, these windows blocked up, and so on. Let any
man of good sense say to himself what sort of a house he
would have for convenience, supposing him to have the
space to build it on; then let him frame and roof these
rooms, and if he has made his house truly convenient, its
appearance cannot be absurd. Well, but he says, my
house is plain, I want it to be beautiful, - I will spend
what you choose upon it, but it shall be the most beautiful
in the country. Very good, my friend. We will not
change a single line, but we will ornament these lines.
We will not conceal but adorn your house's nakedness;
delicate mouldings shall ornament every joint; whatever is
built for convenience or use, shall seem to have been built
for beautiful details ; your very doorlatch and hinges shall
be beautiful. For house, say church; for the purposes
of daily life, say the worship of God, and behold we have
the history of architecture.
There is nothing arbitrary in true architecture, even to
the lowest detail. The man, who should for the first time
see a Greek temple of marble, would indeed ask and with
reason, what meaning there was in triglyph, and metope,
and frieze ; but when he is told that this is a marble imi-
tation of a wooden building, a reproduction in a more
costly material of a sacred historical form, he then sees in
the triglyph the end of the wooden beam, with the marks of
the trickling water drops, in the metope the flat panel
between. But, says our modern builder, there is no reason
that I should use triglyphs and metopes. I have no histori-
cal recollection to beautify them ; what shall I use for or-
naments? My friend, what form has ever struck you as
beautiful ? He answers, Why, the form of every living
thing, of every tree and flower and herb. And can you ask
then what ornaments you shall use ? If your cornice
were a wreath of thistles and burdocks curiously carved
or cast, can you not see how a hundred mouths would pro-
claim its superiority over yonder unmeaning layer of
plaster?


110
(July,
Art and Architecture.
A mistaken plainness has usurped the place of true sim-
plicity, which is the same mistake as an affected plainness in
manners or appearance, lest one should be suspected of
foppery. All houses, all churches are finished within side
by the plane (or mould-plane) and plaster-smoother. Has
a man made a fortune, he moves from his plain house
which cost ten thousand, to one which cost an hundred
thousand. Now perhaps his poor friend shall see some-
thing beautiful. Alas, it is but the old house three times
as large, the walls and the woodwork three times as smooth;
a little warmer house in winter, than the old one, a little
airier in summer. Verily, friend, thou hast done little with
thy hundred thousand, beyond enriching thy carpenter.
To see materials used skilfully and in accordance with
their peculiar qualities is a great source of beauty in archi-
tecture. The vice of many of our would-be pretty build-
ings is that the material is entirely disguised, so that for
aught we know they may be marble, or wood, or paste-
board; all we see is a plain white surface. Have done with
this paltry concealment; let us see how the thing is built.
A Swiss cottage is beautiful, because it is wooden par ex-
cellence ; every joint and timber is seen, nay the wood is
not even painted but varnished. So of the old heavy-tim-
bered picturesque houses of England.
Hope says; “Je n'ai pas besoin d'appuyer ici sur la perfec-
tion que les Grecs ont donnée à toutes les parties, essentielles
ou accessoires de leurs edifices ; elle alla si loin que, dans cer-
tains temples ils paraissent avoir été animés d'un sentiment
purement religieux, penetrés de l'idee que la divinité voyait ce
qui échappait à l'æil de l'homme, et qu'il fallait rendre toutes
les parties egalement dignes de l'être immortel auquel l'édifice
était consacré.
“L'addresse en mécanique est une faculté tout-à-fait dis.
tinct du gout dans les beaux arts.
“En Grèce, la colonne était un élément de construction plus
characteristique et plus essentiel que la muraille."
Among the Romans, on the contrary, the wall was the
integral part of the building, of which the columns served
only to adorn the nakedness. Among ourselves, although
the pillars we so frequently see have the real purpose of
sustaining a projection, to protect from the rays of the
sun; yet there is no reason that we should adopt for this


1843.]
111
Art and Architecture.
purpose a model of proportions that were meant to support
the immense weight of the whole structure in Greece. How
much more elegant would our verandahs be, were the
wooden columns just so large as is needful for the purpose
for which they were erected.
“ Ainsi, les premières basiliques chrétiennes n'offraient, dans
toute leur entendue, si l'on excepte leurs colonnes antiques,
aucune moulure, aucune partie qui ressortit et se detachât
de leur surface plane et perpendiculaire ; elles ne présen-
taient, au-dessus de leurs murailles nues que la charpente
transversale de leur plafond, et de leur toit; elles res-
semblaient en un mot à de vastes granges, que l'on aurait bati
de somptueux materiaux, mais la simplicité, la pureté, la mag-
nificence, l'harmonie de toutes leurs parties constitutives, don-
naient a ces granges un air de grandeur que nous cherchons
en vain dans l'architecture plus compliquée des églises mo-
dernes.”
In the eye of every New Englander, the essential parts
of a church are a spire or tower, half-disengaged from the
building and formerly a porch, and a simple oblong build-
ing like a barn, forming the main body of the edifice;
within, the pulpit at the end opposite the tower, a gallery
running round the other three sides, supported by columns
which in some cases also shoot upward to aid in supporting
the roof. In spite of the almost total absence of beautiful
specimens, it is in vain to say that this form is not as well
adapted to beauty as the basilica or any other. If the
builder would content himself with putting together these
essential parts with the utmost simplicity, without any ex-
crescences or breaking up, striving only to balance the
members against each other, so that each should have its
proper proportion, he would produce a specimen of national
church architecture. The spire would seem to be in better
taste than the square tower, partly because of the associa-
tions, but also because its form is agreeable to a construc-
tion in wood, which we shall long see in this country.
The artist may employ all his taste and imagination in
decorations, (always entirely subordinate,) of these main
parts, taking care that his decorations are in keeping with
the uses of the building. How unmeaning beside the un-
pretending simplicity of such a building, is the pretence of
a Grecian front, - not that the native product shows so


112
Art and Architecture.
[July,
much genius in the invention, but that it has a sacred as-
sociation in our eyes, which the other has not.
In the same way that the literature of the ancient world,
for so long a time dwarfed the authors of a modern date,
does the ancient architecture, Gothic and Grecian, dwarf
our builders. They dare not invent for themselves, for their
inventions would seem so puerile beside the great works to
which the world would compare them. It is cheaper for
them and more satisfactory to their customers, to borrow a
form that all the world has admitted to be beautiful, and
almost inevitably degrade it by putting it to a wrong use. In
poesy no one longer doubts, that the nature around us is the
nature from which Homer and Phidias drew inspiration,
and it is the spirit and not the forms of ancient art that
make its productions almost divine. Scarcely in architec-
ture do we see the first faint light of such a dawn, yet it
depends upon ourselves, that ours shall be that glory. An
intense thirst for the beautiful exists among us, - it only
requires a direction. It is idle for us to complain of the
want of models, the want of instruction. England has
wealth of these beyond count, yet builds nowadays no
more tastefully than we; it must come from ourselves, from
reflection, froin the study of nature.
Materials rightly employed grow more beautiful with
age. In pure architecture, everything is to be rejected,
that will grow less beautiful with age. For this end, it
is sufficient that every material should be employed with
an eye to its peculiar properties. This rule, if strictly
followed, would indeed do away with several materials,
the cheapness of which has rendered their use almost
universal, but which deserve no place in the severe
and simple architecture which should distinguish our
churches. Let it not be our reproach that we are a nation
of lath and plaster and temporary shifts ; let our joints and
beams be made beautiful, not hidden, — let our wood work
show the grain of the wood for ornament, not hide it under
paint.
Suppose one of our churches were to be left alone for
fifty years, when we enter how unlovely would it be, the
plaster dropping away, showing the laths like ribs beneath,
the paint dingy and mouldy, reminding us of nothing but
the tomb; — but the interior of the unpainted, unplastered,


1843.]
113
Art and Architecture.
gothic church would still be beautiful in age, and frag-
ments of carved oak be treasured at its weight in silver.
Architecture is a tendency to organization. Nature or-
ganizes matter, and endows it with individual life. Man
organizes it for his own ends, but it has no life but so far as
he has been able to endow it with his own. Now in
natural organizations as the tree or animal, we see no part
that has not a meaning and use, and each part of that
material which answers to its end. This also is a funda-
mental law of architecture.
The ancient architecture is entitled to that great praise
of producing on the mind an effect of unity. It has been
too often the bane of modern architecture, that what one
man designed, his successor changed, so that to the most
unpractised eye, the grossest inconsistencies are constantly
apparent; till we are almost ready to say in despair,
there is no good architecture but in the mind of the artist.
It cannot be doubted that either Bramante, Sangallo, or
M. Angelo, alone, would have made a far finer building
than the actual St. Peters.
The modern architects certainly attempted more difficult
things than the ancient. The Greek had not to invent the
form of his edifice. Nature and immemorial custom had
done that for him. He was only to see that all his details
were in due proportion. There was not so much room for
bad taste. But the church architect of the renaissance had
the whole done of the heavens to exhibit his antics in.
MONUMENTS.
In regard to monuments it may be laid down as a rule
that all sentimental monuments are bad, and all conceits of
every sort; as, a broken column, a mother weeping over
her child, a watchful dog, &c. They strike at first, but
the mind wearies to death of them the moment they are
repeated. To my mind, a monument should be an archi-
tectural structure (including any admitted form of obelisk,
pyramid, or of any style of architecture), which should be
only striking by the simplicity and purity of its form. Its
adornments may be infinitely rich, but always entirely sub-
VOL. IV. – NO. 1.
15


114
[July,
Art and Architecture.
ordinate ; so that at a distance the effect shall always be of
simplicity and repose. A simple headstone might be
wrought by a Phidias, might contain the most exquisite
sculptures, and still never lose its character of a simple
headstone. Our monuments are all in the open air; con-
sequently those Gothic tombs that with all their splendor
have so severely religious an air, are denied us. I prefer
upon a tomb figures of a vague character, what are called
academic figures. These, when noble in their form and ex-
pression, produce an effect analogous to architecture, sug-
gestive,– whereas all figures of a fixed character, Charities,
Hopes, Griefs, &c., irresistibly put their own character for-
ward, and give the intellect an occupation where we should
awaken only feelings. It is as if we should introduce
descriptive music into a requiem. A monument should
never tell you what to think or feel, but only suggest
feeling.
The renowned monument of Lorenzo di Medici by
Michel Angelo is an illustration. The feeling of repose,
not of forgetfulness, but of deepest thought, which it im-
presses, is so complete, that the gazer almost forgets himself
to stone, and it seems like an intrusion to ask what the
figures mean. We feel that they mean all things.
The style and spirit of the Grecian Architecture is so
pure that when an architect adopts it, he must carry it
out. As far as the details are concerned, nothing can with
propriety be added to or taken from them. They are
things fixed. If a man uses the Ionic, we demand a pure
Greek Ionic, and everybody knows what it ought to be.
To adapt these details in Greek spirit to modern needs,
this is what classic architecture has in modern times to do.
The architects who have accomplished this feat in a satis-
factory manner, in modern times, are so few, that one may
number them on his fingers and scarce need his left hand.
To do this a man must be a Greek, and more than a
Greek. He has to live in the past and present at the same
time. He must be independent of his time, and yet able
to enter fully into it.
The Gothic and the Lombard architecture, on the other
hand, make no such all but impossible demands, or at
least did not, at the time in which they flourished, though
it is no less hard for us to enter into their spirit than into


1843.]
115
The Glade.
the Grecian, - perhaps even harder, since the principle of
the Gothic is complex, and the ideas which controlled both
it and the Lombard have told their errand, and have past
away from the world. The Grecian being conceived in a
more universal spirit, aspiring to absolute perfection, has in
it the principle of life, it has been the parent of the others,
and yet flourishes green and strong, while its offspring have
passed into decrepitude.
It would be well for us, once for all, to abandon the
attempt to transplant hither the Gothic Architecture. The
noble trees yet stand in the old world, but their seeds are
decayed, the woodwork, that we dignify by this name, can
only excite a sigh or a smile at its utter want of harmony
and use. A few fine churches we may have, like Trinity
church in New York, but they can be only approximations
to foreign works. There is nothing new to be done in
Gothic architecture. Its capacities, infinite as they seem,
are in fact limited, and are exhausted. Not so with the
Grecian. It is not indeed to be expected that we shall
make more perfect specimens than were made two thousand
years ago, but we may reproduce those in endless new
combinations. This is what Palladio and Bramante did,
and new Palladios and Bramantes would always find
room,
THE GLADE.
A green and vaporous cloud of buds, the larch
Folds in soft drapery above the glade,
Where deeper-foliaged pines high over-arch,
And dignify the heavy, stooping shade,
There yellow violets spring, in rarest show,
And golden rods in secret clusters blow.
There piping hylas fill the helpless air,
And chattering black-birds hold their gossip by,
And near I saw the tender maiden-hair,
With the fine, breeze-born, white anemone;
The glade, though undisturbed by human art,
Has richer treasures than the busy mart.


116
[July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
VOYAGE TO JAMAICA.
I LEFT Boston, or rather Charlestown wharf, on Friday
the 6th of March, in the brig Olive, Capt. M., bound
for Havana, via Kingston, Jamaica. There was a fine
strong breeze in the afternoon on which we sailed, and
when we began to cast off, the brig swung round by the
stern, see-sawing and straining on her fasts, – apparently
very impatient to be under way, and we were soon going
down the bay, at the rate of six or seven knots an hour.
I always, and I suppose it is the same with you and most
people, have some little scrap or other running silently
through my head, whenever I am at all excited, and as
we sailed rapidly down the bay, passing object after object,
I began with the Ancient Mariner,
The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, - below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top, &c. &c.
But directly, nearly all Charlestown having disappeared,
except the Bunker Hill Monument, these fragments gave
way to Webster's oration. "Let it rise to meet the sun in
his coming," &c. “Let it be the last object on which the
eye of the mariner shall linger," &c. &c. But I had not
time to see whether or not the facts of the case would bear
out the wishes of the orator, before these scraps gave place
in their turn to others of a different character, among
which were certain stanzas from Don Juan's sea voyage,
about the “ Euxine,” &c., and this from King Lear: -
Regan. Sick, Oh sick!
Goneril (aside.) Or else, I'll ne'er trust poison.
I took but little notice of what was going on during the
first three days of the voyage. I recollect on the third night
out, there was much noise on deck, the captain and crew
being up nearly all the time, and a strong wind blowing,
which caused the brig to labor so much, that I was obliged
to hold on to the side of my berth. But I made no inqui-
ry, supposing that although it seemed very rough to me, it
was a matter of ordinary occurrence at sea. They told


1843.]
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Voyage to Jamaica.
me in the morning that it had been blowing a severe gale,
and that we had been "lying to under a reefed top sail."
And I then learnt for the first time that to " lay to” means
to take in all sail except enough to steady the vessel, turn
her head as near to the wind as possible, and then let her
driſt backwards. On the fourth, though the sea ran rather
high, the weather was fine, and I crawled out on deck.
As I was lying on the binacle, trying to read, I heard the
captain berating the man at the helm, for shipping without
understanding seaman's duty. “Where did you come from?"
asked the captain. “ From G., near Worcester, sir," was the
answer. I looked round at the sailor. He was a good
looking young man, of about eighteen or twenty. “I
thought so, I thought so," said the Captain, just out of the
bush. And you have never been at sea before, I suppose.''
“Yes, sir, I have just returned from a whaling voyage.”
“: Well you are no helmsman, and I'll have you logged,”
(noted on the log-book.] “Nobody is going to draw full
pay here unless he earns it.” “Very well, sir, I only want
what I earn." The Captain soon after went below, when
I turned to the young man. “Do you know the L.'s of
G.?” said l. "Yes, sir.” Do you know Major L. ?
“ He was my father, sir. He is dead." - And Edward L. ?"
“ He is my brother, sir." Edward was a classmate of
mine at Harvard College, and we were a good deal to-
gether.
We had more blows, and lying to on the 11th and 12th,
and on the latter, a snow and sleet storm, which encrusted
everything on deck. But on the morning of the 13th, the
seventh day out, it set in for serious work. It began to blow
about three o'clock in the morning, and by six we were
obliged to take in all sail possible, and lie to again. At
eight, the foretopmast stay sail got unfurled by accident,
and was torn to shreds in an instant; and the sea, which
all along had been running very high, began to knock in our
bulwarks, until at twelve we had scarcely a plank left on
the windward side. Heavy seas now began to break on
deck; and first the long boat was carried over board, with
all its contents, oars, handspikes, rigging, &c. Shortly after,
there came another · tremendous sea and carried off the
galley (cook shop) with all the cook's concerns. Things
now began to get rather scarce, forward on deck ; and the


118
(July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
seas from some cause, not from instinct, I presume, though
it seemed so to me, broke on us farther aft, where there
were some hogsheads of water lashed to the bulwarks, and
some other articles secured. I was sick, as I still continued
to be, whenever the weather was at all rough, and had not
been on deck that morning, but only looked out of the
companion-way occasionally. But the increased noise aft,
and the mate who was a Swede, howling to the men to
“trow dem caskets overboard,” (they having broke from
their lashings,) aroused my languid fears and curiosity, and
I crawled out again, that is, I looked out, just as the men
were staving and throwing overboard the hogsheads of
water, some of which, were still tumbling backward and
forward on deck, like toys in a cradle. I found things look-
ing bad enough on deck. The decks were all swept clear
of everything, the bulwarks were all knocked in; and the
men looked no better. All were pale and anxious. I sup-
pose it was now about two o'clock in the afternoon, and
about ten hours since the commencement of the gale, and
the winds and the sea were still increasing in violence.
Directly there came over us a sea so very heavy as to cause
the brig to “ broach to " (fall into the wind) and throw her
down on her side. But her cargo being solid did not shiſt,
she therefore righted immediately. The captain now put
her about, finding she would lie to no longer in such a sea,
and endeavored to “send her before the wind under bare
poles." I had, for the last hour or so, been sitting up in
the companion-way looking out, for I found this better
than to lie quaking below in my berth ; but as the cook
wanted to pass up and down, to stow away things, I, being
in his way, went below. And it was well for me I did so,
for I was scarcely seated on the transom, holding on to a
berth, when there came a crash like a cannon-shot, and
down poured a huge mass of water into the cabin, filling it
to the height of four feet in an instant. I knew, by the
shout of terror I heard on deck, that something serious had
befallen us, but all I could see, as yet, was, that the com-
panion way had been carried away, the cabin stairs and
adjoining timbers coming below at the same time with the
water. Either by these, or the water, or the shock of the
vessel, I was knocked down among the rubbish; but I
soon struggled out, thinking at first I had cut my temple,


1843.)
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Voyage to Jamaica.
but it was only bruised, and as soon as I had recovered
myself, I made all haste to gain the deck, for I thought
our time was come, and we were fast filling to sink. I was
very much terrified, as you may suppose, and could not bear
the thought of dying in this way; for a few moments, I felt
something very much like rage ; but although the fear of
death, the horrid conviction that I must die, was the
"ground tone,” as musicians say, of all my thoughts and
feelings, I found that the many details of our misfortune,
which necessarily attracted my attention, had the happy
effect of staving off, and breaking up, in some degree, the
overwhelming influence of this, otherwise most intolerable
idea, just as the force of a waterfall is broken by jutting
crags; and that even the ludicrous, though it may not have
amused at the time, did not fail to make an impression.
The first object I noticed, when I looked on deck, (for I
did not venture to step out, but stood on some barrels look-
ing out at the hole or “ hatch," where the companion-way
bad been) was the cook, a Nova Scotia negro. He was
clinging to the main-rigging by one hand, and with the
other very earnestly, but as I thought uselessly (consider-
ing our probable fate) endeavoring to save a little wooden
kid which was drifting past him. And then, as I looked
round on deck, a certain old book of shipwrecks, which I
used to read when a boy, with wood-cuts representing all
varieties of shipwrecked extremity, flashed on my memory
for an instant, and naturally enough ; for the same sea
which stove in the cabin, and which had struck us astern,
(the brig not being able to outrun the sea in " scudding"
without any sail) had split the trisail mast, carried away
the stern boat, the boom gaft and trisail, and one whole
quarter of the lea bulwarks, even with the deck, breaking
off or tearing out the stanchions. The sea was still mak-
ing a “clean breast," as they say, over the brig forward
and amid ships, and two men, the cook and another,
who were all I could see, were clinging to the main-
rigging to prevent being washed overboard. I then, by
mere instinct, for I knew it would be in vain, should the
vessel sink, cast about for some means of saving myself.
I dropped off my shoes, threw my handkerchief round my
neck, and shut my kniſe on it, and looked to an empty water-
cask with some lashings attached to it, which still remained


120
[July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
near the stern. All this occupied but a moment. Just
then I saw a bloody face rise out of the foam, close
along-side, where the bulwarks and stancheons had all
been broken away, and then sink again. It was the mate,
and he caught a rope which was hanging overboard, and
the captain and two men, who had now recovered them-
selves, having all been knocked down, drew him on board.
My attention was next drawn to the boy, who stood whim-
pering, a few feet to the right of me on the other quarter,
and pointing out over the stern. I concluded from his man-
ner that somebody else was overboard, and thought I could
distinguish, above the roaring of the storm, the name of
" Antonio," the Italian sailor. But I saw he was on deck.
In his fright, the boy had got the wrong name. It was
poor L. I just caught a glimpse of him floating out several
rods astern, as he balanced for a moment on the crest of a
wave, throwing up his arms, I suppose, with the vain
hope that we should thus be drawn to his assistance, —
when a sea broke over him, and he sunk. The storm still
continued to rage as fiercely as ever. The waves, though
high and huge masses of water, still did not appear to be
quite so high as I saw them two days afterward when
there was very little wind. For they were now apparently
pressed down and condensed by the mighty power of the
wind, which outrunning them, cut off and knocked into
spray their crests as soon as they rose above a certain
height. Their force and speed were wonderful. That
most disastrous one, which we shipped over our stern,
crooked, when it struck the deck, a beam which supports
the deck over the cabin, of 11 inches by 8 in diameter, clean
across its lower face, knocking off and splitting in pieces its
casings. How far in the fracture extends, I cannot say, but it
is sensibly sprung, and I presume will have to be taken out.
And for the wind, it was one steady roar. No one could hear
you speak clearly, unless your mouth was close to his ear, and
I found it very difficult to look towards it and breathe.
There were none of those alternations of rise and fall
which we have on land. It did not change a note per-
ceptibly three times during the storm ; but continued to
roar on, bour after hour, with the same terrible monotony,
like the sound of a great waterfall, or a furnace a thousand
times magnified.


1843.]
121
Voyage to Jamaica.
ethe first to call was, as soort out of the
Our main purpose now was to keep the water out of the
brig; and the mate, bruised as he was, as soon as he was
fairly on deck, was the first to call out for spare sails to
nail over the hatches left by the binacle, skylight, and
companion way. When he came to the companion hatch
where I stood, I debated with myself a moment, whether
to go below and be nailed down, or to stay on deck. But
I reflected that I was too weak to do any good there, -
that I should be soon chilled, (for I was drenched,) and
be in great danger of being swept overboard. So, with
many misgivings, I went below, and heard them nail down
the hatch over my head. I sat under it, however, with my
knife, ready to cut my way out, should the cabin begin to
fill. The captain now lashed down the helm, for he had
been much bruised, and could steer no longer, and let the
brig lie in the “trough of the sea," drifting at random.
The men were ordered to the pumps, for, on sounding,
there was found to be four feet of water in the hold. A
little before sunset, the captain, making an opening in the
small after-skylight-hatch, came below, looking the picture
of despair, intimating that it was all up with us, for the
men could not gain on the leak, and there were no signs
of abatement in the storm. He appeared rather sullen, or
at least not inclined to talk, but directly “turned in," and
seemed to be employed in prayer, partly aloud and partly to
himself. I now went and sat on the transom under the
small after-hatch, where we shipped but little water, and
remained there all the earlier part of the night. The mate
and men, though nearly worn out, still continued on deck,
by turns at the pump. L was disconsolate enough. My
feelings were far more uncomfortable than when I was on
deck ; for now, being no longer able to see our danger,
my fears or imagination had it all their own way. Any
unusual noise on deck seemed the note of some closing
disaster; and every shout from the sailors, as it pierced
through the roar of the storm, sunk into my heart like the
final cry of despair. And not only this, but I found it very
difficult to divest myself of the feeling of personality in
the storm. The idea was urging itself upon me continual-
ly, that some enormous and malignant power, which I more
than once (heathen-like) found myself half deprecating,
must be beneath the ocean, heaving up these great masses of
VOL. IV. —NO. 1.
16


122
(July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
water for our special destruction. And then again, when
I remembered looking off to sea, the waves seemed an in-
terminable pack of great giant hell-hounds, hallooed on by
the winds, bounding and howling on towards us, with the
bitter, fixed, remorseless purpose of tearing us in pieces. This
was one of my disagreeable thoughts as I sat cooped up in
the cabin. And there was another thing troubled me. I
must confess, at the risk of losing your good opinion, that
the praying of the captain afforded me anything but con-
solation. It looked so like giving up the ship, and was
such a plain intimation, that all hope of being saved by
earthly aid was at an end, that I could not but feel discour-
aged by it. Like Bonaparte on his return from Russia,
(to compare small things to large,) he seemed to have a
dread of hearing details, and apparently wished to abstract
his mind from what was going on around him, and,
taking it for granted that we should be all lost, set very
zealously about what he considered the necessary process
for saving his own soul. I do not intend to sneer at him
for praying. To pray in times of great danger is as natu-
ral as to breathe. At such times all men, whether Chris-
tians, atheists, or reprobates, pray instinctively, - though
for the most part by snatches and in silence. I only mean
to say that the master of a vessel should be the last man
aboard to show, by any change of manner, a falling off in
confidence. But our captain was an old man, of a gloomy
temperament, and, though not cowardly, was weighed down
by a perfect night-mare of superstition, and I found after-
wards had a presentiment that this would be his last voy-
age. At about ten or eleven o'clock at night, one of the
men came to the hatch and asked for bread. They had
had nothing to eat all day. I groped about below, for our
lainps were lost, till I found some bread, and having handed
it up, before the batch was closed, took a look out on deck.
The moon, at that moment (for it was for the most part a dry
storm) was shining full and clear. The same sea was raging,
and the same wind roaring, just as they were seven hours
previous, and our forlorn, shattered brig was still battling it
out with them alone upon the ocean. I do remember it
now, for a scene of awful beauty and sublimity, but so far
as I recollect, I only felt at the time that it was awful. I
have heard of men who could forget imminent danger in


1843.]
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Voyage to Jamaica.
their admiration of the sublime; and of a painter, * who
lashed himself to the mast that he might draw the sea in a
terrible storm. I take this to be chiefly babble ; at any
rate, for myself, I was sick and weak. It was cold, — my
clothes were wet. I was collapsed, and doubled up with
inanition, – the fear of death was pressing heavily upon
me, and I confess the artist-feeling did not so prevail over
the man. I went below, and for the purpose of getting
warm, for sleep was out of the question, I took to my berth. .
I first piled into it all the wet clothes I could find, (for we
had no other,) and then tried to pull off my coat. But it
was so wet, and the brig rolled so much, that after slitting
it down the back, and tearing one sleeve nearly out, I gave
it up and got in with all my clothes on, between the straw
bed and the mattress, both of which were thoroughly satu-
rated, and in less than an hour, I found myself in a sort of
steam bath of very comfortable temperature. About every
quarter of an hour during the night I heard the man on
the watch give a cry of warning to those at the pumps,
followed by the tumbling of a heavy sea on deck, and then
a lurch of the vessel, which it took all my holding on to
keep from throwing me out of my berth. Then the water
streamed down through the hatches to increase the quanti-
ty in the hold, bearing with it mollusca or some phosphoric
matter, which left ghastly streaks of light on the planks, -
or rather looked like pale, liquid fire, trickling down the
bulk-head. Our great danger was that in lurching, on ac-
count of these heavy seas, the brig would throw her masts
out, or as the mate afterwards expressed it, “shake the
sticks out of herself," and I was dreading all night to hear
them fall, every time we shipped a sea. My mind, howev-
er, was not exclusively occupied by these fearful details,
nor, as I have remarked before, by the dreaded catastrophe.
At times some scrap or other, such as,
“ Backward and forward half her length,
With a short uneasy motion,”
would suddenly come into my head, and in a moment I
was striving, like a boy reciting at school, to recal the suc-
ceeding lines. That ode of Horace, containing,
“Illi robur et æs triplex,"
* Joseph Vernet, the French painter of Sea-scenes.


124
(July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
of which I could remember at first only this one line, haunt-
ed me thus for a long time. My memory seemed to take
it up on her own account, with the obstinate determination
to conquer it, and was succeeding better than I am able to
do at this moment, when another great sea and a lurch of
the brig put it to flight. At another time I found myself
very busy with the ballad, of which the following is a
stanza;
“ Three merry men and three merry men
And three merry men are we,
I on the sea, and thou on the land,
And Jack on the gallows tree.”
It soon struck me, that it was very ridiculous and inap-
propriate to be thinking of old ballads, situated as I was;
but a moment after, there it was again, buzzing through my
mind to a merry tune,
“I on the sea, and thou on the land,” &c.
and I felt somewhat like poor Christian who, do what he
would, could not but listen to the horrid whisperings of
the devils, as he was going through the valley of the
shadow of death, though I confess his was the more aggra-
vated case.
You must not consider what I have just written as al-
together trivial. It appears to me that these and similar
phantasies, varying no doubt according to our various hab-
its of mind, are the kindly devices of nature to draw away
our thoughts from the one terrible question, the sword
hanging by the hair, which, fall or not, it is useless and
intolerable to contemplate. The captain and I inter-
changed but few words during the night, for as I said be-
fore, he seemed testy when disturbed. I once suggested
the closing of one of the hatches more securely, in order to
keep out the water ; but he, seeming quite indifferent
whether it was done or not, said I might call the men if
I chose; and then, after a pause, added, " what is the use
in fretting? I can't save your life.” The men suffered
much from exposure, and incessant exertion, having all
been on deck the greater part of the time, since three
o'clock in the morning; and they were also without water
all night; for that which we had brought on deck was lost,
and the casks stowed in the run (the part of the hold


1843.]
125
Voyage to Jamaica.
under the cabin) no one had found time to get out. To-
wards morning, two of them gave over, and went into the
forecastle and got drunk. The boy had been sent below
something earlier, to prevent him from being washed over-
board, for he was so fatigued (that is, so they said,) that
whenever he was set to watch, he would invariably settle
down on deck, and go to sleep. But the mate and one
Peter Nelsen, a Dane, stood by bravely all night, especially
the latter, a tall, rough-looking, silent man, who worked on,
making no complaint himself, nor listening to any despon-
dency in the others. Even to the mate, who at one time
began to soften, and talk of his wife (he had been lately
married) whom he thought he should never see again, he
respectfully intimated, in his broken English, that he ought
not to speak in that way, in the presence of the men. I
suppose in fact that this Nelsen was the only man on
board, who was of the right material for a time of great
danger. He was always on the alert, never for a moment
lost his self-possession. When he with the others was
knocked down by the sea, he was seen to seize the rudder
with one hand, and with the other, to reach out, and grasp
the boy by the leg, who was just going overboard. In
short, as Dr. Johnson says of Prince Hal, “ he was great
without effort," and did more to save the vessel, and ap-
parently thought less of what he had done, than all the
others on board.
In the morning the mate came below to find his shoes.
He was a strong, willing, honest fellow, but simple-hearted
and childlike. He had been much bruised when he went
overboard, the bones of his face near the nose were frac-
tured, his jaw wrenched round, and since receiving these
injuries, he had been constantly on deck for fiſteen hours,
and as I was afterwards told, drank salt water in the night.
He fretted about the cabin like a sick child. “If I could
only find mine soos, then I could work.” And as he
stood on the transom looking for them, having come below
merely for that purpose, he happened to lean against one
of the berths. The sensation of rest was too sweet to be
resisted. He balanced a moment on the side with a sort
of grin, and then rolled over into it, and in two min-
utes was, to all appearances, in a deep sleep; from which
he did not awake for more than forty-eight hours.


126
(July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
The captain now “ turned out” and began to show
somewhat more of interest in our temporal affairs, than he
had done during the night. When he went on deck, he
found the foremast sprung, the crosstrees split, and the
rigging which supports the mast fast chafing away, and it
was evident the latter could not stand much longer, unless
the gale should abate. Peter, too, said that spite of all he
could do, the water was still gaining in the hold. The
fact was that the warm water of the Gulf-stream, in which
we were drifting, taken in at the hatches and other holes
on deck, in addition to leakage, was melting away the ice,
of which our cargo consisted, very rapidly; and unless this
melting could be stopped, we must soon loose our ballast,
and be "water-logged,” that is, the brig would fill and sink
about even with the surface of the water, and then be
rolled over and over, in the trough of the sea. The captain
therefore secured the hatches, nailed leather over the holes
on deck, and turned out the drunken fellows to relieve
Peter in pumping. The sea was quite as high as ever ; but
the wind certainly had not increased, and though the cap-
tain did not say that he thought it had fallen, he remarked
that he had been praying for it to do so, all night, thereby
leaving me to refer as much of the abatement, if any
should ensue, as I pleased, to his influence. It was plain,
however, that either by prayer or rest, probably both, he
had regained, in some degree, his proper tone of mind, and
ability for exertion. But hope had scarcely yet begun to
beam upon us. I recollect that morning overhauling my
trunk to find, if possible, a dry clean shirt, and having the
disagreeable thought, as I put it on, that I was putting
on my own winding-sheet, and thinking also, that it was
folly to take the trouble. But our instincts are not to be
frightened away by the near approach of death. At this
time, too, I had perhaps, a sadder moment, than any be-
fore. It was occasioned by seeing in my trunk certain
little matters which reminded me of friends. And once be-
fore, when that great sea struck us, which I have men-
tioned some pages back, a momentary thought of my
mother came over me, as I said to myself, “and so I am
to be the first to go of the eight ; " but in general, neither
emotions of this kind, nor regret at leaving the world, nor
remorse of conscience, nor thoughts of a future state, nor


1843.]
127
Voyage to Jamaica.
yet prayer, except by suppressed ejaculation at some
critical instant, occupied my mind, any considerable part
of the time. I have no doubt that the most of the cap-
tain's praying was mechanical, that is partially so, just as
were my mental recitations of poetry, and that both mainly
served for occupation to the mind. The dreaded moment
of dissolution, the last awful plunge was doubtless the main
question with both ; but this was qualified and softened
down, and at times almost withdrawn from view, or
the mind most kindly lured away from the contemplation
of it, as I have before endeavored to explain. I tell you
these things out of simple honesty, and if you will allow me
to say so, as a philosopher, for my experience contradicts,
in some degree, the preconceived ideas, which I had re-
ceived, from whatever source, of the state of a man's mind,
situated as we were on this occasion ; and I see no good
reason, why such expositions, when honestly made, should
be, as I believe they are, considered unmanly.
At about one o'clock in the afternoon, it became evident
the wind was somewhat on the decline. It still con-
tinued to blow a gale ; but by comparing one hour with
another, we could discover a sensible abatement. The
men too, encouraged by Peter's example, all worked on
vigorously, and a little before sunset reported that they
were gaining on the water in the hold. The appalling
sense of pressing and immediate danger was now gone,
and I went to bed and slept soundly. In the morning,
when I looked on deck, I found a signal of distress, that
is, our ensign, with the union down, flying in the main
rigging. The wind was blowing, not a gale, but strongly
from the north-west; and the sea, though by no means so
violent, still ran as high as the day previous. The men
had at length got the brig free, but could only keep her so
by constant pumping. The captain now called a consulta-
tion about leaving the vessel. He first came to me, but I
declined giving an opinion, on account of inexperience.
The mate was still asleep, and he now called the men aft,
and made the proposition to them. They all seemed to
look to Peter to answer for them, and Peter said at once,
that we must not give up the brig. We had our rudder,
and one mast sound, and sails and men enough left to get
her in somewhere, unless there should come on another


128
(July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
gale, and we must therefore stay by her. In this opinion
all seemed to concur. This morning a raw ham was cut up
and served out to the men, of which they all eat ravenously,
some with, and some without molasses. I tried a little of
it, but soon gave it up, and contented myself with
bread and water. At a little after noon the wind fell down
nearly to a calm, but the sea appeared to be higher even
than I had yet seen it. It was no longer at all violent, but
the waves (their rage being spent) were tumbling slowly and
loosely about, perfectly harmless, like huge beasts at play.
The brig was continually in a hollow, surrounded by hills
of water, apparently from twenty to twenty-five feet high,
and from three to five rods in length, from base to summit,
one of which she seemed constantly on the point of going
up; and as this spread out and sunk down under her bows,
it was succeeded by another, so that for a time we could
only see a few rods in any direction. In an hour or so,
however, it began to cloud up, and blow more fresh; and
then almost in an instant, the face of the water was
changed. The waves were now increased in number and
activity, but diminished in size ; and we had our sea view
again. Just about sunset, the captain and I being below, one
of the hands forward cried out " sails," and the boy ran aft,
and repeated it down the hatch way. We both hurried on
deck, and saw the sail, which the captain said was a British
brig, “ bearing down to "us, about a mile off. I never be-
fore had a clear idea of the adaptedness of a ship to the
ocean. She wimpled up and down on the water, as light as
an eggshell. Her masts flourished about in the air, and
then whipped over on one side until her yards nearly
dipped, and then giving a plunge forward, she resumed
her equilibrium. In short, she seemed to defy all the
powers of the sea “ 10 take her off her legs,” and reminded
me of nothing so much, as of one of those little cork
images, with lead in its feet, which, at school, we used to
call a witch; and like a witch, on a wild horse reconnoiter-
ing, she made, as she came near, a broad sweep out, and
danced clear round us, in order to get near enough to
speak, and at the same time avoid coming in contact with
us. Just as her broadside came to bear on ours the second
time, her captain brought his trumpet to his mouth;
“ What's your name?” he brayed out. “Olive M.


1843.]
129
Voyage to Jamaica.
Boston," shouted our captain putting his hand to his mouth,
for he had lost his trumpet. “What's the matter with
you ? " " We've been tore all to pieces in a gale.", " What
do you want with us?” “ We want to be taken off.”
" Then wear round to the northward, and keep in our
wake till we can board you.” “What's your longitude ? "
said our captain. But before the British captain could as-
certain an answer, the vessels were too far apart for a
voice from either to be heard ; but he marked it down with
chalk on a large board, and held it up, and then went on
his way. The longitude was 63 and something; we were
therefore four or five degrees to the eastward of our course.
The captain explained his having requested to be taken off,
by saying that he merely wished to induce the British brig
to “ lay by” till morning, in order to furnish us with means
for repair.
The next day was fine, the first really fine day which we
had seen, since coming to sea. All hands were now busy
in getting the brig into sailing order, and the captain
thought of taking her into Bermuda. But at noon, on
taking the sun, he found we were considerably to the
north east of that island, and in latitude about 35°. We
therefore shaped our course for our port of destination in
Jamaica. Towards night we spoke another British brig,
the Amelia, of Whitby, a small port in Yorkshire, who sup-
plied us with nails and spikes, &c. for repairs, and also
cooking utensils, and that evening we had cooked food, —
the first we had seen for six days.
We were all well now, but the mate. He was still very
sick from the injuries he had received when he went over-
board. When he first awoke out of his long sleep, I was
the only person below. He turned wildly about, for a
moment, being fighty from having drank salt water, and
then sang out, “on deck there” and ordered me aloft, to
do something, - apparently taking me for a sailor, and as
it seemed, a very poor one ; - for he directly added —
“No, you can't do it," and then giving me a hard contemp-
tuous look, “What for did you come to sea for ? -- you
bloody sheep, — to mind de cabin?" We bathed and
poulticed him as well as we could, but he was in a very
miserable plight until he obtained surgical aid at Kingston.
After this, the weather continued fine for the remainder
VOL. IV, — NO. 1.
17


130
Voyage to Jamaico.
(July,
of the passage, and we had only the ordinary incidents of
a sea voyage. I was most of the time on deck. Perhaps
there is no situation in which one can read with more ad-
vantage and tranquillity, than at sea in fine weather. The
motion of the vessel gives you just that slight physical ex-
ercise, which every one desires when reading. Sometimes
I watched the stormy petrels, or Mother Carey's chickens, -
wondering where they would go to roost. They would
follow on our wake for hours, with a scarcely audible cheep
- touching every where as carefully as Dr. Johnson used
to the posts, between Temple Bar and St. John's Gate.
Sometimes a school of porpoises would plunge along across
our bow — or a flock of flying fish start up, or a shark
come “shucking " slowly round the vessel – with his
dorsal fin out of the water — seeking what he might
devour; and once or twice, I saw a huge black fish, a
species of whale, throw his whole enormous bulk out of
the water, at some distance from the vessel, and then
come down with a stupendous plunge. All these are inci.
dents which highly interest a passenger, on his first voyage.
The flying fish has less strength of wing than I had sup-
posed. They rose out of the water, like birds in flocks,
apparently disturbed by the approach of the vessel, and
fluttering along, from three to five feet above the surface,
for five or six rods, struck into a wave and disappeared.
One of them flew on deck; it was about five inches long,
and of a bright silver color. Its wings were merely longer
and larger pectoral fins, than are found on other fishes of
the same size. I sympathized with the poor thing, for he
reminded me of rather a large class of young men of the
present day, of which perhaps, I am one, — who are neither
entirely men of the world, nor men of books; but just
enough of each, to spoil them for either. We cannot swim
well enough to escape, — much less to compete with the
sharks and dog-fish ; and when we take to the air, we
show too little power of wing to pass for respectable birds,
and therefore we founder on through a life of very doubt-
ful comfort and security, like this poor fish. I was for
returning him to the water after examination, but the cook
claimed him as his property. Poor soul; the cook himself
is now food for fishes.
I occasionally assisted the mate in writing up his log,


1843.]
Voyage to Jamaica.
131
- particularly that part of it relating to our disaster,
as it was necessary that this portion of it should be
full and accurate on account of insurance. One morn-
ing, as we were busy at this work, -1 writing to the
mate's dictation, the Captain interrupted us with some
warmth, and addressing the mate, - “ That's not the
way to make out a log, (says he.) If you nick — nick -
nick — things along in, in that way — one after another —
the long boat in the morning, and the galley at noon, — the
underwriters will never believe they were lost by the “act
of God;" a phrase in old policies on bills of lading, now
I believe disused. You should take the sails, boats, boom,
mast, companion-way, and bulwarks, and bouse 'em all in
together with a slap; and then,” said he, with increasing
earnestness, “the underwriters can't deny but that it was
the act of God.” I had the impression before sailing, that
the proverbial superstition of seamen was a good deal on
the decline, at least among masters; and this, no doubt, is
the case, to some extent, but it was not so with our cap-
tain.
Ever since the storm, I had been determined, whenever
opportunity should offer, to have some conversation with
Peter. The Captain told me, he had sailed with him two
voyages before the. present, and that he was one of the
best and most trusty men, he ever knew, both at sea and
in port. He was certainly a favorite with all on board, not
only on account of his conduct during the storm, but from
his quiet, good-natured, and obliging manners afterwards.
The boy took to him, as to a father. One Sunday, as he
was leaning over the bows, smoking by himself, I went for-
ward and drew him into talk of his previous life. He was
about twenty-seven, though he looked thirty-five, and
was born near Copenhagen. At a very tender age, (I think
nine,) he was pressed into the naval service, from which, at
about fifteen, he ran away, and joined the merchant service,
and sailed from various ports in Europe, till past twenty-
one. At length he shipped at Amsterdam on board a
Dutch merchantman, bound for Baltimore, intending to sail
out of the United States, because he had heard wages
were better there. At Baltimore, his captain refused to
discharge him, and therefore leaving his clothes and wages,
(the price at which a sailor usually exchanges one country


132
[July,
Voyage to Jamaica.
for another,) he ran away into the country. — “ Away up
into de country — into de bush - more as fifty or forty
miles," said he, glancing up, as if he expected to find me
looking somewhat surprised, - where he remained until
his captain had sailed. Since this time, which is five or
six years, he has sailed out of the United States. But his
sixteen or eighteen dollars per month here, he finds no
better than his seven or eight in Denmark - the higher
prices of board and clothing in this country making all
the difference. He wanted to make money enough to
buy a farm, - "just a leetle farm," and then go home,
where, five years ago, he had a mother and two sisters
living. He had once laid up “more as a couple hun-
dred dollars," — but one day, about two years ago, in
going into Norfolk, on board the barque Brontes of Boston,
Capt. Kobler, he fell from the main-yard and “ broke
his neck,” he said, (putting his hand on his collar bone,)
and when he came to his senses, he found himself in
the hospital. His chest was by his bed, with the key
in it, but his money and best clothes were gone ; — the
barque had sailed. Since then, he has saved a little more
money, but not so much. I felt very much at the time, as
if I should have liked to ship Peter off to Denmark, to his
mother and sisters, with money enough to buy his little
farm. But it is very easy for people who have never made
any money to be liberal, in theory and even in fact, when-
ever they possess any little, extemporaneous means; but
the truth is, we never have had the nursing of a heap of
dollars. We have never watched its growth from infancy
upwards, with anxious brooding care, and of course, know
nothing of the strong parental attachment, which almost
necessarily arises from this process. We are, therefore, not
well prepared to appreciate the sense of deep bereavement,
shown by many business men who have had such experi-
ence - nor even the reluctance of tolerably good men -
whenever any other than a legitimate business occasion, or
a public charity, calls on them to part with the money,
which they have learned to love, - not wisely, perhaps, —
but too well. I shall however represent the case to the
owner, and if, as Falstaff says, he will do Peter any honor,
- So, if not, let him save the next brig himself. But I
have reason to believe that this magnanimity, - this self-


1843.]
133
Voyage to Jamaica.
devotion, as a matter of course, is a thing of no uncommon
occurrence at sea. “Why," therefore, says the owner,
“should I pay for that which is mine by right? It is like
taxing a fair wind. It is putting a market value on that,
which has heretofore been a free privilege of the merchant,
which is against the usages of trade, and must not be.”
“ Besides," says the moral theorist, “is it not a pity to spoil
this magnanimity, by placing a pecuniary value upon it?
The moment you offer to pay it liberally, it awakes to con-
sciousness. It touches money, and, as in the case of
charming away diseases, the peculiar virtue ceases at once."
" And not only this,” says the seaman's friend,' “ if he
would only always live at one of our homes,' when in
port, and be happy in our way instead of his own, some-
thing might be done. But the captain tells us, he has no
sense of his fallen condition, but swore, even during the
storm.” Poor Peter! I suspect he must still labor on, as
heretofore, at his vocation, in which he appears to be not
unhappy. Saving the lives and property of rich men, and
thinking nothing of it, and little thought of himself, until
he arrives at something past the middle age, when his iron
frame shall at length yield to hardship and exposure, and
at some chance port, where he shall have broken down, he
finds his way to the hospital, and thence to the dissecting-
table :- or, which perhaps will be quite as well, until on
some stormy passage, in which his craft shall be driven to
still greater extremity than ours has been, he shall, after
one more hard, manly struggle, yield up his life to the ocean,
on which he has passed the most of his days. To one or
the other of these results, I have little doubt Peter will
come. In the mean time let this be our consolation, - that
the elements which go to form true manliness of character
can never be lost.
We are sorry to omit Notices which we had prepared of “ Thoughts on
Spiritual Subjects, translated from Fenelon"; of “ The Doctrine of
Life,” by William B. Greene ; " Mainzer's Musical Times"; and of a
" Lecture on the Human Soul, by L. S. Hough,” which are crowded out
by the unexpected length of our printed articles.


134
(July,
Record of the Months.
RECORD OF THE MONTHS.
Antislavery Poems. By John PIERPONT. Boston : Oliver
Johnson. 1843.
Tuese poems are much the most readable of all the metrical
pieces we have met with on the subject ; indeed, it is strange
how little poetry this old outrage of negro slavery has produced.
Cowper's lines in the Task are still the best we have. Mr. Pier-
pont has a good deal of talent, and writes very spirited verses,
full of point. He has no continuous meaning which enables
him to write a long and equal poem, but every poem is a series
of detached epigrams, some better, some worse. His taste is
not always correct, and from the boldest flight he shall suddenly
alight in very low places. Neither is the motive of the poem
ever very high, so that they seem to be rather squibs than pro-
phecies or imprecations; but for political satire, we think the
“ Word from a Petitioner" very strong, and the “ Gag” the
best piece of poetical indignation in America.
Sonnets and other Poems. By William Lloyv GARRISON.
Boston. 1843. pp. 96.
Mr. Garrison has won his palms in quite other fields than
those of the lyric muse, and he is far more likely to be the sub-
ject than the author of good poems. He is rich enough in the
earnestness and the success of his character to be patient with
the very rapid withering of the poetic garlands he has snatched
in passing. Yet though this volume contains little poetry, both
the subjects and the sentiments will everywhere command re-
spect. That piece in the volume, which pleased us most, was
the address to his first-born child.
America — an Ode; and other Poems. By N. W. Corfin.
Boston : S. G. SIMPKINS.
Our Mæcenas shakes his head very doubtfully at this well-
printed Ode, and only says, “An ode nowadays needs to be ad-
mirable to carry sail at all. Mr. Sprague's Centennial Ode, and
Ode at the Shakspeare Jubilee, are the only American lyrics
that we have prospered in reading, - if we dare still remember
them." Yet he adds mercifully, “The good verses run like gold-
en brooks through the dark forests of toil, rippling and musical,
and undermine the heavy banks till they fall in and are borne
away. Thirty-five pieces follow the the Ode, of which every-
thing is neat, pretty, harmonious, tasteful, the sentiment pleas-
ing, manful, if not inspired. If the poet have nothing else, he
has a good ear."


1843.]
135
Intelligence.
-
Poems by WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. Boston. 1843.
We have already expressed our faith in Mr. Channing's
genius, which in some of the finest and rarest traits of the poet
is without a rival in this country. This little volume has al-
ready become a sign of great hope and encouragement to the
lovers of the muse. The refinement and the sincerity of his
mind, not less than the originality and delicacy of the diction,
are not merits to be suddenly apprehended, but are sure to find
a cordial appreciation. Yet we would willingly invite any lover
of poetry to read “The Earth-Spirit,” “Reverence," " The
Lover's Song,” “Death,” and “The Poet's Hope."
The H. Family. The President's Daughters. By FrederiKA
BREMER. Boston : James Munroe & Co. 1843.
The Swedish authoress has filled all sitting-rooms with her
fame. One of our best friends writes us of the “ President's
Daughters," that it is a good piece, much better than the “H.
Family," not so well as the “ Neighbours.” Miss Bremer is a
vivacious, right-minded woman, from whom a good novel may
yet be expected.
INTELLIGENCE.
FRUITLANDS.
We have received a communication from Messrs. Alcott and
Lane, dated from their farm, Fruitlands, in Harvard, Massa-
chusetts, from which we make the following extract.
« We have made an arrangement with the proprietor of an estate of
about a hundred acres, which liberates this tract from human owner-
ship. For picturesque beauty both in the near and the distant land-
scape, the spot has few rivals. A semi-circle of undulating hills
stretches from south to west, among which the Wachusett and Monad-
noc are conspicuous. The vale, through which flows a tributary, to
the Nashua, is esteemed for its fertility and ease of cultivation, is
adorned with groves of nut-trees, maples, and pines, and watered by
small streams. Distant not thirty miles from the metropolis of New
England, this reserve lies in a serene and sequestered dell. No public
thoroughfare invades it, but it is entered by a private road. The
nearest hamlet is that of Stillriver, a field's walk of twenty minutes,
and the village of Harvard is reached by circuitous and hilly roads of
nearly three miles.
" Here we prosecute our effort to initiate a Family in harmony with
the primitive instincts in man. The present buildings being ill
placed and unsightly as well as inconvenient, are to be temporarily
used, until suitable and tasteful buildings in harmony with the natural
scene can be completed. An excellent site offers itself on the skirts
of the nearest wood, affording shade and shelter, and commanding a
view of the lands of the estate, nearly all of which are capable of


136
[July, 1843.
Intelligence.
spade culture. It is intended to adorn the pastures with orchards, and
to supersede ultimately the labor of the plough and cattle, by the spade
and the pruning knife.
“ Our planting and other works, both without and within doors, are
already in active progress. The present Family numbers ten individ-
uals, five being children of the founders. Ordinary secular farming is
not our object. Fruit, grain, pulse, garden plants and herbs, flax and
other vegetable products for food, raiment, and domestic uses, receiving
assiduous attention, afford at once ample manual occupation, and chaste
supplies for the bodily needs. Consecrated to huinan freedom, the
land awaits the sober culture of devout men.
"Beginning with small pecuniary means, this enterprise must be
rooted in a reliance on the succors of an ever bounteous Providence,
whose vital affinities being secured by this union with uncorrupted
fields and unworldly persons, the cares and injuries of a life of gain
are avoided.
“ The inner nature of every member of the Family is at no time
neglected: A constant leaning on the living spirit within the soul
should consecrate every talent to holy uses, cherishing the widest
charities. The choice Library (of which a partial catalogue was given
in Dial No. XII.) is accessible to all who are desirous of perusing
these records of piety and wisdom. Our plan contemplates all such
disciplines, cultures, and habits, as evidently conduce to the purifying
and edifying of the inmates. Pledged to the spirit alone, the founders
can anticipate no hasty or numerous accession to their numbers.
The kingdom of peace is entered only through the gates of self-denial
and abandonment; and felicity is the test and the reward of obedience
to the unswerving law of Love.
June 10, 1913.
TO CORRESPONDENTS.
We are greatly indebted to several friends, for the most part anony.
mous, for literary contributions, and not less indebted in those cases in
which we have not found the pieces sufficiently adapted to our purpose
to print them. The Dial has been almost as much a journal of friend.
ship as of literature and morals, and its editors have felt the offer of
any literary aid as a token of personal kindness. Had it been practica-
ble, we should gladly have obeyed the wish to make a special acknow-
ledgment of each paper that has been confided to us, explaining in each
instance the reason for withholding it. We wish to say to our Corre-
spondents, that, printed or unprinted, these papers are welcome and use-
ful to us, if only as they confirm or qualify our own opinions, and give
us insight into the thinking of others.
In the last quarter, we have received several papers, some of which,
after some hesitation, we decide not to print. One of these is a transla-
tion which (without comparing it with the original) seems to us excel-
lent, of Schiller's Critique on Goethe's Egmont, and that it may not
through our omission, fail to be read, we shall leave the MS. for a time
with our publishers, subject to the order of the writer. We have also
received from A.Z. a poetical translation from Richter; from A. C. L. A.
a paper on the Spirit of Polytheism ; from a friend at Byfield, a poetical
fragment called “ The Ship"; from our correspondent C. at New Bed-
ford, a poem called “ The Two Argosies"; from R. P.R. some elegiac
verses; from J.A.S. “ Lady Mirbel's Dirge."


THE DIAL.
Vol. IV.
OCTOBER, 1843.
No. II.
HENNELL ON THE ORIGIN OF CHRISTIANITY.*
The present aspect of the world of Theology is highly
interesting to a philosophic looker-on ; a new geological
formation seems to be taking place in the Great Sahara of
theological speculation. Doctrines which have come down
to us, bearded with venerable antiquity; conclusions that
have passed unchallenged through centuries of doubt ;
oracles and myths and confident assertions and timid con-
jectures, emboldened at last by success to assume command
over ingenuous youth and experienced wisdom, — all of
these meet with a reception in our time a little different
from what they have received in days of yore. There was a
time when the Spirit of Freedom dared not enter the domain
of Theology. The Priest uttered the Anathema: HE THAT
DOUBTETH IS DAMNED, and Freedom fled away. Next,
men insinuated what they dared not say. The descendants
of Porphyry, Celsus, Marcion, might be hanged or burn-
ed, but the children of Lucian and Olympiodorus continued
to flourish. Servetus could be got rid of, but Bayle could
not be hanged; and as for reasoning with such men, it
were as well to reason with a cloud, or to wrestle with
Proteus and Nereus. They defied equally argument and
faggots. Now a different day has come, and grave men
venture in their own name, and with no coverture, to
assail doctrines ancient and time-honored, and ask them
their righT TO BE. It is curious to see how this spirit
* An Inquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity, by Charles C.
HENNELL. Second Edition. London: Sold by T. Allman, 42 Holborn
Hill. 1841.
VOL. IV. — NO. II.
18


138
(Oct.
Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
appears in all countries distinguished by liberal culture, at
the same time; and often under circumstances, which prove
that hearty thinkers have come independently to the same
result. We see this in New England, in Old England,
France, and Germany. Matters long ago hammered and
pronounced complete, are brought up again to the fur-
nace and the anvil; old questions are asked over anew,
when the old answer did not suit the case ; others come
up each century anew.
Some tell us the Reformation was a mistake; that “we
have too much religious knowledge,” exclaimning at sunrise,
as the Jews in exile, “would God it were night!” They
see the religious world lies weak and low, diseased with
materialism, covetousness, sick as Job with complicated
distress; that the consecrated leeches are confounded, and
have no counsel, but that of Job's friends; they look back
to the hour of past darkness and say, “ We remember the
flesh which we did eat in Egypt freely; the cucumbers
and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the
garlic. Let us return thither; the gods of Egypt were
true gods, they baked us bread, and they thought for us.
Let us put on the surplices and the copes and the stoles
and the hoods and the cassocks and the bands of our
fathers, and let us kneel as they knelt, and repeat their
prayers and their psaltery and their vows, and we shall be
as gods." Others think the past was all wrong, the present
all bad. We are to prepare for the future by forgetting all
that has been learned in six thousand years of toil.
• Experience,” say they, “lies; History is a deceiver; a
fact is a falsehood; nothing is so doubtful as what men are
certain of. The world is sick, but the cure is easy. Abolish
marriage, and unchastity will perish; annihilate property,
covetousness and indolence will die out with no struggle ;
repeal the laws, destroy the jails, hang the Judges, crime
shall end ; shut up the schools, annul the Sabbath, burn
the Bible, and pluck down the churches, all men will in-
stantly become wise as Plato, and holy as Francis of Sales.
Cold and famine shall be no more, if you will go naked and
leave the earth untilled. Come up to us, ye sons of men,
and we will teach you the way of Life.”
Now between these two parties - which we have but
little overcolored — are all sorts of sects and opinions,


1843.] Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
139
fighting with promiscuous din. Men of one idea, which
they call the universe; men of vast thought, at least of
vast counsel ; a philosopher, chasing his own shadow and
clutching thereat, as if it were the very substance, or even
the Archetypal Idea; a poet, who would reform the world
with moonshine, and men here and there, who apply right
reasons to facts, and all these, acting with freedom
never known before — no wonder there is some little con-
fusion in the world. We have often thought if there were
what the ancients called “a soul of the world,” it must
have a hard time of it. But out of what seems anarchy to
finite eyes, the all-bountiful Father surely wins the fair re-
sult of universal harmony; —
- “All nature's difference makes all nature's peace.”
But to return from our wanderings. There is one point
in theological discussion of great interest at the present
day, that is, the History of the New Testament, or the
History of Christ, for the two are most intimately connect-
ed, though not essentially so, for it is plain Jesus was the
same before as after the New Testament was written.
The New Testament has never since the second century
been so freely examined and speculated upon as now. The
several important works relative to this subject, which have
recently appeared in France, Germany, and England, are
curious signs of the times.* If we compare these, as
a whole, with former works on the same theme, we see
they are written in a new method and in a new spirit;
written with freedom and openness, and without insinua-
tions and sneers. Some writers, we believe, still contend
that every word in the New Testament and Old Testament
is to be regarded as the word of God, infallible, divine,
miraculously given to mankind. Others attempt, though
guardedly, to separate Christianity from its documents; so
they deny that it is to stand or fall with the inspiration of
the Old Testament. Then they attempt to rationalize the
New Testament by expunging from it, as far as possible,
all that is most hostile to reason. Thus some, in high
theological place, do not hesitate to say that mythical
stories run through the New Testament; that Paul some-
times reasons ill; that the early apostles were deceived in
• The works of Salvador, Hase, Strauss, and Bauer.


140
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fancying the world was soon to end, in their time; that,
even in the Gospels there are things which cannot be
credited; that the conscientious Christian is not bound to
believe that the angels, who announced the miraculous
birth of Jesus, had Hebrew or Babylonian names, or that
they sung passages out of the Alexandrian version of the
Old Testament, and misquoted as they sung. Some grave
men in New England, of undoubted soundness in the faith,
teach that the angel, who delivered Peter from the prison,
was a man with a bag of money to bribe the jailor.
Some, too, while they hold fast to each iota of the canoni-
cal text of the New Testament, allow themselves good
latitude in explaining the Old Testament, and teach that
Moses wrote no part of it ; that its miracles are false ; its
Psalms but good devotional poetry; and its Prophets were
but pious and noble-minded men, who had no more of
miraculous inspiration than Malchus and Cassandra and
Tiresias. These admissions they make from love of truth,
and out of regard to the letter of the New Testament, for
they are willing to save the most valuable by losing the
inferior part.
The questions about the origin of the Christian records,
about the origin and history of Christ, we think are
not religious nor even theological questions. They are
interesting subjects of inquiry, and belong to the depart-
ment of human archæology ; subjects of great interest, but
not of the same vital moment with the inquiry about God,
the Soul, Religion, Immortality, and Life. We rejoice ex-
ceedingly in the attention now bestowed upon these themes,
and have no doubt it will produce much good for the pres-
ent and the future. The work of Mr. Hennell is a remarka-
ble phenomenon in English Theology, appearing contempo-
rary with the strong conservative movement of the more
spiritual part of the established church. The author —
like Abelard, Grotius, Leclerc, Eichhorn, and Gesenius,
and other great names in Theology — is not a clergyman.
He is, we are told, a merchant of London, who has found
time to make the requisite research into ancient and mod-
ern writers, and produce this new and valuable treatise on
the origin of Christianity. The first edition was published
in 1838. He says " the hypothesis, that there is a mixture
of truth and fable in the Gospels, has been admitted .. by


1843.
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
many critics bearing the Christian name. The same method
of free investigation, which led Priestley and Belsham to
throw doubt upon the truth of the opening chapters of
Matthew and Luke, may allow other inquirers to make
further excisions from the gospel history." * The author
began his own inquiry in the belief, that the miraculous
facts supposed to lie at the foundation of Christianity could
not be shaken. He aimed to get at the truth; thus avoid-
ing the twofold error of the believer, who starts with the
fixed idea, that the New Testament is divinely inspired, and
of the unbeliever, who searches for faults rather than the
truth. He wishes his book to be considered “as employed
in the real service of Christianity rather than an attack
upon it." His aim is " simply to investigate the origin of
the religion, uninfluenced by speculation on the conse-
quences.”
The work is divided into eighteen chapters, on the fol-
lowing subjects: - Historical Sketch from the Babylonish
captivity to the death of Jesus, and thence to the end of
the first century; the date and credibility of the Gospels
of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; Examination of the
accounts of the Resurrection and Ascension, and on the
other miracles in the four Gospels, and those in the Acts of
the Apostles; general objections to the miracles of Jesus,
and the evidence afforded to the miracles by the Apostolic
writings; on the prophecies; the parts of Isaiah supposed
to relate to Christianity; on the book of Daniel; whether
Jesus foretold his own death and resurrection; on the
character, views, and doctrine of Jesus ; comparison of the
precepts of Jesus with Jewish writings ; concluding reflec-
tions. A brief Appendix is added, which treats more
minutely some points touched upon in the text.
We will give an analysis of the more important portions
of the book. He shows the gradual growth of the Mes-
sianic idea among the Jews, and the romantic form it
assumed in the time of their restoration from captivity. He
gives, from Josephus and Philo, an account of the Essenes,
* This has been done already by some moderns. Mr. Norton, in his
highly valuable treatise, The Evidences of the Genuineness of the
Gospels, Boston, 1837, thinks the following passages highly doubtful :
Math, chaps. i., ii., xxvii. 3-10, 52, 53. Mark xvi. 9-20. Luke axii.
43, 44. John v.3, 4, vii. 53, viii. 11, xxi. 24, 25.


142
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the third philosophical sect of the Jews. As Josephus is
in all hands we will only refer to his works,* but will give
the extract from Philo describing the Essenes.
“ Palestine and Syria are not unproductive of honorable and
good men, but are occupied by numbers, not inconsiderable,
compared even with the very populous nation of the Jews.
These, exceeding four thousand, are called Essenes, which
name, though not, in my opinion, formed by strict analogy, cor-
responds in Greek to the word “ holy.' For they have attained
the highest holiness in the worship of God, and that not by sac-
rificing animals, but by cultivating purity of heart. They live
principally in villages. Some cultivate the ground; others pur.
sue the arts of peace, and such employments as are beneficial
to themselves without injury to their neighbors. They are the
only people who, though destitute of money and possessions,
felicitate themselves as rich, deeming riches to consist in frugal-
ity and contentment. Among them no one manufactures darts,
arrows, or weapons of war. They decline trade, commerce,
and navigation, as incentives to covetousness ; nor have they any
slaves among them, but all are free, and all in their turn admin-
ister to others. They condemn the owners of slaves as tyrants,
who violate the principles of justice and equality.
“ As to learning, they leave that branch of it which is called
logic, as not necessary to the acquisition of virtue, to fierce dis-
putants about words; and cultivate natural philosophy only so
far as respects the existence of God and the creation of the uni.
verse : other parts of natural knowledge they give up to vain
and subtle metaphysicians, as really surpassing the powers of
man. But moral philosophy they eagerly study, conformably to
the established laws of their country, the excellence of which
the human mind can hardly comprehend without the inspiration
of God.
“ These laws they study at all times, but more especially on
the Sabbath. Regarding the seventh day as holy, they abstain
on it from all other works, and assemble in those sacred places
which are called Synagogues, arranging themselves according to
their age, the younger below his senior, with a deportment grave,
becoming, and attentive. Then one of them, taking the Bible,
reads a portion of it, the obscure parts of which are explained
by another more skilful person. For most of the Scriptures
they interpret in that symbolical sense which they have zealously
copied from the patriarchs ; and the subjects of instruction are
piety, holiness, righteousness ; domestic and political economy;
the knowledge of things really good, bad, and indifferent; what
* Wars, ii. ch. 8. Antiq. xviii. 1.


1843.]
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
objects ought to be pursued, and what to be avoided. In discuss-
ing these topics, the ends which they have in view, and to which
they refer as so many rules to guide them, are the love of God,
the love of virtue, and the love of man. Of their love to God
they give innumerable proofs by leading a life of continued
purity, unstained by oaths and falsehoods, by regarding him as
the author of every good, and the cause of no evil. They
evince their attachment to virtue by their freedom from a varice,
from ambition, from sensual pleasure ; by their temperance and
patience; by their frugality, simplicity, and conteniment; by
their humility, their regard to the laws, and other similar virtues.
Their love to man is evinced by their benignity, their equity, and
their liberality, of which it is not improper to give a short ac-
count, though no language can adequately describe it.
“In the first place, there exists among them no house, how-
ever private, which is not open to the reception of all the rest ;
and not only the members of the same society assemble under
the same domestic roof, but even strangers of the same persua-
sion have free admission to join them. There is but one treas-
ure, whence all derive subsistence; and not only their provis.
ions, but their clothes are common property. Such mode of
living under the same roof, and of dieting at the same table,
cannot, in fact, be proved to have been adopted by any other
description of men.
“The sick are not despised or neglected, but live in ease and
affluence, receiving from the treasury whatever their disorder or
their exigencies require. The aged, too, among them, are loved,
revered, and attended as parents by affectionate children ; and a
thousand hands and hearts prop their tottering years with com-
forts of every kind. Such are the champions of virtue, which
philosophy, without the parade of Grecian oratory, produces,
proposing, as the end of their institutions, the performance of
those laudable actions which destroy slavery and render freedom
invincible.
“This effect is evinced by the many powerful men who rise
against the Essenes in their own country, in consequence of
differing from them in principles and sentiments. Some of
these persecutors, being eager to surpass the fierceness of un-
tamed beasts, omit no measure that may gratify their cruelty ;
and they cease not to sacrifice whole flocks of those within their
power; or like butchers, to tear their limbs in pieces, until them.
selves are brought to that justice, which superintends the affairs
of men. Yet not one of these furious persecutors has been able
to substantiate any accusation against this band of holy men.
On the other hand, all men, captivated by their integrity and
honor, unite with them as those who truly enjoy the freedom and
independence of nature, admiring their communion and liber.


144
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ality, which language cannot describe, and which is the surest
pledge of a perfect and happy life.” — pp. 17 – 20.
of the Pharisees and Sadducees nothing need now be
said. He gives an account of what Josephus calls a fourth
philosophic sect, of which Judas, the Galilean, was the
author, and adds : -
" It appears very clear that the most distinguishing feature of
the new sect of Judas, was the revival in a more emphatic
manner of the ancient traditionary expectation of a Kingdom of
God, or of Heaven. He taught that men should regard God as
their only ruler and Lord, and despise the apparent strength of
the hateful foreigners, since God who had so often delivered his
people, would be able to protect them again, if they were not
wanting to themselves. He called into new life the slumbering
hopes of Israel, and bid him endeavor to regain the glories of
his long-lost theocracy, which might possibly be destined to re-
appear speedily, and in splendor proportionate to its present
obscuration, provided only the nation would perform its own
part.” — pp. 27, 28.
He considers John the Baptist an enthusiastic Essene, who
imitated Elijah, as announced by Malachi, and combined
the doctrines of the Essenes with those of Judas, omitting
the warlike tendency of the latter. John produced a strong
excitement; crowds came to hear him, and such as be-
lieved “partook of the waters of purification," and were
baptized after the fashion of the Essenes. Among his fol-
lowers " was a Galilean named Jesus, the son of Joseph, a
carpenter of Nazareth, - a peasant of Galilee, possessed
of one of those gifted minds which are able to inake an
impression on mankind.” He expected the miraculous
elevation of the Jews, and thought himself the prophet and
prince who should fill the throne of David. A sincere be-
liever in the authority of Moses and the prophets, he drew
his chief materials of thought from observation on men
and things about him ; commented freely on the Scriptures,
giving them his own meaning, and delivering his own
thoughts with great power. He retained the pure morality
of the Essenes, but omitted their austerities; adopted the
liberalism of Judas, but not his incendiary policy. Jesus
determined to imitate Moses by assuming the character of
the Messiah. The preaching of John raised him from the
obscurity of a carpenter of Nazareth, and he then began to


1843.] Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
145
preach the kingdom of Heaven, which was quite as much
political as spiritual.* This, we think, is one of the weak-
est parts of the book, and wonder how a writer so clear-
headed and free from prejudice should arrive at this con-
clusion. But to proceed. Rude men would suppose a man
of great spiritual power must command nature as well as
man; Jesus himself might share the opinion; therefore,
when the multitude urged him to heal their diseases, he
spoke the word, and their confidence in his power in some
cases effected a cure.t Certain diseases were popularly as-
cribed to demons entering the human body; it was believed
some men had power of expelling them. In some an
authoritative word might effect a momentary calm, or the
excitement of the patient produce the appearance of re-
covery. The story would be enlarged in passing from
mouth to mouth, and the reputation of Jesus as a miracle-
worker soon be established. The Jewish rulers who had
put John to death, sought to arrest Jesus. He avoided the
danger by flying to the desert. But this could not last
long. He determined to go to Jerusalem and claim the
Messiahship; made his entry into Jerusalem riding on an
ass-colt, to apply to himself a passage of Zechariah sup-
posed to relate to the Messiah. The people proclaimed
him as the Son of David, and he preached to them in de-
fiance of the rulers. A few of the nobles befriended him
in secret. But Jesus began to change his own views, and
to expect a kingdom hereafter to be revealed from Heaven,
and when in the time of greatest trial - behaved like a
Prophet, Messiah, and Son of God, for he believed hiinself
to be such."
After his burial in the tomb and garden, Mr. Hennell
thinks Joseph feared that trouble inight befall him for his
connection with Jesus, and therefore removed the body
from the tomb, or that part of it where it had been first
placed, and " directed the agent who remained in charge
of the open sepulchre to inform the visitants that Jesus was
• See Reinhard's Plan of the Founder of Christianity (New York,
1841), where this and similar views are ably opposed.
+ Instances of this sort, we are told, are not unknown to medical men.
A writer so enlightened as Mr. Furness (Jesus and bis Biographers)
thinks great spiritual excellence gives power over nature. Father Mat-
thew, it is said, has sometimes found it difficult to convince the rude
men of Ireland that he could not work a miracle.
VOL. IV. — No. 11.
19


146
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
not there, but that they should behold him in Galilee.”
The message was first given to Mary Magdalene, and the
occurrence was at length converted into the appearance of
an angel, of two angels, and finally of Jesus himself.
Then came the old notion that the Messiah must come in
the clouds of Heaven, and the apparently mysterious cir-
cumstances of his death strengthened their belief in his
Messiahship, and the expectation of his approaching king-
dom returned as the belief of his future reappearance
gained ground. The followers of Christ were only to wait.
They now preached as before the kingdom of God, but
added, that Jesus was the Messiah and would soon re-
appear as King of Israel and introduce that kingdom. The
resurrection of Jesus confirmed the Pharisaic and popular
doctrine of the restoration of the body. At the feast,
seven weeks after the crucifixion, three thousand joined the
followers of Jesus, and a little later five thousand more.
Here was a new religious party among the Jews. The
Pharisees favored it; but as it became unpopular with
them, it became acceptable with the Judaizing Gentiles.
Cornelius, a centurion of Cesarea, and others, were bap-
tized as followers of Jesus. Two parties were formed in
the new sect, the one adhering strictly to the old Mosaic
ritual, the other departing from it. The character of the
Messiah is changed from the “Son of David," and "King
of Israel," to "the Judge of mankind.” Paul is con-
verted, and the new faith is modified still more.
“ The form, then, which the Essene Judaism assumed in the
hands of Paul was this, — that men were everywhere called to
repentance and purity of life, in order to prepare them for the
kingdom of God and the second coming of the Messiah or
Christ, whose office was to judge the world ; that Jesus of Naz.
areth had been proved to be the Messiah by being raised from
the dead ; and that, in order to partake in the privileges of his
kingdom, an open acknowledgment of his authority, and a belief
in bis resurrection, were alone necessary." - p. 68.
“Judaism, or the religion of one Deity, as reformed by Paul,
and disencumbered of circumcision and the Mosaic rites, found
a ready reception amongst the Greeks and Romans, with whom
polytheism was nearly grown out of fashion. The philosophy of
Epicurus had degenerated into sensualism. Platonism consisted
of speculations unintelligible out of the schools. Christianity as
preached by Paul was well adapted to fill the void in the philo-


1843.
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
sophic and religious world. It contained the sublime and agree-
able doctrines of the paternal character of God and the resur-
rection of mankind; its asserted miracles and accomplished
prophecies, the resurrection of Jesus, and the coming judgment
of the world, were of a nature to please and excite the imagina-
tion; and its fraternal system of society tended to excite emula-
tion and keep up enthusiasm. To follow a crucified Jew might
be at first a fearful stumbling-block; but the mournful fates of
Osiris, Adonis, and Hercules, followed by a glorious apotheosis,
would suggest parallels sufficient to throw lustre on the story of
Jesus; and the Messiah, persecuted to death and raised again,
probably appealed more strongly to the imagination and the
heart than if he had appeared merely as another triumphant
hero demanding allegiance. Besides, the death of Christ came
to be invested with a mysterious grandeur, by being represented
as the great antetype of an ancient and venerable system of
sacrifices, and as the offering of a paschal lamb on behalf of all
mankind.” - p. 70.
When the great troubles befel the Jewish state, the
Christians expected the end of the world, and the re-
appearance of Christ. The men of Jerusalem showed that
the Messiah must be only a spiritual king. The first Gos-
pel was published about 68 or 70, A. C., and followed by
many imitations. The distance of thirty-seven years from
the death of Christ allowed the introduction of many
fables concerning his person and character, and the doc-
trine of the miraculous conception arose, which the greater
part of the Jewish church refused to admit Christianity
formed an alliance with the Platonism of the Alexandrian
school, the result of which was a new doctrine concerning
the person of Jesus, to which prominence was given by the
publication of another Gospel under the name of John.
Plato had spoken of the Logos, the divine wisdom or in-
telligence. The Platonic Jews personified it as a divine
emanation, - the visible image of the invisible God, the
medium by which he made the world and communicated
with Abraham, Moses, and the prophets. The writer of
the fourth Gospel added that Jesus was the Logos. Thus
to the Jews, Christ fulfilled the Law and the Prophets; to
the Greeks, he appeared to complete the scheme of Plato.
Thus the Judaism of Nazareth gave the important truths of
Platonism an influence in the business of the world, and
opened for them an entrance into the affections, and ob-


148
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
tained for them an empire over the will of the multitudes.
By the end of the first century " Jesus of Nazareth had
advanced from the characters of the carpenter's son, the
prophet of Gallilee, the king of Israel, the Judge of man-
kind, to be the Logos, or inCARNATE REPRESENTATIVE OF
THE DEITY; and shortly afterwards the gradation was com-
pleted by IDENTIFYING HIM With God HIMSELF." p. 93.
Mr. Hennell next proceeds to consider the credibility of
the four Gospels. The contents of the first Gospel show
that it was written between 66 and 70, A. C., for chapter
xxiv. mentions things which agree very well with events up
to that time, but disagree with them after it. Irenæus,
Origen, and Epiphanius, mention a Gospel of Matthew writ-
ten in Hebrew, but we know little about him. He quotes
from the Old Testament, as prophecies relating to Jesus,
texts which are found to have nothing to do with Jesus.*
If he would force the prophecies to accommodate his own
views, he might also tamper with facts. In the second
series of fourteen kings, ch. i., he omits four kings. The
account of Herod murdering the young children is not con-
firmed by other historians; that of the birth of Jesus, if
found by itself, would be considered as a wild Eastern tale ;
his adventures with the devil would be mentioned by few
persons in modern times, except as a poetical vision. In
the account of the crucifixion, the author of this Gospel
mentions an earthquake, a rending of the rocks, the open-
ing of the graves, and the resurrection of many bodies of
the saints, - events no where else alluded to in the New
Testament. He mentions six supernatural dreams; t some-
times he relates events in a natural manner ; but sometimes
adds what could not be known. Thus he gives the prayers
and tells the movements of Jesus in the garden of Geth-
semane, when the only persons present were asleep. This
sort of embellishment shows itself frequently in the dis-
courses and parables. The passage, x. 16 - 42, contains
some things which could hardly have been intelligible in
the time when they are alleged to have been spoken, but
were suitable to the period when the book was written.
* E.g. ii. 15 (compare Hos. xii. 1) ii. 6, (Mic. v. 2) ii. 23 is not in the
Old Testament, (but see Jud. xiii. 5, ch. ii. 17 sq., iv. 19 sq., xxi. 1;
Zach. ix. 9, &c. &c.)
1. 20; ii. 12, 13, 19, 22; xxvii. 19.


1843.
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
He thinks that real events occupy a larger part of this
book than fiction ; that it contains many things as they
were delivered by the original eyewitness, and many more
proceeding from him, but with some variation. It is clear
that Matthew was this eyewitness, but not that he was the
compiler of the whole Gospel. Many parts could scarcely
proceed from an eyewitness. If the writer had been an
apostle, he would have written independent of the church
traditions, and if necessary have corrected them; but, on
the contrary, he seems to gather his materials from them,
as it appears from the double version of the same event,
the cure of the blind man, the feedings, the demand of a
sign, the accusation respecting Beelzebub. Again Papias and
others say that Matthew wrote in Hebrew; but no one men-
tions that he ever saw the Hebrew original of the Greek
Gospel according to Matthew. Hence it might be sup-
posed that Matthew wrote only some fragments (Logia as
Papias calls them) in Hebrew, and some one after him
wrote the Greek Gospel in our hands, incorporating those
fragments, and so it was called the Gospel according to
Matthew, and in the next century the work of that
apostle.*
"Upon the whole, then, the most that we can conclude seems
to be, that this Gospel was the work of some one who became a
member of the Jewish church before the war, and who collected
the relics of the acts and sayings of Jesus reported by Matthew
the apostle, introducing some traditions which he found else.
where, and filling up copiously from his own invention. His
aim was, probably, to do honor to Jesus and the common cause,
to strengthen the church under the trying circumstances of the
tines, and to be the author of a work which should be generally
acceptable to his brethren. That such a man should not always
adhere to strict truth seems quite consistent with human nature,
since in the subsequent times, and in the Christian Church, we
find pious men and sincere believers allowing themselves to
countenance palpable falsehoods.” — p. 124.
The second Gospel is ascribed to Mark, the companion
of Peter. For its authorship we have the testimony of
Papias, Irenæus, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Eusebius,
* See the recent literature on the subject of the language and author
of the first Gospel in Neudecker, Lehrbuch der hist. krit. Einleit. in
N. T. Leip. 1840. § 23. sqq.


150
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
Epiphanius, and others. But these authorities do not de-
cide that Peter sanctioned or knew what Mark wrote. He
copied from Matthew in part, and adds other historical
details, but mixes these relics of reality with some spurious
matter. He seems to “ have had access to one of the chan-
nels of original information not very far from its source.”
But he is often unconscious of the primary nature of what
he records, for he saw things through the medium of his
time and place, and not in their original light. He has lost
sight of the semi-political bearing of the Messianic scheme;
identifies the kingdom of God with the spread of the gos-
pel, to soften the severe Judaism, that appears in Matthew,
into a shape more fitting for Gentile readers.* He attempts
to aggrandize Jesus by repeating the amazement of the be-
holders of his miracles, the great numbers attracted by
him, the confession of the devils, and neglects the greater
part of the most eloquent discourses and parables in Mat-
thew. He becomes a kind of tacit commentator on the
first Gospel, and we see that an intimate friend of Peter
omits some of the most striking passages of Matthew, the
miraculous birth and temptation of Christ, Peter's casting
himself into the sea, the promise of the keys, and the mira-
cle of the fish with money in its mouth. He omits also the
dream of Pilate's wife, as well as the other five dreams of
Matthew ; the resurrection of the saints, and the earth-
quake. “It is difficult to avoid concluding that he omit-
ted these things because he did not believe them.” “He
found that they were not sanctioned by Peter, or by any
traditions of repute, .. and determined that his work should
not be encumbered with so much total and pure orna-
mental fiction."
" It is impossible to regard Mark's suppression of these pas.
sages otherwise than as a tacit condemnation of Matthew." In
later times, when the means of ascertaining the truth of each
story had diminished, and the whole four Gospels came to be
believed in a mass, as resting upon the same authority, divine
inspiration, these same questionable passages have been favorite
ones with Christians, as proving most strikingly the miraculous
character of Jesus.” - p. 148.
* See i. 14, 15; compare iii. 14, 15, with Math. x. 1-8; vi, 30, 31,
with Math xiv. 12, 13. "He omits passages of Matthew which related
chiefly to Jewish interests.


1813.)
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
Taken by itself the second is less intelligible than the
first Gospel ; but with that and Josephus, it not only throws
light on the attempt of Jesus, but marks the grade in the
modifications under which his disciples aſterwards viewed
him.
Luke made use of both his predecessors, but has many
stories and parables of his own, which he selected from
popular tradition or previous writers. He sometimes agrees
with Matthew and Mark, but sometimes differs from them;
for in his time they were not received with the same defer-
ence as now. His order is confused, and probably in some
instances he did not know the meaning of what he re-
peated. He does not expand parables and discourses to
suit his own times. The fictions he adopts — the visits of
Gabriel to Zacharias and Mary, the scenes at the temple,
the appearance of the angels to the shepherds, and of Jesus
to the two disciples at Emmaus, — indicate a more re-
fined imagination, than the tales of Joseph and the angel,
Herod and the Magi. The parables which he adds, – the
lost sheep, the prodigal son, the good Samaritan, Lazarus
and the rich man, — are equal to any in the Gospels. But
we find also in him the ascetic and monastic doctrines of
the more rigorous Essenes. Luke does not say he had his
facts from eyewitnesses.
To take all the three Gospels together — it appears that
they were written a considerable time after the events they
relate; it is probable, though not certain, that the writers
learned some parts from apostles or eyewitnesses, but it is
uncertain which the parts are, and it is probable they are
largely mingled with second-hand narratives, hearsay, and
traditions ; " there is strong probability that the accordant
portions of the three histories contain a tolerably correct
outline of the chief events of Christ's life; but some errors
might find their way into all three by the mistakes or in-
ventions of the first writers, or the traditions on which
they all depended.” “So in the three Gospels, after
making every allowance for probable, veritable, and fiction,
... there still seems to remain so much of reality, that the
attempt of Jesus to assume the Messiahship, his public
preaching in Galilee and Jerusalem, and his crucifixion
might be considered from the testimony of these three
writers alone, as facts deserving a place in history; which


152
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conclusion is strongly supported by other writings and sub-
sequent events." — pp. 175, 176.
The fourth Gospel, he thinks, was written about 97 A. C.
This is of a very different character. Christ's discourses
are long controversial orations without parables; the King-
dom of Heaven is nearly lost sight of; the fall of Jerusalem
never alluded to. Several new subjects are introduced:
the incarnation of the Logos in Christ ; his coming down
from Heaven, and the promise of the Comforter or Holy
Spirit. Mr. Hennell thinks it probable that John did not
put the detached parts of the book together himself, and
adds that it is difficult to determine whether the compiler
or transcriber did not add the last chapter, and improve
upon the apostle's words elsewhere. The circumstances
of the place (Ephesus) and time explain the difference in
the subjects treated of in this and the former Gospels.
"This Gospel appears accordingly to be the attempt of a half-
educated but zealous follower of Jesus, to engraft his concep-
tions of the Platonic philosophy upon the original faith of the
disciples. The divine wisdom, or logos, or light, proceeding
from God, of which so much had been said in the Alexandrian
school, he tells us became a man or flesh in the person of Jesus,
dwelt for a time on earth, and ascended up where he was before,
and where he had been from the beginning, into the bosom of
the Father.
" Consequently, this Gospel shows throughout a double or
Christiano-Platonic object ; first to prove that Jesus is the Christ,
which was common to all the apostles, and secondly that the
Christ is the Son of God or Logos which descended from heaven
to give light to men." — p. 180.
“ To endeavor to reconcile John with his predecessors on the
hypothesis, that all four wrote invariably true and correct history,
is evidently hopeless. The discrepancies are so far important
as to lead us inevitably to infer that in some of them, and prob-
ably in all four, there is a large measure of that incorrectness
which proceeds from imperfect knowledge, forgetfulness, or
neglect. In the case of John, they are to such an extent as to
show that neither he nor his compiler paid much regard to the
Gospels of his predecessors, or used them as a guide in forming
a new one. An apostle indeed could not be expected sedulously
to frame his discourses so as to agree with the works of previous
compilers, if he had known them ; but a disregard of them,
allowing of manifest contradictions, implies either that those
works were but litile known in his church, or that they had not
yet become standards of authority.” — p. 186.


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In Ch. VII. he examines the accounts of the resurrection
and ascension of Christ, with much ingenuity, patience,
and candor, as it seems to us, and comes to the conclusion
we have already stated. Perhaps it is the most valuable
chapter in the whole treatise. We shall attempt no analy-
sis of it. From the valuable chapters on miracles we will
quote the following.
" John alone relates the raising of Lazarus, which, if his
account were true, was the most splendid and public of all the
miracles. For, according to him, it was done before friends and
enemies, without any of the usual prohibitions to tell of it; many
came to see Lazarus at the supper at Bethany, and the people
bare record of it when Jesus entered publicly into Jerusalem.
“But, notwithstanding all this, neither Matthew, Mark, nor
Luke appears to have had any knowledge of the affair.” —
p. 280.
“ The story of Lazarus seems again to be forced upon the
attention of the first three Evangelists, when they relate the
entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, and the conduct of the multitude ;
for John says, that the people then bare record of his having
raised Lazarus. But here also they make not the slightest al-
lusion to it.
“It is impossible to conceive any plausible reason for this con-
cealment, when the same three Evangelists appear so willing to
relate all the miracles they were acquainted withi, and actually
relate some which were said to be done in secret. That they had
all forgoiten this miracle so completely that it did not once occur
to them whilst relating the connected circumstances, cannot be
imagined ; and if any miracle deserved a preference in the eyes
of narrators disposed to do honor to Christ, or even to give a
faithful account of him, it was this.
“ The Acts and Epistles nowhere allude to this story, although
it would have afforded Paul a very good instance of the resur-
rection of the body. 1 Cor. xv. 35.
" The first mention, therefore, of the most public and decisive
of the miracles appears in a writing published at Ephesus sixty
years afterwards.” - pp. 281, 282.
“ Most of the miracles attributed to Christ are of the same
kind, viz. the removal of natural penalties. If, on opening the
book which records his claims as a divine messenger, we were
1o find, instead of these stories of such difficult verification,
declarations of the causes of blindness, fever, and palsy, and
warnings to mankind to abstain from the courses which lead to
such evils, the book would carry with it an evidence increasing
VOL. IV. - NO. 11.
20


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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
with the lapse of ages; since the possession of such knowledge
by a person in the age, country, and circumstances of Christ,
would be as miraculous as any of the works referred to: and all
readers on finding that the results of the most advanced stages
of human knowledge had been anticipated by the peasant of
Galilee, must themselves exclaim, " Whence had this man this
knowledge, having never learned ?” and “Rabbi, we know that
thou art a teacher sent by God, for no man could have this wis.
dom unless God were with him.” — p. 298.
Chapters XII., XIII., and XIV. on the prophecies, are
valuable essays, which we shall pass over, as similar views
have long since been openly avowed and publicly taught
by some learned men in this century.* We will, however,
give the following extracts.
“ There are few nations whose early literature does not con-
tain predictions and pretended accomplishments of predictions.
But Cumæ and Delphos lost their credit even in ancient times.
The supposed Jewish oracles still play a conspicuous part in the
religion of the day. Yet on comparing them closely with histo-
ry, accomplishment and failure alternate to such an extent, that
one important resemblance to their heathen kindred becomes
palpable : their credit can only be maintained by preserving
their ambiguity.”
"As to the New Testament fulfilling the prophecies of the
Old, — in the two most conspicuous features of Jewish prophecy
there could not be a more decided failure. A triumphant suco
cessor of David was promised, and a carpenter's son was cruci-
fied. Zion was to be exalted, and Zion was demolished. Nor
were the Christian prophecies more fortunate. — The Son of
man was to appear again before that generation passed away,
and he has not yet appeared.”.
“ The Æneid contains many prophetical allusions to the affairs
of Rome, and in the sixth book the shade of Anchises shows
himself well acquainted with Roman History up to the time of
Augustus, but attempts to foretel nothing beyond it. From pas.
sages of this kind the common reader would have inferred the
time of the writer to be about or after that date. But suppose
that Virgil had concealed his name and date, and that some reli-
gious interest were attached to the belief in the divine inspira.
tion of his writings; it would then be taken for granted that the
author lived at the beginning, not the end, of the prophecy, and
the whole poem might by the allegorizing system be easily con-
verted into a prophetical type. If the interpreter were a
* See Christian Examiner for 1833, vol. xvi. p. 321, sog. See also vol.
v. p. 348, sq.


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Catholic, the victories of the Trojan hero might prefigure the
small beginnings of the Roman see on the same plains of Latium ;
his pious abandonment of the Carthaginian queen being exactly
the type of Papal Rome's compulsory separation by divine decree
from iis mistress Constantinople. The prediction of Anchises,
• Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento,' was fully veri-
fied, as Peter's pence could bear witness. “ Cælique meatus
describent alii melius,' Galileo proved to be true. • Debellare
superbos,' how exactly fulfilled in the person of the Emperor
Henry IV., and 'parcere subjectis' in the lenity shown by Pius
VII. towards Napoleon, who was, or ought to have been, spirit.
ually his subject! Certainly a Papist, who might be inclined
thus to turn Virgil to account, would find less labor than has been
encountered by Protestant divines, with the Book of Daniel, for
the sake ef identifying the Pope with the 'mau of sin.'” – pp.
401, 402, 403.
Mr. Hennell thinks Jesus naturally foresaw that he must
fall a martyr to his convictions, but by no means uttered
such distinct prophecies of his death and resurrection as
the Evangelists put into his mouth. If he had done so,
we could not explain the surprise of the disciples and their
unwillingness to believe the resurrection, which John ex-
plains by saying, “ They knew not the Scriptures, that he
must rise again from the dead."
The chapter" on the character, views, and doctrine of
Christ," is to us more repulsive than any other in the book.
He considers Jesus to have been an Enthusiast, who be.
lieved himself the predicted King of the Jews; a Revolu-
tionist, expecting to restore the kingdom to Israel, by
means of a popular insurrection, and procuring everlasting
life to such as forsook houses and lands for his sake!
How any one can come to this conclusion we cannot readi-
ly discern. True, he calls himself the Son of God; but
does he make that claim for none but himself? True, he
preached the kingdom of God; but is it so certain that
kingdom was political ? Did he not shun all chance of
personal aggrandisement; forbid the love of power; bless
the meek, the peaceful, the suffering? But we shall not
now enter into an argument on this point. Mr. Hennell also
makes him a Reformer, who taught that Religion consisted
in the internal purity of the thoughts, and the practice of
morality. He thinks, however, that he did not design to
depart from the ritual Law of Moses, and would not in


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this matter have gone so far as Paul! But he that summed
up the Law and Prophets in Love to GOD AND Man, is
hardly chargeable with Jewish conservatism. Again he
adds, Jesus was a moral and religious teacher. Here he
finds the sublimity of Christ's character. His teachings
are marked by their devotional spirit, the belief in immor-
tality, which he found popularly taught, by the great stress
he lays on the rare and unpopular virtues of humility and
resignation. He thinks that the character of Christ was
not without its defects; but adds in closing the chapter :-
“Enough is seen of Christ to leave the impression of a real
and strongly marked character ; and the dimness, which is left
around it, permits the exercise of the imagination in a manner
both pleasing and useful. The indistinctness of the image allows
it to become the gathering centre for all those highly exalted
ideas of excellence which a more closely defined delineation
might have prevented from resting upon it. To the superhuman
powers attributed to him by his early followers, later admirers
are at liberty to add all the qualities of mind and character which
can delight and attract in a human being. To awaken men to
the perception of moral beauty is the first step towards enabling
them to attain it. But the contemplation of abstract qualities is
difficult; some real or fictitious form is involuntarily sought as a
substratum for the excellence which the moralist holds to view.
Whilst no human character in the history of the world can be
brought to mind, which, in proportion as it could be closely ex.
amined, did not present some defects disqualifying it for being
the emblem of moral perfection, we can rest with least check,
or sense of incongruity, on the imperfectly known character of
Jesus of Nazareth. If a representative be sought of human
virtue, enough is still seen of his benevolent doctrine, attractive
character, and elevated designs, 10 direct our eyes to the Prophet
and Martyr of Galilee.” — p. 450, 451.
The last chapter, entitled “Concluding Reflections, is
one of great beauty and richness both of thought and sen-
timent.
“Whatever be the spirit with which the four Gospels be ap-
proached, it is impossible 10 rise from the attentive perusal of
them without a strong reverence for Jesus Christ. Even the
disposition to cavil and ridicule is forced to retire before the
majestic simplicity of the prophet of Nazareth. Unlike Moses
or Mahomet, he owes no part of the lustre which surrounds him
to his acquisition of temporal power ; his is the ascendancy
which mankind, in proportion to their mental advancement, are


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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
ose
least disposed to resist — that of moral and intellectual greatness.
Besides, his cruel fate engages men's affections on his behalf,
and gives him an additional hold upon their allegiance. A noble-
minded reformer and sage, martyred by crafty priests and brutal
soldiers, is a spectacle which forces men to gaze in pity and ad-
miration. The precepts from such a source come with an
authority which no human laws could give; and Jesus is more
powerful on the cross of Calvary than he would have been on
the throne of Israel.
“The virtue, wisdom, and sufferings of Jesus, then, will se-
cure 10 him a powerful influence over men so long as they con-
tinue to be moral, intellectual, and sympathizing beings. And
as the tendency of human improvement is towards the progres.
sive increase of these qualities, it may be presumed that the
empire of Christianity, considered simply as the influence of
the life, character, and doctrine of Christ over the human mind, .
will never cease.
“When a higher office is claimed for Christ, that of a mes.
senger accredited from God by a supernatural birth, miraculous
works, a resurrection, and an ascension, we may reasonably ex.
pect equal strength of evidence. But how stands the case ?
The four Gospels on these points are not confirmed by testimony
out of the church, disagree with each other, and contain rela-
tions contrary to the order of things. The evidence on these
points is reduced to the authority of these narratives themselves.
In them, at least, the most candid mind may require strong proofs
of authenticity and veracity ; but again, what is the case ?
They are anonymous productions; their authorship is far from
certain ; they were written from forty to seventy years after the
events which they profess to record ; the writers do not explain
how they came by their information ; two of them appear to
have copied from the first; all the four contain notable discre.
pancies and manifest contradictions ; they contain statements at
variance with histories of acknowledged authority ; some of
them relate wonders which even many Christians are obliged to
reject as fabulous; and in general they present no character by
which we can distinguish their tales of miracles from the fictions
which every church has found some supporters ready to vouch
for on its behalf.” — pp. 476, 477, 478.
- The miraculous birth, works, resurrection, and ascension
of Christ, being thus successively surrendered, to be classed
amongst the fables of an obscure age, what remains of Christi-
anity ? and what is there in the life and doctrine of Jesus that
they should still claim the attention and respect of mankind in
remote ages ? This : Christianity forms a striking passage in
the history of human nature, and appears as one of the most


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prominent of the means employed in its improvement. It no
longer boasts of a special divine origin, but shares in that which
the Theist attributes to the world and the whole order of its
events. It has presented to the world a system of moral excel.
lence; it has led forth the principles of humanity and benevo.
lence from the recesses of the schools and groves, and compelled
them to take an active part in the affairs of life. It has consoli-
dated the moral and religious sentiments into a more definite and
influential form than had before existed, and thereby constituted
an engine which has worked powerfully towards humanizing and
civilizing the world.
doctrines of man's relationship to the Deity, and of a future
state. The former was a leading feature of Judaism, and the
latter of Platonism. Christianity has invested them with the
authority of established principles, and thereby contributed much
to the moral elevation of mankind.” — pp. 480, 481.
“ Christianity itself proceeded from a nation in deep advers.
ity; out of the distresses of Israel issued the cry for immortality.
May we not regard all irremediable earthly afflictions as intended
to suggest Christianity to each sufferer, and to whisper, that there
must be a Father in heaven, and mansions of the blessed?"
“We see at present the incipient upheavings of another of
these revolutions — the subversion of the belief in miraculous
revelations, and the gradual advance of a system of natural
religion, of which we cannot yet predict the whole creed, but of
which we may already perceive two essential features, the
recognition of a God, and that of an inherent moral nature in
man. As the clearing away of the antiquated piles of the old
law made way for the simpler structure of faith in Christ, so will
the release from the exclusive authority of written precept
enable men to hear more distinctly the voice of the moral nature
within them. Reformed Judaism will be succeeded by reformed
Christianity, and each change appear the transition to a more
perfect law of liberty.
“ Let not, then, the mind which is compelled to renounce its
belief in miraculous revelations deem itself bound to throw aside,
at the same time, all its most cherished associations. Its gener-
ous emotions and high contemplations may still find an occasion
for exercise in the review of the interesting incidents which have
forever consecrated the plains of Palestine ; but it may also find
pleasure in the thought that, for this exercise, no single spot of
earth, and no one page of its history, furnishes the exclusive
theme. Whatever dimness may gather from the lapse of time
and the obscurity of records about the events of a distant age,
these capabilities of the mind itself remain, and always will re.


1843.)
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
main, in full freshness and beauty. Other Jerusalems will excite
the glow of patriotism, other Bethanies exhibit the affections of
home, and other minds of benevolence and energy seek to hasten
the approach of the kingdom of man's perfection. Nor can
scriptures ever be wanting — the scriptures of the physical and
of the moral world — the book of the universe. Here the paye
is open, and the language intelligible to all men; no transcribers
have been able to interpolate or erase its texts ; it stands before
us in the same genuineness as when first written; the simplest
understanding can enter with delight into criticism upon it; the
volume does not close, leaving us to thirst for more, but another
and another epistle still meets the inquisitive eye, each signed
with the author's own hand, and bearing undoubted characters
of divine inspiration. Unable at present to comprehend the
whole, we can still feel the privilege of looking into it at pleas-
ure, of knowing a part, and of attempting the opening of further
leaves. And if, after its highest efforts, the mind be compelled
to siok down, acknowledging its inability, in some parts, to satis-
fy itself with any clear conclusion, it may remain serene at least,
persuaded that God will not cause any soul to fare the worse
for not knowing what he has given it no means to know.
Enough is understood to enable us to see, in the Universe itself,
a Son which tells lis of a Faiher, and in all the natural beauty
and moral excellence which meet us in the world an ever-pres-
ent Logos, which reveals the grace and truth of its invisible
source. Enough is understood to convince us that, to have a
place on this beautiful planet, on almost any terms, is an un-
speakable privilege; that virtue produces the highest happiness,
whether for this or another world; and that there does exist an
encircling mysterious Intelligence, which, as it appears to mani.
fest its energy in arrangements for the general welfare of the
creation, must ensure a provision for all the real interests of
man. From all our occasional excursions into the abysses of
the unseen world, and from all our efforts to reach upwards to
the hidden things of God, both reason and piety bid us return
tranquilly to our accustomed corner of earth, 10 use and enjoy
fully our present lot, and to repose implicitly upon the higher
wisdom in whose disposal we stand, whilst indulging the thought
that a time is appointed when the cravings of the heart and of
the intellect will be satisfied, and the enigma of our own and
the world's existence be solved.” — pp. 486, 487, 488, 489.
There are several things in this book to which we can-
not assent; some things we should regard as errors. But
when the whole work is examined, a very high praise must
needs be granted to it, whether we agree or disagree with


160
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Hennell on the Origin of Christianity.
the writer. It is marked by candor, faithful research, good
sense, and a love of truth to a degree almost unequalled in
theological works. Nothing is conceded; nothing forced.
It is free from sneers and denunciations. We see in it
neither the scorn of the Pyrrhonist, nor the heartless blas-
phemy of the bigot. It is cool, manly, and tranquil.
Sometimes the author rises to a touching pathos and real
eloquence. Love of man, and reverence for man's Maker,
are conspicuous in its pages; and we thank him heartily
for the service he has done the Christian world by the
timely publication of a book so serene and manly.
But what is to be the effect of such publications, in
this sickly nineteenth century ? Some men appear to heed
not the signs of the times, nor to notice that the waters of
theology are getting troubled in all corners of the world.
One effect is obvious. Some will decry human reason al-
together, and go back as far as possible into the darkness,
seeking to find the Kingdom of Heaven in the past. It
is not easy to understand all of the numerous classes of
men, who take that course. But is the matter to end in
the publication of their books; in the retrograde move-
ments of some timid or tenacious men, of some pious men
and some pharisees? They know little of the past, who
will hazard such a conjecture. Four centuries ago it was
contended, that the vulgate Latin version of the Bible was
divine, and the infallible word of God. How many men
in Europe now think it so? In the seventeenth century
men contended that the Hebrew vowel points were ancient
and divine; that the Alexandrian version of the Old Tes-
tament was made by miraculous help from on high.
But the vowel points and the Alexandrian version have
gone to their proper place. Now some men will contend,
that the miraculous part of the History of Jesus of Naza-
reth is not worthy of belief; that the Christ, so far as we
can learn, was a man, born as we all are, tried and tempted
like the rest of us ; man's brother, not his master; that his
inspiration was only supernatural, in the sense that all truth
is of God; that the Bible is divine so far as true, but no
farther, and has no more right to bind and to loose than
any other collection of books equally good. New questions
will be asked, and will get answered. It is not many years
since Transubstantiation and “ the Real Presence were


1843.)
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Hennell on Christian Theism.
subjects of great dispute. But they have gone their way;
and the windy war they once provoked seems as foolish to
us — who happily live some thousands of miles frorn Ox-
ford — as our contentions, logomachies, and skiomachies,
will appear in the next century. No doubt in a hundred
years the work of Mr. Hennell, that of Dr. Strauss, and
many others of our day, will be turned over with a smile,
at the folly of an age, when such books were needed ; when
Christians would not believe a necessary and everlasting
truth, unless it were accompanied and vouched for by a
contingent and empirical event, which they presumed to
call a miracle! Well they might smile; but such as live
in our day can scarcely see the ludicrous features of the
matter. It is said to be dangerous to be wise before one's
time, and trily it is scarcely decorous to be merry before it.
We cannot dismiss this work of Mr. Hennell without
mentioning another from his pen, which forms a sort of
sequel to the first, we mean his Christian Theism, * a work
of singular beauty and worth. We will content ourselves
with a few extracts.
" With no hostility, then, towards Christ and Christianity may
the Theist renounce his faith in miracles and prophecy; and
without inconsistency may be be willing that the long train of
associations which Christianity possesses with the history, the
literature, the poetry, the moral and religious feelings of man-
kind, should long contribute their powerful influences in behalf of
the cause of human improvement. Let all benefactors of man.
kind continue to look to Jesus as their forerunner in this great
cause, and recognize a kindred mind in the Galilean who preached
lessons of wisdom and benevolence in an early age of the world,
and fell a sacrifice to the noble idea of introducing a kingdom of
heaven upon earth. Let the good Samaritan still be cited as
the example of humanity ; the passover-supper be remembered
as the farewell of Jesus to his friends; and God be worshipped
under the character which he attributed to him, the Father
in heaven. Let painting and music still find solemn themes in
the realities and fables relating to Jesus; let feasts and holydays
still take their names from the events of his life, our time
be dated from his birth, and our temples be surmounted by
his cross.
* Christian Theism, by the Author of An Inquiry concerning the
Origin of Christianity. London: Smallfield and Son, 69 Newgate
Street. 1839.
VOL. IV. —NO. II.
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Hennell on Christian Theism.
“ Christianity, then, has been neither evil nor useless; but out of
it will proceed a further mental growth. The religion of Egypt,
Judaism, Christianity, and the more advanced sysiem, which at
a future time may, by the appearance of some remarkable
individual, or combination of events, come to be designated by
another name, are all so many successive developments of the
religious principle, which, with the progress of mankind, will
assume a form continually approaching nearer to perfect truth.
And in proportion as other religions make the same approxima-
tion, it will be gradually recognized that God hath made all
nations of one mind, as well as of one blood, to dwell upon all
the face of the earth.” — pp. 18, 19.
"In what manner do we know a man best and most tho.
roughly ? — By his appearance? No. — By his conversation ?
Better ; but not so well as by experiencing his conduct in a long
series of deeds. These speak in the surest manner; they speak
to our moral and intellectual senses; and thus may we know
thoroughly him whom we have never seen or heard.
“And thus does God chose to speak to man - by deeds. A
more subtle mode of communication than the brightest vision or
the softest whisper; but, to the thinking, more refined, more
pleasing, more intelligible. Let children look for cherubim, and
rhapsodists for voices from heaven; mature reason and feeling
appreciate more highly Works of beauty and beneficence. In
what language should God have spoken to men from heaven, or
written his message in the sky ? In Hebrew! In Greek! In
Sanscrit! He has chosen his own language ; and has he not
well chosen ? Does not the rose or the hyacinth speak as plainly
as could any noun or participle, the verdure running before the
breeze exceed the sense of any aorist, and the star rising above
the wood convey more than any Hebrew point? God can do
without hiphil and hophal, without pluperfect and paulo-post
future: he is perfect in the language of signs, and the whole
material creation is his symbol-picture to all ranks of intelli.
gence." — pp. 37, 38.
“ With this Scripture we may be well content; and knowing
that here it is appointed for us to learn all we can and ought to
know of God, his nature, and his will, cease to regret the loss of
that strange existence which made a capricious covenant with
Abraham, or of the voice which delivered to Moses moral pre-
cepts, intermingled with directions concerning the fringe of the
tabernacle and knobs of the candlestick, or of the Being who
declared himself at one time long suffering and gracious, and
at another denounced heavy punishments for sparing the wives
and children of the vanquished. A more refined conception
followed these, in so far as man's expanding mind began to


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catch the tone and spirit of nature. But nature is more durable
than man's words, whether conveyed through other men's mem-
ories, or by paper and parchment. We can appeal to her
direct, without help from any translator or expounder, besides
our own head and heart. The God whom she proclaims is a
certainty in a far higher degree than any God revealed to us
through distant records, for the pledges of his existence are the
things around us and within us every moment, free from all sus.
picion of forgery, delusion, or imposture.” - p. 53.
“Honored be the spirits which have anticipated such a religion
of nature, and depicted the Cause of the universe in this attrac.
tive form. The lower feelings found in the godhead a mere
Jupiter Tonans, a vindictive and jealous tyrant of heaven, the
partial protector of a family or chosen nation. But more
enlarged thought and higher feeling described him as the King
and Father of men, Jupiter greatest and best. Especially
honored be he who loved to contemplate, and to address, the
unseen Mind as the Father in heaven, hearing and having com.
passion on all men; and who taught men to avail themselves of
this refuge for sorrow. Whatever else he were, he was one of
those who have helped to raise and refine, as well as to
strengthen, human nature. Philosophy sitting calmly in the
schools, or walking at ease in the groves, could not do all that
men require; the despised Galilean, with his religion of sorrow,
gave strength where philosophy left them weak, and completed
the armor of the mind. It was reserved for a persecuted man
of a persecuted nation to open the divine depths of sorrow,
and to direct men towards the hidden riches of their nature
in abysses where, at the first entrance, all appeared barren
gloom." - p. 60.
“The distinction between God's works and God's word no
longer exists. They are the same. His works are his word.
No longer need the mind which seeks its Creator be cramped
within the limits of a written volume. Othou, whose earliest
conceptions of a creative intelligence awakened by the sight of
a wonderful world, and, seeking for further expansion, have
been directed to the so-called word of God as the proper fountain
of this high knowledge, where the sublimest ardor was to be
satisfied, and the great idea fully developed, - hast thou never
experienced something like disappointment, when, turning wearily
over many pages of the boasted revelation, thou hast found but
little to respond to thy nascent desires of truth, and timidity,
half self-accusing, asked thyself, Can this really be that loudly
extolled book of Revelation, which is to instruct men fully con-
cerning God and his ways? Is it indeed so superior to the
instruction of nature, that it deserves to be called pre-cminently


164
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Hennell on Christian Theism.
the Word of God? I find here and there high thoughts and
beautiful conceptions, which shew that between the Nile and the
Euphrates, as well as elsewhere, men possessed a nature capa.
ble of being moved occasionally to the contemplation of the
mighty Cause of heaven and earth; but do these ancient writers
really impart knowledge concerning him beyond the reach of
all other sages, and speak in strains unequalled by any other
muse? Alas! they seldom sustain my mind long in that high
region which it was seeking ; but drag it down into an earthly
atmosphere of low trilling thoughts, petty local interests, and
individual or national resentments. This, the book to which
stupendous Nature itself was only the preface ! - which the
Creator of sun and skies has thought it worth while to attest
by special messages and inspirations! Neither its genealogies,
histories, nor poems, satisfy my want. The spirit of adoration
seems to be, by long perusal of this volume, excluded from the
great temple of the universe, and compressed into the holy ark
of Israel, or into an upper chamber at Jerusalem. Can this book
really be the highest field of human study and thought? There
must be some mistake.
“Rejoice, and set thy mind free; there has been a great
mistake. The book, as well as thyself, was injured by the false
pretensions set up on its behalf; and the workings of the
Human mind in remote ages, in themselves deeply interesting,
rendered ridiculous by being extolled into oracles of the Divine.
Cease to weary thyself in following Israel through the desert,
and in pondering each supposed weighty sentence of prophets
and apostles. Neither Moses nor Samuel, Isaiah nor Zechariah,
nor Jesus, nor Paul, nor John, can speak more of God than
they themselves have learned from the sources which he has
placed within the reach of all, nature and man's own mind.
But look up and around, and say if man may not be well
satisfied with these ; and if in Orion and the Pleiades, in the
green earth and its copious productions, and especially in the
Godlike Human Mind itself, manifested in art, science, poetry,
and action, God has not provided eloquent and intelligible evan.
gelists." — pp. 65 to 67.
“Jesus made virtue the chief qualification for partaking of the
kingdom of heaven. To love God and one's neighbor, was to be
not far from the kingdom of God. And he laid particular stress
on virtues of the meek and benevolent kind. Blessed are the
mcek, for they shall inherit the earth...... Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. .....
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Those who in spirit are
like little children, rather than the contenders for greatness, are


1843.)
165
A Day with the Shakers.
fit for the kingdom of God. By this shall all men know that
ye are my disciples, if ye have love to one another. Love
your enemies.' In all this, Jesus accords strikingly with the
most advanced morality of the present age, which admits that the
prevalence of these dispositions is the most essential requisite to
the improvement of the world.” – p. 10.
A DAY WITH THE SHAKERS.
BETWEEN two and three miles northward of the centre
village in the township of Harvard, Massachusetts, the trav.
eller discerns a rustic guide board, on which is inscribed
" To the Shaker Village.” Uncouth name for any associ-
ation of serious people seriously to adopt; yet we never
hear them called otherwise. The Quakers, we all know,
denominate themselves " the Society of Friends, but these
people seem to have no other appellation besides this gro-
tesque one thus placed at the road's head. Possibly, how-
ever, the town erected the board, and they did not originate
the popular and current designation of themselves.
At about half a mile up this road we arrive at three or
four houses of no very attractive exterior, with a large
stone barn, having very much the appearance of a prison,
which for the animals contained therein probably it is. At
this station, which is the probationary village for such per-
sons as propose to join the family, the visitor is met by
some of the brethren, amongst whom will be found one of
superior intelligence, who in good temper answers questions
to which he has probably responded some hundreds of times
before. Most likely the conversation turns upon the sub-
ject of self-denial, and thence naturally to their especial
instance of it, that is to say abstinence from marriage. Of
him you may learn that the number in the family is about
two hundred persons, of whom only thirty-eight are under
sixteen years of age, and not one is younger than four;
that they did not settle here from any choice of this rough
and sterile domain of about fifteen hundred acres, but be-
cause their founder, Ann Lee, received from the persons


166
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A Day with the Shakers.
who resided here during her brief earthly sojourn that cor-
dial support and sympathy which frequently attends the
career of the pious.
Passing this group of buildings, on a turn of the road
to the left hand over a broad slab of rock, a street of houses
is presented to the view. Some of these buildings are
sinall and old ; some are large and new. Many active
laborers are in the fields and gardens, and improvements
are carried on with vigor ; but there is much to be done, by
reason of the original rudeness of this spot, in order to
bring the external appearances to a like elevation with that
which common report has assigned to other stations. The
orchards and gardens are the most striking achievements,
and this family trades extensively in seeds.
No formal introduction is required ; on the contrary,
there is a general disposition on the part of both the more
intelligent men and women to enter into free conversation
at once upon their distinguishing practice of self-sacrifice.
On the subject of abstinence from outward marriage they
are as lively and energetic as recent converts. It reigns so
monarchically in their hearts that they have always a stir-
ring topic whereon to speak, and an exalting object for
which to act. So far from being lifeless or indifferent
about other persons, they seem to be fully aware that unless
fresh comers are gathered in from the world at large, their
family must decline gradually to total extinction. There
is, therefore, great promptness manifested in laying their
arguments before sincere inquirers, although they are not
so zealous as to send forth especial missionary brethren.
Words alone they may perhaps consider would be fruit-
less; while in conjunction with a life fully realizing them,
they become almost irresistible. The family being thus
sustained by the addition of convinced minds, and not by
the imposition of educative habits, there will probably be
ever found a degree of animation and heartfelt zeal un-
known amongst other religious orders.
Our business being the purchase of a few seeds, and the
gardener being occupied out of doors, the trading agent
attended us to the store, and supplied the articles with an
activity and business intelligence, which prove him qualified
to conduct any such transactions they may have with the
old world. Their trade, he informed us, amounts generally


1843.]
167
A Day with the Shakers.
to the large sum of ten thousand dollars a year. For per-
sons of simple habits, desirous of relief from circumstances
morally depressive, this is far too great an involvement in
money affairs ; but it seems to grow out of their peculiar
position, and the want of true simplicity in many particu-
lars. Their estate does not at present produce a full sup-
ply of bread-corn; most of the members, except the
children, consume flesh-meat; much milk is used ; and the
aged amongst them still drink tea, or coffee, and the like.
For these reasons some of their produce has to be exchanged,
which occasions considerable traffic. To provide for their
wants they also are extensive manufacturers of various
clothing and other fabrics, and have to buy raw material
to work upon, as well as to sell the goods when finished.
These proceedings require more extensive interchanges of
money, and more frequent intercourse with the world, than
seems compatible with a serene life.
Yet their life is serene. The repose, quiet, and cleanli-
ness reigning throughout the establishment are indeed as
remarkable as attractive. As a retreat for the thoughtful
or poetic mind, it seems most desirable. You could there
“walk gowned,” conscious of feelings as reverential as
those which pervade the bosom of the worshipper when he
enters the ancient cathedral. Nor is the superstition there,
nor the outward devotion which results from the artistic
effects of architecture, painting, music, and the rest. Of
these they can boast none. As they have built several
spacious houses for themselves, their idea has necessarily
been expressed by an architecture of some character, yet
wanting in most or all of those artifices which distinguish
edifices erected by other religionists. The building last
erected is large and plain. Externally it has somewhat the
appearance of a school-house or church. Internally, how-
ever, it is divided into separate apartments, and is of sev-
eral stories. Corridors in the middle, with rooms on each
side, keep the whole well-ventilated, light, and cheerful.
The stairs and most of the floors being covered with a home-
made carpet, the foot-tread is inaudible. At this house
visitors are received and entertained ; and, if they remain
during a meal time, here take their repast; the accommo-
dations being reported too small to permit even all the in-
mates to eat together. The internal fittings of the new


163
[Oct.
A Day with the Shakers.
house are of the most comfortable kind. Window-sashes,
spring-blinds, closets, &c. are of the best workmanship and
most convenient contrivances for endurance. The join-
ery is not painted, but varnished slightly, so that it can be
cleaned with facility; and the only objection seems to be
the use of close stoves instead of open fire-places. The
furniture is not home-made, but is wrought mostly in a
more ancient fashion still common to the country, and much
more cheap than elegant or luxurious.
Here we enjoyed an animated conversation with several
of the brethren and sisters, or, as they would say, men and
women. They are faithful to the precept of " Aye" and
“Nay" in their replies, and are as new and fresh in mind
as we may suppose the Society of Friends were within
sixty years of their founder's time. .
It appears that in consequence of the number of visitors
who came to their weekly worship, with other than devo-
tional feelings, they have ceased to permit any chance of
interruption, so that we had no optical evidences of their
peculiar religious modes and forms. But their books, of
which we purchased copies, show that they advocate danc-
ing as a religious exercise, claiming for it the same virtues
and station which are by most churches awarded to sing.
ing. Their scriptural confirmations of its propriety strong-
ly fortify them in the practice, though they admit, that
what was originally an involuntary emotion is now repeated
as a voluntary duty.
The clearest book they have published is entitled " A
Summary View of the Millennial Church, or United Society
of Believers, (commonly called Shakers,) comprising the
rise, progress, and practical order of the Society ;” printed
at Albany in 1823. This work, in the first place, reveals
their legitimate title; and secondly, narrates the origin and
progress of the Society under the auspices of Ann Lee,
who was born at Manchester in England in the year 1736,
arrived in America in 1774, and collected the first family in
1787, at New Lebanon, near Albany, in the State of New-
York. Notwithstanding the difficult passage they had to
steer during the revolutionary war, so as to avoid the charge
of partisanship, and subsequently the still more limitary
effect of their doctrine and lives, the number of believers
in all the States of the Union is considered now to be over
six thousand.


1843.]
A Day with the Shakers.
169
Their theological system is strictly scriptural. At the
same time they are not mere verbalists. They say that
“ nothing but the real and abiding presence of Christ, by
the indwelling of his spirit, ever did, or ever could save one
soul. Such as reject Christ, and take their own wisdom
for their guide, never were, nor ever can be saved. And
in no better situation are they who profess faith in an ab-
sent Saviour, who believe that Christ was once upon earth,
but is now departed to some remote and unknown heaven,
where it is impossible for the weak capacities of mortals to
reach him." They look upon Ann Lee as the female
principle or supplementary nature to Jesus Christ, who was
the male complement, and that she initiated the second ad.
vent, of which this church exhibits the progress.
As Christ did not marry, neither will true believers who
really “ take up the cross and follow him." The number
of scripture texts in favor of a celibate life, quoted in this
book, is much greater, as well as much more decisive than
ordinary readers suppose ; and we do not hesitate to say,
they have strong authority on their side. At the same
time, there is nothing gloomy in their general doctrines, nor
monkish in their tone of mind. They have not yet ban-
ished all the lusts of the table, though these are evidently
the excitements to other lusts which they find it to be their
principal cross to restrain. They still believe in the per-
petual battle against this desire, and scarcely contemplate
a life on earth which shall be above this temptation in the
same degree as the really sober man is superior to the
allurements of the glass. Though they do say (p. 99)
“ The doctrine of christian sinners, or the idea of chris-
tians living in sin, so strenuously advocated by many, is
utterly inconsistent with every attribute of God. All doc-
trines, which imply that real christians cannot live without
sin, are inconsistent with the attributes of power and good-
ness, and indeed with every divine attribute. "Whosoever
abideth in him, sinneth not; whosoever sinneth, hath not
seen him, nor known him.""
In this book all the leading theological doctrines are ably
discussed on scriptural and rational grounds. They esteem
the Adamic fall to consist in a yielding to sexual tempta-
tion. “The temptation was first addressed to the mind :
· Ye shall be as Gods ;' and thence applied to the animal
VOL. IV. — NO. II.
22


170
A Day with the Shakers.
(Oct.
propensities, which were inferior to the rational powers.
The faculties of the soul, being superior to those of the
body, ought to have had the government. But when the
man's animal sensations were addressed, and excited by
the temptation, though he possessed a governing power in
the faculties of his soul; yet he gave up that power, and
gave loose to his animal desires, and under their excitement
yielded to the temptation. This occasioned his fall; and
hence the loss which ensued.” p. 107. A doctrine which
coincides with that held by most of the ancient philoso-
phers, as narrated by Jamblichus in his work on the Mys-
teries. p. 250. “There is a time when we become wholly
soul, are out of the body, and sublimely revolve on high,
in conjunction with all the immaterial Gods. And there is
also a time when we are bound in the testaceous body,
are detained by matter, and are of a corporeal-formed na-
ture. Again, therefore, there will be a twofold mode of
worship. For one mode, indeed, will be simple, incorpore-
al, and pure from all generation; and this mode pertains to
undefiled souls. But the other is filled with bodies, and
everything of a material nature, and is adapted to souls
which are neither pure nor liber