DISCOURSE


                 •N THE


  FIRST CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION

                 OF THE


BIRTH-DAY OF WASHINGTON,


          DELIVERED BY REQUEST,




         On the 22nd of February, 1832.
               /
BY CHARLES CALDWELL, M. D»




    LEXINGTON, KENTUCKY:
Printed by N. L. Finnell & J. F. Herndoj?.
           1832, 
                                    February 25th, 188B.
Dear Sir,
    It is with the most sincere gratification that we discharge the duty
imposed upon us, as a Committee, of communicating to you the  fol-
lowing resolution of the Lyceum.
  "Resolved, That the thanks of this Lyceum be tendered to Pro-
fessor Caldwell, for the able and eloquent address, delivered by him
on the 22nd inst. in compliance with an invitation, first given by the
Lyceum; and that a committee be appointed to request a copy of the
same for publication in pamphlet form.'1
  Adding our personal solicitation, to that of the Lyceum,  on this
subject,  we remain
                        Your friends,
                                        B.  O. PEERS,
                                        L.  P. YANDELL,
                                        EDWIN BRYANT
  To Professor Caldwell..
To Messrs. Peers, Yandell, and Bryant :
       Gentlemen—In reply to your polite note, of the 25th, en-
closing a Resolution of the Lexington Branch of the National Lyceum,
permit me to say, that I take great pleasure in placing at the disposal
of that Institution, the Address I had the honour to deliver, on the
22nd instant.
   For yourselves, accept my cordial thanks, for the friendliness and
courtesy of your manner, in discharging your duty as a Committee.
   I shall only further express my desire, that  the members of the
Lyceum will consider the Address of the 22nd as inscribed to them
as a mark of respect, by their and your
                 Friend and Fellow Member,
                                         C«. CALDWELL
   February 27th? 1832. 
                                  Lexington, March 9, 1832,
Dr. Ch. Caldwell,
    Dear Sir—At a meeting of the Board of Councilmen for the City
of Lexington, the enclosed Resolutions were unanimously adopted.
  It affords me pleasure to be the organ of communicating to you the
wishes of the Board, that your Oration should be presented to the pub-
lic in pamphlet form.
  Allow me to say, that it occasioned me infinite pride and satisfaction
to listen to your Address, which was enriched with profound learning,
and the brilliancy of eloquence.
                 Very respectfully,
                    Your most obedient servant,
                                      CHARLTON HUNT.

  At a meeting of the Mayor and Board of Councilmen of the City
of Lexington, March 1st,  1832,
  Resolved, That the Mayor be authorised to make application to
Charles Caldwell, M. D. for his eloquent Oration, delivered at the re-
quest of the City Council, on the Centennial Anniversary of the birth
of George Washington, for publication.
  Resolved, That the Mayor cause 250 copies of the said Oration to
be printed in pamphlet form.
           A Copy—Att.     H. I. BODLEY, Clerk of the City.


To Charlton Hunt, Esq. Mayor of the City of Lexington:
    Dear Sir—It is gratifying to me to comply with the wishes of the
Board of Councilmen of the City of Lexington, as expressed in their
Resolutions, communicated to me this morning, respecting the Dis-
course  I had the  honour to deliver, at their request,  conjointly with
that of the Lyceum, on the 22d instant.
  For the courteous and flattering terms, in which you were pleased
to make the communication, I ask your acceptance of my acknowl-
edgements, accompanied by an assurance of the high respect,
           With which I have the honour to be,
                    Dear sir, your obedient servant,
                                         CH. CALDWELL.
  Mmrch 9th, 1832 
                          AN ODE
Composed for the first Centennial Celebration of the  Birth-day of
                       WASHINGTON.
                   By Josiah  Dunham, Esq.

           Hail, the bright, the radiant morning;
             'Tis our Hero's natal day!
           Join each heart, and voice, and viol,
             Loudly chant the solemn lay!
               Washington! thou sainted Hero!
               'Tis thy glorious natal day.

           Go,—said Heaven; let man no longer
             Fear  the lash, nor kiss the rod;
           Seek a clime beyond the ocean,
             Where rio tyrant's foot has trod.
               There, thou Pilgrim, Freedom waits thee;
               Go! and fear no tyrant's nod.

           Storms nor tempests fright the Pilgrim;—
             See him dare the mountain wave!
           Lo! he gains the destined haven—
             Freedom's home, or Freedom's grave.
               See him plant the holy standard,—
               Freedom's standard;—let it wave!

           Freemen! Tyrants still pursue  you!
             Foes are thundering on your strand!
           Rise—and  meet the storm of battle;
             Rouse, ye daring, patriot band!—
               Heaven has deigned a chosen leader—
                Hail the leader of your band!

           Loudly  roars the furious onset;
              Soon  the vanquished foeman flies;—
           See the Victor calmly  smiling,
              Like  yon rainbow in the skies;
               Peaceful smiling, like the rainbow
                Beaming mercy from the skies.

           Sainted spirit! drop thy mantle,—
              'Tis an empire's jubilee;
           While the ocean wave is rolling,
              Let us raise the song for thee.
                Annual raise the grateful paean,
                Sainted Washington, for thee! 
CENTENNIAL, DISCOURSE.
Fellow-Citizens :
       IT is recorded of an orator  of antiquity, that,
being chosen to address the people, on a subject too
weighty to  be  handled  by him, he appeared on the
rostrum, at the appointed hour, but maintained a fixed
and dejected silence.  When asked, by one in authority,
why he did not commence his discourse? he falteringly
replied, that the splendour of his theme had dazzled
him into blindness, and its unutterable magnitude strick-
en him dumb.
  I do not say that such  is, at present,  the case Avith
myself.  The assertion  would not  be  literally  true.
And, under  the heavy responsibility devolved on me,
I am too much  in  earnest, and too solicitous of accu-
racy, to deal in  hyperbole.  Nor is this all.  There
are before me so many great and shining realities, pre-
senting each a claim to my attention,  that nothing could
justify me, in resorting to fiction.  A statement of sim-
ple facts is all that becomes me, and all that is necessary
to my immediate purpose.
   I  do say, then, not in the guise of affected  modesty,
to propitiate favour, nor as a device in rhetoric, to elicit
applause  by magnifying my labours; but, in the spirit
of truth, and with the approbation of my conscience—-
under these sanctions, I declare, that the duty assigned
me, in the exercises of this day, is far beyond the reach
of my ability.   To climb its height, compass its magni-
tude,  and adapt my performance of it to its boundless
variety, I find to be impossible.   Nor do I deem myself
solitary in this  incapacity. Far from it.  The task is
beyond the ability of any man. The individual who
 could duly accomplish it, under the regulations, to which
 I must conform,  has not yet beheld the light.  Nor is 
6
there ground to  hope  that he ever will.  Limited  in
time and space,as I am; called on to embody and  ex-
hibit, in a discourse of an hour, or even of many hours,
matter sufficient  to fill  decades of volumes of history.
philosophy, and poetry, much  of it rising to epic  gran-
deur; and which would  occupy years  of  labour and
research, in collecting and preparing it—thus restricted
in scope, and trammelled in action, awed by the vastness
of his subject,  and oppressed by its weight, the master
<renius of the age, if any such there be, would be  want-
ing in the effort,  as certainly as 1 shall.   Worse still;
he could scarcely fail to sink, in his performance, tar
below  his usual level.  The  swan  is lofty  m its flight,
and m'elodious in its notes, only when it is joyous  and
free; and, if his spirit be broken, or his wings hamper-
ed, the bird  of Jove is  unfitted  to soar.  But I must
have done with introductory matter, and proceed to the
immediate object of the occasion.
  We are assembled to  unite, in sentiment, with mil-
lions of our fellow-citizens, in a festive act,  which the
nation honors,  and all enlightened freemen will learn to
revere.   We are pledged to perform our part, however
humble, with  suitable  feelings, and  in  such fitness  of
style and manner as we can attain,  in the great Jubilee
of the first Centennial Anniversary* of the Birth-day of
Washington.  In its own nature, as well as from the
object of it, the  festival  is  peculiarly interesting, and
calculated  to recommend itself to  our choicest affec-
tions.   But there is a  consideration connected with it,
which should doubly endear it to us, and enhance, in an
equal  degree, our devotedness in observing it.  None
of us can hope  to join in it  again.  Long  before our
country shall be  summoned to another observance of it,

  * Exception is taken by some (I think hypercritical!}) to the phrase
" Centennial Anniversary."  Il is to be recollected that, by the usage
of standard writers,  the term "anniversary" is made to signify the
act of celebrating an annual festival, as well as the festival itself.
On this ground, therefore, the expression is correct. 
7
•we shall be insensible to the spirit-stirring scene.   The
mandate of "Dust to dust" shall have been executed on
us; and, of all our own doings, which so anxiously oc-
cupy us, or of all that the partial hand of friendship, or
the fond one of love shall have done for us, not a rem-
nant may survive to tell that  we have existed.   Even
the record of the part we are  acting in the rites of this
day, memorable as it is, may be  erased and forgotten.
Time may have effaced it, neglect may have suffered it
to fall to decay, or accident or violence may have com-
mitted it to the flames, or scattered it to the wind.   But
the assurance to this effect, I say, instead of dishearten-
ing, should cheer and animate us, in the present cele-
bration.   As we shall partake  of the festival  but  once,
let us do it in a spirit of gladness and gratulation, worthy
of the boon, for which  it is  instituted.  While we do
homage to  the  occasion, with sentiments of gratitude
and veneration, it is our duty to enliven it with libations
of joy.  Nor is there wanting another reason, why we.
as inhabitants of Lexington,  should peculiarly rejoice
in it.   Our city was named,  by its intrepid founders, in
honour of the place stained and consecrated by the first
blood of our revolutionary struggle, which Washington
conducted to its triumphant issue.
  On  contemplating the subject, it  will immediately
appear to you, that, in  the service of  this  day, we are
called  on, not merely to commemorate the life and ac-
tions of one of the best and most illustrious of men—of
Hm, who was pronounced, and justly  so, by a compat-
riot and fellow-soldier, who knew him  well, to be " First
in war, first in peace, and first  in the hearts of his fellow
citizens."   A task like that, though confessedly arduous,
might be performed  in  a manner to meet expectation,
and escape censure.  But, a much higher and weightier
one devolves on us, as participants in  this great festival
of the nation.  We  are to celebrate  an epoch of sur-
passing moment—an aggregate, into which most that
enters belongs to the sublime—a portion of time^great 
8
in the events, rich  in the improvements, and radiant in
\he glory of an entire century!   And of such a century,
as is not to be judged of by any other delineated in his-
tory.  In  splendour and magnificence, all that belongs
to substantial usefulness, and all that contributes to the
elevation and happiness of man,  it is insulated  and
alone.  No single one  of the preceding centuries, nor
any five of them united, can compare with it in the
grandeur of its march, or the importance of its results.
Each and all of them, when contrasted with it, sink and
grow dim, in a degree  I  am  unwilling to attempt to
express, lest I subject myself to the charge of extrava-
gance.  Feeling  myself however supported in  the fol-
lowing statement, by all the authentic records that bear
on it, I offer it entire, although it is, in part, a repetition
of what has been already alledged.
   In all that pertains to the  developement of mind, the
diffusion of knowledge, the display  of public spirit, and
the  cultivation  and  exercise  of practical virtue; in
whatever  relates  to wisdom  of design,  benevolence,
magnanimity, and rectitude of intention,  grandeur of
achievement, and  felicity  of result; in every thing that
ministers  to human  refinement in  manners and taste,
to individual and domestic comfort and elegance, to the
elevation of man in the scale of existence, and the gen-
eral amelioration  of his condition, as a moral, intellec-
tual, and social being; as relates to these points, and all
else subservient to the  improvement and happiness of
our race, the term of years, beginning on the 22nd of
February, 1732, and ending on the present day, has no
parallel in the annals  of the world.  When compared
with it, all preceding  periods, of equal duration, serve
but as diminutives to swell its dimensions, or as shades
in the picture to heighten its lustre.
   Such, in the aggregate, is  what I  shall call, by way of
distinction,  The Century  of Washington;  and the
supremacy, as a member of  the human family, of Him.
whose name it bears, is fairly deducible from  it.  He 
9
vvas indisputably the Man of the era; the individual,
who, taken in all  his attributes, was the greatest, the
most efficient  and the best; who had fewer faults, and
higher virtues; and who, by his opinions, deeds, and
example, did more to amend the condition of his race,
than any of his contemporaries.  However extravagant
this representation may be deemed by some, or unfound-
ed perhaps by others, it is notwithstanding true, as might
be clearly made appear, were there time to dwell on it.
The facts which might be adduced to substantiate it,
are sufficient praise of  Him, who is the subject of it.
Besides  having identified  him, in  the  minds of the
American people, with all that is estimable and great in
human nature,  they  have embalmed him in his own
virtues, and enshrined him in his glory.   To perpetuate
his fame, and prevent the breath of detraction from sul-
Jying it, the facts themselves, as a body of testimony to
future  ages, are placed alike beyond  the influence of
dispute and forgetfulness.  Faithful History has already
recorded them; the sentiments of liberated nations have
endorsed the record; Freedom  has  attested it;  and
Time  will put his seal to it, and render it imperishable.
   In this tribute to the  Father  of his country, it is my
wish to be  liberal and discriminating, as well as correct.
Applause is substantial and lasting, only when tempered
with justice and truth.  It is therefore  that I make the
following admissions.
   Many individuals may have surpassed Washington
in extent of knowledge, depth of wisdom, and brilliancy
of  genius.   Chieftains superior to him in war may have
led armies to victory.  Statesmen of greater attainment
and sagacity, and of more vigorous intellects and a wi-
der reach of mind, may have figured in the councils and
cabinets of nations.   Patriots of equal purity may have
devoted their lives to the service of their country;  and
some men may  have exhibited a moral, and  social ex-
ample as free from blemish.  But, in no one known to
fame have all these elements been at once so abundantly 
10
and happily blended.  In no one has the aggregate been
so great, and the balance  so complete.  And the per-
sonal form and majesty of their possessor were fit con-
comitants of such a  rare  combination of mental  attri-
butes.  Hence, if it is not now, it will be received here-
after, as a conceded truth, that, as a monument of moral
sublimity, individual grandeur, and unsullied worth, the
Leader of our revolution, and the Chief Founder of our
present government, is without a rival.*   The catalogue
of human greatness, extending through modern and an-
cient times, contains  no other name so elevated and
spotless.  The history of his life and actions, connected
with their consequences, abounds in matter confirmatory
of this.
  But  I have  dealt sufficiently in abstract views, and
general assertions.   My duty requires that I should now
sustain them, by a reference to facts.  That I shall en-
deavour to do, by a brief analysis of my subject.  I mean,
by a hasty sketch of some of the leading events and
productions of the Century of Washington, which give
it the pre-eminence I have alledged it possesses.  Those
events  consist  in the  discoveries, inventions, and im-
provements, in the sciences and arts, as well as in the
mode of regulating  the concerns of social  and political
life, made within the period, to  which I refer.  They
all contribute, although  unequally, and more or less di-
rectly,  to  human  happiness; the only consideration
which renders them valuable.  It  may  be added, that
they  have given to   the age, to  which  they belong, a

  * The wife of a foreign Minister, a woman of a masculine and cul-
tivated mind, who, from having accompanied her husband, in the char-
acter  of embassador, to some of the most distinguished Courts of
Europe, was no stranger  to royalty, and other forms of elevated rank,
and factitious greatness, stated to the writer of this note, that Wash-
ington was the only personage she had ever seen, in  whose presence
she could not feel at ease.  She  added, that, notwithstanding  his
courtesy a;:d affability, there was an augustness and personal majesty
about him, which overawed her, and disqualified her for conversation,
Yet her colloquial powers were fine. 
                         11

character of practical  usefulness, far surpassing that of
any preceding one.
  In  proof of the superior greatness and lustre of the
Century of Washington, I am justified in stating, that
it includes within its limits, the actual  commencement
of almost all the sciences.  In this assertion, which, at
the first view of it, may perhaps be questioned, it is my
desire to be correctly understood.  My meaning is, that
most  branches of human knowledge, whose  facts are so
classed, and their principles so developed, that they now
fall strictly under the  denomination of sciences, have
undergone the changes necessary to mould them into
that shape, since the 22nd of February,  1732.  Previ-
ously to that period, if they existed at all, it was as a chaos
of individualities, along whose dark and troubled surface
no spirit of light and order had moved.   Of all we now
denominate Natural sciences, this  is true.   Not one of
them had a formal existence a century ago.  If we ex-
cept  Mechanical Philosophy, and Mathematics in its
various branches of astronomy, navigation, geometry,
and the rest, the world was  then without a  science.
Should that  term be  claimed for  what  was known of
philology, logic, and rhetoric, I shall not pause to con-
test  the question, but shall  dismiss it  with  a single
remark.  Whether those branches were sciences or not,
the manner in which they  were treated and taught,
contributed but little to enlighten  the human  mind, or
improve the condition of civil society.
   Much  indeed  had  been written,  and many impas-
sioned controversies held,about morals and metaphysics.
But, those branches were not erected into sciences.  No
sound and  stable principles in  them had yet  been de-
veloped.   The productions of moralists and metaphysi-
cians, more especially the latter, were but little  else than
the dreams of the closet or the cloister, and the dogmas
of the schools.  They were  not the offspring of obser-
vation and induction, the parents of all legitimate science.
Nature had never been fairly consulted respecting mat- 
12
ters  of  mind.   The  subject  indeed was  considered
beyond  the limits  of  nature;  and hence called meta-
physics.   Clouds and  mysticism therefore enveloped
it.  This, I venture to say, is true, although Aristotle.
Seneca, Leibnitz, Malebranche, Condillac, Des Cartes,
and others had lived and labored.  Even the metaphy-
sical writings of Locke, sagacious and profound as he
was, are marked  with vision, and  replete with error.
Their foundation is defective; and  hence their super-
structure is necessarily perishable.
  I have admitted that certain branches of mathematics
existed as sciences, when Washington was born.  But
most of them were comparatively inceptive and crude.
Their condition then, contrasted with their present con-
dition, was scarcely more than as infancy to manhood,
or the dawn of morning to noon-day splendour.
  True; Newton had lived, and astonished the world,
by his labours in astronomy.  But, could that great man
return to earth, possessed of the  knowledge he carried
with him to the  grave, he would be himself no less as-
tonished, at the discoveries and improvements, in his fa-
vourite science, which have been made, since his death.
by the labours of his successors.
  Let us fancy him reanimated, and seated in the ob-
servatory of Herschel, poring through the  grand tele-
scope of that sagacious  explorer of the heavens, and
mark the issue.  But I must pause,  until Newton him-
self shall have been taught, by its constructor,  how to
use  that wonderful instrument.  That being accom-
plished,  what  does  the  pupil first discover?   Four
planets, which had escaped his notice,  during his life-
time, sweeping along  their orbits, between Mars and
Jupiter.   Having contemplated these, he next observes
two satellites, equally new to him, moving in the distant
train of  Saturn.  He is then directed, by his instructor.
to throw his  eye far  beyond  the belted planet, and it
falls on Georgium Sidus, and its suit of moons.  Nor
is the  lesson yet terminated.  Instructed to launch, in 
13
vision, into the shoreless ocean of the Milky Way, and
other portions of siderial space, he is lost in amazement
at the celestial glories, that beam on his  eye from every
quarter.   Suns and their systems, in countless myriads,
for the first time emerge to his view, from the abyss of
infinity, presenting him with an actual pageant in  the
heavens, far surpassing, in splendour and magnificence,
all his fancy had previously conceived.  Mighty as had
been his imaginings  of creation, he finds they were
dwarfish,  compared  to  the reality.  To consummate
the whole; he learns, at length, that this array of beam-
ing worlds is  nothing but a retinue of inferior orbs, mo-
ving obediently around one primary central sun, which
claims their homage, and gives them their laws. And
that  sun he fancies to be fitted up, in suitable  grandeur
and glory, for the immediate dwelling of the God of the
universe.
   But Newton has not yet finished  his pupilage.   Let
us contemplate him again in the retirement of  his study,
where a  widely  different  scene presents itself.  The
writings of La Grande, La Lande, D' Alembert,  and
La Place are before him.   In them he finds works of
human genius, at whose  brilliancy and compass he is
scarcely less  astonished than he was at his recent sur-
vey of the heavens.   To  fathom the depth, and follow
out the details of some of the calculations of those great
astronomers, proves a labour  of such difficulty to him,
as he had never before encountered. Nor is it until af-
ter many trials, that he accomplishes his task.  But  suc-
cess  at length crowns his effort, and brings along  with
it an ample reward.   He is enraptured with the novelty
and deligh'tfulness of the result.  Where  he  had once
thought that  irregularity and some  confusion  prevailed,
in the movements of the celestial bodies, he  now finds
nothing but order and harmony.  He,  for the first time,
clearly perceives, what he had previously only imagined
or hoped, that the organization of the heavens is per-
 fect-that if  one influence produces disturbance in it, 
11
another rectifies it; that nothing is permitted to deviate
from its track, except in obedience to settled laws;  that
every where antagonizing powers support and regulate
each other, and co-operate  to the same end; that com-
ets  themselves are as subject to control, as the planets
and suns among which they stray; and that therefore,
in the disposition  and arrangement of the innumerable
orbs, which occupy immensity, and the complication of
whose movements would seem to be  infinite, such a
scheme of  checks and balances prevails, as to  erect the
whole into a mighty system, self-regulated, self-sustain-
ed, subject  to neither derangement nor decay, so com-
plete in all  its parts, and so sublime  and glorious in all
its attributes, as to be worthy of Him who called it into
being.   Such, I say, are some of the lessons, which even
Newton would have to learn, in his own science, were
he now to return to earth, before he would be up to the
present period, in the  march of knowledge.  It would
be easy to show, did circumstances permit me, that, on
many  other points, connected with his favourite stu-
dies, he would  be found  in an equal  degree  wanting.
His acquaintance with the solar spectrum was very de-
fective.  Of the rays  of the sun, the  colorific alone
were known to him.   Of the very existence of the ca-
lorific and  deoxidizing, much less of their properties,
he had no  suspicion.   Nor, while he  would  acknow-
ledge the valuable contributions to the science,  by Hers-
chel, Piazzi, Olbers, and  Harding, in  their discoveries
of additional suns and planets, would he fail to adjudge
the palm to La Place, for his unprecedented calculations
of the  movements and laws of the material  universe.
The " Traite de Mecanique Celeste," of the  latter as-
tronomer, he would lay by the side of his own  "Princi-
pia," and pronounce it one of the most gigantic produc-
tions of the human mind.  So great have been the dis-
coveries and improvements  in astronomy, and its collat-
eral branches, within the period I am reviewing.
  Nor has  scientific and practical navigation been less 
15
 strikingly advanced,  within  the  same term of years.
 This truth is so palpable, that to dwell on it would be
 superfluous.  The  simple statement of it is sufficient,
 for all who are observers of current events.   The  arri-
 val of every  ship in our seaports is proof of it.  Long
 since the  middle of the eighteenth century, a voyage
 across the Atlantic was  deemed a  serious and perilous
 undertaking.   And to pass Cape Home, or the Cape of
 Good Hope, was considered almost tantamount to a pas-
 sage to the grave.   The  length of time moreover  con-
 sumed, in the accomplishment of those enterprises, was
 comparatively great.  But that condition of things ex-
 ists no longer.  Improved navigation has entirely dis-
 pelled it, and introduced a new and much more desira-
 ble one.   The voyages  referred  to are now performed
 with such ease and safety, and in  periods  so reduced,
 that none of them are  dreaded; and some of them are
 resorted to, as excursions of pleasure.  This change is
 attributable to various causes.  The chief of them arc,
 improvements in naval  architecture and practical sea«
 manship, the invention of chronometers, multiplied and
 improved modes of taking celestial observations subser-
 vient  to navigation,  and  a more accurate knowledge of
 winds and currents.
   Much was known,  a  hundred years ago, of the  land
 and water of  the globe we inhabit.   But Geography, as
 a science, had no existence.   Physical Geography had
 not even received a name.  It can scarcely be said that
 the earth was definitively proved  to be a sphere.    Cer-
 tainly no voyager had yet passed around  it; the enter-
prise which settled  the question  of its figure.   Other
facts had rendered its sphericity a matter of belief,  with
all enlightened men; that proved it.  Circumnavigation4,
the most gigantic,  and one of the most important ge-
ographical achievements, belongs then to the Century of
 Washington.   So do  the discovery and exploration of
the greatest part of  the continent of Oceanica, which is
now, to the student of Nature, one of the most interest- 
10
ing portions of the world.  Nor is it unimportant to hint,
whose business is commerce, and his object gain.  Even
governments have found it worthy of their attention, on
various grounds of national policy.
   Although the continent  of America  had been long
discovered,  yet little was known of it, in 1732, except
along its  maritime  borders, and  in  the vicinity of its
principal rivers.   Its great  interior  was wholly unex-
plored, save by the roving sons of the forest.  And they
passed through it, not to study its character, as philoso-
phers, develope its resources, cover it with the product
of skilful cultivation, and  connect it, by industry and
enlightened enterprise,  with other lands.   Their am-
bition was, to  preserve  it as hunting-ground, make its
waters tributary  to their pastime  and sustenance, and
stain its  soil with the blood of their foes.  But, within
the period already specified, the entire continent, in  all
its divisions, from  the extreme north to the heights of
Cape Home, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean,
has been trodden by the foot of civilized man; its native
wealth, with its susceptibilities of cultivation and  popu-
lation has been examined; it has been formally added to
the  community  of nations, and  the  knowledge  of  it
makes a part of scientific Geography.
   To the continent of  Africa similar remarks may be
partially applied.  That extensive  and interesting quar-
ter of the globe has not been neglected.  Though still
too deeply hidden from  cultivated travellers, it is  much
better known, than it was at the commencement of the
era I am considering.   Within the same term of  years,
several voyages of discovery, directed  to the seas and
lands of the north, have added not a little  to the  stores
of geography.
   Nor must! omit what has been done in the continent
of Asia, the first inhabited portion of the earth.  Even
there, the spirit  of discovery has been  active and effi-
cient, within the century, whose  events I am reciting.
Many of its great rivers and plains, previously unknown 
It
have been successfully examined, and the Himmalayan
mountains, not more extraordinary from their  height,
than singular on account of other qualities, have been
measured and explored.
  As sciences, or branches of the same science, Miner-
alogy and Geology  are  of recent  origin.   Even fifty
years ago, they were so incipient, as to be scarcely spo-
ken of.   Yet now, they constitute the delight of many
of the most cultivated votaries of nature, and  minister
abundantly to the  resources of nations.  The mineral
wealth of the world is much developed and augmented by
the improvements they have introduced in mining; and
they have greatly extended the boundaries of know*
ledge.   They have already thrown no little light on the
philosophy of earthquakes and volcanoes,  more  espe-
cially the latter, and are doubtless  destined to throw
yet much more.   They have also facilitated and impro-
ved, in  a high degree, the operations of cutting canals
and constructing roads, and other works of convenience
and usefulness.   Nor is this all.   To them alone are
we indebted for all that is rational in our present theory
of the earth, including its structure, primitive condition,
former  productiveness, the changes it has  undergone.
the corresponding succession  of its inhabitants both
vegetable and animal, and its probable term of past du-
ration.   As relates to several of these points, more infor-
mation  has been  communicated, and more prejudices
removed, by that division of the science, which  treats of
Fossil Remains, than by all other sources of knowledge.
It has done  much therefore to disenthral  the human
mind, and restore to it its  long lost freedom of action.
Hence, it is equally useful to man, and honorable to the
century  that has given it birth.
  To Botany, whether classical, physiological, or pro-
fessional, and to Natural History, in all its departments.
similar remarks may be  applied.  A century ago, they
were in  a chaotic condition.  No master geniuses had
vet reduced them to  order,  and erected them into scien- 
18
ces.  Botanical gardens,  and Zoological cabinets had
scarcely an existence.   Certainly they were in a very
crude and humble state.   For all philosophical and
practical purposes, therefore,  those of them, which did
exist, were little else than names.   To form them, and
enrich them with rare and valuable articles, neither the
various climates and countries of the globe, on land,
nor the waters of  their seas, lakes, and rivers had yet
been explored. Nor were labours and enterprises, to
that effect, in  high  estimation.   The cause is  plain.
The minds of educated men, more intent on learning
than science,  had  not  been turned to pursuits,  whose
pleasures were unknown, and their importance misun-
derstood.   But Buffbn, Linnaeus, Banks, De Candolle,
Mirbel, Cuvier, and others appeared, and a new era ac-
companied them.   The beauties and  riches of the ani-
mal and vegetable  kingdoms were no  longer neglected.
Plains, forests, and mountains, the atmosphere and  the
ocean—all  places where living nature was  found, pre-
sented attractions,  unknown before, to the awakened
spirit  of Botany and  Natural History.  While  some
lovers of those branches of knowledge examined their
own countries, others pushed their researches into re-
mote ones,  until the native productions of every quarter
of the globe were discovered and collected.   Every  ac-
cessible spot was laid under contribution, and made to
surrender up a portion of its stores to some enterprising
and fortunate  adventurer.   Hence arose the splendid
museums, and magnificent  gardens  and  menageries,
which are now such abundant sources of instruction and
amusement to visiters; and which constitute the pride
and delight, not alone of scientific men, but of cities and
communities.  And Botany and Natural  History  arc
now sciences,  as useful as they are attractive, and add
to the lustre of the  era that produced them.
  In what terms shall  I speak of the great revolution
that has occurred in Chemistry?  The subject might
give interest and importance to volumes, while I must 
HI
despatch it in two or three paragraphs.  The aspects it
presents to  the enlightened  inquirer  are as numerous,
as they are important.   Few topics are so rich in matter
illustrative of the character of man, his toils and visions,
and his progress in attainment.   When we survey that
science (but no science then) through the retrospect of
a century, we find  it in the  same crude and shapeless
condition, with  other  branches of human knowledge.
It had not yet escaped from the abuses of the alchymists.
Many of its  cultivators still indulged their dreams, either
really or pretended ly,  and indulging,  pursued them, of
the transmutation of metals,  and the composition or dis-
covery  of the elixir of life.   Thousands of interesting
experiments had  indeed been made, and many  impor-
tant results  obtained.  But  the entire proceeding pre-
sented little  else  than  a disjointed scheme of chance-
medley and  hypothesis.  No settled principles govern-
ing the  action and changes,  the combinations and reso-
lutions, of the elementary particles of matter, were yet
developed.  Nor were any of what are now called ele-
ments discovered.  Fire, air, earth, and water were still
permitted to usurp that name.   Genuine and practical
analysis, the only test of truth, was scarcely thought of,
much less performed.   Ciiemistry and charlatanry were
regarded as so nearly synonymous, that both terms were
often  used as marks of reproach.   Still, so peculiarly
curious and  attractive was it, and so highly useful were
many of the discoveries, to which it had led,  that no
branch  of knowledge was  more  zealously cultivated.
None  perhaps had votaries so enthusiastically ena-
moured of it.
  Such was the condition of chemistry, until after the
middle of the eighteenth century.  But a change at
length occurred in it, as sudden and unlooked for, as it
was useful and brilliant.  Attracted by the issue of se-
veral new and interesting experiments, some of the ablest
inquirers of the age turned their attention to it, and, by
further discoveries.- and their own talents for generali- 
20
nation, soon  gave it a title to the name of a sciencev
Nor was this all.   Not satisfied with a common victory
over ignorance and prejudice, nor with views into  the
secrets of nature that might be questioned, they raised
the favourite object of their study to the rank of an exact
science.  Even that  did  not fill  the  measure of their
ambition.  They  persevered in their labours, until they
threw around it  a splendour,  partly  emanating from
itself, and reflected in part from their own great names,
Which rendered it the philosophical idol of the day.   It
became for a time the most  popular and  engrossing
subject of inquiry, took an ascendency over all other
branches of science, and even usurped the place of some
of them.   Among the distinguished men, who thus con-
tributed  to its elevation,  Black, Cavendish, Scheele.
Priestley, and Lavoisier, stand pre-eminent.   They are
the fathers of chemistry, considered as a science.   Most
of them  lived and laboured within  the last fifty years;
and it is  far within that period, that the full importance
of their discoveries has  been made apparent in their
consequences.  The lights, which first issued from their
laboratories,  have been regularly increasing, and  are
increasing still, by the labours of hundreds, worthy to be
their successors.   To what degree  of brightness  this
blaze of  knowledge may attain, to what depth  it may
penetrate into the unexplored recesses of nature, or what
further disclosures it may make there, in fifty years more,
it were vain, if not presumptuous, to hazard  a  conjec-
ture.  It is enough to speak of present realities, without
prying into future  probabilities.   In  doing this, I am
justified in asserting, that, within  the period  so often al-
luded to, chemists have surpassed their predecessors, in
a degree almost incalculable, in the usefulness and splen-
dour of  their discoveries and improvements.   They
have contributed, therefore, their full share,  to the pre-
eminence,  scientific and  practical, of the Century of
Washington.
   Of Medicine it is as true as of chemistry, that, a bun- 
21
dred years ago, it was in a humble condition.  Although
reluctant to pronounce it, at that time, a scheme of hy-
pothesis and empiricism, I am more so to admit it to the
rank of a science.  True; it was, and had been, for
ages, a profession of extensive learning and great honour.
Many illustrious men had adorned it; and industry had
done much, in observing  diseases, and collecting facts.
But, that it was entirely destitute of sound principles, is
proved by every medical production of that date.  In
the knowledge of anatomy but little progress had been
made.   In that  of comparative and morbid anatomy,
none at all.   If Bonetus had written, no one appears to
have profited by  his  work.    Practically considered
therefore it was useless.  Physiology,  whether healthy
or diseased, had scarcely a name.   Certainly, as relates
to truth and usefulness, it had nothing more.  The er-
rors and corruptions of humoralism, and the mechanical
notions, which were no  less visionary, predominated
every where.   If Stahl had attacked them, he had not
overthrown them.   Such facts, respecting diseases,  as
had been collected  by observation, instead of being made
the foundation of theories,  and serving to control and
correct them, were forced to conform to them.   Hence,
every thing yielded to the conjectures of the closet, and
the dogmas of the schools.  The deference paid to what
the world called high authority, was servile in its spirit,
and retarded not  a little  the progress of knowledge.
Nor was  the profession free from the influence of super-
stition, even among those who were deemed  the most
enlightened.  Charms  and invocations were often re-
sorted to, in the  treatment of the sick.
   Such was  the condition of Medicine, until about the
year 1740, when a new era of improvement in it began
to open.   But, neither was its dawn  very bright, nor its
march  rapid.   Opinions,  however groundless or perni-
cious,  if fortified by prejudice and sanctioned by time,
cannot be subverted by the labours of a day.  Accord-
ingly, though  years rolled on, and many physicians  of 
22
eminence arose, and acquitted themselves ably in the
cause of truth, Medicine continued to be enveloped in
error.  Nor was it until about forty years ago, that the
profession became completely victorious in the contest,
and attained the rank of a distinguished science.   Were
there time to dwell on the subject, and were it expedient
in me to  do so, this truth might be easily proved; and
satisfactory causes for  the change could be assigned.
But a cursory reference to a  few  events, which have a
bearing on the subject, is all that is permitted me.
   The actual  career of medical  improvement, in the
course of which so much has been done, in the develope-
ment of the true philosophy of the profession, began in
1793, with the appearance of  pestilential diseases in the
West India islands, the United States, and  other parts
of the American continent.    The maladies,  to which I
refer, were so novel and formidable, that they awakened
unusual  attention, and created unprecedented  alarm.
It soon appeared that they  were  no  common foe, and
could not therefore be resisted by ordinary means. Their
progress  moreover was as rapid, as their attack was
violent.  In most cases, if they were  not speedily van-
quished,  they proved speedily fatal.   Under these cir-
cumstances, physicians felt compelled, as well  by con-
siderations  of duty  as of interest,  to inquire  more
accurately and practically into the nature of the diseases
they were  contending  with,  than they had ever done
before.   While thus engaged, they soon became con-
vinced, that, for the attainment of their end, the Book
of Nature was, at that  time, the only source  of informa-
tion, in which they could confide.   Written books were
of little avail.   In plain terms, they found  it necessary
to apply  themselves to the  examination of dead bodies,
to ascertain the seat and character of their  complaints,
and the cause of their death.  Thus  did inquiries into
morbid anatomy  begin to be pursued,  as  an essential
element  of professional  knowledge.   Previously they
had been regarded as  only incidental.   Nor have these 
23
inquiries been since suspended.   On the contrary, they
have been steadily persevered in, and greatly extended,
in every enlightened section of the globe.  And I fear-
lessly add, that, since the year 1793, they have thrown
on the profession  of medicine, more of the light of true
science, than it had ever received before, in the space
of any three centuries, that history points to.  Previously
to that period, as the history of the profession shows, the
views of physicians had been unstable,  because they
were unsound.  But now, they are as fixed,  on many
points, as the laws of nature.
  The French revolution, which was then in its com-
mencement, and which kindled up a war of five-and-
twenty years, involving the wounds, sickness, and death
of many millions of the human race, was another very
abundant source of improvement in Medicine and Sur-
gery.   The Great Leader in that war, himself a purely
practical man, banished from his presence all that was
theoretical.   Nor did he stop here.   He compelled eve-
ry one, who was in  any way connected with him, to be
also practical.  His friends  were obliged to be so, to
retain his confidence and favour;  and his enemies to
escape destruction.   This spirit  of practical  accuracy
soon pervaded the medical, no  less than the military
corps,  under his immediate  command.  From them it
spread to others,  in adjoining and even remote nations,
until all Christendom has  felt  its influence.   Thus,
through the operation of natural causes, has the world
been signally benefited, by two  of the most formidable
evils, pestilence and war.  The  issue is, that medicine
has not only attained the rank of a science, but has risen
to a degree of usefulness and splendour, worthy of the
century of which I am treating.   In proof of this, many
important facts might be specified.   The absorbent sys-
tem and its functions have been  brought to  light.  By
the aid of chemistry, great improvements have been
made in the form and efficacy of various medicinal arti-
cles, while a number of new and valuable ones have 
24
been discovered.  The erroneous belief in the contagious
nature of yellow and typhus fevers  is beaten  down.
That in the contagious nature of plague and oriental
cholera morbus, which is no less unfounded and perni-
cious, is fast declining.  Within the period alluded to,
small-pox-inoculation,  which  has preserved  so many
millions  of lives, if not actually introduced into Europe
and America, became popular and general; and vaccine-
inoculation was discovered.  Operations in surgery, ne-
ver before thought of, have been successfully performed,
and the treatment of madness, scrophula, and other for-
midable  complaints  has been greatly simplified  and
improved.   Finally; within the last hundred years, the
average duration of human life has been lengthened, in
various parts of Europe, and I doubt not in our own
country also, from thirty-five to forty per cent.   Some
calculations make the improvement still higher.
  It was during the Century of Washington that Frank-
lin  erected  Electricity into a  science,  taught the
world how to disarm the heavens of their lightning, and
guard against the thunder-stroke.   That  the experi-
ment, productive of the latter result, was one of the
boldest ever conceived, and led to one of the happiest
discoveries  ever made, needs no  proof.   The simple
statement of it establishes the fact.   An event, at once
so extraordinary and useful, is alone sufficient to immor-
talize, in history,  not only its author,  but the age  that
produced it.  Never was eulogy more highly merited,
than that so happily bestowed on the great American
sage and philosopher,  partly in relation to that event,
and partly for his services, in the cause of freedom.
       "Eripuit coslo fulmen, sceptrumque tyranno."
  Galvanism, with  its interest and  beauty, and all the
important experiments and their results,  which  it has
given rise to, is also  a discovery  of the  Century of
Washington. So is the art of Aerostation, with its bold-
ness and sublimity.   While the former discovery is, in 
25
no common degree, useful, as well as brilliant and attrac-
tive, the latter is marked with a grandeur almost super-
human.  For man to soar through the heavens, in calm
security, piercing the clouds and leaving them far below
him, and transcending even  the bourne of the eagle's
wing, is to surpass hope, and rise, in act, to the summit
of conception.
  A series of events, connected with each other, and
belonging to the period of time I am considering, is the
discovery of the power of Steam, and the invention and
construction of machinery for employing it.  So extra-
ordinary is the nature, and so astonishing the effects, of
this entire scheme of science and art, that it is difficult
to think or speak of it with  temperance.  Nor is it less
difficult to say, what is intemperate, when we are con-
sidering it.  The power it has given to man, and the fa-
cilities it has thus created for him, are beyond computa-
tion ; and the results he has already produced  by it, are
such as imagination had never conceived, until they were
brought  into existence.  That employment  of  it, in
which there is the most impressive display of grandeur
and magnificence,  is navigation, and transportation on
rail-roads.   Of the importance and sublimity of these
operations, it is scarcely possible to think extravagantly.
They transcend even fancy.   Time, and distance, and
weight are all but annihilated by them.   Labours, which
once consumed weeks and months, are now performed
in hours and  days.  This is  not the language of meta-
phor.   It is true to the letter.  Navigation on the Mis-
sissippi, and its tributary streams, and transportation be-
tween Liverpool and Manchester, prove it.
  But the usefulness of steam-power in the aggregate,
in the great work of human improvement, arises from
the innumerable purposes, to  which it is applied.  In
arts and manufactures generally it has done wonders.
In a single county of England, it has enabled the inhab-
itants to do the work of twenty  millions of human
beings, operating without the aid of machinery.  And 
26
©ne printing establishment, in London, issues, by means
of it,  every day,  an amount of letter-press,  which it
would require a million  of  clerks to transcribe.   The
statements to this effect, inserted in respectable Periodi-
cals of the  day,  have nothing of conjecture  in them.
They are the result of calculation.   In conclusion; the
attainment  of the control of steam,  and its application
to navigation, rail-road  conveyance,  and the various
other processes, in which it  is employed, have alone in-
creased the power of man, and multiplied his operative
facilities, far beyond the improvements of any other five
centuries that can be named.
  Under this head, reference might  be made to the im-
provements  of the present age, in the works of the
mechanician generally.  They are  striking and impor-
tant.  They not only save an amount of human labour,
which can scarcely be calculated, but add greatly to the
perfection and safety of mechanical processes, as well
as to the beauty and excellence of their products.   In-
deed the extent and diversity of improvement and in-
vention, in mechanics, constitute a prominent feature of
the times, and have contributed, in an eminent degree,
to the advancement of society, in the useful and elegant
arts of life.  Some of the automatous machinery of the
day is so curious, and so far surpasses that of former
times, as to be worthy of remembrance.
  Another memorable event of the period I am con-
sidering, is the  discovery  and establishment  of the
science of  Phrenology.   And, notwithstanding the
sneers  of uninformed rudeness and  spurious wit, the
clamorous invectives of prejudice and passion, the abuse
of vulgarity tinselled with learning and  the misrepre-
sentations of calumny, the angry assaults of schools and
the uncharitable denunciations of  bigotry-—notwith-
standing these, and all other forms of opposition, which
a spirit of hostility may devise and practise against it, I
avow my belief, not only in its truth, but that, as a dis-
covery, it is the most important that has ever been made. 
27
Neither that of gravitation, nor of the circulation of the
blood is comparable to it.  It is a discovery which must
necessarily become the parent of many others; because
it throws  light on  the fountain of all  discovery.  In
confirmation of my opinion, on this subject, I fearlessly
appeal to  time  and events. And they will confirm it,
as certainly as truth shall prevail  over error,  and great
events be deemed superior to small ones.
  Phrenology discloses to  man what  he is most vitally
interested in understanding, his own constitution, as an
intellectual, social^ and moral being.   It teaches him the
true knowledge of himself, and instructs him more fully
not only in the proper end of his being, but also how he
may most certainly attain it  It is as far superior, there-
fore, to all other branches of science, as the movements
of mind are superior to the common operations of mat-
ter.  It alone makes known the principles of sound ed-
ucation, which is destined to improve and elevate man
to the highest perfection, of which he is susceptible.
Had it nothing else  to recommend it,  that single con-
sideration  would demonstrate  its supremacy.  But its
recommendations are as  numerous as they are weighty.
It is the  only source of a correct knowledge of  the
philosophy and treatment of mental derangement.   Nor
is it less important in practical theology, legislation, ju-
risprudence, and every other human pursuit, where man
either officiates as an agent, or is  acted  on as a subject.
In other words, it is applicable  to the  entire business of
life, and is therefore, in its relations, the most extensive,
as well as the most  interesting and useful of sciences.
   One of the objections  urged against  Phrenology,
which has perhaps  operated more to its prejudice than
all  others, is, that its  tenets are unfriendly to morality
and religion.  This charge can have arisen  only from
an  entire  ignorance of it, or from a  reckless determina-
tion to make war  on it, at every hazard, and to employ
means in  assailing it, which truth and justice disavow.
The science is not unfriendly  to  either religion or mo- 
28
 rality.  When fairly interpreted, it is their faithful, and,
 permit me to add, their ablest advocate.   It pleads their
 cause in the  language of nature,  which  is never per-
 verted to purposes  of error.   It  shows  that they are
 both rooted in the human constitution; that they make
 a  part  of that constitution, as essential elements  of it;
 that they are not the products of mere art or training
 (although training improves  them); but,  that they are
 the result of the handy-work of the Divine Architect,
 in the formation of man.  Strike from man's constitu-
 tion his native sentiments of religion and  morality, and
 Phrenology pronounces that you mutilate him as  com-
 pletely, and much more injuriously, than you would  by
 depriving him of his leg or his arm.   In fine; the science
 shows, as one of its fundamental tenets, that a sentiment
 of religion makes a part of man, in consequence of the
 relation in which he  stands to the Deity; that it fits him
 for that relation; and that, without  it, he would be  an
 exception to the unbroken aptitude, which pervades cre-
 ation, constitutes much of its beauty, and testifies  to its
 wisdom.  And it further shows, that sentiments of mor-
 ality make another part of him, to fit him for his rela-
 tions  to  his fellow-men.  Phrenology therefore  is  as
 pure and important, as truth  and unlimited usefulness
 can render it.
   Education has been briefly referred to.  As the chief
 engine however in the work of  human improvement, it
is worthy of further notice.   Within the  last hundred
years, the modes  of conducting it have been greatly
amended.  It is  no  longer a mere technical process,
 every step of it taken in obedience to scholastic au-
 thority and antiquated usage.   The monkish rules es-
 tablished for its government,  in  the Dark Ages, or im-
 mediately after the revival of letters, have nearly disap-
 peared.   It  is beginning to  assume  the shape  of  a
science, and to be administered  on principles much bet-
 ter accommodated to the human mind, than those which
 governed it a century ago.  Nor is the manner of ad- 
29
ministering it less improved.  In common with other
branches of knowledge and art, it is fast conforming to
nature, and falling under the guidance of common sense.
Men of talents, both alone, and  connected with socie-
ties formed for the purpose, are industriously investiga-
ting it, on scientific principles.  They are analyzing the
human mind, and making an estimate of its powers and
susceptibilities,  that they may ascertain the best mode
of training and improving it.  Nor are they only ma-
king the true principles and best plans of education their
study.   Many of them are making the art of teaching
their business.  And they have chosen it, as the employ-
ment of their lives.  Their hopes  of  usefulness, repu-
tation, and subsistence rest on it.  They have therefore
every incentive and opportunity to attain excellence in
it, and bring it to perfection.   And they will do so.  Nor
is it possible for them to have selected a more important
and honorable  pursuit; a truth which  the public are
learning to recognise.  Men thus engaged have already
done much for  the  improvement  of  their profession;
and, by the increase of their numbers, their daily ac-
quisitions in the  knowledge of principles  and matured
experience, and their perseverance in their labours, they
will yet do much more.  In fine; the improvements re-
cently made, and still making in schemes of education,
with the awakened spirit of reform accompanying them,
are some of the most promising occurrences of the age.
Their true value posterity alone will be able to compute.
But it will certainly  be  great.   The preservation of
sound government, with its innumerable blessings, can
be effected only by the diffusion of knowledge and vir-
tue among the  people.  And of these, well directed
education is the genuine source.
   Political Economy is another star in the scientific
galaxy of the Century of Washington.  It was not un-
til the middle of that period, or perhaps later, that it can
be said to have attained the  rank of a science.   Pre-
viously  to that  date, it was  but a mass of unassorted
                          E 
30
facts and crude opinions.   Its principles were not yet
developed; and nations  had of course been  but little
benefited by it.  But it is now so far matured  and
systematized, as to constitute one of the most important
branches of human knowledge.  When skilfully em-
ployed, it is a main source of the prosperity of States.
  Within the term of time  I am reviewing, Agricul-
ture and Horticulture have  been greatly improved.
Although I feel scarcely  authorized to say, that they are
yet advanced to the  state of a science, they are much
nearer it than they were a hundred years ago.  Scien-
tific principles are, in many respects,  applied  to them;
and the  increase and amelioration of  their products,
with many able and interesting publications on them,
furnish ample testimony of their advanced condition.
  Of Commerce and Manufactures the same is  true.
Their improvement, within a century, as well in relation
to the principles on which they are founded  and  con-
ducted,  as in extent,  quality, and  taste, has kept  pace
with that of other branches  of human  industry  and
knowledge.  Records entitled to  credit might be ad-
duced to show, that they have increased in quantity per-
haps a hundred-fold.  And  they have augmented the
wealth, and  comforts, and  splendour of the world, if
not in a corresponding ratio, at least in a very striking
one.  The present beauty and elegance of various  sorts
of manufactured articles, might be themes for poetry.
Every thing in nature,  that is delightful to the eye, is
successfully imitated by them.   Commerce moreover,
by opening and maintaining a ready and constant inter-
course between the remotest people, as well as between
those more contiguous  to  each other, has contributed
greatly to the benefit of our race, by rendering stranger
nations known to one another, and hostile ones friendly,
and thus advancing civilization, liberalizing the human
mind, adding to its stores  of knowledge, and, in some
measure, converting the entire family of man  into  one
great society.  A further advantage resulting from it is, 
31
that it surpasses all  other civil pursuits, in giving hardi*
hood and enterprise to those who are concerned in it.
Nor is this all.  The fleets  of merchantmen, that tra-
verse the ocean, and whiten every sea and harbour with
their sails, constitute a striking feature in the grandeur
of the times, and thus, on well known principles, tend to
elevate  human thought, and improve human feeling.
It is when  man associates with grovelling objects, that
he is most prone to  grovel himself  By the converse of
this, every thing of  elevation and  magnificence has an
ameliorating influence.
  But I  must proceed no further in detail.  Time for-
bids it.   Yet many important points of improvement re-
main unnoticed.  To a few of them I shall briefly refer.
  Appalling as its operations still are, the aspect of war
is less repulsive,  and its general character is greatly
amended.  There is in it much less of savage ferocity,
than there was a  century  ago.   The warrior has ex-
changed his thirst of  blood, for an honorable ambition
of victory.   And when he conquers, he generously for-
gets the foe in the  captive.  War moreover has much
more of science in  it, than it had formerly.  To be a
great and accomplished Leader, is  now to be a highly
cultivated man.   Besides, by far the most splendid mili-
tary and naval spectacles, that the world has witnessed,
were the product of  the century I am considering.   And,
as already observed, all that is grand has an elevating
influence on the human character, and tends, by a law
of nature, to assimilate it to itself.
   One of the  late achievements of war promises to lead
to very important results.  I allude to the conquest and
colonization of Algiers.  That event is the commence-
ment of the overthrow or reform of the powers of Bar-
bary.   Christendom will not much longer be drained of
her blood or her wealth, by their piracies, nor condemn-
ed  to the more degraded condition of being tributary to
them.   Unless their ferocious hordes become civilized,
they will be exterminated, or driven  from  the seacoast, 
32
and compelled to subsist  by some sort of industry, or
perish, in the interior.
   But this is not all.  The  conquest of Algiers is but
the first of a series  of  events, which is to produce a
revolution in the condition of Africa.  It cannot be in
the destiny of  things, that that continent is to remain for
ever a hidden and unproductive waste.  It will be here-
after fully explored, its resources will be brought to light,
and its plains cultivated, and  it will yet be the dwelling
place of civilized and powerful nations.  And to that
issue, in the  prospect of which philanthropy and science
rejoice,  the  conquest of Algiers will essentially  con-
tribute.   It constitutes therefore  an  important event in
the Century  of Washington.
   The suppression of the  slave-trade in part, and the
arrangements made  to suppress it altogether, and ulti-
mately to abolish slavery, are likewise events that ought
not to be forgotten, on the present occasion.  They tes-
tify to the advancement  of nations  in justice and hu-
manity, and constitute an element, not only pleasing, but
of great value, in the moral improvement of the age.
They should be doubly esteemed and  rejoiced in by
Americans,  because they  were first projected in our
own country.
   The  scheme of  African  colonization is another
event, that deserves  to be  cited.   Be its issue what it
may, that enterprise had its origin in  praiseworthy mo-
tives.   And similar ones continue to cherish it.  To say
nothing of its humanity, justice,  and salutary  policy,
there is a moral sublimity in it peculiarly impressive.
To convert the ignorance  and barbarism  of Central
Africa, which  had hung like a mildew  on  it  for ages,
and were  once deemed as immovable as its mountains,
into knowledge and civilization, with all their concomi-
tants of comfort and  elegance—to change its unproduc-
tive and frowning wilds  into fruitful  fields  and smiling
gardens—to erect towns and cities in its deep solitudes—
to make idleness in it yield to industry, and to substitute 
33
free  government  for  despotic rule—to attempt these
things, is a glorious  effort.  Success in it would  be a
victory over that which the world  has  thought invinci-
ble.  The military conquest of nations has nothing of
grandeur to bring into competition with it.  The very
conception of it tends to assimilate the human mind to
itself, and fit it, by fresh-inspired  vigour, boldness, and
enthusiasm, for the great enterprise.  Nor is  this all.
The project has something sacred in it.  It resembles
the restoration of the Jews to the olive-groves of Pales-
tine.  After ages of absence and  slavery, to return the
liberated African to the land of  his forefathers, where
he may visit their tombs, however  lowly,  moisten them
with his tears, and  ultimately mingle his ashes with
theirs—to attempt this, is a work of  affection, with a
tincture of romance in it, to  which all that is humane
and  magnanimous in our nature must wish success.
  Another project, lately originated, which has already
done not a little, and promises to do much more here-
after, for the benefit of man, is the institution of socie-
ties for the suppression of intemperance.  But it is to
be lamented that, as yet, its scope is too limited.   Hith-
erto its efforts have  been directed only against intem-
perance in drinking.   Intemperate eating  has been, in
no shape, assailed by it, but is passed  unnoticed as if it
were innocent.   Is it so?  Let half of the diseases of
our  own country, and of every country,  where abun-
dance  prevails, answer; and their reply will be negative.
Their  very existence gives  that reply; for they are the
offspring of intemperate eating.   True; the destructive
effects of intemperance in drinking, on the comparative-
ly few, who practise it, are more sudden and obvious.
The desolation, moral and intellectual, as well as cor-
poreal, which it produces, is deeper and more disgusting.
It is therefore more degrading, and of worse example.
But the greater frequency of intemperance in eating, es-
pecially among those who are not compelled to labour,
brings the aggregate of its mischief much nearer to an 
34
 equality with that of intemperance in drinking, than is
 generally imagined.   Could a thorough investigation of
 the subject be had, it would be found, that in the United
 States generally, and  among the wealthier classes of
 other countries, the number of intemperate eaters,  in-
 cluding  those of each sex, and every age, surpasses
 that of intemperate drinkers, in the proportion of more
 than a hundred to  one.  Intemperate eating, with its
 train of evils, is rarely noticed; intemperate  drinking al-
 ways is.   Hence, the former is the more insidious enemy
 of the two.
  While our Knights of the Water-Cup, then, are tilting
 so valiantly, and I rejoice to say, so sucessfully, and
 levying such a crusade against brandy, gin, and whis-
 key, they will  lay society under additional  obligations,
 of no less weight, by condescending to break an occa-
 sional  lance, with Cayenne,  pepper, horseradish, and
 mustard, and their  more  substantial  associates.  Nor
 should they forget, that, in the business of reform, exam-
 ple is preferable to precept.
  The establishment of Bible, Tract, Missionary, and
Peace Societies, belongs also to the century I am  re-
viewing.   And whatever may be their issue, they are
 the fruit of philanthropic and  pious intentions,  and   are
 therefore entitled to a respectful notice, in an account of
 the efforts made and the schemes devised, for the ben-
 efit of man.
  The progress made in the knowledge of Antiquities,
during the last hundred years, deserves to be honorably
spoken of  Within that period the wonders of Hercu-
laneum and Pompeii, as well as  of other  long-buried
ruins in Italy, have been brought to light.  So have ma-
ny of the arcana of ancient Egypt, which had slumbered
for thousands of years,  in the pyramids, temples, and
catacombs, and under  the hieroglyphical characters of
that  singular country.  The classical regions of Greece
 have been also more successfully explored, than in pre-
 ceding times; and more reasonable views  have been 
35
formed of the ancient condition of our own continent,
by inquiries respecting the mounds, pyramids, and other
ruins of the United States, Mexico, and Peru.
  In matters of Religion, bigotry, superstition, and in-
tolerance have been  shorn of much of their influence,
and are  giving way to more  enlightened and  liberal
opinions, and a better state of feeling.  Christianity being
already freed from much of the militant temper and ty-
rannical dogmatism, by which it was once so repulsively
characterized, and rendered so unworthy of the followers
of him, whose life was such a  model of meekness and
charity, that, even when "reviled, he reviled not again"—
under a change so encouraging, there is reason to hope,
that it will  become ultimately, in practice, what it was
originally proclaimed to be, in spirit, a message of "peace
and good will to man."
  Notwithstanding the splendour of  the Augustine age
of Anne, in England, and of Louis  XIV,  in France,
Literature has been  greatly  improved, during the
Century of Washington.   The Literature of Germany,
which is scarcely surpassed, at present,  by that of any
other nation, has been created within that period.  So
has that of Russia, as far  as it has advanced.  But to
speak of the Literature of the most  cultivated  people.
One hundred years ago, no great work, possessing all
the requisites of history,  had been written either in the
English  or the French language.  Since that date, se-
veral such have appeared, which would have been con-
spicuous in Greece, when she was the literary mistress
of  the world.   As respects the literature  of our own
country, there is no just ground for the censure so illib-
erally and maliciously thrown on it. Though not yet
mature, its promise is ample; the abundance of its blos-
som foretells a harvest distinguished in opulence; and it
has already advanced far beyond what its most sanguine
friends had reason to anticipate.   We have not comple-
ted our fifty-sixth year, as a nation; and yet we have many
able and elegant writers.  Considering our youth, and 
36
the many obstacles which have operated to retard our
success, in the labours of the study, our progress in crea-
ting a national literature is unprecedented.  The world
may be safely challenged,  to  furnish a  parallel to it.
Though the productions of the American pen may want
the polish of perfect scholarship, they are rich in mascu-
line thought,  and clothed in a nervous and perspicuous
style.   The United States contain, at present, but little
more  than four times as many inhabitants as they did
at the close  of the revolutionary war;  yet they have
twenty times as many good writers.
  Encyclopaedias,  those vast  repositories of  learning
and science, have also originated within the time I am
speaking of.  Nor  is this all.   Magazines, Museums,
Reviews, and the entire class of Periodicals, which have
done more for the improvement and diffusion of Letters,
than all other productions, had scarcely an existence, a
century ago.  Yet, k is chiefly through their instrumen-
tality, that, for the last forty years, the influence of the
press has been all  but omnipotent.   And never, until
the era of the "Great Unknown," had the full power of
moral fiction and  dramatized history  been put forth
and felt.
  It is in the course of the same century, that the Stage
has been converted into an elegant and instructive school
of morality and taste.   It is not true, as has been boldly
charged against it, that, within the last sixty or seventy
years, that institution of genius and fancy,  has been a
source of licentiousness.  The splendour of its exhibi-
tions has been so free from indecency and moral pollu-
tion, that delicacy and virtue have ceased to condemn
it, and been  compelled to admire.   Since the reform
produced in  it, by Garrick, it has been,  not merely  a
scene of innocent and delightful amusement, but a place
of resort  to refine manners, improve language and style,
and contribute to the elevation of sentiment and thought.
It has elicited moreover some of the  happiest efforts of
the human mind.  In proof of this, I refer to  many of 
3:
the productions of the dramatic muse.   That, at an ear-
lier period, the Stage had been impure and demoralizing,
I readily admit. Hence its condition then,compared with
its present condition,  confirms the reform,  for which I
am contending.
  The improvements made in Music, within the last
hundred years, are peculiarly  striking  Almost all the
distinguished composers and performers, in that branch,
belong to the Century of Washington.   In proof of this,
the names of Haydn, Handel, Mozart, Gluck, Beetho-
ven, and others,  might be mentioned.  It is especially
within that period that music has been brought to such
perfection, as to swell the mind with thought, as well as
to inflame it with passion, and inspire it with sentiment.
  We are told, by one poet, that Orpheus not only tamed
wild beasts,  and drew forests after him, by the enchant-
ment of his lyre, but so far propitiated the  Infernal
Powers, as to "half redeem his lost Eurydice."
         "A conquest how hard, and how glorious!
         "Though Fate had fast bound her,
         "With Styx nine times round her,
         "Yet music and love were victorious."
By another, we are informed, that "old Timotheus," by
the same art, "raised a mortal  to the skies," and St. Ce-
cilia "brought an angel down."   There is reason to
believe, however, that were those musicians now living,
they would be novices in musical science, and but hum-
ble performers in Concerts and Operas.  So would the
professors of the art, who  flourished in  more modern
times.
   Some of the other  Fine Arts,  especially painting, en-
graving, and modelling, have been also very highly im-
proved, both in  taste and manual execution.   This is
particularly true of the drawing and engraving of maps,
a most important branch of practical geography.  With-
in the same period  the beautiful art of lithography has
been invented, and brought almost to perfection.  These
inventions and improvements contribute  greatly to the
                         F 
38
gratification of the cultivated portion of the community,
and the instruction of all, who make them objects of at-
tention.  They facilitate the diffusion and perpetuation
of the likenesses of distinguished men,  animals, and
things, in a degree not conceived of even fifty years ago.
I need scarcely add, that they are eminently subservient
to the advancement of Botany and Natural History, and
every other kind of knowledge, in which plates may be
useful.
  Much is said of the personal elegance, gracefulness
of mien, and courtesy of manners, of ladies and their
knights, in the times of chivalry.   But the  representa-
tion to that effect has reached us chiefly through ro-
mance.  Sober history does not ratify it.   To say the
least in dispraise of them, the nations of Europe, du-
ring  the  feudal and  chivalrous ages, were tinctured
with grossness, not to call it barbarism.  Their sports,
customs,  modes of life, and entire character are proof
of this.  True  refinement  of manners was unknown
to them.   To  that delicacy of deportment, tempered
cheerfulness, and cultivated sentiment, which consti-
tute  the charm of polished society, they were stran-
gers.   They wanted manly gentleness; and their wit
was rough, and caustic, rather than sprightly and play-
ful.  In conversation, they were prone to contentious-
ness ; and their arrows of attack and defence were not
only barbed, but  dipped in vinegar, if not poison, ra-
ther than in oil.  Their social intercourse had nothing of
finished breeding in it.  Notwithstanding their parade
of devotion to  the Fair, they were comparatively insen-
sible to the reclaiming power of female virtue, and the
softening influence of female manners.   Their banquets
were always scenes of boisterous carousal, and often of
blood. And, if the weapons used, and the greater splen-
dour and  ceremony attending them be excepted, their
tournaments differed materially in but two  points from
the present boxing matches in England.   They proved
oftener fatal; and the combatants engaged in them were 
39
men of rank.  The sports and amusements of high-life
then, were similar to those of low-life now.
  The gorgeousness that every where prevailed, during
the reign of Elizabeth, was as tasteless as it was glitter-
ing.   It was but as
         "Columns blazing in barbaric gold.1'

The Queen herself was a  miserable specimen of female
refinement.  Even in  the  court parties of Louis XIV
and XV, and other contemporary  monarchs, acts were
often done,  and expressions indulged in, which would
now be deemed rude and  offensive in common society.
In a word;  female delicacy, grace  and  beauty of the
highest order, genuine courtesy and  refinement of man-
ners, and all else  that now constitutes the charm of the
best bred and  most cultivated circles, are  to  be found
only within the period I am considering.  Were Mary,
Queen of Scotts,  by far the most fascinating woman of
her age, now living, with the personal and mental quali-
ties she possessed, united to her manners, she would be
surpassed in beauty, accomplishments, and loveliness,
by thousands of her contemporaries.
   But the most invaluable improvement in science and
practice, remains to be mentioned.  It is that which has
been made in the knowledge of human right, of legisla-
tion and jurisprudence, and of the principles, organiza-
tion, and administration of sound government.  That
improvement is so vast and diffusive, so universal in its
relations, and so indiscriminate in its effects, that every
one  feels it.  While nations in masses rejoice in its in-
fluence,  it brings comfort  to the home of the humblest
individual, and raises  the occupant to the dignity of a
man.  It is the  fulfilment of that  law of our nature,
whose promptings, though suppressed, can never be ex-
tinguished, that man has a right,  of which nothing but
crime  can deprive him, in his life  and liberty, the exer-
cise of his talents, and the fruit of his industry.  Not
only does this  great advancement in human happiness 
40
belong to the Century of Washington, but a large portion
of it is the  product of his own labours.   As already
stated, he did much more, by his counsels  and actions,
to amend the condition of his fellow men, than any other
individual of the period  referred to.   The American
revolution was  the day-spring of human  liberty  and
right, to the nations of the world.  By unshackling the
mind, as well as the body, it gave freedom, strength, and
independence to thought, and prepared  the way for the
unexampled train of improvements  which succeeded.
Nor have these improvements been confined to any par-
ticular branches of knowledge.  Although more con-
spicuous, and therefore more noticed, in some  than  in
others, they have extended to all.  The same freedom
of action which invigorated the mind, and rendered  it
more efficient and successful in one pursuit,  increased
its efficiency in every one.   Hence  the period  of time
that has elapsed, since our revolutionary war, is distin-
guished far  beyond any other, of equal extent, in the
amount of human improvement it has produced.  But
it is needless to dwell on the  leading part which Wash-
ington performed in that contest, and in the subsequent
establishment of the federal  government.   He was the
hero and hope of the one, and the great counsellor and
administrator of the other.  It may be assumed, as cer-
tain, that without his aid, neither would have been  so
happily consummated  as it was.
  Am I asked to specify some of the distinguished im-
provements to which  the American revolution has  led?
I point, in compliance, to renovated Christendom.  France
is free.  In that great, but once subjugated empire, the
clank of fetters, and unheeded groans in the  dungeons
of state, are no longer heard.   A mighty  people have
risen in their majesty, dashed the sceptre from the hand
that enslaved them,  and assumed the privilege of gov-
erning themselves.  True; the nation is still in an agi-
tated condition; and all that  is desirable to it is not yet
attained.   But the good work is in progress, and will be 
41
consummated, as certainly as darkness and error retreat
on the approach of light and truth.   The waters of the
ocean do not cease to be troubled, the moment the cloud
and  the tempest have swept by.  But they subside by
degrees, and the vessel, lately endangered, availing her-
self of the breeze that remains, passes on in safety.
  Spanish and Portuguese  America have thrown off
their foreign  yoke, and a continent is liberated.   And
although the inhabitants have not  yet realized  all the
blessings,  which hope presented to them,  wisdom will
hereafter arrange and settle, and time and experience
will mature their institutions, and tranquillity accompa-
nied by prosperity will visit them.   Thus will  they be
rewarded, by ages of happiness, for their efforts and suf-
ferings, during a few years, in the cause of freedom.
  In Greece, the Cross is  no longer compelled to do
homage to the Crescent; nor the descendant of Phocion
to submit his neck to the Turkish scimitar.  That once
enslaved country is again free; it may now look back,
unstung by sentiments of self-reproach and abasement,
to the deeds of the heroes of Marathon and Thermopilse;
and an opportunity is  afforded it, to emerge from its de-
gradation, take  rank  among nations, and resume and
perpetuate its long lost glory.
  In Germany, though no  revolution has occurred, yet
great advances have been  made  in  the knowledge of
natural rights, and constitutional government.  Passive
obedience  is no longer the prevailing sentiment of the
people.   Nothing but  the  sword maintains, at present,
the security of the throne.   And that is obviously losing
its power.   The military will not long sustain their su-
premacy.   But a few  years  more, for the further diffu-
sion of knowledge and spirit, and  a single spark may
kindle up a volcano, which shall convulse the empire,
and  terminate in it the existence of absolute rule.
  In Prussia, the grasp of despotism is weakened, and
dangers threaten the House of Brandenburgh.  From
among  his  subjects, of almost  every description, the 
4'J
voice of reform, if not  of freedom, reaches the ears of
the successor of Frederick.  Nor does it greet the royal
listener in terms of homage,  or  tender to him a mes-
sage of peace and security.  Far  from it.  As subter-
ranean murmurs foretell the earthquake, and a troubled
ocean the coming storm, it warns him of approaching
events, which will further  circumscribe his power, or
wrest it from  him, and terminate his dynasty.
  In Spain, Portugal, and  Italy,  a spirit of freedom is
gradually awakening, though as yet its efforts have been
feeble and fruitless.  But, once awake, that spirit never
slumbers again; nor does it remain quiet, or retrograde
in its course.   Its vigilance and action are eternal, and
its movement is forward, until the consummation of its
purpose.   Though an infant now, it will be a Hercules
hereafter; and its first labour will be the extermination
of Despotism.  Even through the mists of Belgium and
Holland, the  knowledge of right, and the light of liber-
ty have partially penetrated, and the inhabitants of those
countries are slowly emerging from their degraded con-
dition.
  What  shall be said of Poland, the glorious but deso-
lated country of Kosciusko and  Skryznecki?  What
paean of praise can do justice to her valour?  or what
depth of lamentation can equal her calamity?  Twice,
during the Century  of Washington,  has the spirit of
freedom  performed prodigies there; and twice has it
failed in the conflict with  tyranny.  But, is it extermi-
nated?   No, truly; nor can it ever be.  A belief to  that
effect can arise only from  a want of knowledge of hu-
man nature, and the history  of  nations.   Revolutions
may pause; but they never go backward.  They keep
pace with knowledge, whose progress no imperial man-
date can arrest.   Exterminate the awakened  spirit of
freedom  from a heroic nation!  As well  may an effort
be  made, and a hope entertained, to dry up, by  human
means, the wraters of the  ocean,  or to extinguish, by a
breath, the light of the sun.   Would a failure in our 
43
own revolutionary contest  have extinguished the spirit
of freedom in the  heroes of Bunker's Hill,  Saratoga,
and York?   An intimation to  that  effect would be a
slander on their memory.  Thank Heaven!  their love
of liberty was not so frail.  It was composed of " stern-
er stuff," and  made a  part of their being.  It was  in-
haled with their first  breath, and could  have expired
only with their last.   No, no!   While  a true  Polish
heart shall beat, that spirit will survive.   No political
merging of Poland in Russia  will  extinguish it.   No
temporising kindness or clemency will appease it. Nor
will it be inactive.   Though defeated twice, it will rally
a third, a fourth, a fifth, and, if necessary, a hundred
times, until its end shall be attained.  It  is irrepressible
and immortal.  The march of  Liberty is  as certainly
onward, as the march of time.   And, as one of  the ef-
fects of it, Poland will be free.  She will rise, like  the
phoenix, in renovated splendour, and augmented  vigour,
from her own ashes, and  be hereafter as  triumphant, as
she  has been heretofore unfortunate.  Nor is this  all.
From that disenthralled  country of heroes and patriots,
a spirit and a power will yet go forth, which shall strike
the sceptre from the hand that has oppressed  her.   Let
the Autocrat of the north (if not the present, some  one
of his successors) tremble on his throne!  Poland  will
yet be avenged on  him for her wrongs!   She will yet
convince him, that his dreams of perpetual domination
are vain; that his yoke and fetters are only on her body;
that her spirit is still  unbroken, and free; and  that he
may as well attempt to compress, in  his hand, the flick-
ering fires of his own skies,* as restrain that etherial
essence from action.
   As the orb of knowledge rolls  on,  in its course, ac-
companied, as it is, and ever will be, by  a longing after
liberty, Russia herself will be  awakened, enlightened.
and rendered sensible of what is due to man; and sixty
* The aurora borealis 
44
millions of human beings will cease to submit to the nod
of a mortal.  The contest now pending is between Le-
gitimacy and Right—fictitious power and real power—
the assumed -'Divine right" of kings and their minions
to govern the people, and the positive Divixe right of
the people  to govern themselves.  Such,  I say, is the
nature of the contest, now existing in several nations;
and which will arise hereafter, in every subjugated na-
tion, as knowledge shall be extended.  Nor can its is-
sue be doubted.   All rights of mere assumption will be
overthrown and  abandoned, and those of nature will
prevail.   This is as certain, as  that the government of
the universe is benevolent and just.   It makes a neces-
sary part of that government.
   But all  the consequences  of  our  revolutionary con-
test are not yet  recited.   When we  direct our  eyes to
the present scenes of the British  empire, where com-
paratively much of freedom has been enjoyed, what do
we there discover?   A virtual, if not a positive revo-
lution.  To denominate  the changes that have recently
occurred, and which are still in  progress, in that nation,
a mere reform, is an abuse of terms.  They are sap-
ping the vital prerogatives  of royalty, and  transferring
its authority to another source.  If the public prints do
not deceive us,  the  British  government is paralyzed.
Its power is much more  completely in the hands of the
people, than it was during the revolution of 1647, or at
any previous or subsequent time of the power of Crom-
well. It was then wielded by the military arm of the
usurper.   But it is as really in the hands of the people
now, as if it were formally surrendered to them.  There
is reason to believe, that were it not for the numerous
political "Unions" and  "Associations," that have been
lately established, anarchy, with its  desolating train of
concomitants, would overrun the kingdom.  The mili-
tary would be unable to preserve order.  Nor, if recent
events may be  relied on,  as evidence, is it altogether
certain that they would be anxious  to do so.   But, be 
45
that as it may, they are feeble, compared  to the turbu-
lent multitude. -  William is therefore but nominally a
king; and, to retain even the title, he must conciliate the
people.   An  attempt  to  control  them,  by arbitrary
means,  would cost him his throne; perhaps his head.
That those great changes will  be ultimately productive
of good, I cannot doubt.  But, through what calamities
they may previously  lead, no human  foresight can dis-
cover.  The fires of Freedom are abroad on the high
places.  But, unless vigilantly watched, and wisely di-
rected, they may swell to a conflagration ungovernable
and indiscriminating—consuming friends  and foes pro-
miscuously.
   Such are a few of the most striking events, which,
since the date of the American revolution, have changed
and improved the condition  of  Christendom.   Am  I
asked, whether they are all  to be regarded as the effects
of that  revolution?  My reply is, yes; and I  make  it
confidently.  That achievement was the first act in the
mighty  drama, and prepared the way  for all that has
followed it.   That it was peculiarly instrumental in the
production  of  the French revolution, has never been
doubted.  Nor is it less obvious  that it led to the revo-
lution in Spanish  and Portuguese America.  And, to
those who have examined the subject, it is equally clear,
that  it  had great influence in animating and strength-
ening the spirit of freedom and reform,  in the British
empire; first in Ireland, and afterwards in England; and
in exciting them to keener  inquiries into the nature and
foundation of human  right.   In fine;  notwithstanding
their reluctance to acknowledge the  fact, it has been  to
those nations an unfading beacon-light, from which they
have never withdrawn their eyes—their "cloud by day,
and their pillar of fire by  night," to marshal them  to
the object of their wishes  and hopes.  Let it consum-
 mate its purposes when and where it  may, the complete
 emancipation of the human powers began its career, in 
4G
the United States, on the 4th  day of July,  1776.   All
movements before that period, important as they were,
had been  but preparatory.  Thus, by a spark from the
altar of Freedom, in our own land, is a flame kindled
up, in a distant one, to consume the unhallowed power
that would have enslaved us.   The "poisoned chalice"
is returned to the " lips" of those who prepared it.  Such
is the course of retributive justice.  Nations as well as
individuals must submit to it.  And time  will render its
sway universal.   Throughout the earth, the  years of
despotism are numbered.  And, in enlightened nations,
they will be but few.
  These  considerations  testify to the power of  the
American revolution, as a moral and political event, and
to the greatness and glory of Washington, as its Leader,
As already mentioned, it commenced the real liberation
of the human mind, and, in time, increased its energies,
and added to its resources, by giving  it wider scope and
freedom of action.  And thus followed, in a natural suc-
cession of causes  and their effects, the events that have
agitated and  astonished  the  world,  and amended its
condition.  No matter how vast they were, or how wide-
ly scattered over the globe, by sea or by land—whether
in Europe, Asia,  Africa, America, or even Oceanica—
if they had any connexion with the French revolutiona-
ry war, they had also an obvious connexion with ours.
Had it not been for the influence of the American revo-
lution,  Napoleon  would  never have overrun Italy  or
Egypt, annihilated the Alps, as a  barrier to his march,
worn a diadem, invaded Russia, or expired a captive, on
a rock, in  the ocean.  He would have run  his course,
in comparative obscurity, a
       "-----Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood."

  But I feel that  I have strayed too long, and too wide-
ly, from my native land.  Like a truant wanderer, weary
of absence and travelling, I must now return to it, and 
47
quit it no more.   In doing this, I realize somewhat of
the sentiment of the poet, in his longing to close his life
in the place where he was born.
        " And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
        " Pants to the place, from whence at firs* ha flew,
        " 1 still had hopes, my long vexations past,
        " Here to return, and die at home at last "
   Notwithstanding the  changes and improvements, in
other regions, during the Century of Washington, by
far the greatest are those which occurred in his native
country.  And in the production of many of the  most
important of them, he was himself, as heretofore stated,
the principal actor.  They most faithfully therefore de-
lineate his character, and most loudly and directly speak
his praises.
   At the time of his birth, eleven feeble British  colo-
nies  (afterwards  increased  to thirteen) without wealth
or influence,  unknown to fame, and  almost  strangers to
each other, were scattered  along the Atlantic  border,
from the forty-fifth to  about the thirty-fourth degree of
north latitude.   As yet scarcely a cabin had been erect-
ed on this side of the most  easterly  chain of the  Blue
Mountains.  Nor did any but the boldest hunters ven-
ture to penetrate into the  wilds of  the West.  They
were trodden only by the savage and his game.  The
entire valley  of  the Mississippi, and a large portion of
the country between  the Alleghany  mountains and the
Atlantic ocean were possessed by powerful tribes of In-
dians.   Between these and the  colonists there raged  a
perpetual and unsparing war.  So determined and fatal
was  the contest, that the  latter sustained, at times,  but a
doubtful existence.  Under such circumstances, it was
scarcely possible for the colonies to be prosperous.   To
maintain themselves in comfort was all they could  hope
for.  None but the most resolute and enterprising race
of men could have done even  that.   Their chief pur-
suit was agriculture.   But that  is  a peaceful occupa-
tion, and can never flourish amid the strife of arms.  It 
48
is the laurel  that loves the unweeded  mountain, while
the olive clings to the  cultivated plain.
  Such, when Washington was born, was the condition
of the colonies,  whose entire population scarcely, if at
all, exceeded a million.  To speak of the early achieve-
ments of that illustrious  man, which,  like the bright
purple of morning, ushered in  his day of glory, is not
my intention.  They make a part of history, and  have
been so often recited,  and published in various forms,
that no American ought to be ignorant  of them.  The
old should dwell on them, in gratitude, for the  services
they rendered, the young should learn  them, as  models
to imitate, and all should cherish  them, in fond recol-
lection, as the common property and  pride of the nation.
It is enough to say of  them, at present, that, on all great
and trying occasions,  they bespoke the hero devoted to
his country, and the  welfare of his race.   In protecting
the frontiers  from  savage incursions,  and in other in-
stances of importance and peril,  they were above all
price.  They were never sullied by neglect, or a failure
in duty; and, on various occasions, they surpassed even
hope.
  Washington was, for many years,  a  leading member
in some of the provincial councils of his  country.   At
length the war of the  revolution occurred, and  he rose,
as a commander, to the summit of  fame.  Hence the
inscription on the sword, presented to him by Frederick;
"From  the  Oldest General, to  the Greatest
General."*  But I cannot pause to depict his military
  * Since the delivery of this Discourse, I have been not a little sur-
prise', at hearing some gentlemen talking, as they thought, very wise-
ly, bu% as/ fh<vght, very mistakiogly, about the "moderateness" of
Washington's taie^ts; especially his talents for war.  They admitted,
with all  imaginable kindness and condescension, that  he  was " pru-
dent" ar.d " fortunate," but not "greater" than many other men would
have been, in the station  he held.
  A formal attempt to defend his superior greatnes in war, would be
(o admit the possibility that it was wanting in him.  I  shall not there 
49
career.  Nor is  it necessary that I should.   It is  too
brilliant to be  concealed from any eye, that desires to
look on it.   The path of day needs no emblazoning.
   Peace  returned,  and  Washington  exchanged  the
sword for the plough.  As he had been recently the first
among military  Leaders, he now stood  foremost, as a
private citizen, and an enlightened agriculturist.   Na-
ture had formed him for pre-eminence in all he attempted.
After a few years of  political difficulties, a body of pat-
riots and sages convened, at a threatening crisis, to de-
liberate on measures  for the public welfare, and he was
at their head.  The Convention was as able and august,
as human wisdom and  dignity could  render  it.   The
issue of its labours  was the Federal Constitution,
one  of the most  profound and perfect productions of the
human mind.   It has been pronounced, both in Europe
and  America, the ablest state paper that was ever writ-
ten.   Yet, it is worthy of remark, that to secure its adop-
tion, and implant it more deeply in the affections of the
people, it  was deemed important that a letter, recom-
mendatory of it, from the Presiding Officer of the con-
vention, should accompany it.   Such was the deference

fore make one.   Yet his superiority mighi he shown in a very few
words.
  1.  He never  committed a military  mistake.  When his enemies
(I mean his private enemies) attempted to prove that he did, they al-
ways failed in their effort; and the mischief they meditated, recoiled
on themselves.
  2.  No other commander ever did so much, with such slender means;
1 might almost say, without means.  Such was the declaration of Fred-
erick.
  3.  No other ever acquired and retained, to an equal extent, the af-
fection  and confidence of his army; which rendered it a much more
formidable weapon in his hand, than it would have been, under other
circumstances.
  4.  No one was ever so  successful,  in the selection of officers; a
consideration showing his sagacity, and profound judgment of men.
  5.  No other ever gave such entire satisfaction, in his performance
of the duties intrusted to  him.
  Such are some of the evidences of Washington's greatness in war;
and they are irresistible. 
50
paid to his opinion, on account of the confidence reposed
in his wisdom and rectitude.
   The government went into operation, Washington oc-
cupying the station of Chief Magistrate, by the undivided
suffrage of the American people.  In that respect he
stood as perfectly alone, singled out for supremacy, by
his high and faultless character, as in most others.  No
succeeding President has been unanimously  elected;
nor is it probable that any one will be hereafter.   Great
and  victorious as he had been in the field, he was soon
found to be equally distinguished in the cabinet. Though
the times were perilous, and difficulties pressed on  him
from various quarters, his administration was triumphant-
ly successful.   Proof of this was found in the unexam-
pled  prosperity of the country.   He, in a few years, sub-
dued or propitiated the hostile nations of Indians, on our
frontiers, and  enforced on Great Britain the fulfilment
of some of the articles of our Treaty of peace with her,
which she had hitherto evaded.  In consequence of the
neutrality which he maintained, in the midst of the con-
vulsions of war in Europe, the Americans became the
commercial carriers for a great portion  of the world.
This privilege poured into the  lap of our country such
streams of wealth, as had rarely fallen to  the lot of any
people.  It gave us moreover, in a  short time, a com-
mercial marine, equalled only  by that of Great Britain.
But  this is not all.  It was during the administration of
Washington, that the great platform of practical govern-
ment was laid, on which his successors have only had to
build.  And the more accurately they have built on it,
according to  the model which he  prepared for  them,
the more successful have been their measures, and the
more prosperous the nation.   Every departure from  it
has been a source of inconvenience, if not of evil.   Time
and  experience have proved, that its materials were as
sound as truth could render them, and its construction
as skilful, as wisdom could make it.   Without intending
the least disparagement to the Presidents, who succeeded 
51
him, I am justified, in saying, that his administration was
original and inventive, while theirs was but imitative.
  Is any one inclined to ask, by what means he achieved
so much, in the capacity of Chief Magistrate?  The an-
swer is easy.   He did it by devoting his own great mind
and ample experience unremittingly and exclusively to
the  good of his country, and by selecting, as his coun-
sellors and ministers, able and virtuous statesmen, who
did  the same.   Wisdom, rectitude, and firmness char-
acterized all his official transactions.  He had no selfish
partialities to  sway him, nor any sinister purposes to
serve; no friends to reward,  by executive favours,  and
no foes to punish, by executive frowns, except the friends
and foes of the Commonwealth.   He remembered  that
he was clothed in authority, for the good of the people;
not to subserve his own  private views;  nor the views of
a party.   Hence, party-cabal withered in his presence.
I should rather say, that it never dared to approach him.
The majesty of his virtues, and the deep indignation he
was known to cherish, against corruption in all its guises,
overawed it.   He felt that the measures of his adminis-
tration were identified with the welfare of the entire pub-
lic ; not with that of a part of it; and he had a political
as well as his personal conscience,  whose  purity  was
unsullied, whose eye never  slumbered, and whose in-
junctions he obeyed.   Regarding it as the commissioned
Vicegerent of his God, he consulted it in all things.  His
high duties alone engrossed his thoughts, and controlled
his actions.  This was  true of him, in all the relations
of his life.  As a man he was above artifice, as a states-
man guileless and full of resources, and, as an executive
officer, inflexibly just.  He was too proud  to descend
to stratagem, which is  an open acknowledgment  of a
want of power.  No dignified statesman, conscious of
possessing power to compass his ends, by a direct course,
will stoop to the devious one of chicanery and intrigue.
Illustrious as was his example therefore, in the capacity
of Commander in Chief of our revolutionary armies, thai 
52
which he exhibited, as Chief Magistrate of the Union,
is infinitely more important to us.  It has a much wider
and deeper, as well as a more  permanent influence on
the nation at large, and bears more immediately on the
private interests, and the character of every one.   And
none but those who are resolved to act in conformity to
the principles which united in it, are worthy  to be his
successors in office.   Nor is it possible for  the experi-
ment of a free  representative government  to be  con-
ducted to a successful issue, except under the adminis-
tration of such Chief Magistrates.  No matter by  what
name the government  may be known, Republic, or
Monarchy; if the head be impure, corruption  will distil
through the whole body, and disaster, if not dissolution
must follow.   If the President of the United  States does
not so entirely forego selfishness,* as to merge his pri-
vate feelings,  whether  friendly  or hostile, in his public
duties, he dishonours his station, is a traitor to the  high
trust reposed in him, and his influence and example, as
  * The following extract from one of Washington's letters, from the
strict tenor of which he never departed in practice, sets forth his views
on this important subject.  It would make an excellent motto, to be
inscribed on a tablet, in gilded letters, and placed over the door of the
cabinet-room, in the President's mansion.
  "I believe it is unnecessary for me to say, that when I accepted the
imp •rtant trust committed to my charge, by my country, (the  Presi-
dency of the United States,) I gave up every idea of personal gratifi-
cation that I did not think was compatible with the public good.  Un-
der this impression, I plainly foresaw that part of my duty  which
obliged me to nominate persons to offices, would,  in many instances,
be the most irksome and unpleasi >g; for, however strong my personal
atiachment might be to any one, however desirous I might be of giving
him a proof of my friendship, and whatever might be his expectations,
grounded  upon the amity which had subsisted between us—I was fully
determined to keep myself free from every engagement  that could
embarrass me in discharging this part of my administration.  I resol-
ved that whenever I should be called to nominate persons for offices,
I would do it with a sole view to the public good, and would bring for-
ward those who, upon every consideration, and from the best informa-
tion I could olrain,  would in my judgment be most likely to answer
fins yreat end." 
58
far as they prevail, fall like a blight on the prosperity of
the nation.  The avenging hand of History will hold
him up to posterity, in deep contrast with Washington,
stained in the colours of his own delinquencies, and, in
union with  the Arch-culprit of England, "damned to
everlasting fame."   Should a man, thus wanting in pa-
triotism, ever be elevated to that august station, (which
may heaven avert!)  well  might the indignant exclama-
tion of the poet be applied to him;
         " If such there be, go mark him well,
        "For him no mi istrei raptures swell,
        "High though  his titles, proud his fame,
        "Boundless his wealth, as wish can claim;
        " Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
        " The wretch concentred all in self,
        "Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
        "And, doubly dying, shall go down
        " To the vile dust, from which he sprung,
        " Unwept, unhonored, and unsung."

   Having served, as Chief Magistrate, through two con-
stitutional terms, Washington declined a third election,
and retired once more to private life.  But, I can follow
him no further, except from his mansion to his tomb.
He died soon afterwards, of an acute disease, in his six-
ty-eighth year, with a constitution unbroken, and a mind
unimpaired.  This circumstance ought not now to be
lamented.   On the  contrary, it is a subject of thankful-
ness and gratulation.  Having already done enough for
his own glory, and the good of his race, the time and
manner of his death came in kindness to him.   They
saved him from the feebleness and infirmities of age, the
occurrence of which would have been distressing to him,
and the manifestations of which, in such a man, it would
have  been painful  to witness.   They enabled him to
consummate his high career, and be as great in his death,
as he had been in his life.  And he was so.  Like the
tropical sun, he went down in his brightness, unchilled,
and unobscured, by a lingering twilight.   Never  was a
death-bed scene characterized by more of moral sublimi- 
54
ty than his.  His  mind was serene and vigorous, hii
conscience peaceful, his  resignation calm and manly,
his remembrances gratifying, his hopes lively and en-
couraging, and his fortitude heroic.  He was as victo-
rious  over all that is appalling in death, as he had been
over the foes of freedom and his country.   With his own
hand, which had so  often achieved victory,  in  other
scenes, he closed his  fading eyes,* and died as a man
ought to do, who has  devoted his life to the good of the
world, and been  always successful,  and  always pre-
eminent.
  The event fell on the country, like an electrical stroke,
and was every where felt as a great calamity.  The na-
tion lamented it with a sincerity and unanimity, equalled
only by those  of their admiration of Him who was the
subject of it.  Never had man received  before such fu-
neral  honours,  as were paid  on  the  occasion.   They
were the spontaneous  offering of affection from six mil-
lions of his fellow citizens.  Nor did they arise from cal-
culations  of interest  or  favour.  Nothing  was  to be
gained by them.  They were the fruit of remembrance,
not of expectancy.  Yet, moved by a common impulse,
as if instinct with  but one spirit, every section of the
country engaged in them, with the warmth and venera-
tion of filial love, and  the solemnity due to religious ob-
servances.   In the performance of them, the nation pre-
sented one vast  funeral  procession, in which  all
joined, and every one was a mourner.  They were there-
fore the heart-felt  homage of the entire Union,  to its
Chief Founder, and Greatest Benefactor.
        " Such honours Ilion to her Hero paid;
        " And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade."

  *This is literally true; and, as far as I am informed, it is unique.
I have no recollection of the same act being done for himself, by any-
other dying man. 
APPENDIX.
         It was the intention of the author of this Discourse to  include in
       it a comparative view of our country, its population and general con-
       dition, at the period of the birth of Washington, at the present period,
       and at that of his next centennial birth-day.  The following sketch
       of the comparison  was even prepared.   But, there being no suitable
       place for it, in the body of the Discourse, it is added, in the form of
       an appendix.
         A moment longer, and I shall close my Discourse.  Let us devote
       that point of time to a passing contemplation of  what our country was,
       when Washington was born, what it is now, as  the result, in no small
       degree, of his labours and high example, and what it  is likely to be,
       on the next centennial celebration of his birth-day.
         In 1732, what now constitutes the United States, held nothing but
       a border-population.   It  consisted,  as  already mentioned, of a few
       infant colonies, thinly scattered along the  Atlantic coast,  without
       wealth or other resources, struggling for existence with a savage foe,
       unacquainted with each other, strangers to fame, disregarded and un-
       felt by  the rest of the world, and dependent on  Great Britain for
•>      many of the comforts, and all the luxuries and elegancies of life.  It
       is now an enlightened and high-spirited nation, with a population of
       thirteen millions and  a half, enjoying freedom and self-government,
       reposing in the lap of peace and prosperity,  rich in  fame, great in
       power  and influence, flourishing in agriculture, rising in arts and man-
       ufactures, covering the ocean with  its vessels of war and commerce,
       abounding in wealth and all the other elements of  national grandeur
       and refinement, and advancing rapidly to more exalted destinies, un-
       der a form of government, which constitutes the  admiration of every
       free and cultivated people.   What will k  be, on the 22d of February,
       1932?   In meditating an answer to this question, human foresight
       fails, and imagination shrinks from the effort.  The task must be re-
       served for the orators and poets of that day.  And they will be found
       wanting in it, unless their powers shall be inordinately  great.  The
       theme  will be overwhelming, even when all the elements of it shall be
       before them.  One prediction however may be fearlessly hazarded. Let
       union be preserved, and the government administered on the principles
       of Washington, and, by  the day referred to,  the  United States will
       be the greatest nation that the  sun  has shed his beams on.   In the
       pride of its power, the Roman empire was dwarfish to it.  Its popu-
       lation will be two hundred millions, densely spread out from the Lakes
       to theGulph  of Mexico,  and from  the  Atlantic to  the Pacific ocean, 
56
And, by turnpikes, canals, steam-boats, and  rail-roads, this mighty
mass will be consolidated into one community, each portion of which
will be virtually in contact with every other, as well as with the whole.
Its unity will be the more  complete, and its compactness  and power
the greater, from its speaking the same  language.  To consummate
its strength, efficiency, and grandeur, it  will be enlightened and free.
As an obstruction to its practical operations, neither the Alleghany nor
the Rocky  Mountains will  have then an existence.  While their phy-
sical sublimity and magnificence, and  all their benefits,  in the for-
mation of rivers, the variation of climate and soil, and the  production
and support of a corresponding diversity in the vegetable and animal
kingdoms shall remain,  they will be passed over as easily as plains
or prairies.  From its command of the ocean, moreover, by its match-
less navy, every section of the globe will  be open to the enterprise
of the nation, and sensible of its power.
  Such, I say, will be the effect of  the permanent adhesion of the
States to each other, and their continuing to be governed on the same
principles, which shed such a lustre on  the administration of Wash-
ington, and are so forcibly inculcated in his Farewell Address.  But,
let them be divided into separate  governments, and  engaged in re-
peated wars with one another, like the States of ancient Greece, and
not only  will  their attainment of  greatness and glory be prevented,
and their prosperity destroyed, but some modern Philip  may arise, and
subjugate  the whole of them.   I  recognize, therefore,  the  united
voices of Patriotism and Virtue, in the  indignant exclamation, which
breaks on the ear of fancy, " Withered  be the  arm that would sever
the Union, or subvert  its  government,  and palsied the tongue that
would advise it!''