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VOLUME 11. |
RY C, R. lIANLEITER.
P©[ST G3Y a
Mach yet remains unsung.”
DRINKING SONG.
BY MRS. SIGOURNEY.
Drink, fiicnds, drink deep—the noon is high ;
Drink, and forget your care—
The sultry summer suns are nigh—
Drink, and your strength repair:
The deer, that from the hunter flies,
The warrior, red with slaughter.
The camel, ’neath the burning skies,
Quaff deep the crystal w ater !
Our father, Sun, the example gives,
Onr mother, llarth, also ;
lie, jocund drinks above the clouds,
She blushing, drinks below—
J’ledge high, pledge long, the friends of your love,
To absent wife and daughter.
Or blooming maid who rules your heart,
Drink deep--but only water !
0 ©IT Q © a
BUNKER HILL CELEBRATION.
daniel Webster’s oration.
A duty lias been performed—a work of
patriotism and of gratitude is Accomplished.
That structure, having its broad foundations
in a soil which drank deeply of early revo
lutionary blood, has at length reached its
destined height, and now lifts its summit to
the clouds. We are assembled to celebrate
the accomplishment of this undertaking, and
to indulge afresh in the gratifying recollec
tions of the events which it is designed to
commemorate. Eighteen years ago, more
than half the ordinary duration of a genera
tion of mankind—the corner-stone of this
monument was laid. The hopes of those
who conceived the design, of raising here a
structure worthy of the events it was intend
ed to commemorate, were founded in volun
tary contributions, private munificence, and
general public favor. Those hopes have not
been disappointed. Individual donations
have been made, in some cases, of large
amount—-small contributions by thousands ;
and all those who entertain an opinion of the
value of the object itself, and the good at
tained by its successful accomplishment,
will cheerfully pay their homage of respect
to the successive presidents,boaids of direc
tors, and committees of the corporation
which have had the general management of
the work. The architect, equally entitled
to our thanks and consideration, will find
other rewards in the beauty of the obelisk
itself, and in the distinction which it confers
on him, as a work of ait. Nor on this oc
casion should the ommission be made to
mention the praisewouliy services of the
builder, who lias watched the laying of one
stone upon another, from the foundation to
the top. At a lime when the prospects of
farther progress in the work were gloomy
nnd discouraging, the Mechanic’s Associa
tion, by a patriotic and vigorous effort, rais
ed funds for carrying it on, and saw them
applied with fidelity and skill. It is a grate
ful duty to acknowledge on this occasion the
worth and efficient efforts of that associa
tion. The remaining efforts to complete the
construction of this edifice had another
source. Garlands of grace and elegance
weie destined to crown a work which had
its origin in manly patriotism. The win
ning power of “ the sex” addressed itself to
the public ; and all that was needed to ear
ly this edifice to its proposed height, and to
give its finish, was promptly supplied. So
that the mothers and daughters of the land
have contributed largely to whatever there
may be of elegance and beauty in the struc
ture itself, or of utility or of public gratifi
cation in its accomplishment. Os those
with whom the plan of erecting this monu
ment originated, many aie living aud are
now present; but alas! there are others
who have themselves become subjects of
monumental inscription. William
(whose surname was not distinctly heard,)
a distinguished scholar, an able writer, a
most amiable mau—allied by birth and sen
timent to the patriots of the revolution, died
in public service abroad, and now lies buried
in a foreign land. William Sullivan, a name
fragrant with revolutionary service and pub
lic merit—a man who concentrated in him
self) to a great degree, the confidence of this
whole community.-*—one who was always
most loyed wliere best known—he, too, has
lieeu gathered to his fathers. And, last,
George Blake, a lawyer of learning and
eloquence—a man of wit and talent—of so
cial qualities the most agreeable and fascina
ting—of gifts which enabled him to exer
cise large sway over public bodies'—lias
closed his human career. 1 have, thus far,
spoken only of those who have ceased to
be among the living; but a long life, now
drawing towards its close—always charac
terized by acts of public munificence aud
public spirit—forming a character now be
come historical—sanctified by public regard
and private affection —may confer, even up
on the living, the proper immunity of the
dead, and be the just subject of honorable
meditation and warincominendation. Among
the early projectors of this structure, none
more zealous, none more efficient than
Thomas H. Perkics. It was beneath his
ever-hospitable roof that those I have men
tioned as among the dead, and those now
living, haviug been called together for the
purpose,took the first step towards the erec-
& jFamflu Ji-ttosiwuier: Bftootcir to literature, agriculture, Jttecftaufcs, Education, jForciflu anti Bomesttc twteUCfleuee, scc.
tion of this monument. A venerable man,
the friend of ns all, whose charities have
distilled like the dew of heaven—he has fed
the hungry nnd clothed the naked ; and lie
has given sight to the blind. And for such
virtue, there is a record on high, of which
our humble work, and all the language of
brass and stone, can furnish only a poor and
distant imitation. Not amongst the imme
diate progenitors of the work, but one of
its early friends, and the first president of
the corporation, was the then Governor of
the Commonwealth, General Brookes, who
had been here on the 17th June, 1775, and
afterwards distinguished by honorable ser
vices in the revolutionary war, and who
throughout his whole life, a soldier without
fear, a man without reproach—fa revolu
tionary hero on the platform exclaimed,
while tears trickled down his furrowed
cheeks, “He was my colonel.”] I know
well, that in thus alluding to the dead, I
cause many tears to flow, from recollections
of bereavements too recent to be suppress
ed ; but such honorable mention is due to
their public and private virtues, and espe
cially on this occasion, for their zeal and ac
complishment of the purpose which lias
now reached its fulfilment. Time and na
ture have had their course in diminishing
the number of those who were here at
the celebration of the laying of the corner
stone of the monument, lg years ago : most
of the revolutionary characters have joined
the congregation of the dead. Lafayette
sleeps in his native land—yet the name and
the blood of Warren are here—the kindred
of Putnam, Starke, of Knowlton, of Mc-
Larie are here. And here, too, beloved
and respected, as universally as lie is known,
and now venerable himself for his years, is
the son of the gallant, daring, indomitable
Prescott. And here, too,are some—a small
hand—of those who performed military ser
vice on the field on the 17th Juno, ’7s—all
of them now far advanced in age, who par
took in the dangers and glory of that me
morable conflict. They have outlived all
the storms of the Revolution; they have
outlived the evils resulting from the want
of a good and efficient Government in this
country; they have outlived the jiendencies
of dangers threatening the public liberty-;
they have outlived the most of their con
temporaries. They have not outlived—
they cannot outlive—the ever-abiding grat
itude of their country. Heaven lias not al
lotted to our generation an opportunity of
rendering service like theirs, aud manifest
ing such devotion as they manifested in such
a cause as theirs; but it may u-ell become
us to praise actions that we cannot equal—
to commemorate what we were not born to
perform. “ Putchrum est lene faccre line ;
dicere, haud alsurdum cst.” Yes, Bunker
Hill Monument is completed. Here it
stands. Fortunate in the natural eminence
on which it is placed, higher infinitely in its
olject and its purpose —behold it rise over
the land and over the sea, nnd visible this
moment to 300,000 of the citizens of Mas
sachusetts. There it stands—a memorial of
the past —a monitor to the present, and to
all succeeding generations of men. I have
spoken of its purpose. If it had been with
out any other purpose than the creation of a
work of art, the granite of which it is com
posed would have continued to sleep on its
native bed. But it lias a purpose, and that
purpose gives it dignity, and causes us to
look upon it with awe. That purpose it is
which entobes it with a moral grandeur;
that purpose it is which seems to invest it
with the attributes of an august, intellectual
personage. It is itself the great Orator of
this occasion. It is not from my lips, nor
could it he from any human lips, that the
strain of eloquence is to flow, most compe
tent to utter the emotions of this multitude.
The potent speaker stands motionless be
fore you. [Hcie the speaker paused, nnd,
with outstretched arms, looked upward to
the summit, of the solemn pile, and the vast
assemblage joined in one loud and long shout
of enthusiastic applause.] It isaplain shaft;
it bears no inscription, fronting the rising
sun, from which the future antiquarian shall
be employed to wipe away tho dust; nor
does the rising sun awaken strains of music
on its sumrr.it; but there it stands, and at
the rising of the sun, and at the setting of
the sun, and amid the blaze of noonday,
and in the milder effulgence of lunar light,
there it stands. It looks—it speaks—it acts,
to the full comprehension of every Ameri
can mind, aud to the awakening of the
highest enthusiasm in every true American
heart. Its silent but awful utterance—the
deep pathos with which, as w-e look upon it,
it brings before us the 17th of June, 1775,
arql the consequences resulting from the
events of that day to us, to our country, and
to the world—consequences which must con
tinue “to gain influence on the destinies of
mankind to the end of time—surpasses ail
that the study of the closet, or even the in
spiration of genius could produce. To-day
—to-day it speaks to us. The future audi
tors will he successive generations of men.
As they shall rise up before us, and gather ■
round its base, its speech will be of carnage ■,
and patriotism—of religion and liberty—of ‘
good government —of the renown of those i
who have sacrificed themselves to the good
of their country. In the older world many
fabrics are still in existence, reared by hu
man hand, whose object and history are lost
in the darkness of ages. They are now
monuments of nothing but the power and
skill which conrtructed them. The mighty
pyramid itself, half buried in the sands of
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 1, 1843.
Africa, has nothing to bring down and re
port to us hut the power of kings and the
servitude of the people. If asked for its
designs, or just objects, for its sentiment, for
its admonition, for its instruction to mankind
—for any greet end of its being, it is silent;
silent as the millions of human beings that
lie in the dust at its basis, or the catacombs
that surround it. Having thus no just ob
ject now known to mankind, though it he
raised against the heavens, it excites no feel
ing hut that of the consummation of power,
raised with strange wonder. But if the
present civilization of mankind—founded
as it is, on the solid basis of science, or great
attainment in art, or in extraordinary knowl
edge of nature, and stimulated nnd perva
ded as it is, by moral sentiment and the truths
of the Christian religion—if this civilaza
tion he destined to continue till there come
a termination of human being on the earth,
then 1 lie purpose of this monument will con
tinue to lie on earth till that hour conies.—
And if, in a dispensation of Providence, the
civilization of the world is to be overthrown,
and the truths of Christianity obscured by
another deluge of l.aiharism, still the me
mory of Bunker Hill, and the great events
with which it is connected, will be parts and
elements of tbe knowledge of tbe last man
to whom the light of civilization and Chris
tianity shall he extended. This celebration
is honored by the presence of tbe Chief
Magistrate of tbe nation, suirounded by tbe
distinguished individuals who are his con
stitutional advisers. An occasion so national
—so intimately connected with that revolu
tion out of which the Government grew —is
surely worthy of this mark of respect and
admiration from him, who, by tbe voice of
his fellow-citizens and the law sos the coun
try, is placed at the head of that Govern
ment. Familially acquainted, as lie is, with
Yorktown, where the last great military ef
fort of the Revolution was performed, he
has now had an opportunity of seeing the
theatre of the first of these great struggles.
He has seen where Warren fell—where
Starke, Knowlton, Putnam, McLary and
their associates, fought. He lias seen the
field on which a thousand chosen regular
troops of England were smitten down in the
first great contest for liberty, by the arm of
the yeomanry of New England, and, with a
heart full of American feeling, he comes
here to-day, I am sure, to participate in all
the enthusiasm—in all the grateful recollec
tions—which this day and occasion are cal
culated to create. His excellency the Gov
ernor of tire Commonwealth is also present,
nor is it to be doubted that he, too, enters
with a glow of enthusiastic feeling into ar.
occasion intended to celebrate an event so
highly honorable to tbe people of that Com
monwealth over which it is his good fortune
to he called to preside. Banners and flags,
processions and badges, announce to us that
w ith this multitude have come up thousands
of the natives of New England, residents in
other States. Welcome, welcome, ye of
kindred name nnd kindred blood. From
the broad savannahs of the South—from the
far regions of the West—from the thousands
of Eastern origin who cultivate the rich and
the fertile valley of the Geness< e, and live
along the margin of our ocean-lakes—from
tlie mountains of Pennsylvania—from the
tin ouged and crowded cities of the coast—
welcome, welcome ! Wherever else you
may be strangers you are all at home heie.
You have a glorious ancestry of libeity—
you bring with you names such as are found
on tbe rolls of Lexington, and Concord, and
Bunker Ilill. You come here to this shrine
of liberty near the family altars where your
young lips were first taught to lisp the name
of God—near the temples of public worship
where you received the first lessons of de
votion— near the halls and colleges where
you received your education. You come
here, some of you, to embrace once more a
revolutionary father—to receive, perhaps,
another and a last blessing, bestowed in love
nnd tears, of an aged mother, who has sur
vived thus long to behold and enjoy your
prosperity ami happiness. If those family
recollections, if those tender associations of
early life, have brought you here, with some
thing of extraordinary alacrity, and given,
from you to us, and from us to you, some
thing cf peculiar and hearty greeting, it has
extended to every American, from every
and any spot, who has come up here, this
day, to tread this sacred field, with Ameri
can feelings, and who respire with pleasure
an atmosphere redolent of the sentiments of
1775. In the seventeen millions of happy
people who compose our American com
munity, there is not one man who has not
an interest in that structure—just as there is
not one who has not a deep and abiding in
terest in tlie events which it was designed to
commemorate. The respectability, I may
say the sublimity of the occasion depends
entirely on its nationality. It is all—all
American. Its sentiment is comprehensive
enough to embrace the whole American j
family—from North to South, from East to i
West; and it will stand, I hope, forever,
emblematic of that onion which connects us ;
together. And wo betide the man who !
cornea up here to-day with sentiments any :
less than wholly American. Wo betide the i
man who shall venture to stand here with I
the strife of local jealousies, local feelings,
or local enmities, burning in his bosom. All i
our happiness and all our glory depend on i
our union. That monument itself, iu all
that is commendable in its sentiment and
character, depends upon union. 1 do not
mean to say that it would not kc-ep its posi-
tion, if the States were rent asunder by fac
tion or violence. Ido not mean that the
heaving carih would move it from its base,
and that it woulr actually totter to its fall,
if dismemberment should he the affliction
of our land ; and I cannot say that it would
mingle its own fragments with those of a
broken Constitution. But, in the happen
ing of such events, who is there that could
dare to look up to it I Who is there that,
from beneath such a load of mortifilhtion
and shame as would overwhelm him, could
approach to behold it 1 Who is there that
would not expect his eye halls to be seared
by tbe intensity of its silent reproof? For
my part, 1 say, that if it be a misfortune,
designed by Providence for mo to live to
see such a time, I w ill look at it no more—
-1 will avert my eyes from it forever ! It is
not as a mere military encounter of hostile
armies that the battle of Bunker Hill finds
its principal claims for commemoration and
importance ; yet as a mere, battle there are
circumstances attending it of an extraordi
nary character, and giving to it peculiar
distinction. It was fought upon this emi
nence, in the neighborhood of yonder city,
in the presence of more spectators than
there were combatants in the fight—men
and women am) children, drawn from their
homes filling the towers of the churches,
covering the roof's of public buildings, and
all their residences, looking on for the re-
I suit of a contest of the consequences of
which they bad the deepest conviction. —
Tbe 16th of June, under a bright sun, these
fields exhibited nothing but verdure nnd cul
: ture. There was, indeed, note of awful
preparation in Boston, hut here, all was
peace; and the fields, then rich with the
loads of the early harvest, told of nothing
but tranquility. The morning of the 17th
saw everything changed; in the night re
doubts had been thrown up by a few hardy
men, under the direction of Prescott. In
the dawn of the morning, being perceived
by the enemy, a cannonade was immediate
ly opened upon them from the floating bat
teries on the water, and the land on the oth
er side of Charles river. I suppose it would
be difficult, in a military point of view, to
ascribe any just motive to either paity for
that conflict. It probably was not very im
portant for the Provincial army to hem in
the British in Boston, by a force a little
nearer, when that could probably have been
effected by a force a little further in the
rear. On the other hand, it is quite evident
that if the British officers bad nothing else
in view hut to dislodge the occupants of
Bunker Hill, the British commanded the
wateis —the Mystic on the one side, and the
Charles river on their other; and as those
two rivers npptoached each other, it was
perfectly competent to cut off all communi
cation, and reduce Prescott to famine in
eighty-and forty hours. But that was not
the day for such a sort of calculation on
cither side. The truth is, both parties were
ready, and anxious, and determined to try
the strength of their arms. The pride of
the British would not submit that a redoubt
of the rebels, ns tliey were called, should be
here, and stand in their very face and defy
them to their teeth. Without calculating
tbe cost, or caring for it, their object was to
destroy the redoubt at once by the power of
the royal nimy, and take vengeance as well
as attain security. On the other side, Pres
cott and his gallant followers, fully persua
ded that tbe time was near when the exci
ting controversy must break nut into open
hostilities, long thirsted for the contest.—
They wished to try it, and to try it now ;
and that is the secret which placed Prescott
there with bis troops. J will not attempt to
describe what lias been so often described
better than I can do it. The cannonading
from the water —the assaults from the land
—tlie coolness with which the Provincial
army, if it might be so called, met the charge
of the enemy—the valor with which they
repulsed, the second attack, the second re
pulse, the burning of Charlestown, and final
ly the closing scene of the retreat of the
militia of New England over the neck, I
shall not attempt to describe; hut in its
consequence the baltleof Bunkerliill stands
among the most important that ever took
place belwetn rival Slates. It was the first
great controversy in the revolutionary war,
and in my judgment, it was not only the
first blow stiuck in that war, hut it was the
blow that determined tho issue of that con
test. It certainly did not put an end to the
war, hut put the country in a state of open
hostility ; it put the controversy between
them to the arbitration of the sword, and
made one thing certain—that, after Warren
fell, after the troops of the New England
States had been able to meet and repulse
the attack oft he British regulars, it was cer
tain that peace would never be established
between the two countries, except on the
basis of an acknowledgement of American
independence. When thutsun went down i
the independence of these States was cer- ;
tain. No event of great military magnitude
took place between June *75 and ‘76, when
independence was foimally declared. It
rests, I know, on the most indubitable au
thority, that when Gen. Washington, having
just then received his appointment ns com
mander-in-chief of the American army,
heard of the battle of Bunker Hill, and was
told that for want of amunition and other
causes the militia yielded the ground to the
English troops, he asked if the rnilitia of
New England stood the fire of British reg
ular troops, and being told that they did,
and reserved their own till the enemy were
within eight rods, and then discharged it
with fearful effect,he then exclaimed: “The
liberties of the country are safe !” The
consequences, then of the battle of Bunker
Hill are just of the importance of the Ame
rican Revolution itself. If there is nothing
of value—if there is nothing worthy the re
gard of mankind in the Revolution itself—
then there is nothing worthy of regard in
the battle of Bunker Hill and I lie conse
quences flowing from it. But if the Ame
rican Revolution be on era in tbe history of
man favorable to human happiness—if it be
i an event which lias marked the progress of
! the human race from despotism to liberty—
I if it be an event which has shed a vast in
| fluencc on not only this continent hut the
1 wot Id—then that monument is not raised
without cause—then is Bunker Hill not un
worthy of a perpetual memorial.
What then is the principle of the Ameri
can revolution, and of this system of politi
cal government, which it has established and
confirmed I Now the truh is that the Amer
ican Revolution was not caused by any in
stantaneous adoption of a theory of govern
ment which had never before entered into
the minds of men, nor tbe embracing the
ideas and scntiineuts.of liberty liefore alto
gether unknown. On the contrary, it was
hut the better development nnd application
of sentiments and opinions, which had their
origin far hack in American nnd English
history. The discovery of America, its
colonization by the several States of Eu
rope, the history of tbe colonies from the
lime of their establishment to the time when
! the principal of them threw off’ their alle
giance to the States by which they had been
planted, constitute a train of events among
the most important recorded in human an
nals. These events occupied 300 years,
during which whole period knowledge made
steady progress in the old world; so that
Europe lietself at the time of the establish
ment of the New England States and Vir
ginia, had been greatly changed from that
Europe which had commenced the coloni
zation of the continent three hundred years
before. And wbat is most material to my
purpose is, that in the first of these centu
ries—that is to say, from the discovery of
America to the settlement of Vitginia and
Massachusetts—the events occurred espe
cially in England and some parts of the
j continent of Euiopc which materially cliang
|cd the whole condition of society. Now
i we know that, after some few attempts in
the reign of Henry VII to plant colonies in
America, no effective efliirt was made for
that purpose, either by tbe crown or the
subjects under its protection, for almost a
century. Without inquiring into tbe cause
of this long delay, its consequences are suf
ficiently clear and striking. England, in
this lapse of a century, unknown to herself,
was becoming fit and competent to colonize
j North America; and men were training
for that purpose, competent to introduce
the English name and the Anglo-Saxon
race into a great portion of this western
world. The commercial spirit was much
encouraged by several laws passed in the
reign of Henry VII, and countenance was
given also to aits and manufactures in the
eastern counties of England ; and some
not unimpoifant modifications of the Feu
dal .System were effected by the power of
breaking the entailmentof estates. These,
and other measures at that period, and other
causes, produced anew class of society, and
caused it to emerge from the bosom of the
Feudal System. And this itself, reacted
on the community of Europe. Thus was
formed a commercial or middle class—a class
neither barons nor great landowners on the
one side, nor on the other mere retainers of
the great barons or the crown ; but a class
of industry, of commerce, of education—
which produced a change on the face of Eu
rope. Operative causes w'ere arising nnd
our land produced an effect, which from the
accession of Henry VII. to the breaking
out of the ci\ il wars, enabled them to enjoy
much more of peace than during the con
troversy of the House of York and Lnn
j caster. Causes of another description also
| came into play—the reformation of Luther
broke out, kindling up the minds of men
afresh, leading to new habits of thought nnd
dissension, and waking the energies of in
dividuals that before were wholly unknown
evon to themselves. The religious contro
j versies of that period changed the state as
i well as religion, and indeed it were easy to
prove, if this were the proper occasion, that
! they changed the state in instances ir. which
i they did not change the religion of the state.
The spirit of foreign commercial enterprise
’ which had gained much strength and influ-
I once since the discovery of America, and
j on the other, the spirit of religious reforma
tion, were the great causes of the intioduc
tion of English Colonists into what is now
called the United States. Sir Walter Ra
leigh and his associates, whosettled Virginia,
may be considered the creation of the first
of these causes ; that is, the spirit of ad
venture mixed w ith the hope of commercial
gain, and seduced too much by the expecta
tion of discovering mines of great wealth in
America. They were not unwilling also to
diversify their pursuits of colonization by
occasional cruising* against the Spaniards.
They therefore crossed the ocean with a fre
quency and a daring whict may well sur
prise us, when we consider the state of nav
igation of that day. It was the other cause
that settled New England. When the May-
Jlwer sought our shores, she came .w ith no
high hopes of commercial gain—no lore of
j NUMBER 14.
WM, T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
gold—no mixture of purposes warlike or
hostile to any human being. Solemn prayer
to God at her departure front the sea coast
of Holland had invoked for her the blessing
of Heaven. She put forth, like the dove
from the ark, in pursuit only of rost. The
stars that guided her course were the unob
scurcd constellation of religion and liberty.
Her deck was the altar of the living God.
Prayers, from bended knees, morning and
evening, mingled the voices of ocenn and
the sighing of winds through her shroud*.
If prosperous breezes tilled her sails end
carried the pilgrims forward to their un
known homes in a distant land, it awakened
in them new antlieiris of praise ; and if the
elements were wrought into fuiy—if the
sea tossed their fragile bark from billow to
billow, like a reed or feather; not all the
power of the tempest, not the darkness and
the howling of the midnight storm, could
shake a man or woman from the firm our
pose, of the soul to undergo all, and to do
all-that the meekest patience, the holdest
resolution, and the steadiest reliance on
heaven could enable human beings to suffer
or to perform. For they knew that while
they had perilous duties to pevfnrm, and en
ktiown destinies to encounter, yet that tho
power of Almighty God was always over
them, and that living or dying, on the sea
or on the land, they w< re always compassed
in the arms of everlasting love. Some dif
ference may doubtlessly be tiaccd through
nil the course of their history, and even at
this day between the colonists of Virginia
and New England, owing to thedifferentcir
cumstances on which the settlements were
made. But these differences areonly enough
to create a pleasing variety in the members
of a large family.
*’ facies, non omnibus, una,
Nec diverfa, lamcn, qualem decetesse eororem.”
The liopes, sentiments and objects of both
soon became modified by local causes, grow
ing out of the condition of the New World,
arid the differences so apparent, at first grad
ually disappeared in the progress of time.
The necessity of some degree of union to
defend themselves against the savage tribes
tended to promote mutual regard. They
fought together in the wars against France.
Then the consolations of a common religion
created links of concord—fully, happily,
gloriously preserved in the form of govern
ment which now makes them the great re
public of the world, and proclaims to the
whole earth that for them there is only one
country, ono constitution, and one destiny.
The colonization of the Tropical regions of
this continent was conducted on other prin
ciples—other motives followed by tar other
consequences. From the time of its disco
very, the Spanish Government diligently
pushed Forward its settlements in America,
not only with spirit, but with eagerness—
for long before the first English settlement
in the United States, Spain had conquered
Mexico. Peru, and Chili, and had extended
her pow’er over all she had ever acquired on
this continent. As early as 1620 or ’22, Just
about the time of the settlement of this col
ony of Massachusetts, Spain had taken pos
session, actively or formally, of every foot
of territory between Florida and Cape Horn.
The rapidity of these conquests was greatly
to be ascribed to the eagerness of bands of
adventurers anxious to subdue and take pos
session of the great regions in the name of
Spain, expecting to discover mines of gold
—not produced by industry or commerce—
but dug from its native beds of earth, and
thatcaith ravished from its rightful posses
sors, by every possible degree of crime and
oppiession, formed long the governing prin
ciple of Spaniards in America. Even Co
lumbus himself did not escape this thirst for
gold. We find him inquiring every where
for gold, as if God had opened the new
world to the old, only for base and sordid
purposes, and the sacrifice of millions by
the sword. And yet Columbus was far in
advance of his ago and his country. He
was a man of indomitable enterprise, of
high hopes and noble aspirations, and of in
tellectual talent of an extraordinaty charac
ter as his history shows. Probably he was
in the habit of addressing mercenary mo
tives to others, not so much because they
influenced himself, as because they wero
most likely to operate with effect on those
on whose assistance and co-operation he was
obliged to depend. No doubt, however, he
looked on the world newly discovered, as
one to be seized, and ready to be enjoyed.
The robbery and destruction of the native
races was the achievement of standing ar
mies—a power which despotism has always
endeavored to retain. As there was no
liberty in Spain, Spain could transmit no
liberty to America. The colonists of New
England on the other hand, were of the
middle, industiious, hardy, prosperous
classes inhabitants of commercial and
manufacturing cities, amongst whom liberty
first revived and respired after a sleep of a
thousand years in the bosom of the dark
ages. Spain descended on America in the
mail-clad limbs and terrible visage of her
despotic monarchy—England in the more
grateful garb of popular rights and personal
freedom. England transplanted liberty to
America—Spain despotic power. England
colonized her settlements with industrious
pioneers, who recognized the rights of the
soil, treated the savages with humanity, arid
endcavoted to introduce the blessings of
civilization. But Spain was like a falcon
on its prey. Every thing was force. The
territories Were acquired by fire and sword