Herald of the times. [volume], August 25, 1830, Image 1

About Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846

Image provided by: Rhode Island Digital Newspaper Project

                
HERALD OF
VOL. 1.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
JAMES ATKINSON,
PUBLISIIER AND PROPRIETOR.
[commuxicaTlON, ]
[For the Herald of the Times. '
LOVE OF POPULAR APPLAUSE.
That man whose only aim is to be ad
mired by the populace, and whose prin-‘
cipal ambition is to command the undis-]
tinguishing applauses of a capricious and
lawless multitude, is in our opinion not
only the weakest and most unhappy of
mortals, but what is still more to be la-'
mented, he must be, fron want of priuci-l
ple and excess oi'low ambition, totally un-l
worthy of the only praiee that deserves,
our admiration, viz: the sincere and vol
untary approbation of the wise and guod.l
To be studious in the acquirement of
those accomplishments, and to be firm in
the support and practice of those princi
ples which adorn our natures, and make
us useful members of society, as well us‘
secure to us the smiles and upprobu!ionH
of heaven, is at all times, an e:ployment ‘
worthy the highest amibition and d(-sorv-|‘
ing the most ardent pursuit. But wlneu‘}
we see men whose talents and opportuni-|
ties ought to have inspired them with lm-'l
bler vicws, and established in them a bet- |,
ter taste; when we see them 1 say, iu-l.
haling with avidity the polluted breezes |
of vulgar approbation, prostituting their|
principles aud cfloits to unworthy purpo- |
ses and “mistaking the shouts of a mob '
for the trumpet of fame,” we then, not
only pity their weakness and despise tlmirl'!
depravity, but we sincerely deplore flmt“
want of virtue and discernment, which“
should have directed them to more laud-||
able pursuits, and rendered them more !
useful and worthy members of society.—/|
But however degraded the estimation in
which every virtuous and intelligent man
must hold the mere hualer of popularity,
vet how often do we see low minded menj
obtruding themselves on society,as cham-|
pions of the fax populi, and catch pennies
of vulgar applause? They sieze on ev
ery opportunity of flattering the ignorant,
and beguiling the thoughtless, until they
succred in drawing about them a crowd
of stupid admirersthis done, they huvcl
gained their object,and instead of improv-|
ing their success, to enlighten or ad-|
vance the interests and better the comli-'
tion of their votaries, they generally take,
every possible advantage of their credu-l
lity, and apply it, so far as it will go, to,
promote what they have very erroneous
ly supposed to be their own honor and
glory.
We are aware that there are some men’
of grovelling natures, who regard the
temporary eclat which they have acquir
ed in this way as of real importance, and
sufficient to confer on them honorable dis
tinction; but by every intclligent and vir
tuous citizen it is despised, and instead nfl
adding in their estimation to the impor-)
tance of those towards whomitis directed, |
it sinks them far beneath the standard of
the very crowd by whom they are so|
blindly and enthusiastically venerated. '
There is another circumstance almost
invariably attending this species of pop
ularity ;—I allude to its instability. "Those
who acquire it are men destitute of those
principles that cominand respect, and as
most gencrally happens they are both de
ficient in solid acquirements to sustain
their pretensions, and wauting in that spe
cies of cunning and intrigue which is
necessary to keep up that delusion on
which their whole influence depends.
The consequence is that, the delusion is
soon dissipated and ere long their follow
ers are awakened, to be mortified by the
image of their own incredulity, and to
see in their proper aspect the arts and
designs of the object of their infatuation.
Now the spell is forever broken; now the
lovers of vulgar praise are hurled with
impetuosity from their fancied pre-emi
nence, and their enraged and disappoint
ed votaries are sure to be as violent in
merited reprobation, as they have pre
viously been in unmerited npplnusc.—‘
Thus fares it with the hunters of mush-]
room popularity and lovers of vulgar ap
plause; they like those pretenders to pie
ty who make broad their phylacteries,
repeat long prayers, and do alms in pub
lic places to be scen of men, are doomed
NEWPORT,R. I. WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 25, 1830.
to a double curse, for they lose the
‘esteem of all good men by descending
‘to those arts which ingratiate them wiih
{the multitude; and when once their false
lprmni:-)es and ostentations pretensions are '
'seen through by their enthusiastic admir
‘ers, the tone of their clamour is sudden
1y changed, and instead of hearing the
shouts, and seeing the signals of ap
plause, they will meet the frowns of an
injured and indignant multitude, and be
compelled in some shape or otlier to atone
for the deception and low intrigue which
they have so successfully practiced upon
them, ,’
Condemn us, ve Gods, to bluck calunminy’s jaws,
But save us, O save us, from vulgar applause. |
'
! Zxno, |
THI MORAILIST.
" eTR ()-;1!) amaranthine flower on earth
Is virtue;—th' only lasting treasure, truth.””
SELECTED.
“Be still and kaow that I am God.”
Psarm xovi. 10, v,
Let me, thou Sov'reign Lord of all,
Low at thy foot-stoo! humbly fall,
Aud while T feel atlliction’s rod,
Be still and know that thou art God.
When or wherever thou shalt sniite,
I'll own thee kind, I'll own thee right;
Aud underneath the heaviest load,
Lie still, and know that thou art God.
Dost thou my earthly comforts slay,
Aud take beloved ones uway ?
Yet will my soul revere the rod,
Be still, and know that thou art God
Then be my trials great or small,
There’s sure a needs-be for them all,
"Thus, then, thy dealing’s I’ll applaud,
Be still, and know thut thou art God.
Let me not murmur, or repine,
Under these trying strokes of thine ;
But, while [ walk the mouruful road,
Be still, and know that thou art God.
Still let this truth support my miud,
Thou canst not e'rr nor be unkind,
And thus may | improve the rod, .
Be still and know that thou art God.
Thy love thoul't make in leaven appear,
In all I've borne and sufter’d here,
Let me, till brought to that abode,
Be still, and know that thou art God.
From Poulson’s Amer. Daily Adv. Philadelphia,
INFIDELITY.
| Mr. Povrson: lam not one of those
‘who entertain very great fears of the suc
‘cess of the modern Goddess of Reason, in
‘establishing her principles to any extent
in our community. Yetit isnot to be
concealed, that by artfully cowmbining
iwith her irreligious sentiments, a pretend
ed zeal for the social and political eleva
tion of that respectable class of persons,
whose avocations naturally uafit them for
'power or office, she has succeeded in
‘deluding many into an adoption of her ru
inous opinions. I have thought that e
nough has not been done by those who
witness this distressing spectacle, to win
‘back the victims of deception to the path
from which they have been seduced.
Arguments, clearly expressed and mildly
‘urged, showing the fallacy of the mis
‘nomer Free Inquiry Sysiem, would doubt
less, restrain the intelligent and well in
clined, from abandoning the hopes of re
ligion, the ties of social life and the prin
ciples of political order and to embrace
scepticism, licentiousness and anarchy.
| This subject has been recalled to my
mind with new force, upon reading, for
the first time, a very celebrated essay, by
one of the most powerful writers of mod
ern times—the Rev Robert Hall, of
Ingland—written during the French
Revolution, and entitled *“Modern Infi(lcl-;
ity considered with vespect to its influence’
on Sociely.” The copy before me is
the third edition, published in this cily,l
by Mr. Dobson, in 1800. It has proba
bly met the eyes of few of your read
ers, and as its arguments apply with pe-|
culiar force to the attempt now making
in this country to subvert the best hopes
‘of man, and the foundations of civil uo—i
cciety, I hope to perform an acceptable,
service to the public in bringing it to
to their attention. I
i The first proposition which the writer |
,malkes is that the sceptical or itreligioul',‘
system subverts the foundation of morals,
Af this world is the only place of recom
pence for human actions, then it would,
“LIBERTY and UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE !””—wWEBSTER.
|be folly to incur disgrace, trouble or|
:dcuth, when required in the pursuit of
i\'irtue. Every man being governed by
his own taste, and free to choose his own
;plcusurcs, must be subject only to the
tcontrol of his own mind. It presents no|
|motive to enforce the practice of virtue, |
I']'hc consequences of the prevalence ot"
‘this system would be the frequent perpe
}trminn of great erimes, and the total ab
'sence of great virtues, The crimes to
Ewhich men are tempted by avarice or
)‘umbitiun, will be only restrained by fear
'of human punishment, which would be an
,incfl'cctual barrier, because crimes would
soon lose their infamy under such a sys
,tcm. Beyond this immediate effect, we
must look and consider the disruption of
social ties, the destruction of confidence,’
the terror, suspicion and hatred which
would prevail in that state of society in
which barbarous deeds are f{amiliar. !
The tranquility of a community is found-|
¢d on an implied indisposition to annoy ;'
in the justice, humanity and moderation
of those among whom we dwell. The .
dread and hatred of our species would
infallibly be grafted in a conviction that
we were exposcd, every moment, to the |
surges of an unbridled ferocity, and that
nothing but the powerof the magistrate I
stood between us and the daggers of as
sassins. In such a state, laws derivingf
on support frompublic manners, are une-/
qual to the task of curbing the fury of
the passions, which from being concenta-,
ted into scliishness, fear and revenge,
acquire new force; terror and suspicion’
beget cruelty, and inflict injuries by way -
of prevention; pity is extinguished in the
stronger impulse of self-preservation; thc‘;
tender and generous afiections are crush- '
ed, and nothing is scen but the retalia-|
tion of wrongs, the fierce, unmitigated
struggle for superiovity, l
This system will be also barren of
great virtues. The only motive to!
great actions will be a love of fame, which‘
thus makes virtue the servant of opinion,
and can seldom be expected to up«-ratel
with much force in the retired duties of
private life,
The system tends to promote the growth
of those vices which are the most hostile to
social happiness. Vanity, ferocity and
jsensunlity are its natural results, The
latter vice is cspecially encouraged by
the doctrines now circulated on the sub
ject of marriage. DMr. Hume asserted|
that adultery was no crime if secret, xmd|
but a slight offence if' known. Marriage
was denounced during the French Rev
olution, as ii e worst of all monopolies.
1t 1s ne dless to point out how contrary is
Ithc spirit of revelation and reason l\lar-l
riage was ordained to be a permanent
union; it is the great civilizer of the world,
%without it there could beno permanent fa
milies, domestic society could not exist
But domestic society is the seminary of’
social affections,the cradle of scnsibility,!
{where the first elements are acquired of|
that tenderness & humanity,which cement |
mankind together, and which, were they
extinguished, the whole fabric of human
institutions would be dissolved. Fami
lies are so many centres of attraction,
}which preserve mankind from being scat
tered and dissipated by the rcpulsivc;
powers of selfishness. We advance
from private to public alfections, from the‘
love of parents, brothers and sisters, to|
those more expanded regards which
embrace mankind. The advocates of
the new system instead of inculcating
the private affections as a discipline by;
which the mind is prepared for those of a
more public nature, set them in opposilioni
to each other; they propose to build gen
eral benevolence in the destruction of
individual tenderness, and to make us
love the whole species more, by loving
every particular part of it less. \'imwi
is limited to a passionate attachment to
the general good, but when the bonds of’
society are loosed; whence is this affee-,
tion to spring ? |
It is no new boast of infidels that their
system is so much more liberal than chris
tianity, that if fairly tried it would great
ly increase human happiness. But was
it not fully tried in France, and was not |
the experiment accompanied by every
vice and horror which can be named ?
Where are the pure moralists and the
indefatigable philanthropists whom lhe:
system has produced ? Where are the
patriots it has sent forth? ‘
In a view of the final issue of the con
test, we should find comparatively little
cause to lament the prevalence of these
new ideas, but for a solicitude for the
rising generation, to whom the system is|
recommended by two motives, with y uung!
%minds the most persuasive,—the love Ufi
independence & the love of pleasuie, With
.reslmct to the first, we would remind thei
‘young,that by the unanimous consent of
all ages, modesty, docility and reverence
"to superior years, and to parents übuvc;
all, have been considered as their appro- |
priate virtue, a guard assigned by the!
immutable laws of God and nature on'
the inexperience of youth: and with re
spect to the second, that christianity pro-,
hibits no pleasures that are innocent, lnys!
no restraints that are capricious; but thut!
the sobricty & purity which it enjoins, byi
strengthening the intellectual powesr,and
preserving the faculties of mind and body
in undiminished vigour,lay the surest foun
dation of present peace and future emi
nence. At such a season as this, it be
comes an urgent duty on parents, guar-{
dians and tutors, to watch not only over
the morals, but the principles of those
committed to their care; to make it ap
pear that a concern for their eternal wel
fare is their chief concern, and to imbue
them early with that knowledge of the
evidences of christianity, and that pro
found reverence for the scriptures, that
with the blessing of God may preserve
them in the hour of temptation.
REFLECTIONS
ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF A CHILD.
The following passage by Rev. Mr.
Peabody, is extracted from the ‘Offer
ing of Sympathy.’—The scene which it
describes with so much truth and beauty,
:is one, which with a mournful frequency,
we are called to witness, and the thoughts
its suggests, will meet at once, the feel
ings of many a bereaved heart.
In the spring of the last year, | attcnd-i
the funeral of a child; one that I had of
ten seen the parents gaze upon with un!
expression of deep delight, and sceming
ly without the least consciousness that
it was not an immortal thing. 1 could
understand their happiness, but not their
security; for I had shared that calamity,
from which life is not free, and with a
heavy, but I trust an humble heart, had
laid my treasures in the dust. I was
prepared, therefore, to sympathize withl
them ‘tear for tear, but, in truth, thel
heart most unacquainted with grief, must
have been moved at the sight of a child,l
beautiful as the morning star, called
away from his parents, care and tendcr-i
ness, and soon to lay his head on a cold
er pillow than his mother’s breast. The
scene was impressive, and even awful;
the stillness of the mansion which had
rung with his laugh of gladness; the par
ents wrapt in unutterable woe ;—the chil
dren gazing with wonder and awe on the
mystery of death. Inthe midst of them
lay the child, once so tender and helplcss,‘
now insensible to all hunan :ltl'ectiuns;!
his features bore that unsearchable dvpth‘
of expression, which no mortal eye could
read; there was a smile on his lips; and
a clear radiance on his brow, that made
all who beheld it, feel the unapproacha
ble majesty of' death.—Soon the melun-{
choly bell; the returning procession, and
the tomb closing on its creaking hingcs,‘
told me that he had passed the boundary
that separated the living from the dead.
In the autumn 1 happened to visit the
burial place. This is a lavorite retreat
of the thoughtfui; it has a solitude of its
own, neither dreary nor oppressive; a
holy and gentle stillness, which is felt
,hy every one that passes by. It was in
‘a scason of the day and year, auspicious
i'" such influences ; the dead leaves were
Just beginning to whisper and fall : the
'breathing of nature was like an univer
sal sigh; the evening clouds were hurry
‘ing to the west, to float once more in
lthc sunset radiance ; and all was still, as
‘thc decay that wears the marble of the
tombs. The pale monuments rose a
round me telling of the dead, not so much
:what they were, as what they ought to
‘have been; but I was less moved by all
'their legends of vanity or affection, than
',by one small stone, which hardly rose
THE TIMES.
;above its bed of green. It was a me
‘morial of that child who perished in the
!inl'ancy of its existence; leaving no more
‘trace of himself amonyg the living, than
‘the clond that wanders and melts away
lin the blue of heaven.
I 1 could not help meditating on the ef
fect of time. At the time when the
[lleavcs, which I saw falling around me,
‘were opening, this child was in the
iibrightness of its rising. Now it was
- gathered, ‘dust to dust, it was taken
|3 from the living, and the parents refused
the comfort both of God and man. Now, “
‘most of those who shed tears for his ear- |
ly departure, had forgotten where theyl
had laid him;—and the parents them-|
‘selves treasured his memory with far
(more tenderness than gloom. Had anyl
‘visible angel, since, said to them that he
'was not here, but had risen ? \Vasl
‘notthe sun of righteousness shining as
brilliantly, then, upon the world as now?
1 felt that time had done what religion
‘then could not do : what religion might
then have done, had it been intimate in
;thc heart. lor it is designed to remove |
‘the terrors of the grave : and, instead of’
!throwing ourselves opento the accidents
!nnd misfortunes of life, we should take
;tlne consolation God has offered, nndl
'bind it to our souls, We should not al-l
low ourselves to be entirely passive in
ithe day of trial. We should exert all
(the energy of our nature, touched and
‘quickened by religion. Ifour hearts are
!strong to the trials of life, like a fine in-’
istrmneut, their tones will be inspiring ;)
but give them up to the influences of the|
"world, and they are all sadness like thell
!harp of the wiuds, on which the passing
‘breeze makes what melody it will.
‘ And yet it would seem, as if the an
guish of sorrow was almost as deep, as if
liuur religion never had come. The tears
flow as fast and freely as they did two
thousand years ago; but then, immortali
’.'ty was like some star which shone, unre
fgardcd, inthe heaven. Now, its periods
'have been measured; its vastness reveal
'ed; and it has been made a guide to the
‘wanderers on the sca. Still, we regard
the future with uneasiness and dread, we
‘set our aflections on perishing things, and
are miserable when we lose them.
When our friends are living and happy,
!we feel as if they were immortal; when
they are gone, we mourn for them as if!
they were lost forever. ‘
A FATIHER.
| Of all the evils that desolate thc'
'social hearth-stone, perhaps there is
‘not one more deadly, if we except intem
‘perance, than that of gaming. Young
men, whose ‘life’s young dream,’ tells of
‘happy days yet to come—you, who gaz-'
‘ing upon the ocean of future life, ‘see plea
‘sure dancing upon the waves of expecta
tion,” whose glowing imagination points|
‘out golden shores of bliss, which are al
ready yours by anticipation—bewnrel
'—beware, I do beseeeh you of this whirl
‘pool! Beware, lest in avoyage of human\
life, reason should quit the helm, and you'
should be lost, irrecoverably lost among‘
the quick sands of iniquity. 4
| Look at the pale victim of the insatia
ble destroyer of human happiness—his
haggard check and beamless eye—what
language dothey speak! With mute and
awful eloquence they tell you of blighted
fame and fortune; of hopes withered and
crushed; that fame, fortune and honor is
afearful wreck! Hear his hollow laugh,
whichtells you thathe is ruined, ruined &
‘undone! His brain is all on fire ? his glar
ing eye-balls seem ready to burst in their
sockets, as the awful reality rushes upon
his affrighted soul. The deep pangs of
~mental agony give fearful lustre to his)
‘rolling eye; his desperate mirth—-his’
wild,convulsive joy—tells of black des
' pair wrung from withered hearts. '
l} Look we back for a moment upon his
| carly youth. The morning of his daysl
' was bright and glorions. The gayest of
' the gay, and the happiest of the happy, he'
'set out upon the pathway of life rejoicing|
in purity, loving and being loved. But
alas ! although his morning sun rose |
without a cloud, yet ere it reaches its
"mmidian itis eclipsed, Tn an evil hour, a
‘pander, a demon, must drag him into',
‘a mazy labyrynth, from whence there
is no escape. Ile wmust drown his love
GAMING.
for virtue in the intoxicating bowl.—
Soon the wreaths of vice, which had
been treacherously thrown around hiw,
are hardened to adamant,
'\ Now what is his situation! Cain
‘ like upon his brow is stamped the burn
. Ing mark of shame; the cold hand of scorn
lis pointing a withering finger at his
‘;blighted reputation, Could he speak
|he would tell you that he had reached
the lowest point of degradation and woe.
, And could he anticipate his end he would
tell you self-murder would shortly crown
":his work of guilt, and despair’s last work
will be done.—That the father who hung
!over his cradle, weaving bright visions
of the future greatness of his boy,
would shortly feel a dreadful satisfac
tion as he gazes upon his coffin; that
the mother, even the mother, immuta
‘'ble and everlasting as is her love for
her backsliding children; she who has
80 often lulled him to repose, and joyed
‘to watch his waking—even she murmur
ed not that sleep has come upon him,
out of which he will wake no more on
‘carth, even the mother will not repine
that the grave is made ready to reccive
him; ¢ for there the wicked cease from
‘troubling, and theweary are at rest”
From the Education Reporter,
INDEPENDENCE Ao EDUCATION,
| General education, or the general
‘diffusion of knowledge, is infinitely more
important in a republic, than under any
government that ever existed. Under a
monarchy or an oligarchy, if the ‘“‘com
mon people” know enough to till the
;ground, or toil at the mechanic trades,
‘or make money by traflick, or carry mus
kets in war, or go before the mast on the
‘ocean,itisenough. When the state wants
‘bodily service, they can render it;
'when she wants money, or a portion of
‘the fruits of their industry, they can pay it;
and what is wanted more? The great
'men will govern them, and protect them
‘too as they do their farms and herds;
‘and the government will make ne de
‘mands upon them for the employment
‘of knowledge or talent. As for the peo
‘ple, why should they acquire know
ledge that they can scarcely have a
‘motive in using. It will make them
‘no richer; it will secure no privileges
jor rights; it will raise them to no office,
;or distinction, or station of usefulness; it
'might make them discontented with their
ot & augment their miseries. Learning
;camlot extend thro’ the community, un
der a despotic government: it is a soil un
‘congenial to its growth. The pages of
history establish this fact. On a map
of the world at this very day, let light and
'dark colors denote the knowledge or
‘ignorance which prevail in different
'countries, and the same tokens will point
out the residence of [reedomn and bond
‘age. This is a most powerful induce
‘ment for the sons of liberty to possess
‘themselves of the treasures of know
ledge and convey them to their chil
‘dren.
| The necessily for the general diffu
sion of knowledge among republicans,
‘arises from the very fact that they are
‘republicans. In a republic, the people
"are the sovereigns, and they must manage
the affuirs of the empire. The people
therefore must know their rights,that they
' may maintain & defend them; their duties,
! that they may discharge them; the nature
'of liberty, that they may enjoy it and not
.infringe upon others: the history of man
'and nations, that they may avoid the
‘errors of former ages and profit by their
accumulated wisdom; their own powers
and resources, that they may bring them
‘into operaiion for their own happiness
and the general good. Various de
grees of knowledge are requisite, accord
ing to the stations which individuals will
fill. For in this body politic all mem
bers have not the same office, though
‘every man has an office to discharge.—
Lvery one needs that kind and degree of
knowledge, which will qualify him for the
dutics aud immunities of his station.
Every man need not be skilled in ancient
languages, or in all the branches of lite
:nture. But every man should know the
great principles of all the solid sciences,
and be well acquainted with the com
mon medium of communication around
NO. 21.
Amulet.]