1 JULY 1848, Page 17

SPECTATOR'S LIBRARY.

Memoir of William Ellery Channing. With Extracts from his Correspondence and

Blanuscripts. In three volumes Chapman. The Romance of the Peerage; or Curiosities of Family History. By George Lillie

Craik. 'Volume I Chapman and Hall.

LIFE OF DR. CHANNING.

THE source of Dr. Channing's reputation is not altogether to be sought in his ability or learning. On theological science he set little value ; the circumstances of his age and country would have prevented him from becoming a profound Biblical scholar, had his taste lain in that direction; and we think that several sectarian preachers could be produced who equalled him in what they calk/in-es of composition and weight of mat- ter, though falling far short of him in reputation. A great secret of Channing's influence was his catholic character. He was a presentable Dissenter. He had none of the narrow intolerance that distinguishes the more rigid sectarians; he was not merely intellectual, like so many of the Unitarian denomination to which he belonged. He had a heart as well as a head, and was more catholic than the Catholics themselves. This all-sympathizing all-embracing charity was the result of instinct rather than of reasoning. He looked round upon creation and felt that "it was good." He could not endure even an imaginative atmosphere of brimstone and blue flames : gloomy views of Providence and terrible pictures of a future state shocked rather than offended him. In very early boyhood, comparing the theory with the practice, he came to the con- clusion that such religion could not be true.

"His father, with the view of giving him a ride, took William in his chaise one day as he was going to hear a famous preacher in the neighbourhood. Im- pressed with the notion that he might learn great tidings from the unseen world, he listened attentively to the sermon. With very glowing rhetoric, the lost state of man was described, his abandonment to evil, helplessness, dependence upon sovereign grace, and the need of earnest prayer as the condition of receiving this divine aid, In the view of the speaker, a curse seemed to rest upon the earth, and darkness and horror to veil the face of nature. William, for his part, supposed that henceforth those who believed would abandon all other things to seek this salvation, and that amusement and earthly business would no longer occupy a moment. The service over, they went out of the church; and his father, in answer to the remark of some person, said, with a decisive tone, ' Sound doctrine, Sir.' 'It is all true,' then, was his inward reflection. A heavy weight fell on his heart. He wanted to speak to his father; he expected his father would speak to him in relation to this tremendous crisis of things. They got into the chaise and rode along; bat, absorbed in awful thoughts, he could not raise his voice. Presently his father began to whistle. At length they reached home; but instead of calling the family together and telling them of the appalling intelligence which the preacher had given, his father took off his boots, put his feet upon the man- tel-piece, and quietly read a newspaper. All things went on as usual. At first he was surprised; but, not being given to talking, he asked no explanations. Soon, however, the question rose, 'Could what he had heard be true? No; his father did not believe it; people did not believe it. It was not true.' He felt that he had been trifled with; that the preacher had deceived him: and from that time he became inclined to distrust everything oratorical, and to measure ex- actly the meaning of words: he had received a profound lesson on the worth of sincerity."

This genial sense of humanity and religion gave William Channing his wide sympathies and largeness or at least manysidedness of view. Never "losing sight of the man" in opponents, unless in the case of the French Jacobins and Napoleon, he was prepared to examine the cir- cumstances which surrounded them, to find excuses or see justifying reasons for their conduct as classes. The American maxim, "Our country right or wrong," found little favour in his eyes : during the early part of the century, he pointed out the partiality and wrongdoings of the States against England in favour of France. He denounced the Seminole war, the annexation of Texas, and predicted the unprincipled invasion of Mexico. Opposed to oppression of every kind—whether of force or fraud or convention, and from feeling and association pecu- liarly liable to be acted upon in the case of slavery, he yet saw that the violence of the Abolitionists was without warrant; that much was to be allowed for the feelings of the planters ; that great as the evil was it was difficult to deal with in a safe manner ; and that the evil itself did not lie so much in the gross and palpable as many well-meaning people thought. To be sure, he had the knowledge of personal experience ; having lived in Virginia in early manhood, and passed some time at St. Croix in mature age for his health. About the time when Bux- ton and his coadjutors were terrifying the timid Whigs of England into the ruin of the West Indies, Channing, though himself an Abo- litionist, thus wrote to Miss Roscoe, at Liverpool. " St. Croix, March 10, 1831. I am more and more satisfied that the great evils of slavery are of a moral nature: it has sore physical sufferings, but these may be traced chiefly to moral causes. I believe that the enemies of slavery have exaggerated the bodily pain inflicted by the master on the slave; and the conse- quence has been, that the master, conscious of being treated unjustly, has repelled indignantly the interference of the philanthropist: he insists that the Negroes are in a better condition than the peasantry of most countries; and so unwise and un- righteous are social institutions almost everywhere, that he has too much truth on his side.

"The slaves have food in sufficient quantities, and with unfailing regularity; so that the first necessity of life is supplied. They are accustomed to sell a part of their allowance, as well as to supply the market with fruits, poultry, &c.; and tlina they get the luxuries which they most value, such as tobacco, salt meat, and especially dress. Their appearance shows that they do not suffer from want of food. You never see among the women that haggish, shrunk, toil-worn counte- nance so common in Switzerland and Germany. As to clothing, the next neces- airy of life, the climate needs little provision, and they of course suffer less than the labourers of cold climates. On Christmas and New Year's Day—a kind of Satarnalia among the slaves, when they visit their master's house, and sing and dance as familiarly as at home—they make quite a display of dress, especially the females, some of whom wear not only fashionable but costly articles; and I was told by a female friend who visited their ball, that their costume, their graceful dancing, and general propriety of manners, would not have disgraced a similar festival among cultivated Whites. These, however, were the elite of the slaves, and borrow their fashion from the house-servants. As to lodging, I suppose there iS 11° °Walla/40n between their huts and those in which the bulk of the Irish pea- santry live: they want nothing but neatness to be as well housed as they could desire,

" In regard to labour, they never work as our mechanics and farmers do, who

turn off tw i ice as much work n a day: still they are overworked, I tbink„ as tho labouring classes are in all countries. The hardship in the condition of slaves is that their toils are not intermitted. The summer is perpetual here,4nlidultins.he sugar-cane requires a year to ripen it; so that the slave toils from the ' • to the end of the year, with none of those intervals of repose which a change season brings in other countries. Then his labour is forced; he has no interest in it-Tgains nothing by it, literally nothing; the excitements by which Provi- dence Intends it should be lightened and cheered are wholly wantiog; and this alone adds to it an intolerable weight " As to the sufferings of the Negroes from cruelty. These are very much di- minished; chiefly, I suppose, by the abolition of the slave-trade, which has made the life of the slave more valuable; and, in a measure, by the prevalence of more humane feelings, which may be ascribed to the sympathy of Europe with this de- graded caste. There is and must be cruelty; for the agents of the owner who come into contact with the slaves are generally uneducated, ignorant, undisci- plined men, with little principle and strong passions, utterly unfit to be traded with power; and notwithstanding restraint from the proprietor, they do abuse their power, as well as increase the corruption of the Negroes by their immorali- ties. But I suspect that a gang of Negroes receives fewer stripes than a com- pany of soldiers of the same number in your army. They are subjected to a lees iron discipline; and, as far as physical condition is concerned, they are not to be compared with soldiers during a campaign. "Still they suffer much. But the origin of this is to be sought chiefly in moral evils. Their whole condition tends to degrade them intellectually and morally, to make them little more than animals, to sink them in many respects below the brute. Here is the misery of slavery; nor do I think it can be expressed too strongly.

What affects me most deeply is the i thought, that in those countries called

re

Christian the largest part of human beings aniquitonsly and forcibly reduced to a state which blights their whole nature, forbids all improvement, and entails on them the misery of ignorance and vice."

This universal sympathy and freedom from narrow prejudice perhaps gave Channing a distinction to which neither his genius nor his catholic spirit alone might have raised him. With abilities too great to be neglected, and a character too respectable to be successfully assailed, he was often offending his over-zealous friends by his justness of limitation, and from the same cause pleasing his opponents. He did not halt be- tween two opinions, but stood between extremes; and, in America at least, drew upon himself a different if not a more extensive regard than can be attained by the furious and slavish partisan. It must, however, be allowed that be belonged to a party both in religion and politics, and derived from them that temporary celebrity which always attends upon a man who connects himself with other men and has qualities to become a chief. It should also be added, that he had about him so much of the rhetorician as generally to take the side he was at the moment writing upon.

Unless these points be allowed for, the reputation of Channing will be a mystery to those who only read his writings; for his class of com- position was not of the highest, and he was equalled if not surpassed by several in his own walk, always excepting his tolerant allowance and his warmth of justice. He could exhibit a question, and very ably, as we have just seen in his account of the character of slavery ; but he must be as it were drawn to it. His natural turn was to preaching. Unless the subject actually forces him upon the substantial, he always slides into reflection, hortative, or some other mode of "expounding." During a journey he made into Europe in 1822-23, the impression of manners, incidents, and buildings, seems to have been slight; at least there are very scanty traces of such in his letters : nature, and the advancement of mankind in the preacher-idea of it, are the topics he turns to of his own accord. And this class of literature is neither wide in its attraction nor permanent in its duration; depending, in fact, upon party of some kind for its temporary power. Exceptions can be pointed out in Channing's writings, but we think their general characteristic is exposition.

In offering an opinion upon the literary achievements of Channing, regard must be had to the ill health which from early manhood attended him through life. His father was a lawyer in good practice, who died young, in 1793, leaving his widow and a large family dependent upon a slender patrimonial property. William Ellery Channing, after finishing his education, accepted the office of what is called tutor to a gentleman's family in Virginia, though it seems to us more like the post of local schoolmaster. The narrow circumstances of his family, and his own zeal for the acquisition of knowledge, prompted him to a series of exer- tions that broke down his constitution.

"lie usually remained at his desk till two or three o'clock in the morning, and

often saw the day break before retiring to rest. He had also gained from the Stoics, and from his own pure standard of virtue, ascetic desires of curbing the animal nature, and of hardening himself for difficult duties. For the end of overcoming effeminacy, he accustomed himself to sleep on the bare floor, and would spring up at any hour of waking to walk about in the cold. With the same view, he made experiments in diet, and was rigidly abstemious, while he neglected exercise from too close application. The result of these night studies, and of his general igno- rance of the natural laws, was, that an originally floe constitution was broken, and seeds of disease were planted in his system, which years of scrupulous regard to health could never root out."

Throughout the remainder of his life, which extended to sixty-two years, his condition was that of a confirmed invalid. The delivery of a sermon, or the morning's study, generally exhausted him for the day ; excitement or additional exertion would often incapacitate him for a week; and the spring was a season of trial which rendered necessary a country sojourn at his native place of Rhode Island. This state of health ren- dered him unequal to any great work. The idea of such things lin- gered in his mind, but practically he was limited to almost fugitive pro- ductions—sermons addresses, essays, and the modern "article." The world, indeed, makes no actual allowance for the circumstances of the author, since it must judge of his works as it finds them ; but in esti- mating a writer's character, criticism must have regard to those acci- dents of fortune or conditions of nature which might influence his exer- tions. It is possible, however, that greatness was not within Channing's grasp : perhaps had his health been better he would only have done more, not things of a different kind. His life was uneventful. He was born in 1780. After an education at .various schools, and at Harvard College, which he entered in his fif- teenth year' he went to Virginia in his nineteenth, as the tutor or school- master already mentioned. On his return,, in his -twenty-first year, he began to study for the ministry; supporting himself by teaching, and as Regent of Harvard College. There is to us some obscurity about his entrance into the ministry, arisingfrom our unacquaintance with the modes of his sect and this portion of the discipline of Harvard ; but he began to preach in the autumn of 1802; being then in his twenty-third year. The teat of his first sermon was indicative of his condition, his character, and the spirit of his religion—" Silver and gold have I none, but such as Dave give I thee"; and he proceeded to expound and enforce the range of.benevolent action open to every human being. From the first he was a-popular preacher, and in a few months was sought for by two congre- gations at Boston. He made 'choice of the Federal Street ; at which Chapel he remained till nearly the close of life, when his growing infirmities.. induced him to -resign all public ministration, though he still continued a kind of connexion with his congregation. When he first joined them the numbers were few; but longlefore his death he raised it to a most distin- gnishect position among the churches of-the States. From the outset, however, the members must have been wealthy, as his first salary was 1'200iolltirs,—a large sum.for his youth, his office, the times, and the.

Of this salary he was very liberal ; acting' upon the principle-'

of "take no heed for tomorrow," but spending all he got on charity, or the support-of his family as long as they required assistance. When he. married, (in 1814,) he continued the sainemode of expenditure; but as he never touched his wife's property, which was large, his domestic' establishment was conducted from that timenpon a morelexpensivefoot- ing. For years before his death, as his infirmities :grew upon him, he frequently pressed deductions of-his salary upon the congregation; which - they declined to make, till the subject was-reiterated. Then, unless more t took place than appears in the' formal documents, (which is probable,) they do not seem to have acted with wonderful liberality.

From first,to last, Dr. Charming. appears to have been. a Congrega- tional Unitarian; which implies,- we believe, a perfect independence of every church both in doctrine and discipline, bat a union with other. Unitarians as regards services or common objects of religion, and, if the: rainiater and congregation so will with any other 'denomination: what-. soever except-perhaps Papists. The tenets of Unitarians are not easy to get atfrom their name, since they may hold anything from pure Deism to that belief which. perhaps characterizes, the mass . of Trinitarians who.do-not Puzzle themselves with religious subtilties. Dr. Charming seems -to. have approached this last class, if he was. not of it. He admitted the prekaistence of Jaw Christ, and his superiority to man—possiblylv would have allowedi.to all spiritual beings whatever ; but he considered lien inferior to God. All dogmas or human deductions from Scripture he threw aside-.-perhaps some doctrines, themselves, especially if not . practical. About:, the Devil or evil, spirits be doubted,-or something - more:. Writing to Mr. Martineau, he says- . " The personifiaation.of moral evil seems to me a-more serious matter than to you } for-the result is, that people come to fear the person and his power more - than moral evil itself; and whenever the conception of him becomes more vivid, the moral perceptions are almost/Jost in selfish- dread: I sometimes think' that the+Devil has been 's more formidableasbjectto the English;raee-than to the;Con- titientak.Cheistians. Luther called him eaitiff,:. thrmwan 'inkstand at him, and tells us that he 'found no way of driving him ofFsaeffectnally.asiaughing at him, Satan was evidently a .poor creature in Luther's notion. He could not stand a sneer. Did Milton make him more terrible? I know nothing of the history of this conception' in. later times. 1 meet no explanation of 'the references to'Satan in our Saviour's history which satisfies me. The whole 'subject is a perplexing one; and, asit does not enter into the essence of Christianity, I have; for along time ceased to.think.about it." The author of the. biography before ; us is Dr. Chauning's . nephew; wholad the whole of his uncle's papers, and the contributions of many Mends and admirers, as well as his own personal reminiscences, to assist him in his task. With reference to such advantages, the book is rather &appointing as a biographical narrative, or as regards the information it furnishes in proportion to its length. The biographer seems to have been overpowered by the expectation of hi a uncle's admirers and his own relationship, and to have formed an erroneous notion of biography. The. youth, early manhood, and closing years of Dr. Channing, are in the narrative form ; and, though somewhat overlaid by general, not individual Correspondence, they give a good idea of Dr. Channing's life in-the pe- riod to which they refer; and are often interesting, especially in the early' period, from their comments on public affairs. The middle period is planned with the view of exhibiting Channing's life and character in va- rious aspects, rather than in its career; as Spiritual Growth, the Units-' rims Controversy, Middle-Age Ministry, Religion and Philosophy, Anti-. Slavery. The idea was not bad where there 'was little in the actual life' itself to tell. Unity was imparted to each subject without the risk of interrupting a narrative, and it enabled each section to be exhibited at greater length than could 'well be done in the usual form of biography. DM the. execution is too minute, and will seem tedious to all- ex= Opt' the disciples' of Charming. Not satisfied with copious extracts fibre letters often sermoirlike, which courtesy to their contributors - may have prompted,' the biographer quotes largely from his- an- ther's public writings' when any such exist, . under the notion of exhibiting Dr. Channing's mind. Some, indeed; may say that this matter has a value: and so it may, in its place; but the life or even the mind of a man is not-properly exhibited by quotations from his writ- ings, but by deductions from them. A biographer who acts in this waynalls upon the reader to do his' business, without giving him the materials. Into this error Mi. Channing has fallen, partly from over-anxiety, and partly from the' undneestimate or 'his uncle-which' henatmally enough has ferMett Stit'for this mistake, and 'a slightly ambitious style, he was Well-suitedlo his tattlq both -by actual knowledge of his subject and natu- ral aptitude. The following, though not free-from the-fault-of that form of affectation, is. a true pieceof biography.

DR. CLUNKING'S DAY.

And now.leb tike hasty view of a day of Boston life. The sun ;is just rising, and the fires are scarcely lighted, when, with rapid step, Dr. Channing enters his study. He has been wakeful daring many hours; his brain teeming; and, under the excitement of his morning bath, he longs to use the earliest hours for work. His eye and smile are so bright, his step is so elastic, his whole air se buoyent, the spirit, in a word, seems so to shine through his slight frame that a stranger would not anticipate the languor which a few hours of labour will bring. "Dr. Charming small and weak !" said a Kentuckian, who was a fervent admirer of his writings; " I thought he was six feet at least in height, with a fresh cheek, broad -chest, voice like that of many waters, and strong limbed as a giant." And' now in these morning hours you see how radiant he is with energy ; his first act is to write down the thoughts which have been given in his vigils; next he reads) a chapter or more in Griesbach's edition of the Greek Testament; and after 1, quick glance over the newspapers of the day, he takes his light repast; morning prayers follow, and then he retires to his study-table. If he is reading, you win at once notice this peculiarity, that he studies pen in hand, and that his book is crowded with folded sheets of paper, which continually multiply as trains of thought are suggested: These notes are rarely quotations, but chiefly questions; and•answers, qualifications, condensed statements, germs of interesting views; and • when the volume is finished, they are carefully selected, arranged, and, under, distinct heads, placed among other papers in a secretary. If he is writing, unless making preparation for the pulpit or for publication, the same pro- cess of cceciumulating notes is continued, which at the end of each day or week" see also,fited. And aa .your.eye scans the interior of the secretary, you observe' that it is already 'filled with heaps of similar notes, arranged in order, with titles, over each compartment. These are the materials for the work on r" Man." When.. a topic; is to be treated at length in a sermon or essay, these notes are consulted; the reflections, conjectures, doubts, conclusions of many-years, are reviewed; and' then, with treasures of memory orderly arranged, Dr. Channing fusee and recasts his gstherederes amder the warm-impulse of the moment: He first draws. up a skeleton of his subject, selecting with special. care and making prominent.thacen-• trek principle that gives it unity, and from which branch forth correlative consi- derations. Until -perfectly clear.in his own mind as to the essential truth of this main. view, he cannot proceed. Questions are raised, objections considered, expla...- nations given, definitions stated, what is merely adventitious and accidental swept-, aside; the ground cleared, in a word, and the granite foundation laid bare for the corner-stone. And -now the work goes rapidly forward. With flying pen he makes a rough draft of all that he intends to say, on sheets of paperfolded length- wise, leaving half of each page bare. He then- reads over what he has written, and on the vacant half-page supplies defects, strikes out redundancies, indicates', the needed qualifications, modifies expressions. Thus sure .of his thought and. aim, and conscientiously prepared, he abandons.himself to. the ardour of compo- sition.

Dr. Chiming, however, self-governed and methodical though he.was, did not% always find himself in fit mood to write; and then he forbore to force his mind to unwilling effort. He knew that fallow seasons must alternate with.fruitfulness. • *- • 5' • BY noon Dr. Channing's power of study and writing is spent, and he seeks the fresh air.. In company with his friend Mr.' Phillips, be walks in the sunny streets around the Common, discussing high themes of religion and humanity; or attends to business arrangements, in conducting which he shows the same quick compre- hension and sound judgment watch characterize him in moraland spiritual rela- tions • or goes to the Athenaeum to look over thelles of foreign papers and new journals; or makes calls upon parishioners and acqnaintancesi or- visits some of the poor and desolate families whose names are on his lists.. After dinner, he lies forh time upon the sofa, and walks again or drives into the country. Sunset ; in thehity, seat Newport, he keeps as a holy hoar' looking from upper windows,. which command wide prospects, over the broad basin of Charles River and. the; undulating .range of Brighton and Milton Hills. During, the winter twilight he likes to be silent and alone.