In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

101 to sarah gray cary Plimouth August 18th 1799 Yesterday my dear friend I received yours dated July 13th . This like all I receive from Mrs Cary is replete with that tender interest that marks the mind of true friendship. Yes the feble glimmering of the lamp of life must be nearly extinguished when we arrive at the age of three score years and ten. We ought then daily to think we are each moment tottering on the marge of the grave and whither we feel our footsteps tending thither or not, we can tread but a little while longer over the deceptive road of life before we shall step into the darksome tomb: which with all its horrors may be Illuminated by faith in him who hath tasted death for every man. Illumination1 is a cant phrase lately adopted into common converse for the purpose of party, but it is my opinion that the modern reasoners who boast their superior Illumination and the violent partizans who counteract their tenets—and blast all others who think differently from themselves in political matters as foes to government, religion, and order: are all equally bewildered? The gate that leads to the lightsome path of parity and peace is gaurded not by the Image: but by truth herself undisguised by the sophistry of politicians or infidels. Nor will the casuistry of sceptical societies, the subterfuges of statsmen in graver circles, nor the rant of the poet or the orator who “has the art of rhiming nothings into consequence” alter the system of divine decree which seems to have left mankind to dispute about Names[?] and forms and in spite of all modes of government, to cut the throats of their fellow men from Cain the first to [??] the hero of the present race of butchers. And what is this mighty struggle for, alas? Too generally only to invest some worthless individual with the power of robbing with impunity each Grade of society weaker by many facticious circumstances than themselves—but inscrutable as the ways of heaven at present appear undoubtedly the sceness of confusion and misery into which wretched man is frequently plunged is permited for the wisest purposes. And he who believes this sufficiently to stimulate him to regulate his own conduct without impulse of passion discovers more true wisdom and dignity than the apostles of modern philosophy—Voltaire, de Lambert, and Gibbon2 —or the whole Herd of their theoretic diciples, either in France, England or America. 246  to sarah cary, august 1799 But we may my dear Sally, chatter a little in private of religion, of liberty, of Christianity or truth, but no one, either man or woman in our times, has a trait of virtue or principle whose politics are not exactly squared to the creed of the court. Every one else is a disorganizer—a demoralizer—and are not disorganization and demoralization pretty terms to pit against each other, by those who have no morals or order, or charity, or principles of any kind to govern their own actions and passions— How have I strongly verged to a subject totally out of my mind or design when I took up my pen to address my mild, domestic, pious, amiable friend. It would have been more natural for one to have discanted on your observation that “the frequent absences from our children severly try the feelings of the mothers heart” but mine has been so often wrung[?] by the circumstances of separation—final separation from the most amiable of sons: that often enjoin silence on myself that I need not wound those I love by listening to my recollections & sorrows untill simpathy might awaken some restless anticipations in their own minds. I have wrote a long letter without replying to the subject of yours, an inquiry after the state of my health. I will tell you in a few words some days I feel as if I could ride half way to Chelsey. Others weak and debilitated but not so but3 that I can think converse with my friends present and long to see the absent. If we meet again in this world I believe it must be in my residence at Plimouth. If we do not—I hope we shall be prepared for a society more perfect, more adapted to improvement in knowledge, gratitude & adoration only of the best of beings. When may we meet—and meet our beloved children and friends—whither they are gone before...

Share