--

JONATHAN CHAPMAN.

JULY 4, 1837. FOR THE CITY AUTHORITIES.

IN the highly patriotic performance of our orator, it is remarked: "We extend our fortifications, and enlarge our navy,-and it is well. But how is it with the real citadels of that which we would defend the principles and hearts of each citizen? A love of order, a respect for right, honesty, political, as well as private, contentment with the inevitable inequalities of temporal conditions which Providence has ordained, an honest endeavor to improve our situation, but coupled always with the feeling that, as republican citizens, we are measured, not by its elevation, but by the fidelity with which we fill it, whatever it be, a regard for the law, which considers the necessity for a military police, whether permanent or temporary, as the next dreadful thing to the invasion of a foreign foe, an enlarged patriotism, individual self-control,- these are the cheap yet priceless defences of our nation's freedom, and without which forts and armies and navies are idler than the winds. But are these the things which mark our times? Is the internal fortress of freedom, which each citizen has in charge, guarded as it should be? Is there no crimson upon our cheek, as we commune with the past, in the solemnities of this day? It was the possession of these only supports of freedom, and the wonderful development of the principle of individual self-government, which sustained our fathers, in their heroic enterprise, bound them to it and to each other, when there was no other earthly government which they acknowledged, and enabled them to stand forth to posterity in the noble attitude of genuine freemen. This is the key to their whole history. In simplicity, in purity, in a sense of individual responsibility, they planted the tree of liberty. The thin soil of the rocky mountains was its only nurture,— but, behold its majesty! We may have transplanted it to the deep soil which prosperity has enriched, but where is its vigor? Its sap may be more abundant, but where is its purity? It may be more comely to the eye, but how wrestles it with

the storm?

"It was upon the basis of this liberty, founded upon individual fidelity, that, when the conflict was over, our republican government was established. Its founders, as wise in the council as they had been val

iant in the field, though they acknowledged and obeyed the true principle of freedom, were aware that the time had not come when it was to be trusted alone, that there would yet be employment for magistrates and laws; and that, accordingly, an outward government was still indispensable. But what kind of a government? Their answer was ready: a government that, recognizing and based upon the true notion of liberty,— as resting, in fact, upon the principles of individual obligation, should, in its form and operation, tend to the development and perfection of this principle; whilst, at the same time, it possessed an external power sufficient, in all cases, to supply its want or perversion; or, in briefer language, a government that should give every citizen an opportunity of being a good one, from his own true idea of freedom, if he would, but compel him to be one, if he would not. This is the theory of our government; and, in this provision for the development of the individual self-government, on which liberty rests, consists the distinction between a republican government and a despotic one. The mere outward object of both is the same, to govern the people, and to preserve order. The difference is in the means, and in the consequent effect upon individual character; and this is a mighty difference. I seek no other consideration, to give unspeakable value to our republican institutions, than this their characteristic — their basis upon and tendency to develop the true foundation of rational freedom. Submission to external, visible force, on which the despot relies, is in its nature degrading; but obedience to the inward, unseen monitor, to which a free government appeals, is always exalting. Despotism is a self-perpetuating curse. In all its forms, it makes and keeps its subjects fit only for its iron rod. But the government that is based upon the self-government of each citizen has an upward tendency; and if they who live under it will but give it free play, and not cramp or pervert it, it will carry them up with it."

-

Jonathan Chapman was born at Boston, Jan. 23, 1807, and was a son of Captain Jonathan Chapman, a selectman of Boston, who married Margaret Rogers. He was educated at Phillips' Academy, in Exeter, in 1817, and graduated at Harvard College in 1825, on which occasion he enlarged on the patronage expected by literary men from the present age; and, when a candidate for the degree of Master of Arts, he gave an oration on the spirit which should accompany our republican institutions. He pursued his legal studies under the guidance of Chief Justice Shaw, and became an eminent counsellor. He

married Lucinda, daughter of Hon. Jonathan Dwight, of Springfield, by whom he had one son and four daughters. He indulged an early military spirit, and was commander of the Rifle Rangers, an aid-decamp to Gov. Everett, and a member of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company. He was elected to the city Council from 1835 to 1840; was elected mayor of the city until 1843.

On the opening of steam navigation between Liverpool and Boston, Mayor Chapman gave the sentiment herewith, at a public festival in a pavilion in front of the Maverick House, in East Boston, July 22, 1840: "Old England and New England: Oceans may divide them, and different forms of government may distinguish them; but so long as their merchants can raise the steam, they cannot be kept asunder." And, at a festival for the four hundredth anniversary of the invention of printing, June 26th of the same year, he gave: "The Art of Printing: May it improve men's minds as much as it has elongated their tongues."

During the period of his mayoralty, the famous dinner was given in honor of Charles Dickens, the facetious writer, whose sketches of character in humble life are unrivalled by any author of any date. It occurred at the Tremont House, Feb. 2, 1842, on which occasion Mr. Chapman gave an effective speech. Mr. Quincy, who presided, inquired, after the speech of George Bancroft, if gentlemen remembered the excursion made by Mr. Pickwick, and his companions, Snodgrass and Winkle, to Dingley Dell, and the particulars of that melancholy ride? Presuming that they did, he would not detain them with a narration of them, but would merely read the pathetic words of Mr. Pickwick, in reference to the horse which he could not get rid of on that occasion. "It's like a dream," ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, "a hideous dream. The idea of a man's walking about all day with a dreadful horse that he can't get rid of." Gentlemen, continued Mr. Quincy, I will give you: The horse that Mr. Pickwick could not get rid of, and the Mayor that nobody ever wants to get rid of. On this, Mayor Chapman, after a sprightly preface, abounding in flashes of wit, related an imaginary interview with Hon. Samuel Pickwick and the by no means dishonorable Mr. Samuel Weller, at his office, the object of which was to entreat protection for the editor of the Pickwick Club. "Indeed," says Mr. Pickwick, "we should never have consented that he should visit this strange country, unless some of us should have been secretly sent to take care of him; for we have learned that you are a curious

people here, that, as it has been said, whom the gods love die young, so whom the Americans love they utterly kill with kindness." "Yes," interrupted Mr. Weller, unable longer to repress his feelings, "it is currently reported, in our circles, that, when the Americans fancies a stranger, they makes him into weal-pie and devours him." 'Hush, Samuel," said Mr. Pickwick, "don't use hard words. Never get into a passion, especially in foreign countries, where you don't know the customs. But, Mr. Mayor, this is my source of trouble, and I come to complain that your people seem determined to extinguish our editor. I have been trying to get at him for a week, but have not dared to trust my gaiters amidst the crowds that surround him. I tremble when I hear of two dinners in one day, and four suppers in one night. I fear you have designs upon his life; nay, that you mean to eat him up." Sir, interrupted I, do I understand you aright? Do you mean to insinuate that the American people are cannibals? Do you use the words in their common sense? "O, no, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, resuming his blandest expression; "I respect and honor the American people,-I mean to say that they are cannibals only in a Pickwickian point of view. But, besides my personal attachment, I desire this man's life to be spared, for the sake of science, and for the cause of humanity and of the Club. Think not that the Club has been sleeping whilst its editor has been visiting the poor-houses and hovels, touching your hearts, and making you better men, by his truthful descriptions. We have been gathering materials, and are doing so still. Even your own country may furnish some of these materials. Not, however, I assure you, for the purposes of bold and coarse personalities, either of praise or of censure, but for the delicate and beautiful touches of character,- those life-like and soulstirring descriptions, those pictures of humanity, which show that, behind the drapery of human forms and distinctions, the true element of a man is a warm and beating heart. These are the purposes for which we are at work,- purposes, sir, for which, though I, Samuel Pickwick, say it, the editor of the Pickwick Club has no superior upon the face of the earth. I pray you, therefore, said he," rising to a pitch of enthusiasm which almost choked his utterance; "I pray you to protect him. Let him not be overrun. Let him not be devoured. Spare him to return again to the halls of the Club. Spare him, sir, and the blessings of Winkle, Tupman, Snodgrass, Pickwick, and the whole race of Pickwickians, shall be on you and yours." Having thus

uttered himself, and leaving his respects for you, sir, and for this assembly, he took his leave. Finding myself most particularly honored by this interview, I give you as a sentiment,- The Hon. Samuel Pickwick, and the Pickwick Club and its editor: "May they never say die,"

"And when they next do ride abroad,

May we be there to see."

No one among us was more ready at repartee, and numerous are his witticisms to be found on record. He was an effective political writer for the Boston Atlas. As chairman of the Whig State Central Committee, he drafted a manly and ingenious set of resolutions, during the Harrison campaign, adopted as a model by the party in the principal States. His abilities were equal to any civil or political station, and he was a contributor to the North American Review and the Christian Examiner.

It was the great object of his ambition, during the whole of his official career as the mayor of his native city, to reduce the city debt, and diminish the expenditures; and he saved more to the city, by a course of rigid economy, than any of his predecessors, or of those that have succeeded him. Indeed, the name of Chapman should be synonymous with the conception of economy, for his carefulness was as unbounded as was the profuseness of Quincy and Otis before him.

Mayor Chapman, after reviewing the financial condition of the city, in his second inaugural address, and proposing plans of economy, remarks: "It would be pleasant and exciting, I know, to find ourselves furnished with ample means, and called upon to embark in large and striking enterprises. No one would enjoy such a state of things more than myself. But, if I am right in my view of the true interest of our city, in its present condition, the homelier and less captivating duty awaits us, of husbanding resources and superintending details. It is remarked by one of my most distinguished predecessors, the present president of Harvard College, in his history of that institution, that those who limit and economize are never so acceptable to mankind as those who enlarge and expend.' And he adds, therefore, that no higher obligation rests upon history, than to do justice to men on whom these unpleasant and unpopular duties devolve. Let me only add, in conclusion, that there is for all of us, whatever may be our station, and alike in public and private life, a higher ground of reliance than what other men may either think or write, the simple consciousness of having done what