Betwixen Middelburgh and Orewell."[140]
The man of trade was so low, that it took him long to rise. A London merchant, the famous Gresham, in the time of Elizabeth, founded the Royal Exchange, and a college also; but trade continued still a butt for jest and gibe. At a later day an English statute gave new security to the merchant's accounts; but the contemporaneous dramatists exhibited him to the derision of the theatre, and even the almanacs exposed his ignorant superstitions by chronicling the days supposed to be favorable or unfavorable to trade. But in the grand mutations of society the merchant throve. His wealth increased, his influence extended, and he gradually drew into his company decayed or poverty-stricken members of feudal families, till at last in France (I do not forget the exceptional condition of Italy), at the close of the seventeenth century, an edict was put forth, which John Locke has preserved in the journal of his travels, "that those who merchandise, but do not use the yard, shall not lose their gentility"[141] (admirable discrimination!); and in England, at the close of the eighteenth century, his former degradation and growing importance were attested in the saying of Dr. Johnson, that "an English merchant is a new species of gentleman."[142] But this high arbiter, bending under feudal traditions, would not even then concede to him any merit,—proclaiming that there were "no qualities in trade that should entitle a man to superiority,"—that "we cannot think that a fellow, by sitting all day at a desk, is entitled to get above us,"—and to the supposition by his faithful Boswell, that a merchant might be a man of enlarged mind, the determined moralist replied: "Why, Sir, we may suppose any fictitious character; but there is nothing in trade connected with an enlarged mind."[143]
In America feudalism never prevailed, and our Revolution severed the only cord by which we were connected with this ancient system. It was fit that the Congress which performed this memorable act should have for its President a merchant. It was fit, that, in promulgating the Declaration of Independence, by which, in the face of kings, princes, and nobles, the New Era was inaugurated, the education of the counting-house should flaunt conspicuously in the broad and clerkly signature of John Hancock. Our fathers "builded better than they knew"; and these things are typical of the social change then taking place. By yet another act, fresh in your recollection, and of peculiar interest to this assembly, has our country borne the same testimony. A distinguished merchant of Boston, who has ascended through all the gradations of trade, honored always for private virtues as well as public abilities,—need I mention the name of Abbott Lawrence?—has been sent to the Court of St. James as ambassador of our Republic, and with that proud commission, higher than any patent of nobility, taken precedence of nobles in that ancient realm. Here I see the triumph of personal merit, but still more the consummation of a new epoch.
Yes, Sir! say what you will, this is the day of the merchant. As in the early ages war was the great concern of society, and the very pivot of power, so is trade now; and as feudal chiefs were the "notables," placed at the very top of their time, so are merchants now. All things attest the change. War, which was once the universal business, is now confined to a few; once a daily terror, it is now the accident of an age. Not for adventures of the sword, but for trade, do men descend upon the sea in ships, and traverse broad continents on iron pathways. Not for protection against violence, but for trade, do men come together in cities, and rear the marvellous superstructure of social order. If they go abroad, or if they stay at home, it is trade that controls them, without distinction of persons. In our country every man is trader: the physician trades his benevolent care; the lawyer trades his ingenious tongue; the clergyman trades his prayers. And trade summons from the quarry choicest marble and granite to build its capacious homes, and now, in our own city, displays warehouses which outdo the baronial castle, and sales-rooms which outdo the ducal palace. With these magnificent appliances, the relations of dependence and protection, marking the early feudalism, are reproduced in the more comprehensive feudalism of trade. There are European bankers who vie in power with the dukes and princes of other days, and there are traffickers everywhere whose title comes from the ledger and not the sword, fit successors to counts, barons, and knights. As the feudal chief allocated to himself and his followers that soil which was the prize of his strong arm, so now the merchant, with grasp more subtle and reaching, allocates to himself and his followers, ranging through multitudinous degrees of dependence, all the spoils of every land, triumphantly won by trade. I would not press this parallel too far; but at this moment, especially in our country, the merchant, more than any other character, stands in the very boots of the feudal chief. Of all pursuits or relations, his is now the most extensive and formidable, making all others its tributaries, and bending at times even the lawyer and the clergyman to be its dependent stipendiaries.
Such, in our social system, is the merchant; and on this precise and incontrovertible statement I found his duties. Wealth, power, and influence are not for self-indulgence merely, and just according to their extent are the obligations to others which they impose. If, by the rule of increase, to him that hath is given, so in the same degree new duties are superadded: nor can any man escape from their behests. If the merchant be in reality our feudal lord, he must render feudal service; if he be our modern knight, he must do knightly deeds; if he be the baron of our day, let him maintain baronial charity to the humble,—ay, Sir, and baronial courage against tyrannical wrong, whatsoever form it may assume. Even if I err in attributing to him this peculiar position, I do not err in attributing to him these duties; for his influence is surely great, and he is at least a man, bound by simple manhood to regard nothing human as foreign to his heart.
The special perils which aroused the age of chivalry have passed away. Monsters, in the form of dragons, griffins, or unicorns, no longer ravage the land. Giants have disappeared from the scene. Robbers have been dislodged from castle and forest. Godeschal the Iron-hearted, and Robin Hood, are each without descendants. In the new forms which society assumes, touched by the potent wand of trade, there is no place for any of these. But wrong and outrage are not yet extinct. Cast out of one body, they enter straightway another, whence, too, they must be cast out. Alas! in our day, amidst all this teeming civilization, with the horn of Abundance at our gates, with the purse of Fortunatus in our hands, with professions of Christianity on our lips, and with the merchant installed in the high places of Chivalry, there are sorrows not less poignant than those which once enkindled knightly sympathy, and there is wrong which vies in loathsomeness with early monsters, in power with early giants, and in existing immunity with robbers once sheltered by castle and forest,—stalking through your streets in the abused garb of Law itself, and by its hateful presence dwarfing all the atrocities of another age. A wicked man is a deplorable sight; but a wicked law is worse than any wicked man, even than the wretch who steals human beings from their home in Africa; nor can its outrage be redressed by any incidental charities, perishing at night as manna in the wilderness. Like the monster, it must be overpowered; like the robber, it must be chained; like the wild beast, it must be exterminated.
To the merchant, then, especially to the young merchant, I appeal, by the position you have won and by the power which is yours,—go forth to redress these grievances, whatever they may be, whether in the sufferings of the solitary soul or audaciously organized in the likeness of law. That I may not seem to hold up any impracticable standard, that the path of duty may not appear difficult, and that no young man need hesitate, even though he find himself alone and opposed by numbers, let me present briefly, as becomes the hour, the example and special achievement of Granville Sharp, the humble Englishman, who, without wealth, fame, or power, did not hesitate to set himself against the merchants of the time, against the traditions of the English bar, against the authority of learned lawyers, and against the power of magistrates, until, by persevering effort, he compelled the highest tribunal of the land to declare the grand constitutional truth, that the slave who sets his foot on British ground becomes that instant free. His character of pure and courageous principle may be little regarded yet; but as time advances, it will become a guiding luminary. There are stars aloft, centres of other systems, in such depths of firmament that only after the lapse of ages does their light reach this small ball which we call earth.
Be assured, Mr. President, I shall not tread on forbidden ground. To the occasion and to your Association I shall be loyal; but let me be loyal also to myself. Thank God, the great volume of the Past is always open, with its lessons of warning and example. Nor will the assembly which now does me the honor to listen to me be disposed to imitate the pious pirates of the Caribbean Sea, who daily recited the Ten Commandments, always omitting the injunction, "Thou shalt not steal." I know well the sensitiveness of certain consciences. This is natural. It is according to the decrees of Providence, that whosoever has been engaged in meanness or wickedness should be pursued, wherever he moves, by reproving voices, speaking to him from the solitudes of Nature, from the darkness of night, from the hum of the street, and from every book that he reads, like fiery tongues at Pentecost, until at last the confession of Satan himself can alone express his wretchedness:—
"Me miserable! which way shall I fly?
Which way I fly is Hell: myself am Hell!"