Showing posts with label John Quincy Adams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Quincy Adams. Show all posts

Wednesday 15 April 2020

John Quincy Adams

James Traub: The Militant Spirit of John Quincy Adams 

 "It was an education where Christian Belief, Roman Example and Patriotic Calling were all fused together in a very intense way."



"I think this feeling of The Garden being blown apart doesn’t happen much to you until you’re 35 or so. The models we were given as men in high school, well, what were they Eisenhower, John Wayne? They only last till you’re maybe 32 or 33. And then you notice that something’s gone wrong in your business, in your private life, in your relationships; these things don’t last. And so around 35, you have to find another image for what a man is, or what your man is. Is that clear, that idea?

So it takes a little bit of courage to come here. There’s lots of men who feel this, and then they won’t act on it. Or those in their 20s say: “I’m doing fine, Jack, I’m fine. It’s true that 14 women have left me, and two beat me up, but I’m doing fine. It’s true I’m bleeding from all my pores, but I’m fine.”

MOYERS: Why “A Gathering of Men?” I mean, that’s really rare, isn’t it, to have a workshop for men only?

BLY: Maybe 20 years ago it would have been rare, but lately the men in various parts of the country have begun to gather. I think that it isn’t a reaction to the women’s movement, really. I think the grief that leads to the men’s movement began maybe 140 years ago, when the Industrial Revolution began, which sends the father out of the house to work.

MOYERS: What impact did that have?

BLY: Well, we receive something from our father by standing close to him.

MOYERS: Physically.

BLY: When we stand physically close to our father, something moves over that can’t be described in material terms, that gives the son a certain confidence, an awareness, a knowledge of what it is to be male, what a man is. And in the ancient times you were always with your father; he taught you how to do things, he taught you how to farm, he taught you whatever it is that he did. You learned from him. But you had this sense of being of receiving a food from him.

MOYERS: Food.

BLY: A food. From your father’s body. Now, when the father went out of the house in the Industrial Revolution, that food ended, and I think the average American father now spends ten minutes a day with a son — I think that’s what The Minneapolis Tribune had — and half of that time is spent in, “Clean up your room!” You know, that’s a favorite phrase of mine, I know it well.

So the Industrial Revolution did not harm the mother and daughter relationship as much as it did the father and son, because the mother and daughter still stand close to each other and have stood close to each other. Maybe that’ll change now when the mother is being sent out to work also, but the daughters then receive some knowledge of what it is to be a woman, or if you prefer to call it the women’s the female mode of feeling. They receive knowledge of the female mode of feeling. And the mother gets that from her grandmother, who got it from her great grandmother, who gets it from her great grandmother, it goes all the way down.

After the Industrial Revolution, the male does not receive any knowledge from his father of what the male mode of feeling is, and the old male initiators that used to work are not working anymore.



Thursday 6 October 2016

Obligation



"For what we do presage is not in grosse,
For we be brethren of the Rosie Crosse;
We have the Mason word and second sight,
Things for to come we can foretell aright."

"The whole case between Masonry and Anti-Masonry, now on trial before the tribunal of public opinion, is consecrated in a single act. 

Let a single lodge resolve that they will cease to administer the oath, and that lodge is dissolved. 

Let the whole Order resolve that this oath shall be no longer administered, the Order is dissolved; for the abolition of the oath necessarily imports the extinction of all other landmarks." 

- John Quincy Adams



THE OZ TRIAL MARTY FELDMAN TWITS LONDON JUDGE LONDON, Tuesday (AAP). — Mr Marty Feldman, the writer and comedian, described an Old Bailey judge yester day as a "boring old fart". 

During his evidence in the Oz trial he asked Judge Argyle, "Am I waking you up? Am I speaking loud enough for you?"_ Then, at the conclusion of his evidence on behalf of one of the accused, Mr Richard Neville, Mr Feldman walked out across the floor of the court and dir ected this comment at the judge: 

"I don't think he knows I have been here, the boring old fart"

Mr Neville, 29, of Pal ace Garden Terrace, Ken sington. Mr James Ander son, 33, of the same address, and Mr Felix Den nis, 24. of Wandsworth Bridge Road, Fulham, with Oz Publications, have pleaded not guilty to charges under the Obscene Publications Act. 

Dressed in faded denims and an open-necked, striped shirt, Mr Feldman entered the witness box and told the usher, "I don't want to affirm or take the oath. You just ask the questions and I will answer them. 

"If I swear on the Bible I think there is more obscenity in the Bible than in Oz. I don't practise any religion that you would accept. I have my own, but it doesn't have a book", Mr Feldman told the judge. 

While he was telling the court, quickly and quietly, about his television and radio shows, the judge interrupted, "I don't know if it matters, but I can't hear". 

Mr Feldman replied, "I think it matters. Would you like me to' give them over again?"

He said some of the cartoons in the 'Schoolkids issue' of Oz could be described as satirical art. Mr Feldman' said  he thought cartoons depicting Rupert Bear having sexual intercourse were funny. 

Answering Mr Neville, Mr Feldman said he thought the Old Testament was vicious and vengeful and added, "I think the Bible is un-Christian". 

Mrs Grace Bcrger, chair man of the National Council for Civil Liberties, told the jury that she did not object to her 15-year-old son contributing to the magazine. Her son, Vivian, had contributed to the 'Schoolkids issue' of Oz and had also drawn cartoons depicting Rupert Bear having sexual inter course. 

The trial was adjourned until tomorrow. 




CHAPTER XIV THE OBLIGATION 


The turning point in the ceremony of each degree is the Obligation, for it is that which marks the Apprentice an Apprentice, the Fellow Craft a Fellow Craft, and the Master Mason a Master Mason; consequently the subject is worthy of careful consideration in this connection, especially as there will be no need of a repetition of the discussion in our study of the Second and Third Degrees. 

Obligation, being a Latin word, literally means a “binding to”; it is more than an oath, and more than a vow, for it combines both, and it has been used, in one form or another, from antiquity. Philo described it as “the most common origin.” It must be remembered, however, that the guild of that day could enforce its oaths only within narrow limits; grave offences were necessarily turned over to the courts which administered the common law. At the present day oaths and obligations are in very common use, from the crowning of a king to the “swearing in” of a juror. “The world is held together by oaths and affirmations, administered by the proper authorities, to all rulers and officials of a high and low degree in State and municipalities, and in every phase of human society. Without official oaths the country would undoubtedly lapse into a state of disorder, confusion, and finally anarchy.” (Trestle Board, vol. xx, p. 247.) 

This right Freemasonry also enjoys, and for the same reasons, as another writer has expressed it: “In Freemasonry a number of men form themselves into a society, whose main end is to improve in commendable skill and knowledge, and to promote universal beneficence and the social virtues of human life under the solemn obligations of an oath. This liberty all human societies enjoy without impeachment or reflection.” 

II 

It is difficult to believe, in the light of all this, that any sane person could attack Masonry for being an oath-bound Fraternity, especially since its oath is itself a symbol of those ties and obligations which everywhere bind men together; but such has been the case. The Roman Catholic attacks, from 1738 when Pope Clement the Twelfth issued the first papal bull against us, until the present year of grace, have all been principally aimed at our Obligation, a very inconsistent course in a society that authorises such a secret fraternity as the Jesuits. A few other churches and sects have followed suit, usually on the ground that Christ’s saying that “whatsoever is more than yea or nay cometh of evil,” makes oaths unchristian. Laying aside the false interpretations thus made of the Gospel text, this position is difficult to explain on the part of such organisations, for they use an obligation in the marriage ceremony of the most solemn kind, and their members often do not refuse to take oath when entering public office. 

The attack on Masonry made in America early last century, which used the Morgan affair as its subterfuge, and which was really a political scheme in disguise, grew savage in its condemnation of the Masonic Obligation, as is made clear by the words of one of its leaders, John Quincy Adams: “The whole case between Masonry and Anti-Masonry, now on trial before the tribunal of public opinion, is consecrated in a single act. Let a single lodge resolve that they will cease to administer the oath, and that lodge is dissolved. Let the whole Order resolve that this oath shall be no longer administered, the Order is dissolved; for the abolition of the oath necessarily imports the extinction of all other landmarks.” 

Of the penalties supposed to be attached to the Obligation, and which have especially aroused the animosity of the Anti-Masons, we have already spoken but more may be said in the present connection, with due reserves of secrecy; and I may say that I am herein much indebted to the illuminating article published in The Builder (vol. n, p. 135) by my friend and Colleague, Brother Robert I. Clegg. 

III

Commenting on one phase of the matter he writes: “Death by slow drowning was once by legal authority [in England—H.L.H.] established as a proper punishment… . Consider the following: In the curious ordinances of Henry VI. for the proper conduct of the Court of Admiralty of the Humber, are enumerated various offences of a maritime connection and their due punishments. To adhere closely to the character of the Court, and to be within proper jurisdiction of the Admiralty, the punishments were generally inflicted at low-water mark.” This court, he says, being composed of “Masters, merchants, and marines, with all others that do enjoy the King’s stream with hook, net, or any engine” (or implement), was addressed, when assembled, as follows: “You, Masters of the Quest, if you or any of you discover or disclose anything of the King’s secret counsel or of the counsel of your fellows (for the present you are admitted to be the King’s Counsellors) you are to be, and shall be, had down to the low-water mark, where must be made three times, O Yes! for the King, and then and there this punishment, by the law prescribed, shall be inflicted upon them; that is, their hands and feet bound, their throats cut, their tongues pulled out, and their bodies thrown into the sea.”

In the England of the seventeenth century the death penalty, and that in its most terrible forms, was often inflicted because of comparatively small offences such as petty theft. Oaths were so freely given and taken that every little organisation had its own, even the brotherhood of pig drivers!

If certain far-off echoes of these practices seem to be heard now and then in our own form it is because the Obligation was probably cast in its present mould in the early eighteenth century. This contention that the Penalties are thus of comparatively recent origin is apparently borne out by the fact that such Obligations as are found in the Old Charges are very brief and of quite a different character. I may cite, as one specimen of these, that found in the Harleian Mss. No. 2054, of the seventeenth century: “There are several words and signs of a Freemason to be revealed to you which as you will answer before God at the great and terrible day of Judgment, you keep secret and not to reveal the same to any in the hearing of any person whatsoever but to the Masters and fellows of the said society of Freemasons. So help me God.” (Spelling modernised.)

As to the agitation for the simplification of the Obligation, the Penalties more especially, much may be said pro and con. Archaic usages and obsolete terms, often unintelligible to the modern Mason, may be often found in the Ritual. Many are contending that these should be eliminated or modernised, as witness the following from Brother MacBride: “There are many errors in our ceremonies to be corrected, and not a few rude customs should be abolished, before our lodges can become what they ought to be, schools, in which men may learn the ways of right living and high thinking.” 

With the spirit of this I am in sympathy, but I have often felt, while witnessing the work in lodge, that these very “errors” and archaisms are valuable in that they link us up to a long past and thus give us the feeling, so much needed in a hasty age too often irreverent of the past, of historical continuity. But, on the other hand, other considerations connect up with the Obligation, and other issues are at stake, and I have long believed that the Penalties should be changed to conform, not only with common sense and practicality, but with the modern spirit of humanitarianism, of which Masonry itself was one of the first exemplars. 

IV 

After all, the one object of the Obligation, aside from its official function of legally binding men to the Craft, is to secure secrecy, is it not? And there is one little word often used by Masons which carries all this within itself. This word is often spelled as it is pronounced, “Hail,” but it is properly the Anglo-Saxon word “hele” (“ hell” is derived from it!) and means “to bury, or to cover up.” If “I hail” it means that down in the underground of my memory, far out of reach of the profane, I hide away all the affairs of my lodge, and all the secrets of my brother. Too much, perhaps, has already been written on the subject, but there is yet another angle of it which deserves a word. We use all our arts and influences to make the member realise his obligation to the Craft; should we not do as much to make the lodge realise its obligation to the member? A man spends a sum of money he can sometimes ill spare to join the Fraternity; he devotes much time to learning the lectures; he is admitted and entered as a member; and very often—very often indeed—the lodge itself does not do one thing to explain to that man its symbolism or to instruct him in its history! Is this right? I do not believe it is. I believe that every lodge should do its utmost to place the right type of literature in the hands of its members; that it should conduct courses of lectures and Masonic schools; that it should encourage and support study classes whenever possible; in short, that it should as completely fulfil its duties to the candidate as it asks the candidate to do for it.

Tuesday 4 October 2016

The War Against The Oath-Takers


"Our Great War is a Spiritual War."

- Pope Tyler VII

E nomeni Matris et Filiae, Religiosum Coetum,



Amen-Ra


"For what we do presage is not in grosse,
For we be brethren of the Rosie Crosse;
We have the Mason word and second sight,
Things for to come we can foretell aright."

"The whole case between Masonry and Anti-Masonry, now on trial before the tribunal of public opinion, is consecrated in a single act. 

Let a single lodge resolve that they will cease to administer the oath, and that lodge is dissolved. 

Let the whole Order resolve that this oath shall be no longer administered, the Order is dissolved; for the abolition of the oath necessarily imports the extinction of all other landmarks." 

- John Quincy Adams



THE OZ TRIAL MARTY FELDMAN TWITS LONDON JUDGE LONDON, Tuesday (AAP). — Mr Marty Feldman, the writer and comedian, described an Old Bailey judge yester day as a "boring old fart". 

During his evidence in the Oz trial he asked Judge Argyle, "Am I waking you up? Am I speaking loud enough for you?"_ Then, at the conclusion of his evidence on behalf of one of the accused, Mr Richard Neville, Mr Feldman walked out across the floor of the court and dir ected this comment at the judge: 

"I don't think he knows I have been here, the boring old fart"

Mr Neville, 29, of Pal ace Garden Terrace, Ken sington. Mr James Ander son, 33, of the same address, and Mr Felix Den nis, 24. of Wandsworth Bridge Road, Fulham, with Oz Publications, have pleaded not guilty to charges under the Obscene Publications Act. 

Dressed in faded denims and an open-necked, striped shirt, Mr Feldman entered the witness box and told the usher, "I don't want to affirm or take the oath. You just ask the questions and I will answer them. 

"If I swear on the Bible I think there is more obscenity in the Bible than in Oz. I don't practise any religion that you would accept. I have my own, but it doesn't have a book", Mr Feldman told the judge. 

While he was telling the court, quickly and quietly, about his television and radio shows, the judge interrupted, "I don't know if it matters, but I can't hear". 

Mr Feldman replied, "I think it matters. Would you like me to' give them over again?"

He said some of the cartoons in the 'Schoolkids issue' of Oz could be described as satirical art. Mr Feldman' said  he thought cartoons depicting Rupert Bear having sexual intercourse were funny. 

Answering Mr Neville, Mr Feldman said he thought the Old Testament was vicious and vengeful and added, "I think the Bible is un-Christian". 

Mrs Grace Bcrger, chair man of the National Council for Civil Liberties, told the jury that she did not object to her 15-year-old son contributing to the magazine. Her son, Vivian, had contributed to the 'Schoolkids issue' of Oz and had also drawn cartoons depicting Rupert Bear having sexual inter course. 

The trial was adjourned until tomorrow. 




CHAPTER XIV THE OBLIGATION 


The turning point in the ceremony of each degree is the Obligation, for it is that which marks the Apprentice an Apprentice, the Fellow Craft a Fellow Craft, and the Master Mason a Master Mason; consequently the subject is worthy of careful consideration in this connection, especially as there will be no need of a repetition of the discussion in our study of the Second and Third Degrees. 

Obligation, being a Latin word, literally means a “binding to”; it is more than an oath, and more than a vow, for it combines both, and it has been used, in one form or another, from antiquity. Philo described it as “the most common origin.” It must be remembered, however, that the guild of that day could enforce its oaths only within narrow limits; grave offences were necessarily turned over to the courts which administered the common law. At the present day oaths and obligations are in very common use, from the crowning of a king to the “swearing in” of a juror. “The world is held together by oaths and affirmations, administered by the proper authorities, to all rulers and officials of a high and low degree in State and municipalities, and in every phase of human society. Without official oaths the country would undoubtedly lapse into a state of disorder, confusion, and finally anarchy.” (Trestle Board, vol. xx, p. 247.) 

This right Freemasonry also enjoys, and for the same reasons, as another writer has expressed it: “In Freemasonry a number of men form themselves into a society, whose main end is to improve in commendable skill and knowledge, and to promote universal beneficence and the social virtues of human life under the solemn obligations of an oath. This liberty all human societies enjoy without impeachment or reflection.” 

II 

It is difficult to believe, in the light of all this, that any sane person could attack Masonry for being an oath-bound Fraternity, especially since its oath is itself a symbol of those ties and obligations which everywhere bind men together; but such has been the case. The Roman Catholic attacks, from 1738 when Pope Clement the Twelfth issued the first papal bull against us, until the present year of grace, have all been principally aimed at our Obligation, a very inconsistent course in a society that authorises such a secret fraternity as the Jesuits. A few other churches and sects have followed suit, usually on the ground that Christ’s saying that “whatsoever is more than yea or nay cometh of evil,” makes oaths unchristian. Laying aside the false interpretations thus made of the Gospel text, this position is difficult to explain on the part of such organisations, for they use an obligation in the marriage ceremony of the most solemn kind, and their members often do not refuse to take oath when entering public office. 

The attack on Masonry made in America early last century, which used the Morgan affair as its subterfuge, and which was really a political scheme in disguise, grew savage in its condemnation of the Masonic Obligation, as is made clear by the words of one of its leaders, John Quincy Adams: “The whole case between Masonry and Anti-Masonry, now on trial before the tribunal of public opinion, is consecrated in a single act. Let a single lodge resolve that they will cease to administer the oath, and that lodge is dissolved. Let the whole Order resolve that this oath shall be no longer administered, the Order is dissolved; for the abolition of the oath necessarily imports the extinction of all other landmarks.” 

Of the penalties supposed to be attached to the Obligation, and which have especially aroused the animosity of the Anti-Masons, we have already spoken but more may be said in the present connection, with due reserves of secrecy; and I may say that I am herein much indebted to the illuminating article published in The Builder (vol. n, p. 135) by my friend and Colleague, Brother Robert I. Clegg. 

III

Commenting on one phase of the matter he writes: “Death by slow drowning was once by legal authority [in England—H.L.H.] established as a proper punishment… . Consider the following: In the curious ordinances of Henry VI. for the proper conduct of the Court of Admiralty of the Humber, are enumerated various offences of a maritime connection and their due punishments. To adhere closely to the character of the Court, and to be within proper jurisdiction of the Admiralty, the punishments were generally inflicted at low-water mark.” This court, he says, being composed of “Masters, merchants, and marines, with all others that do enjoy the King’s stream with hook, net, or any engine” (or implement), was addressed, when assembled, as follows: “You, Masters of the Quest, if you or any of you discover or disclose anything of the King’s secret counsel or of the counsel of your fellows (for the present you are admitted to be the King’s Counsellors) you are to be, and shall be, had down to the low-water mark, where must be made three times, O Yes! for the King, and then and there this punishment, by the law prescribed, shall be inflicted upon them; that is, their hands and feet bound, their throats cut, their tongues pulled out, and their bodies thrown into the sea.”

In the England of the seventeenth century the death penalty, and that in its most terrible forms, was often inflicted because of comparatively small offences such as petty theft. Oaths were so freely given and taken that every little organisation had its own, even the brotherhood of pig drivers!

If certain far-off echoes of these practices seem to be heard now and then in our own form it is because the Obligation was probably cast in its present mould in the early eighteenth century. This contention that the Penalties are thus of comparatively recent origin is apparently borne out by the fact that such Obligations as are found in the Old Charges are very brief and of quite a different character. I may cite, as one specimen of these, that found in the Harleian Mss. No. 2054, of the seventeenth century: “There are several words and signs of a Freemason to be revealed to you which as you will answer before God at the great and terrible day of Judgment, you keep secret and not to reveal the same to any in the hearing of any person whatsoever but to the Masters and fellows of the said society of Freemasons. So help me God.” (Spelling modernised.)

As to the agitation for the simplification of the Obligation, the Penalties more especially, much may be said pro and con. Archaic usages and obsolete terms, often unintelligible to the modern Mason, may be often found in the Ritual. Many are contending that these should be eliminated or modernised, as witness the following from Brother MacBride: “There are many errors in our ceremonies to be corrected, and not a few rude customs should be abolished, before our lodges can become what they ought to be, schools, in which men may learn the ways of right living and high thinking.” 

With the spirit of this I am in sympathy, but I have often felt, while witnessing the work in lodge, that these very “errors” and archaisms are valuable in that they link us up to a long past and thus give us the feeling, so much needed in a hasty age too often irreverent of the past, of historical continuity. But, on the other hand, other considerations connect up with the Obligation, and other issues are at stake, and I have long believed that the Penalties should be changed to conform, not only with common sense and practicality, but with the modern spirit of humanitarianism, of which Masonry itself was one of the first exemplars. 

IV 

After all, the one object of the Obligation, aside from its official function of legally binding men to the Craft, is to secure secrecy, is it not? And there is one little word often used by Masons which carries all this within itself. This word is often spelled as it is pronounced, “Hail,” but it is properly the Anglo-Saxon word “hele” (“ hell” is derived from it!) and means “to bury, or to cover up.” If “I hail” it means that down in the underground of my memory, far out of reach of the profane, I hide away all the affairs of my lodge, and all the secrets of my brother. Too much, perhaps, has already been written on the subject, but there is yet another angle of it which deserves a word. We use all our arts and influences to make the member realise his obligation to the Craft; should we not do as much to make the lodge realise its obligation to the member? A man spends a sum of money he can sometimes ill spare to join the Fraternity; he devotes much time to learning the lectures; he is admitted and entered as a member; and very often—very often indeed—the lodge itself does not do one thing to explain to that man its symbolism or to instruct him in its history! Is this right? I do not believe it is. I believe that every lodge should do its utmost to place the right type of literature in the hands of its members; that it should conduct courses of lectures and Masonic schools; that it should encourage and support study classes whenever possible; in short, that it should as completely fulfil its duties to the candidate as it asks the candidate to do for it.


Vows

General view

A vow is defined as a promise made to God. The promise is binding, and so differs from a simple resolution which is a present purpose to do or omit certain things in the future.

As between man and man, a promise pledges the faith of the man who makes it; he promises, wishing some other person to trust him, and depend upon him. By his fidelity he shows himself worthy of trust; if he breaks his word, he loses credit, by causing the other a disappointment which is destructive of mutual confidence — and, like faith, mutual confidence is important to society, for the natural law condemns all conduct which shakes this confidence. These statements do not apply to a promise made to God; it is impossible for me to deceive God as to my present intention, and He knows whether I shall be constant in the future: God, then, is protected against that disappointment on account of which the failure to fulfil a promise to a fellow-man is considered disgraceful. But, just as one can offer to God an existing thing, or a present action, so also one can offer Him a future action, and perseverance in the purpose of fulfilling it. That offering of perseverance is characteristic of avow. A subsequent change in one's purpose is a want of respect to God: it is like taking away something that has been dedicated to Him, and committing sacrilege in the widest sense of the word. Unlike the simple breach of a promise made to a man, a failure to give to God what has been promised Him is a matter of importance, a very serious offence.

This explanation shows us also how a vow is an act of religion, just as any offering made to God. It is a profession that to God is due the dedication of our actions, and an acknowledgment of the order which makes Him our last end. By adding to our obligations, we declare that God deserves more than He demands. Lastly we see why a vow is always made to God — for, as all our actions ought to be ultimately directed to Him, we cannot make a final promise of those actions to anyone but God. Promises made to the saints cannot be lightly neglected without detracting from the honour we owe them; but a failure in this respect, though grave in itself, is vastly less serious than breaking a vow, to which it bears some resemblance. These promises occasionally imply a vow. God is well pleased with the honour paid to His saints, and they rejoice at the glory given to God. We may then confirm by a vow the promise made to a saint, and likewise we may honour a saint by a vow made to God, as for instance, to erect in memory of some saint a temple for Divine worship.

The vow, moreover, is approved by God, because it is useful to man; it strengthens his will to do what is right. The Protestants of the sixteenth century, following Wyclif, declared themselves opposed to vows; but Luther and Calvin condemned only vows relating to acts which were not of obligation, the latter because he considered all good actions as obligatory, the former because the vow of a free action was contradictory to the spirit of the new law. Both denied that the vow was an act of religion and justified it by the simple human reason of strengthening the will. Certain recent tendencies have minimized the importance at least of vows made by members of religious communities. Errors of this kind are due to overemphasis of the fact that vows, and especially the perpetual vow of chastity, of religious life, or of missionary labour, do not imply any special instability in the person who makes them, but only the fickleness natural to the human will; and that instead of denoting the grudging service of a slave, they imply rather the enthusiasm of a generous will, eager to give and sacrifice beyond what is necessary, and at the same time so sincere in self-knowledge as to imitate warriors who burned their ships to cut off the possibility and even the temptation to flight. In the case of a will incapable of change, a vow would have no meaning; it were useless to offer a perseverance that could never be found wanting; for this reason it is not suitable to Christ, or the angels, or to the blessed in heaven.

Moral and theological considerations

A vow, even in an unimportant matter, presupposes the full consent of the will; it is an act of generosity towards God. One does not give unless one knows fully what one is doing. Every substantial error, or indeed every error which is really the cause of making a vow, renders the vow null and void. This condition must be properly understood; to judge of the effect of the error, it is necessary to know the will of the person making the vow at the moment of making it. One who can say sincerely, "if I had known this or that, I would not have made the vow", is not bound by the vow. If, however, one who is aware of some ignorance on the matter of a vow, but, in spite of that, generously decides to make it, knowing its general import and that it is in itself proper and commendable, such as the vow of chastity, for instance, is bound by it, as it is entirely valid. Lastly, the vows which accompany the entrance into a state, such as the vows of religion, can only be rendered void by some really substantial error. The good of the community requires this stability. For every vow whatsoever such knowledge and liberty are required as render a person capable of committing serious sin; though it does not follow that at the age when one is capable of committing mortal sin, one is capable of understanding the importance of a perpetual engagement. The object of a vow, according to the classical formula, must be not merely something good, but something better; whence it follows that no vow must be made to God of any unlawful or indifferent matter. The reason is simple: God is all holy and cannot accept the offering of anything which is bad or less good in its nature. Again, the object of the vow must be something that is humanly possible, for no one can be bound to do what is impossible. No man can make a vow to avoid all manner of sin, even the slightest, because this is morally impossible. The vow to avoid deliberate sin is valid, at least in persons who have made some progress in virtue. A vow may apply to a duty already existing or to acts which are not commanded by any law. A vow, being a personal act, binds only the person who makes it; but a superior, who makes a vow in the name of his community, may, within the limits of his authority, command the fulfilment of the vow. (As to the obligation of heirs, see section III of this article.) A vow binds according to the intention of the person who makes it; and this intention must be reasonable: in an unimportant matter, one cannot bind oneself under pain of grievous sin. In order to estimate the gravity of the matter, we distinguish between vows which affect isolated acts, and vows which relate to a series of acts. To an isolated act the well-known rule applies: The matter is grave if, in the hypothesis of an ecclesiastical command, it would oblige under mortal sin; but if the vow relates to a series of acts, then we must see what is truly important in regard to the end pursued. Thus every grave offence against the virtue of chastity, as it should be observed outside the married state, is a serious matter for the vow of chastity. The omission of one or two Masses or one or two Rosaries is not a grave matter in the case of a vow to be present at Mass or to say the Rosary every day. Every mortal sin is a grave offence against a vow to do what is most perfect; it is not the same with venial sin, even when deliberate; there must be a habit of committing acts which are certainly imperfect, in order to constitute a grave sin against this vow.

A vow is fulfilled by doing what has been promised, even without a positive intention of fulfilling the vow. One should personally fulfil the vow of some act or omission, promised as such as, for instance, the vow of a pilgrimage, but may fulfil through another such a vow as that of almsgiving, or donation or restitution of property. All obligation ceases when the fulfilment of the vow becomes impossible or harmful, or if the reason for the vow ceases to exist. (As to dispensation from vows, see section III.) A vow is a good action, but should be made with prudence and discretion; in the Christian life, love is better than bonds. We should avoid vows which are embarrassing, either because they are too numerous or because we may be unable to fulfil them (for failure to fulfil a vow is sure to be followed by sorrow which may endure for a long time); besides such vows as are not helpful to sanctification or charity. The more important the obligation the more careful reflection and preparation it requires. No objection can be made to reasonable vows made in order to increase the efficacy of prayer; but the vows to be commended above all are those which give us strength against some weakness, help us to cure some fault, or, best of all, contain the germ of some great spiritual fruit. Such are the vows of religion or missionary work.

Canonical aspect

Division of vows

The vow properly so called is made to God alone, but promises made to the saints have a certain resemblance to vows and are often accompanied by a vow, as we have already seen. A vow may be the act of a private person, or the act of a superior representing a community. In the latter case the community is only indirectly bound by the vow. The sentiment which leads a person to take a vow marks the distinction between absolute and conditional vows. The condition may be suspensive, that is to say, it may make the commencement of the obligation depend on the happening or the not happening of some future uncertain event; for instance, the words, "If I recover my health", make the obligation commence upon the recovery; or it may be resolutory, that is, it may have the effect of rescinding the vow, as if the person adds to the vow the words, "Unless I lose my fortune", in which case the vow ceases to bind if the fortune is lost. The same sentiment distinguishes between simple, or pure, vows, by which a person promises simply to do an act which is pleasing to God, and vows having some special end in view, such as another's conversion.

According to their object, vows may be personal, as a promise to do a certain act; or real, as a promise of a certain thing; or mixed, as a promise to nurse a sick person with one's own hands. They may also have reference to a single definite object, or leave the choice among two or three objects (disjunctive vows). According to the manner of their utterances, there are vows interior and exterior; vows express, and vows tacit or implied (as for instance, that of the subdeacon at his ordination); vows secret, and vows made in public. According to their juridical form, they may be private or made with the Church's recognition; and these last are divided into simple and solemn vows. Lastly, from the point of view of the dispensation required, vows are either reserved to the Holy See or not reserved. In itself the vow is a promise, and does not imply any surrender or transfer of rights; certain vows, however, according to ecclesiastical law, modify the rights of persons; such are the vows taken in religious orders.

Simple and solemn vows

Under RELIGIOUS LIFE we have seen how the distinction arose historically between simple and solemn vows, the names of which appear in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Various opinions have been expressed as to the matter of this distinction, and the question has not yet been decided. Some persons make the essential solemnity consist in the surrender of oneself which accompanies certain vows; this is the opinion of Gregory of Valentia (Comment. theol., III, D. 6, Q. vi, punct. 5) and many recent Thomists. But the surrender is found in vows which are not solemn, such as the vows of scholastics of the Society of Jesus, who would not be religious properly so-called, if their surrender differed essentially from that of the professed fathers. Moreover, the surrender really accompanies only a vow of obedience accepted in a religious order, while other vows are solemn, even without any question of obedience, such as the vow of chastity made by subdeacons.

In the opinion of Lehmkuhl (Theol. mor., I, nn. 64750) the solemnity of the vow consists in a spiritual consecration, the effect of which is that, after such a vow, a person is irrevocably set apart and appointed by the Church to serve God by the offering of that vow. This opinion has its attractive side, but does it agree with history? The vow of pilgrimage to the Holy Land was temporary and solemn. Or does it agree with the definition of law? Boniface VIII declares those vows to be solemn which are accompanied either by a consecration or by a religious profession. And lastly, does not the consecration logically follow the solemnity, rather than precede or cause it?

In spite of its complication and the forced explanations to which recourse is had, in order to escape from the difficulty, the opinion of Francisco Suárez (De religione tr. VII, c. ii, c.x, n.l; c.xii, nn.7-9; c.xiii, nn. 3, 8-13; c.xiv, n. 10) still finds distinguished defenders, especially Wernz (Jus Decretalium, III, n. 572). This opinion places the essence of the solemnity in the absolute surrender of himself by the religious, and the acceptance of that surrender by the religious order, which is accomplished by solemn profession, and also in the incapacity of a person who is bound by solemn vows to perform validly acts that are contrary to those vows; such as the incapacity to possess property, or to contract marriage. But historically this incapacity was not and is not always attached to solemn vows; the solemn vow of obedience does not as such involve any particular incapacity; and often solemn vows do not produce this effect. Will they be called solemn as being attached to the vow of obedience, and solemnized by the surrender of oneself?

But, apart from the arbitrary nature of these explanations, the vow of the Crusader was solemn without being attached to any more general vow of obedience; and we have seen that the surrender does not constitute the solemnity. For this reason we prefer a simple opinion, which, in accord with Vasquez (In I-II, Q. xcvi, d. clxv, especially n. 83) and Sanchez (In decalogum, 1, 5, c. 1, n. 11-13), places the material solemnity of vows of religion in the surrender followed by irrevocable acceptance; and with Laymann (De statu religioso, c. i, n. 4), Pellizarius (Manuale regularium, tr. IV, c. i. nn. 10-18). Medina (De sacrorum hominum continentia, l. 4, controv. 7, c. xxxviii), V. De Buck (De solemnitate votorum epistola), Nilles (De juridica votorum solemnitate), and Palmieri (Opus theol., II, pp. 445, 446) respects the ordinary juridical signification of the solemn act. The juridical solemnities are formalities to be observed in order to give to the act either its legal value or at least the more or less valuable guarantee of perfect authenticity. This very simple explanation accounts for the historical changes, both those which have reference to the number and conditions of vows, and those which concern their effects. It is natural that there should be greater difficulty in obtaining a dispensation from a solemn vow, and also that the Church should attach certain disabilities to such a vow. But these effects of solemn vows cannot constitute the essence of such vows. However this may be, canon law at the present day does not recognize any vow as solemn except the vow of chastity, solemnized by religious profession in an order strictly so called. The vows taken in religious congregations, like the simple vows which in religious orders precede the solemn profession, and also the complementary simple vows which follow the profession in some institutes, and lastly the final simple vows taken in certain religious orders in place of solemn profession, are, strictly speaking, private; but they derive a certain authenticity from the approval of the Church and the circumstances in which they are taken.

Obligation of the Heir

In itself the vow creates a personal obligation, which does not arise from the virtue of justice and which would seem to cease at the death of the person taking the vow. It is admitted, nevertheless, that heirs are bound to fulfil the vows called real, because they imply a promise to make over certain property or money; the origin of this obligation is the Roman law "De pollicitionibus", accepted as canon law. As to its nature, it is an obligation of religion, if the person making the vow has not made a bequest of the property by will. In this supposition the obligation would be of justice; but in the other cases, seeing that the law mentions no specific title, but simply declares that the obligation of the vow devolves on the heirs, we infer it devolves talis qualis, that is as a religious obligation.

The obligation of the vow is cancelled not only by the performance of the work promised, but also by the effective substitution of a better work, and by any circumstance which would have prevented the obligation from arising; as, for instance, if the work became useless, or unnecessary, or impossible. The obligation of the vow may also be annulled by lawful authority. We shall first sum up the generally accepted doctrine, and then endeavour to explain it briefly.

We must distinguish between the power to annul a vow and the power to dispense from the obligation to fulfil it. A vow may be annulled directly or indirectly. No vow can be made to the prejudice of an obligation already existing. If a person entitled to benefit under a previous obligation asserts a claim which is incompatible with the fulfilment of a vow, the fulfilment is prevented, and the obligation is ipso facto at least temporarily removed. Thus, a master may require the performance of services promised by the contract of hiring, without reference to any vow subsequently made; a husband may also require his wife to fulfil a conjugal duty. This is indirect annulment, which presents no difficulty. But besides this, certain persons, in virtue of a general power over the acts of others, may directly and finally annul all vows made by their subjects, or may prevent them generally from taking vows in the future. This power belongs to the father or guardian in the case of a minor, to the regular prelate, and even to the superior of religious congregations, in the case of professed religious; and, according to many authorities, to the husband, in the case of the married woman; and the person exercising this power of annulment is not required to prove the existence of just cause.

The power of dispensing, on the contrary, requires a just cause, less, however, than that which would suffice by itself to exempt from a vow. A still less reason is enough to commute the vow into another good work, especially if the latter is almost equivalent to the work promised. According to canon law, all vows made before solemn profession cease to bind by the fact of that profession, due regard being shown to the rights of third persons; and it is always permissible for a person to commute vows previously made into those of his or her religious profession, even when this is not solemn. When a vow is commuted by ecclesiastical authority, although the person who has taken the vow may always fulfil his obligation by doing the work originally promised, he is not in any case bound to do so, even if the substituted work becomes impossible. The power of dispensing and commuting belongs to those who have ordinary jurisdiction (besides the pope, the bishop and the regular prelate) over all vows not reserved to the pope and vows the dispensation from which does not prejudice the rights of third persons. Without the consent of the latter these rights cannot be prejudiced by a dispensation from the vow, except by the exercise of a supreme power over those rights, such as is possessed by the pope over the rights of religious congregations. Moreover, the power of dispensation may be delegated either in special cases or even generally: thus the confessors of the regular orders may grant dispensation from vows to their penitents-that is to persons whose confessions they are authorized to receive.

Dispensation from a vow is ordinarily justified by great difficulty in its fulfilment or by the fact that it was taken without due deliberation, or by the probability of some greater good either to the person taking it or to others, as, for instance, to a family, the State, or the Church. In dispensing from vows, the ecclesiastical superior does not dispense from any Divine law, but he exercises the power of the keys, the power of binding and loosing, in order to remit the debt contracted to God: and this power appears so useful to society, that, even if it had not been formally conferred by Christ, we might contend that it would always have belonged to the authority responsible for the public interests of religion. (See Francisco Suárez, "De religione", VI, Q. xviii.) The direct annulment of vows is more difficult of explanation; for no one can have a power extending so far as to interfere with the interior acts of another person. A son not yet arrived at the age of puberty may, even without the consent of his parents, make a promise of marriage; why does he appear to be unable, by reason of his tender age, to bind himself by any vow to God? We may observe that the distinction between direct and indirect annulment is not found in St. Thomas, or in Cajetan, but dates from a later period. With Lehmkuhl, we cannot explain this power without the intervention of ecclesiastical authority: in our opinion, the Church, in consideration of the weakness of minors and the condition of religious and married women, gives them a general conditional dispensation that is to say a dispensation at the discretion of the father, the superior, or the husband. The power to commute vows does not give the power to dispense from them; but the power over vows may, according to a probable opinion, extend also to oaths, and even to vows confirmed by oaths.

Reserved Vows

No person may, in virtue of ordinary powers, dispense from vows which the sovereign pontiff has reserved to himself. These vows are, first, all such as form part of a religious profession, at least in an institute approved by Rome, and this reservation applies also to vows taken by women belonging to orders, entitled to make solemn vows, but who in some countries take only simple vows. Besides these, five vows are reserved to the Holy See: the vow of perpetual chastity, the vow to enter the religious state (that is in an institution with solemn vows), a vow of a pilgrimage to the tombs of the Apostles, to St. James of Compostela, or to the Holy Land. However, these vows are only reserved if they are made under grave obligation, with full liberty and unconditionally, and if they include the whole object of the vow. The reservation does not extend to accidental circumstances, for instance, to enter one order in preference to another, or to make a pilgrimage in this or that manner. In urgent cases, when there would be great peril in delay, the ordinaries may, if necessary, dispense even from reserved vows.

The vow of chastity

The vow of chastity forbids all voluntary sexual pleasure, whether interior or exterior: thus its object is identical with the obligations which the virtue of chastity imposes outside the marriage state. Strictly speaking, it differs (though in ordinary language the expressions may be synonymous) from the vow of celibacy (or abstinence from marriage), the vow of virginity (which becomes impossible of fulfilment after complete transgression), or the vow not to use the rights of marriage. The violation of the vow of chastity is always a sin against religion; it constitutes also a sacrilege in a person who has received Holy orders, or in a religious, because each of these persons has been consecrated to God by his vow: his vow forms part of the public worship of the Church. Some authors consider that this sacrilege is committed by the violation of even a private vow of chastity. Although a sin against the virtue of chastity is committed, there is no violation of the vow when a person without experiencing any sexual pleasure personally becomes an accomplice (as for instance by counsel) in the sin of another person not bound by a vow. Unless the person concerned is able honestly to abstain from all use of the rights of marriage, every simple vow of chastity constitutes a prohibitive impediment to marriage; sometimes, as is the case in the Society of Jesus, it becomes by privilege a diriment impediment; when joined to religious solemn profession, it has the effect even of annulling a previous marriage not consummated. Some theologians have expressed the opinion that the religious profession produced this effect by Divine law; but it is more usual at the present day, and it seems to us more correct, to see in this a point of ecclesiastical discipline. A person who, in defiance of his solemn vow, attempts to contract marriage, incurs the excommunication reserved to the bishop by the Constitution "Apostolicae Sedis". Marriage following after the simple vow of perpetual chastity has the effect of making the perfect fulfilment of the vow impossible, as long as the married state continues — therefore the observance of the vow is suspended, and the bishop or the regular confessor may give permission for the use of marriage. If the marriage is dissolved, the vow recovers its full force. We have already seen that the vow of the wife, taken at marriage, can be directly annulled by the husband, and that of the husband indirectly by the wife.

The Sovereign Pontiff may dispense from the vow, even the solemn vow, of chastity. History contains well-known examples of such dispensations; thus, Julius III permitted Cardinal Pole to dispense even priests who, at the time of the Anglican schism, had contracted marriage; Pius VII dispensed priests who were civilly married under the French Revolution. But such dispensations are only granted for exceptionally grave reasons; and even when a case is one of a simple vow of perpetual chastity freely and deliberately taken, the Holy See ordinarily grants a dispensation only in view of marriage, and imposes a perpetual commutation, such as the condition of approaching the sacraments once a month.

Historical views

Historically there are frequent instances of special vows in the Old Testament, generally under the form of offerings conditionally made to God — offerings of things, of animals, even of persons, which might, however, be redeemed; offerings of worship, of abstinence, of personal sacrifices. See for example the vow of Jacob (Gen., xxviu, 2022), of Jephte (Judges 11:30, 31), of Anna the mother of Samuel (1 Samuel 1:11), in which we find an example of Nazaritism, and the imprecatory vow of Saul (1 Samuel 14:24). In Deuteronomy, xxiii, 21-23, it is laid down that there is no sin in not making a promise to God, but that there is sin in delaying to pay the vow. The New Testament contains no express commendation of vows; but two instances of special vows are specially recorded in the Acts of the Apostles (xviii, 18, and xxi, 23). In both these passages, the vows are of the same nature as those of the Nazarenes. These particular vows were not unknown to the Fathers of the Church, especially to St. Ambrose, "De officiis ministrorum", III, xii (P.L., XVI, 168); St. Jerome, Epistle 130 (PL 22:1118 and St. Augustine, Sermon 148 (P.L., XXXVIII, 799). But the Church especially recognized the promise to devote one's life to the service of God; baptism itself is accompanied by promises which were formerly considered as genuine vows, and which contain in reality a consecration of oneself to Jesus Christ by the renunciation of the devil and paganism. At a very early period continence was professed by virgins and widows — and though this profession appears rather under the form of the choice of a state of life than a formal promise, in the fifth century it was considered strictly irrevocable.

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About this page

APA citation. Vermeersch, A. (1912). Vows. In The Catholic Encyclopedia. New York: Robert Appleton Company. Retrieved October 4, 2016 from New Advent: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15511a.htm

MLA citation. Vermeersch, Arthur. "Vows." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 15. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912. 4 Oct. 2016 <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15511a.htm>.

Transcription. This article was transcribed for New Advent by Tomas Hancil and Joseph P. Thomas.

Ecclesiastical approbation. Nihil Obstat. October 1, 1912. Remy Lafort, S.T.D., Censor. Imprimatur. +John Cardinal Farley, Archbishop of New York.


Sunday 7 December 2014

John Quincy Adams





On July 4, 1821, Secretary of State John Quincy Adams delivered an historic address on U.S. foreign policy. After reading the full text of the Declaration of Independence, he continued:

It is not, let me repeat, fellow citizens, it is not the long enumeration of intolerable wrongs concentrated in this declaration; it is not the melancholy catalogue of alternate oppression and entreaty, of reciprocated indignity and remonstrance, upon which, in the celebration of this anniversary, your memory delights to dwell.




Nor is it yet that the justice of your cause was vindicated by the God of battles; that in a conflict of seven years, the history of the war by which you maintained that declaration, became the history of the civilized, world; that the unanimous voice of enlightened Europe and the verdict of an after age have sanctioned your assumption of sovereign power, and that the name of your Washington is enrolled upon the records of time, first in the glorious line of heroic virtue.


It is not that the monarch himself, who had been your oppressor, was compelled to recognize you as a sovereign and independent people, and that the nation, whose feelings of fraternity for you had slumbered in the lap of pride, was awakened in the arms of humiliation to your equal and no longer contested rights.


The primary purpose of this declaration, the proclamation to the world of the causes of our revolution, is “with the years beyond the flood.” It is of no more interest to us than the chastity of Lucretia, or the apple on the head of the child of Tell. Little less than 40 years have revolved since the struggle for independence was closed; another generation has arisen; and in the assembly of nations our republic is already a matron of mature age. The cause of your independence is no longer upon trial. The final sentence upon it has long since been passed upon earth and ratified in heaven.


The interest, which in this paper has survived the occasion upon which it was issued; the interest which is of every age and every clime; the interest which quickens with the lapse of years, spreads as it grows old, and brightens as it recedes, is in the principles which it proclaims. It was the first solemn declaration by a nation of the only legitimate foundation of civil government. It was the corner stone of a new fabric, destined to cover the surface of the globe. It demolished at a stroke the lawfulness of all governments founded upon conquest. It swept away all the rubbish of accumulated centuries of servitude. It announced in practical form to the world the transcendent truth of the unalienable sovereignty of the people. It proved that the social compact was no figment of the imagination; but a real, solid, and sacred bond of the social union.


From the day of this declaration, the people of North America were no longer the fragment of a distant empire, imploring justice and mercy from an inexorable master in another hemisphere. They were no longer children appealing in vain to the sympathies of a heartless mother; no longer subjects leaning upon the shattered columns of royal promises, and invoking the faith of parchment to secure their rights. They were a nation, asserting as of right, and maintaining by war, its own existence. A nation was born in a day.


“How many ages hence shall this their lofty scene be acted o’er in states unborn, and accents yet unknown?”


It will be acted o’er, fellow citizens, but it can never be repeated. It stands, and must forever stand alone, a beacon on the summit of the mountain, to which all the inhabitants of the earth may turn their eyes for a genial and saving light, till time shall be lost in eternity, and this globe itself dissolve, nor leave a wreck behind. It stands forever, a light of admonition to the rulers of men; a light of salvation and redemption to the oppressed.


So long as this planet shall be inhabited by human beings, so long as man shall be of social nature, so long as government shall be necessary to the great moral purposes of society, and so long as it shall be abused to the purposes of oppression, so long shall this declaration hold out to the sovereign and to the subject the extent and the boundaries of their respective rights and duties; founded in the laws of nature and of nature’s God.


Five and forty years have passed away since this Declaration was issued by our fathers; and here are we, fellow citizens, assembled in the full enjoyment of its fruits, to bless the Author of our being for the bounties of his providence, in casting our lot in this favored land; to remember with effusions of gratitude the sages who put forth, and the heroes who bled for the establishment of this Declaration; and, by the communion of soul in the reperusal and hearing of this instrument, to renew the genuine Holy Alliance of its principles, to recognize them as eternal truths, and to pledge ourselves and bind our posterity to a faithful and undeviating adherence to them.


Fellow citizens, our fathers have been faithful to them before us. When the little band of their Delegates, “with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, for the support of this declaration, mutually pledged to each other their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor,” from every dwelling, street, and square of your populous cities, it was re-echoed with shouts of joy and gratulation! And if the silent language of the heart could have been heard, every hill upon the surface of this continent which had been trodden by the foot of civilized man, every valley in which the toil of your fathers had opened a paradise upon the wild, would have rung, with one accordant voice, louder than the thunders, sweeter than the harmonies of the heavens, with the solemn and responsive words, “We swear.”


The pledge has been redeemed. Through six years of devastating but heroic war, through nearly 40 years of more heroic peace, the principles of this declaration have been supported by the toils, by the vigils, by the blood of your fathers and of yourselves. The conflict of war had begun with fearful odds of apparent human power on the side of the oppressor. He wielded at will the collective force of the mightiest nation in Europe. He with more than poetic truth asserted the dominion of the waves.


The power, to whose unjust usurpation your fathers hurled the gauntlet of defiance, baffled and vanquished by them, has even since, stripped of all the energies of this continent, been found adequate to give the law to its own quarter of the globe, and to mould the destinies of the European world. It was with a sling and a stone, that your fathers went forth to encounter the massive vigor of this Goliath. They slung the heaven-directed stone, and ”With heaviest sound, the giant monster fell.”


Amid the shouts of victory your cause soon found friends and allies in the rivals of your enemies. France recognized your independence as existing in fact, and made common cause with you for its support. Spain and the Netherlands, without adopting your principles, successively flung their weight into your scale. …


The Declaration of Independence pronounced the irrevocable decree of political separation, between the United States and their people on the one part, and the British king, government, and nation on the other. It proclaimed the first principles on which civil government is founded, and derived from them the justification before earth and heaven of this act of sovereignty. But it left the people of this union, collective and individual, without organized government. In contemplating this state of things, one of the profoundest of British statesmen, in an ecstasy of astonishment exclaimed, “Anarchy is found tolerable!’ But there was no anarchy.


From the day of the Declaration, the people of the North American union, and of its constituent states, were associated bodies of civilized men and christians, in a state of nature, but not of anarchy. They were bound by the laws of God, which they all, and by the laws of the gospel, which they nearly all, acknowledged as the rules of their conduct. They were bound by the principles which they themselves had proclaimed in the declaration. They were bound by all those tender and endearing sympathies, the absence of which, in the British government and nation, towards them, was the primary cause of the distressing conflict in which they had been precipitated by the headlong rashness and unfeeling insolence of their oppressors. They were bound by all the beneficent laws and institutions, which their forefathers had brought with them from their mother country, not as servitudes but as rights. They were bound by habits of hardy industry, by frugal and hospitable manners, by the general sentiments of social equality, by pure and virtuous morals; and lastly they were bound by the grappling-hooks of common suffering under the scourge of oppression. Where then, among such a people, were the materials for anarchy! Had there been among them no other law, they would have been a law unto themselves.


They had before them in their new position, besides the maintenance of the independence which they had declared, three great objects to attain; the first, to cement and prepare for perpetuity their common union and that of their posterity; the second, to erect and organize civil and municipal governments in their respective states: and the third, to form connections of friendship and of commerce with foreign nations.


For all these objects, the same Congress which issued the Declaration, and at the same time with it, had provided. They recommended to the several states to form civil governments for themselves; with guarded and cautious deliberation they matured a confederation for the whole Union; and they prepared treaties of commerce, to be offered to the principal maritime nations of the world.


All these objects were in a great degree accomplished amid the din of arms, and while every quarter of our country was ransacked by the fury of invasion. The states organized their governments, all in republican forms, all on the principles of the Declaration. The confederation was unanimously accepted by the thirteen states: and treaties of commerce were concluded with France and the Netherlands, in which, for the first time, the same just and magnanimous principles, consigned in the Declaration of Independence, were, so far as they could be applicable to the intercourse between nation and nation, solemnly recognized.


When experience had proved that the confederation was not adequate to the national purposes of the country, the people of the United States, without tumult, without violence, by their delegates all chosen upon principles of equal right, formed a more perfect union, by the establishment of the federal constitution.


This has already passed the ordeal of one human generation. In all the changes of men and of parties through which it has passed, it has been administered on the same fundamental principles. Our manners, our habits, our feelings, are all republican; and if our principles had been, when first proclaimed, doubtful to the ear of reason or the sense of humanity, they would have been reconciled to our understanding and endeared to our hearts by their practical operation.


In the progress of 40 years since the acknowledgment of our independence, we have gone through many modifications of internal government, and through all the vicissitudes of peace and war, with other mighty nations. But never, never for a moment have the great principles, consecrated by the Declaration of this day, been renounced or abandoned.


And now, friends and countrymen, if the wise and learned philosophers of the older world, the first observers of mutation and aberration, the discoverers of maddening ether and invisible planets, the inventors of Congreve rockets and shrapnel shells, should find their hearts disposed to inquire, what has America done for the benefit of mankind?


Let our answer be this–America, with the same voice which spoke herself into existence as a nation, proclaimed to mankind the inextinguishable rights of human nature, and the only lawful foundations of government. America, in the assembly of nations, since her admission among them, has invariably, though often fruitlessly, held forth to them the hand of honest friendship, of equal freedom, of generous reciprocity. She has uniformly spoken among them, though often to heedless and often to disdainful ears, the language of equal liberty, equal justice, and equal rights. She has, in the lapse of nearly half a century, without a single exception, respected the independence of other nations, while asserting and maintaining her own. She has abstained from interference in the concerns of others, even when the conflict has been for principles to which she clings, as to the last vital drop that visits the heart. She has seen that probably for centuries to come, all the contests of that Aceldama, the European World, will be contests between inveterate power, and emerging right.


Wherever the standard of freedom and independence has been or shall be unfurled, there will her heart, her benedictions and her prayers be. But she goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the well-wisher to the freedom and independence of all. She is the champion and vindicator only of her own. She will recommend the general cause, by the countenance of her voice, and the benignant sympathy of her example.


She well knows that by once enlisting under other banners than her own, were they even the banners of foreign independence, she would involve herself, beyond the power of extrication, in all the wars of interest and intrigue, of individual avarice, envy, and ambition, which assume the colors and usurp the standard of freedom. The fundamental maxims of her policy would insensibly change from liberty to force. The frontlet upon her brows would no longer beam with the ineffable splendor of freedom and independence; but in its stead would soon be substituted an imperial diadem, flashing in false and tarnished lustre the murky radiance of dominion and power. She might become the dictatress of the world: she would be no longer the ruler of her own spirit.


Stand forth, ye champions of Britannia, ruler of the waves! Stand forth, ye chivalrous knights of chartered liberties and the rotten borough! Enter the lists, ye, boasters of inventive genius! Ye mighty masters of the palette and the brush! Ye improvers upon the sculpture of the Elgin marbles! Ye spawners of fustian romance and lascivious lyrics!


Come, and inquire what has America done for the benefit of mankind! In the half century which has elapsed since the declaration of American independence, what have you done for the benefit of mankind? When Themistocles was sarcastically asked by some great musical genius of his age whether he knew how to play upon the lute, he answered, No! but he knew how to make a great city of a small one.


We shall not contend with you for the prize of music, painting, or sculpture. We shall not disturb the ecstatic trances of your chemists, nor call from the heavens the ardent gaze of your astronomers. We will not ask you who was the last president of your Royal Academy. We will not inquire by whose mechanical combinations it was, that your steamboats stem the currents of your rivers, and vanquish the opposition of the winds themselves upon your seas. We will not name the inventor of the cotton-gin, for we fear that you would ask us the meaning of the word, and pronounce it a provincial barbarism. We will not name to you him, whose graver defies the imitation of forgery, and saves the labor of your executioner, by taking from your greatest geniuses of robbery the power of committing the crime. He is now among yourselves; and since your philosophers have permitted him to prove to them the compressibility of water, you may perhaps claim him for your own. Would you soar to fame upon a rocket, or burst into glory from a shell? We shall leave you to inquire of your naval heroes their opinion of the steam-battery and the torpedo.


It is not by the contrivance of agents of destruction, that America wishes to commend her inventive genius to the admiration or the gratitude of after times; nor is it even by the detection of the secrets or the composition of new modifications of physical nature.

“Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera.” Nor even is her purpose the glory of Roman ambition; nor “tu regere imperio populosa” her memento to her sons.


Her glory is not dominion, but liberty. Her march is the march of mind. She has a spear and a shield; but the motto upon her shield is Freedom, Independence, Peace. This has been her declaration: this has been, as far as her necessary intercourse with the rest of mankind would permit, her practice.


My countrymen, fellow-citizens, and friends; could that Spirit, which dictated the Declaration we have this day read, that Spirit, which “prefers before all temples the upright heart and pure,” at this moment descend from his habitation in the skies, and within this hall, in language audible to mortal ears, address each one of us, here assembled, our beloved country, Britannia ruler of the waves, and every individual among the sceptred lords of humankind; his words would be, “Go thou and do likewise!”


John Quincy Adams (1767-1848) was the sixth president of the United States (1825-1829).