Memoirs of William Miller (1853)

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The gift of REV. J.V. HIMES OF BOSTON

SAN FRANCISCO, CA 90210-3456

: I m your affection itely from Miller

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MEMOIRS

or

WILLIAM MILLER

GENERALLY KNOWN AS

A LECTURER ON THE PROPHECIES, AND THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST.

BY SYLVESTER BLISS,

AUTHOR OF "ANALYSIS OF SACRED CHRONOLOGY," "A BRIEF COMMENTARY ON THE APOCALYPSE," ETC.

BOSTON:

PUBLISHED BY JOSHUA V. HIMES,

8 CHARDON STREET.

1853.

DAGUERREOTYPE VIEW OF MR. MILLER'S LATE RESIDENCE See p. 64.

HARVARD

UNIVERSITY

LIBRARY

Stereotyped by HOBART & ROBBING,

NEW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDARY,

BOSTON.

PREFACE.

The name of William Miller, of Low Hampton, N. Y., is too well known to require an extended introduction; but, while well known, few men have been more diversely regarded than he. Those who have only heard his name associated with all that is hateful in fanaticism, have necessarily formed opinions respecting him anything but complimentary to his intelligence and sanity; but those who knew him better, esteemed him as a man of more than ordinary mental power,—a cool, sagacious, and honest reasoner, an humble and devout Christian, a kind and affectionate friend, and a man of great moral and social worth. That the impartial reader may be able to form a just estimate of one who has occupied so conspicuous a position before the public, the following pages are compiled.

To see a man as he is, it is necessary to accompany him through the walks of his daily life; to trace the manner in which he has arrived at his conclusions; to follow him into his closet and places of retirement; to learn the various workings of his mind through a long series of years, and to scan closely his motives. A knowledge of these can be arrived at only by a simple collection of facts and documents illustrative of his history. By full extracts from his unstudied correspondence, by his published writings, by narrations of interviews with him, by the free use of his papers and memorandums, and by the testimony of impartial witnesses respecting his labors in various places, in addition to a long personal acquaintance, his biographer has been enabled to embody much important information respecting him. It has not been deemed necessary to eulogize him, nor to apologize for him. His acts and life are permitted to stand forth, divested of the veil of partiality, or of prejudice. His opinions on all subjects are expressed in his own language,—having himself narrated the workings of his own mind, at the various periods of his life. His biographer has not felt warranted to omit opinions on any prominent question, or to modify the phraseology in which they are expressed, to meet the views of those who dissented from him.

Such a course would have been unjust to Mr. Miller.

However his public labors may be regarded by a majority of the community, it will be seen, by a perusal of his life, that these were by no means unproductive of great good. The revivals of religion which attended his labors are testified to by those who participated in them; and hundreds of souls will ever refer to him as a means, under God, of their awakening and conversion.

His erroneous calculation of the prophetic periods he frankly confessed; and those who regarded his views of prophecy as dependent on that, may be surprised to learn that he distinguished between the manner and the era of their fulfilment.

It is believed that the influence exerted by Mr. Miller will not prove evanescent in its results. The attention which was given to his arguments caused many minds entirely to change their preconceived opinions respecting the millennial state, who have since remained devoted Christians, ardently looking for the Nobleman who has gone into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom, and to return. — Luke 19:12. As the public learn to discriminate between the actual position of Mr. Miller and that which prejudice has conceived that he occupied, his conservativeness and disapprobation of every fanatical practice will be admitted, and a much more just estimate will be had of him.

These Memoirs were commenced by Elder Apollos Hale, who prepared the first three chapters. Other duties having interfered with his progress in the work, its completion has devolved on another. No labor or expense has been spared to give a full and impartial history of his life, the principal incidents of which, as here recorded, were originally related by him. Desiring "nothing to extenuate, nor to set down aught in malice," these incidents of his history, and this embodiment of his views, I here present to the Christian public as an act of justice to Mr. Miller.

Boston, January, 1858.

JOSHUA V. HIMES CHAPTER I.

His Ancestry — Early Life — Personal Traits — Education, &c. 1

CHAPTER II. His Marriage — Independence Hymn — Politics Worldly Prospects — Deistical Sentiments — Position, &c. . . . 1

CHAPTER III. His Military Life — March to Burlington — Recruiting Service — Sickness — Campaign of 1814—Army Discipline—Battle of Plattsburg—Of Champlain—Letter to Judge Stanley—To his Wife—Close of the War, &c. . . . . . 81

CHAPTER IV. Removal to Low Hampton—His Conversion — Study of the Bible—Rules of Interpretation — The Teachings of Prophecy—His Creed, &c. 68

CHAPTER V. Interval between his Conversion and Public Labors

— Letters — His Dream — Acrostic — Letter from Elder Hendryx

— Dialogue with a Physician, &c. 80

CHAPTER VI. Commencement of his Public Labors—Publishes his Views in Pamphlet—Interview on the Hudson River Boat His Regard for the Bible—Correspondence, &c. 97

CHAPTER VII. Becomes a Licensed Preacher—Visits different places —Letter to a Universalist—Poetical Letter—Memorandum of his Labors—Sketch of a Discourse, &c. 108

CHAPTER VIII. Doors open for him to lecture—Is countenanced by the Ministers of his Denomination—His First Assistance—Death of his Mother—Incident at Shaftsbury—Result of his Labors—Testimony of a Convert from Infidelity—Letter of Rev. Charles Fitch—Urgent Appeals to visit different Towns, &c. 119

CHAPTER IX. He visits Massachusetts—Invitation to Lowell— Extract from the Lynn Record—Is invited to Boston—Conversation with Elder Himes—Publication of his Lectures—Lectures in Portsmouth, &c. 134

CHAPTER X. Publication of the "Signs of the Times" — Visits to Watertown, Portland, New York city, &c. — His Sickness — Resignation, &c. 144

CHAPTER XI. Lectures in Boston (4th, 5th, and 6th courses) In Andover, Providence, Galway, N. Y., Claremont, N. H., 1* Benson, Vt.

— His Illness—Incident at Sandy Hill-At Worcester -The Phrenologist -Lectures in Hartford, &c. . 154

CHAPTER XII. Lectures in New York, Newark, Saratoga, Newburyport, Palmer, East Kingston Camp-meeting, Brandon, Vt., Benson, Chickopee, Mass., New Haven, Ct., &c. 168

CHAPTER XIII. Synopsis of his Views—Address to Believers in the near Advent—Interview at Waterford—Utica—Hoax at Washington—Disturbance at Philadelphia—The 8d of April—Statement of his Affairs—Is defended by the Secular Press, &c. 170

CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Miller and his Reviewers, Doctors Dowling, Chase, Jarvis, &c. — The Fourth Kingdom — The Little Horn — Prophetic Numbers — Seventy Weeks — Coming of Christ, &c. 185

CHAPTER XV. His Treatment of Opponents—Specimens of his Preaching, Colloquial, Expository, &c. 206

CHAPTER XVI. His Sickness — Visit to Massachusetts — Fanaticism — Mr. Miller repudiates it, &c. 227

CHAPTER XVII. Emotions in View of the Advent — Home of Mr. Miller—Tour into Western New York—His Personal Appearance—Address to all Denominations—Visit to Washington, &c. 289

CHAPTER XVIII. The Passing of the Time — His Position — The Burning Day — Lines on his Disappointment — Confession — Visit of Elder Litch — Mr. Miller and the Methodist Ministers — Tour to Ohio — Return, &c. 254

CHAPTER XIX. The Seventh Month Movement—Anticipations of Christ's Coming—The Derry Camp-meeting—Disappointment—The Nobleman and his Servants—Need of Patience Conference at Low Hampton—Easy Mode of converting Men—Ecclesiastical Council at Low Hampton, &c. 209

CHAPTER XX. Results of the Seventh Month — Discussion of New Questions Mr. Miller's Position respecting them, &c. . . . 208

CHAPTER XXI. Mutual Conference at Albany—Declaration of Principles Plan of Operations Address to the Brethren Action of the Conference defended by Mr. Miller, &c. 800

CHAPTER XXII. His Apology and Defence — Definiteness of Prophetic Time — Erroneous Views Connected with the Doctrine, &c. 325

CHAPTER XXIII. The Value of Faith — Unfinished Letter — Visit to New York city — Philadelphia, &c. — Address to the Public — Visit to Canada . 840

CHAPTER XXIV. His Dream — Loss of Sight — Events in Europe Health Declines — Expression of Sympathy — His Reply, &c. 358

CHAPTER XXV. His last Sickness — Death — Funeral — Letter of Condolence to Surviving Friends, &c. 376

CHAPTER XXVI. Extracts from his Published Writings — The Kingdom of God — The Times and its Duties — A Scene of the Last Day, &c. 884 MEMOIRS or

WILLIAM MILLER.

CHAPTER I.

ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE.

ABOUT a mile west from the centre of Pittsfield village, one of the most pleasant in western Massachusetts, there is a noble and fertile swell of land, which rises from the west bank of Pontousooc river—the western branch of the head-waters of the Housatonic—and is of sufficient extent to constitute several large farms. The summit of this fine elevation embraces what is familiarly known in the neighborhood as "the Miller farm." It takes its name from a family by the name of Miller, who came from the vicinity of Connecticut river, in or near Springfield, Massachusetts, about a hundred years ago.* Family tradition uniformly connects this branch of the Miller family with- Obadiah and Thomas Miller, of a previous generation, undoubtedly the persons of these names who are mentioned in the history of Springfield and Westfield, two hundred years since.

The surrounding country, as seen from the Miller farm, furnishes one of the most interesting prospects afforded by the natural scenery of New England. On the north, Saddle Mountain, the highest elevation of land in the state, towers far above all the other barriers of the valley; and while its "Gray Lock" will ever cause it to be regarded as the venerable and natural guardian of the adjacent portion of the world, it is pointed out as the site of Fort Massachusetts, so memorable for the scenes connected with its history during the French and Indian wars. The Washington Mountains form the strong background of the view on the east; the Hancock Mountains, a section of the Green Mountain range, of which Saddle Mountain is the climax, bound the view on the west; and some isolated mountainous elevations, through which the branches of the Housatonic river and railroad pass, are the prominent items in the prospect to the south.

On this commanding spot, the family of early adventurers erected their primitive dwelling; and, although their history is unknown to the world, the strong features of their character, as preserved in the memory of their descendants, were, the most daring contempt of danger, great love of independence, great capability of endurance, and whole-souled patriotism. The head of this family was the grandfather of William Miller, whose life these pages record. The name of the grandfather was William; his son, who was born and resided here, was named William; and here also was born the one who has just passed away, and whose world-wide fame demands that his history should now be written. This William Miller was born February 15th, A. D. 1782. He was the eldest of sixteen children, five of whom were sons and eleven were daughters.

The lot of ground on which the ancient dwelling stood is designated, on the new map of Pittsfield, by the name of "Dr. J. Leland Miller." The building itself is no more.

The remains of the cellar are still visible; and the ruins are marked by an ancient gooseberry bush, a hardy specimen of the wild thorn, and an elm of the age, perhaps, of twenty years.

The period immediately preceding his birth was the most critical of any period in the history of our country; and was, probably, the most distinguished by its perils, the sublimity of its events, the noble development of character it furnished, and its commanding interpositions of Providence, of any period since the departure of Israel from the land of Egypt. If the English colonies were the only ones that were capable of bettering their condition, and that of the world, by asserting and obtaining their liberty, the colonies of our country, now the United States, furnish the only instance of successful rebellion against the power of the English throne.

What effect the events of this period had on the fortune, the character, and the history of the subject of this memoir, we may be unable fully to determine; but it will be readily seen, that the most fondly cherished memorials of his family, as of his country, could not fail of making a deep impression on his mind, at an early age. That the embarrassed condition of his early life was the direct result of the great sacrifices made by his progenitors, in the struggles and sufferings which they nobly shared with their contemporaries, is equally evident.

William's father, Captain William Miller, was in the army of the Revolution. At the time of the evacuation of New York by order of Washington, on the invasion of that city by Lord Howe, in August, 1776, he was confined, sick with fever, in the hospital. By rallying all his strength, and the assistance he obtained from his fellow-soldiers, he succeeded in leaving the city with the continental troops. The effort, however, proved almost fatal. When his companions, in the retiring movement, sought shelter in a barn, during a storm, he was left helpless under the drippings from its roof, until his sad condition moved the compassion of a fellow-soldier, in better health than himself, to come to his relief. This true soldier entered the barn; he crowded together those who filled the already crowded floor, and thus made room for his almost dying comrade, Miller; and then he bore him gently to the rude place of repose he had prepared for him.

Under such circumstances, the poorest accommodations are enjoyed with a soul-inspiring sense of comfort, of which those who are in health, among friends, secure from danger, and surrounded with the luxuries of life, can form no conception.

With our suffering soldier the point of danger appears to have been passed, by this timely assistance of his friend. How much he was afterwards indebted to the same, or some other generous heart, we have no recorded or traditionary testimony to inform us. He returned to Pittsfield, and was married to Miss Paulina Phelps, on the 22d day of March,1781. The family records inform us that he was born December 15th,1757; and that Miss Phelps was born May 1st,1764.

Five years after their marriage, they removed to Hampton, in the State of New York, where the survivor of the dangers and hardships of the revolutionary struggle was promoted to the office of captain in the militia of that state. In the last war with England, he was a member of the company called the Silver Grays, a volunteer body, to whose protection the public stores and other property at Whitehall were intrusted, on the approach of the British army along the shores, and of the British fleet on the waters of Lake Champlain. As a citizen, the character of Captain Miller was irreproachable. He never made a public profession of religion; but his house was often the place to which the neighbors gathered to hear the preaching of the gospel. He was taken away suddenly, with one of his daughters, by the pestilence which broke out in the army at Burlington, Vermont, and swept over a considerable portion of the country, with the most terrible fatality. He died December 30th, 1812, three days after his daughter.

Captain Miller's wife was the daughter of Elder Elnathan Phelps, a minister of the Baptist church, and well known, in his day, for the plain, scriptural character of his preaching, through the whole section of country extending from western Massachusetts, along the line of Vermont and New York, to Lake Champlain. She was one of the earliest members of the Baptist church formed at Low Hampton, then a branch of the church at Orwell, Vermont, where Elder Phelps resided.

We have the most convincing evidence of the sterling character of her piety; and shall find, as we progress, another instance to add to the long list, which the church of God keeps among her choicest memorials, to illustrate the power of a Christian mother's deportment and prayers, in recovering a gifted son from a dangerous position, and bringing him where his powerful natural energies, after being renewed by the spirit of God, would be devoted to the defence of the faith, and the edification of the church. Her death will be noticed in another place.

Thus were blended in the parents of William, as their strongest traits of character, the highest virtues which heaven and earth can confer on man—piety and patriotism. If patriotism became most conspicuous to the public eye, by its exhibition on the field of danger and suffering, where the husband moved, its claims on the comfort of the wife, in her retirement, were felt to be sufficiently heavy. And if the mother, by her public but appropriate profession of faith, made her piety the most noticeable, the father yielded, at least, his assent and respect to that name and service which had won the heart and added to the graces of William's mother. The soldier of the Revolution was to lead his son into scenes, and bring him under a worldly discipline, which would add to his efficiency; and the camp, for a time, would feel as sure of his permanent attachment as it was to be proud of his soldierly honor; but the disciple of the cross would, at last, see that son enlisted under a different banner, to become a leader of other ranks to a different warfare, and a different kind of glory!

The calling of William's grandfathers was entirely different; but there was a remarkable similarity in their end. Elder Phelps was suddenly attacked, while on a journey from Orwell to Pittsfield, by the army epidemic; he was found in a dying state by the wayside, in Pownal, Vermont, where he soon after died, and was buried by the side of their pastor's grave, all unknown to his friends at home, till these last acts of respect and affection had been completed. He is mentioned in "Benedict's History of the Baptists," (p. 485,) among "the first Baptist ministers who settled in Vermont." This took place "about the year 1780."

He died in peace January 2d, 1813. Of his grandfather Miller, but little more is recollected than his escape from death at the hands of the Indians, almost by miracle, to find a grave among strangers, on his return from the wars of our colonial history; probably from some one of the ill-advised and unsuccessful attempts on Canada, at the commencement of the Revolutionary War.

The traditionary form of his Indian adventures is to this effect: — Somewhere in the western part of Massachusetts, when every exposed white settlement was protected by a rude fort, the grandfather and several companions were going to one of them, probably to strengthen the garrison, and must travel several miles by the road, or take a nearer route through the wilderness. Mr. Miller chose to take the shorter route, alone. He had come within hearing of the fort without harm, when a sudden stirring of the bushes awakened his fears, and he started to run. At the same instant the Indians fired their muskets, and several balls passed through the skirts of his heavy coat. He had proceeded but a few steps before he stumbled and fell to the ground; but his fall saved his life, for the hatchets of the Indians passed at the instant directly over his head. His self-command now returned; he arose to his feet, took aim at the spot where the savages were concealed, fired, turned and fled. The report brought some of the garrison, including several friendly Indians, to the spot. These Indians had already decided that the last gun heard was that of a white man, and that he had killed an Indian, for they heard his death-yell. On repairing to the spot, marks of blood were seen; and these were traced to a pond near by, into which it was supposed the dead Indian was thrown by his brethren.

It is thought by Deacon Samuel D. Colt, an aged, highly intelligent, and respected gentleman of Pittsfield, where he has resided since he was a child, that this incident is connected with the history of "Hutchinson's Fort," so called from the man who built it, during "the second French war." It was located about two miles west of the village. Its site is now covered by a brick dwelling-house. None of the other forts were then occupied.

The few inhabitants of Pittsfield nearly all left the place at the time, on which account there is an omission in the town records for several years. Deacon Colt remarked, on referring to the adventure, that "this Miller was a courageous fellow." Mr. Miller afterwards fell a victim to the small-pox, as before stated.

Such, then, were the family recollections and public events which were to make the first and deepest impression on the strong intellect and generous heart of the subject of this memoir.

When William's parents removed from Pittsfield, in 1786, the section which embraced what is now known as Low Hampton was an almost uninhabited wilderness.* The village of Fairhaven did not then exist. And the town of Whitehall, now one of the familiar and important centres of trade and travel, was marked only by a few rude dwellings, the inhabitants of which were in danger of being crushed by the trees impending from the mountain sides over their heads. Half a dozen, or possibly half a score, of farm-houses were scattered over the country, between the southern extremity of Lake Champlain and Poultney, Vermont. But it was naturally a much more fertile and inviting country than the western part of Massachusetts. William was then about four years of age.

The farm selected by Mr. Miller consisted of about a hundred acres. It was taken on a lease, for which twenty bushels of wheat were to be paid annually. The farm was located near the bank of Poultney river, about six miles from the lake. After a suitable clearing had been effected, the logs of the felled trees were converted into a dwelling, and farming life in the wilderness, with its toils, privations, and hardships, was fairly begun. This was the condition of things to which young William's lot consigned him. The difficulties with which he had to contend need not all be enumerated.

In his early childhood, marks of more than ordinary intellectual strength and activity were manifested. A few years made these marks more and more noticeable to all who fell into his society.

But where were the powers of the inner man to find the nutriment to satisfy their cravings, and the field for their exercise?

Besides the natural elements of education, the objects, the scenes, and the changes of the natural world, which have ever furnished to all truly great minds their noblest aliment, the inspiring historical recollections associated with well-known localities of the neighboring country, and the society of domestic life, there was nothing within William's reach but the Bible, the psalter, and prayer-book, till he had resided at Low Hampton several years. But were ever such natural scenery and such historical associations before blended together in so confined a circle?

A few rods behind and west of the log house, the level which began at the bank of the river was broken by one of those natural terraces which mark so often the long slopes of the outspread valleys of our country. From this beautiful elevation, a forest scene might be witnessed, at the return of every autumn, that was so rich in its variegated beauties, and covered so extended a field, that it could not fail to entrance the soul of even an ordinary lover of nature, on beholding it.

From the summit of the sharp mountainous ridge, half a mile further west, there was spread out before the eye a view as captivating by its grandeur as that from the lowlier position was by its beauty. The extent of country seen from this higher point was not less than fifty miles from north to south, while it stretched away easterly to the Green Mountains, the distant outline of which, including some of the higher peaks, seemed to rest against the sky.

Sometimes a dense, motionless sea of vapor spread over the low plain, through which the hill-tops rose up like islands, and to which the neighboring mountain sides seemed to form the coast. From the wide-spread surface of this mimic sea, the smoke of the scattered farm-houses arose, and, as it became chilled in the air above, turned and sunk into the vapory bed, very much in the form, but not with the force, of the water spouted by a whale in the ocean. Again, the rising smoke from the farm-house, the coal-pit, and from masses of burning wood, when it reached an atmospheric line the temperature or density of which refused it an upward passage, slowly formed itself into an upper cloudy stratum, which connected the higher hill-tops as by an extended magic bridge.

And sometimes the storm clouds swept along these mountain sides in their wildest and most imposing grandeur, the sure precursors of a sudden squall or tempest; and perhaps the spell-bound observer would not have time to reach the warm but rude cabin-door before the descending rain or snow would shut out every object but the ground beneath his feet.

Bears, wolves, and other dangerous wild animals, which had formerly abounded through the whole region, at this time usually kept among the unfrequented recesses of the mountains. But occasionally, during the severity of winter, when the wolves were pressed by hunger, their howlings disturbed the repose of the settler, if they did not inflict a more serious injury, by the destruction of his flock. And, one night, William's mother was out near their residence, and seeing what she supposed was one of their domestic animals, she approached it, and, as she was about extending her hand towards it, was very soon informed of her mistake, by the frightful growl of a bear.

From the earliest times reached by history or tradition, Lake Champlain, and the natural landing-places which open into the country on its southern extremity, seem to have been the chosen thoroughfare for the native savages in their migrations, for the savages and the French in their warlike expeditions against the English colonists on the Atlantic, and afterwards for the British in their wars with the revolutionary colonies and the United States. The scenes of savage cruelty, of patriotic daring and ordinary war, which have marked the face of the earth along that chosen highway, had wellnigh ended when William was born. But nearly every mile between Quebec and Albany had been a battleground; and many a spot, from Canada along the mountain passes of northern New York, Vermont, and western Massachusetts, was known as the scene of some terrible Indian tragedy.

Only about two miles below his father's residence, on the river near the banks of which it stood, are "Carver's Falls," one of the most romantic localities in our country. Directly below the falls is a broad, oblong basin, which connects with the lake, the precipitous sides of which were formerly hung with a thick growth of hemlocks. Some of the most fatal expeditions of the savages, against the frontier settlements of New England, were carried on by parties who ascended the river from the lake to this basin, there secreting their canoes under the dark evergreen branches of the hemlock trees; and then, threading their way secretly to the dwellings of the English, would seize their captives, or take the scalps of the murdered inhabitants, and return to their canoes. Here, in this secluded hiding-place, the danger was all over.

Just across the lake were Ticonderoga, Crown Point, and Lake George. Within the limits of the view before mentioned, to the south, were Fort Edward and Fort William Henry; and, a little further distant, were Saratoga and Bennington. Of these names we need not speak.

This is the scenery, and these are the recollections which entered largely into William's early education. He was not, however, entirely destitute of other resources.

In a newly settled country, the public means of education must necessarily be very limited. This was the case, at the time here referred to, in a much greater degree than it usually is with the new settlements of the present day. The schoolhouse was not erected in season to afford the children of Low Hampton but three months' schooling in winter, during William's schoolboy days. His mother had taught him to read, so that he soon mastered the few books belonging to the family; and this prepared him to enter the "senior class" when the district school opened. But if the terms were short, the winter nights were long. Pine knots could be made to supply the want of candles, lamps, or gas. And the spacious fireplace in the log house was ample enough as a substitute for the schoolhouse and lecture-room. But even the enjoyment of these literary advantages subjected the zealous student to a somewhat severe discipline.

The settlers generally on our frontiers are under the necessity of exercising the most stringent economy in the use of everything which takes money out, or brings money in. The most moderate liberality in the scale of living is often as ruinous to their prospects as indolence, intemperance, disease or death, could be. Many a hardy farmer, or his widow and children, have been compelled to give up their claim to the spot on which they had settled, just as it began to afford a comfortable subsistence, simply because they had not the means at command to lift the mortgage. There are always human sharks enough to devour all they can. And woe be to those who are at the mercy of the common mortgage-holder! Such were the circumstances of William's parents that they had a plain question to settle: with health, hard labor, sobriety and economy, the farm they had cleared might become their own, to leave to their children; the absence of any one of these items. in the condition of success, was sure to make it otherwise. It was on this view of the case that William's parents declined to provide him with candles to read by; and this led to the expedient of the pine knots.

There is an amusing and truly affecting incident connected with his application of this means for getting light, which shows how deeply his soul was bound up in his books, since an offence on that interest only could arouse his combativeness to commit an overt act. He was accustomed to select pine stumps of the proper quality for his candle-wood, chop them into a size and shape convenient for use, and then put these pieces into a place he had appropriated for that purpose, so that, when his hours for reading came, he would have nothing to do but light up. One day, when a sister of his, who is now living, had some of her little friends to visit her, she had some difficulty in kindling the fire, and, as William's pitch-wood was handy, she made use of that. The trespass was soon discovered by him; and so great was the provocation, he lost all self-command, and gave her a smart blow. It was the only one that sister ever received from him.

Another difficulty called for another expedient. As soon as William's age and strength rendered him able to assist his father about the farm, it was feared that his reading by night might interfere with his efficiency in the work of the day.

His father insisted, therefore, that he should retire to bed when he retired himself. But the boy could not be kept in bed. When the other members of the family were all asleep, William would leave his bed, then find his way to the pitch-wood, go to the fireplace, cast himself down flat on the hearth, with his book before him, thrust his pitch-wood into the embers till it blazed well, and there spend the hours of midnight in reading. If the blaze grew dim, he would hold the stick in the embers till the heat fried the pitch out of the wood, which renewed the blaze. And when he had read as long as he dared to, or finished his book, he would find his way back to bed again, with as little noise as possible.

But he came near losing even this privilege. His father awoke one night, and seeing the light of William's burning stick, he supposed the house was on fire. He hurried from his bed, and when he saw his son's position and employment, he seized the whip, and pursuing his flying son, cried out, in a manner which made it effectual for some time, "Bill, if you don't go to bed, I'll horsewhip you!"

The reader may wish to be informed where the books were obtained under such embarrassments. The first addition made to those belonging to the family, already named, was the History of Crusoe! The remains of this volume are still preserved. Its title-page reads as follows:—

"The Wonderful Life and Surprising Adventures of the Renowned Hero, Robinson Crusoe, who lived twenty-eight years on an uninhabited island, which he afterwards colonized. Albany: Published by C. R. and G. Webster, State Street. MDCCXC."

It is evidently an imitation or abridgment of Defoe. But how many longings of soul, how many plans, and entreaties, on the part of the boy, preceded the possession of that book! At length, his father granted him permission to purchase the book, if he would earn the money by chopping wood during his leisure hours. The prize was soon in his hands. The second book he possessed was The Adventures of Robert Boyle.

Other books were loaned him by gentlemen in the vicinity, who had become interested in his improvement; among whom were Dr. Witherill* and Col. Lyon, † of Fairhaven, and Esquire Cruikshanks,† of Whitehall.

All this, however, only afforded a partial gratification to the inward desire for knowledge. But what could he do? His father could render him but little aid if he had been disposed to aid him. And, if he felt that his son must be denied even the trifling accommodations we have noticed, it must be seen that he would not readily favor a more liberal outlay for that son's benefit. There were then no amply endowed literary institutions, or zealous educational societies, standing with open doors and open arms to receive every promising or unpromising young man who might aspire to the honors, or the substantial benefits, of a liberal education. Was there any source then from which help might come? Some, no doubt, would consider it a cause of grief that more ample means were not within the reach of young William Miller. Viewing the case in some of its bearings, we could sympathize with them. In another view, we might not. Nothing could have been more gratifying to him than the attainment of means for an education; and his gratification, or that of any other, in itself, we should approve. And certain it is, that a more promising or worthy subject of the most generous appropriations could rarely be found.

He possessed a strong physical constitution, an active and naturally well-developed intellect, and an irreproachable moral character. He had appropriated to his use and amusement the small stock of literature afforded by the family, while a child. He had enjoyed the limited advantages of the district school but a few years, before it was generally admitted that his attainments exceeded those of the teachers usually employed. He had drunk in the inspiration of the natural world around him, and of the most exciting events in his country's history.

His imagination had been quickened, and his heart warmed, by the adventures and gallantries of fiction, and his intellect enriched by history. And some of his earliest efforts with the pen, as well as the testimony of his associates, show that his mind and heart were ennobled by the lessons, if not by the spirit and power, of religion.

What, now, would have been the effect of what is called a regular course of education? Would it have perverted him, as it has thousands? or would it have made him instrumental of greater good in the cause of God? Would it have performed its appropriate work, that of disciplining, enlarging, and furnishing the mind, leaving unimpaired by the process its natural energies, its sense of self-dependence as to man, and its sense of dependence and accountability as to God? or would it have placed him in the crowded ranks of those who are content to share in the honor of repeating the twaddle, true or false, which passes for truth in the school or sect which has "made them what they are"? We think it would have been difficult to pervert him; but where so many who have been regarded as highly promising have been marred by the operation, he would have been in great danger. He might have become externally a better subject for the artist; but we doubt if he would have been a better subject to be used as an instrument of Providence. There are those who survive the regular course uninjured. There are those who are benefited by it so far as to be raised to a level with people of ordinary capacity, which they never could attain without special aid. And there is a third class, who are a stereotype representation of what the course makes them: if they raise a fellow-man out of the mire, they never get him nearer to heaven than the school where they were educated.

Whatever might have been the result of any established course of education, in the case of William Miller, such a course was beyond his reach: he was deprived of the benefit, he has escaped the perversion. Let us be satisfied. But still we must record the fact, that it would have been extremely gratifying, if something of the kind could have been placed at his command.

He desired it. He longed for it with an intensity of feeling that approached to agony. He pondered the question over and over, whether it was possible to accomplish what appeared to him to be not only a desirable gratification and honor, but almost essential to his existence.

It should be noticed, however, that his circumstances became somewhat relieved as he advanced in years. The log house had given place to a comfortable frame house; and, in this, William had a room he was permitted to call his own. He had means to provide himself with a new book, occasionally, and with candles to read at night, so that he could enjoy his chosen luxury, during his leisure hours, in comparative comfort.

It was on one of those times of leisure that an incident occurred which marked a new era in his history, though it did not introduce fully such an era as he desired.

There was a medical gentleman in the vicinity of his residence, by the name of Smith, who possessed an ample fortune, and was known to be very liberal. In the plans which had passed through the mind of William, to secure the means of maturing his education, he had thought of Dr. Smith. At any rate, it could do no harm to apply to him. The plan was carried so far as to write a letter, setting forth to that gentleman his intense desires, his want of means to gratify them, his hopes and his prospects, if successful.

The letter was nearly ready to be sent to its destination, when William's father entered the room, which we may properly call his son's study. Perhaps it had not occurred to the son to consult his father in the matter; and to have it come to his notice in so unexpected a manner somewhat disturbed him for the moment. But there was the letter in his father's presence. He took it, and read it. It affected him deeply. For the first time, he seemed to feel his worldly condition to be uncomfortable, on his son's account. He wanted to be rich then, for the gratification of his son, more than for any other human being. There were the irrepressible yearnings of his first-born, which he had treated in their childish development as an annoyance, now spread out in manly but impassioned pleadings to a comparative stranger to afford him help!

There were plans and hopes for the future, marked by an exhibition of judgment and honor that could not fail of commanding attention! All that was tender in that father's heart, all that was generous in the soldier, and all that could make him ambitious of a worthy successor, was moved by that letter. The tears fell, and words of sympathy were spoken; but the plan was impossible.

The letter of William was never sent. It had the effect, however, of changing his father's course towards him, so that he was rather encouraged than hindered in his favorite pursuits.

By this time, the natural genius and attainments of young William Miller had distinguished him among his associates. To the young folks, he became a sort of scribbler-general. If any one wanted "verses made," a letter to send, some ornamental and symbolic design to be interpreted by "the tender passion," or anything which required extra taste and fancy in the use of the pen, it was pretty sure to be planned, if not executed. by him.

Some of these first-fruits of his genius are still in existence; and, although it requires no critic to discover that he had never received lessons of any of the "great masters," still these productions would compare very favorably with similar efforts by those whose advantages have been far superior to his.

The facts connected with the early life of Mr. William Miller, and the incidents in his personal history, now spread before the readers of this work, will enable them to see, in the boy, a type of the future man. The most embarrassing circumstances of his condition could not master his perseverance. And if he could not accomplish all he desired to, the success which attended his efforts, in spite of great discouragements, was truly surprising. The position he had won opened to him a fairer prospect, though still surrounded with serious dangers. But the features of the next step in his history must be the subject of another chapter.

CHAPTER II.

MARRIAGE AND PUBLIC LIFE.

The successful military operations in behalf of the northern colonies of our country resulted, at the close of the Revolutionary War, in opening the whole territory along the northern frontier of the New England States and New York, for the occupancy of the immigrant; and gave security in prosecuting the business of peaceful life. The desire of possessing a home in this new, healthy, and fertile region, which led so many families from western Massachusetts—the Miller family among them—induced other families from the Atlantic settlements, particularly in Rhode Island and Connecticut, to try their fortunes in the same region.

Among the families which came from Connecticut about the time that the Miller family came from Pittsfield, there was one by the name of Smith. This family settled in Poultney, Vermont, some half a dozen miles from the residence of Mr. Miller. The Smiths were related to families in the Miller neighborhood, and this brought the members of the two families into each other's society. It was in this way that the subject of this memoir first met with Miss Lucy Smith, a young woman of about his own age, who afterwards became his wife.

There certainly is no relation which two human beings can sustain to each other, on which their mutual welfare so much depends, as that of husband and wife. To a great extent, their history, and that of their children, are determined by the fitness of the parties for each other, and the manner in which the relation is sustained. If the wisdom and goodness of God are seen in the institution of marriage, these attributes are quite as manifest in the philosophical, inartificial, and religious manner in which he requires the institution to be honored. We shall see, by and by, that the importance of the duties growing out of this relation was a principal consideration in fixing Mr. Miller's purpose to become a Christian.

As Mrs. Lucy Miller is now living, all that might be said to her praise may not be said here. It is sufficient to state, that she was remarkably endowed, by nature and by her industrial and economical habits, to make domestic life highly agreeable, and to favor Mr. Miller's promotion and success in the departments of public life in which he was called to move. And few men could be better adapted to enjoy, or better qualified to honor, the office of a husband, than Mr. Miller. His warm-hearted and tireless sociability gave itself full play in the domestic circle; and his confidence was unbounded towards those whom he had decided to be worthy of it. The discernment which led Miss Smith to accept the offer of his hand was never called in question by a disappointment of her expectations. They were united in marriage June 29th, 1803.

By comparing dates, it will be seen that the subject of this memoir had passed his minority but a few months when this important change in his condition in life took place. Shortly afterwards, the new-made family settled in Poultney, Vermont, where the young wife's parents resided.

To the population generally, Mr. Miller was a stranger; and to those who knew him as the fortunate husband of one of the promising young ladies of the village, nothing very remarkable appeared in him, to attract their attention. In fact, he does not appear to have been, at that time, or during his subsequent life, either moved by external show in others, or led to make the least show to produce an effect on others. What was solid and unaffectedly natural and true was all he valued, or wished others to value, as worthy of their attention. He had been distinguished by no other public honors, we believe, prior to his leaving Low Hampton, but that of being promoted to the always dignified office of serjeant in the militia. However, he continued in Poultney but a short time before it began to be perceived that his natural genius would make itself felt, if it did not seek to make itself seen.

One of the first objects of his interest, after he had become settled, was the village library. His constant use of its volumes brought him into the society of a superior class of men. His wife took a deep interest in his improvement and promotion; and made it her pleasure and business to relieve him as much as possible from all the family cares which might call him away from his books. She felt very sure that it would not be lost time on his part, or lost labor on her own part. Still, the time he could devote to books, on the best possible arrangement, was not so much as he desired; for he had been trained to the farming business, and he made that his employment, for some years, in Poultney.

One effort of genius, though trifling in itself, which attracted towards him the public attention of the village and its vicinity, was a poetic effusion, the inspiration of his patriotic ardor. Preparations were going on, at the time, for the public celebration of the anniversary of our national independence; and the inspiration of that memorable day seized Mr. Miller while he was hoeing corn in the field. He had written poetry before; and so, after the labor of the field was done, he put his thoughts into a written form, to be adapted to the familiar old tune, called "Delight."

The appointed marshal, or manager, of the services of the day, was Esquire Ashley, who was then a neighbor of Mr. Miller, and afterwards became an intimate friend. But the poet of the day, as he became, was too reserved to offer his tribute, though there is reason to believe it would have been thankfully accepted; for the business of the manager hardly afforded him time to write poetry for the occasion, if he had the ability, or even to select it. Mr. Miller was willing to have his piece seen and used, if it was thought to be suitable, but he could not announce himself as its author. So he took the manuscript, and walked as usual to Esquire Ashley's house. He seated himself leisurely below the chamber window, where that gentleman was making his preparations for the great celebration. Then, taking an opportunity to place it near where Mrs. Ashley was at work, he shortly after withdrew. As soon as Mrs. Ashley discovered the paper, she took it to her husband, supposing it was one of his papers which had fallen from the window.

He took it, and read the hymn: it struck him as being just what was wanted; but he knew nothing of its origin. It was carried to several others, who were thought of, as its author, but no author or owner of it could be found. "Perhaps an angel from heaven had sent it!" So they talked, at any rate.

However, the hymn was copied with the pen, and the sheets multiplied to supply all who wished for one. The day came, and the hymn was sung, with the greatest enthusiasm, to the favorite old tune, "Delight"!

But among those who distributed the copies, there was a worthy Baptist minister, by the name of Kendrick, who had taken a warm interest in Mr. Miller. His suspicions had pointed him to the author of the piece; and when Mr. Miller came, with others, to get a copy, his appearance and manner confirmed Elder Kendrick's suspicions. Further inquiry brought forth a confession of authorship. To use the phrase of the old folks, "it was a great feather in his cap." He had touched the right chord in the right way. The pious and patriotic emotions of the aged were revived; the ardent responses of the young to these parental emotions found expression in the new hymn; and nothing more was needed, to make its author the popular favorite!

It is not known that an entire copy of the hymn is now in existence. A sister of its author has repeated to us a few of the stanzas, which we give, more for the purpose of exhibiting his religious and patriotic sentiments than from an expectation that our readers will be affected as were those who first heard it. Its style and metre were strictly in accordance with the standard contained in the hymn-book used on Sundays, doubtless the only standard the writer of it was familiar with; and the effect arose from the natural force and simplicity of the versified thoughts, and the perfect ease of the musical execution. But to the fragments of the hymn:—

" Our Independence dear, Bought with the price of blood, Let us receive with care, And trust our Maker, God.

For he 's the tower To which we fly; His grace is nigh In every hour!

"Nor shall Columbia's sons Forget the price it cost, As long as water runs, Or leaves are nipped by frost. Freedom is thine; Let millions rise, Defend the prize Through rolling time!

"There was a Washington, A man of noble fame, Who led Columbia's sons To battle on the plain; With skill they fought; The British host, With all their boast, Soon came to nought!

"Let traitors hide their heads,

And party quarrels cease;

Our foes are struck with dread.

When we declare for peace,

Firm let us be,

And rally round

The glorious sound

Of liberty! "

The reader will see that the piece was designed for home consumption. It was exactly suited to the occasion; and was marked throughout, in spirit, style, and thought, with the elements of his education. And this production, with others in prose and poetry, made him at once a notable in the community; secured to him a wide circle of friends, and opened the way for his promotion to office and honor. The old men were all ready to give him a lift, almost without distinction of "party." The young folks made his house a place of common resort, to which they gathered to spend their leisure hours; while himself and wife became the central unit which drew them together, and kept all in motion.

It was here that Mr. Miller became a member of the Masonic fraternity, in which his perseverance, if nothing else, was manifested; for he advanced to the highest degree which the lodges then in the country, or in that region, could confer.

In his political sentiments, he was decidedly democratic. But he had intelligence enough to see that the practical patriotism of men did not depend so much on the party name they took as on their common sense and integrity. He knew that there were bad men enough in either party to ruin the country, if they had the power to do it; and good men enough in the same parties to promote the public prosperity to the best of their ability. His position, therefore, was taken in view of the tendency of different political principles and public measures, in their ultimate bearing on the established institutions of the country. He enjoyed, in a remarkable degree, the confidence of both the political parties of the day.

The first public office of a civil character to which he was elected or appointed was that of constable. His appointment to the office of sheriff took place in 1809. The first entry of "writes served," and of "executions levied, as sheriff's deputy," is dated "December 6th, 1809." A long list of writs and executions is still preserved, in good condition, in a book used for that purpose. The last writ in this list is dated 1811;* the last execution is closed up in "May, 1813." The names of the attorneys which occur the most frequently, in the issuing of these writs, are "R. C. Mallory, Esq." and "Chauncy Langdon, Esq." One of these was the "republican," and the other the "federal," lawyer of the place. So much business from the lawyer of the party opposed to Mr. M. corroborates the statement we have heard as having been made by that official, that "Mr. Miller was the only honest democrat he knew!" Indeed, in the various civil offices he was called to fill—constable, sheriff, and justice of the peace—he appears to have sustained an unimpeachable character, and to have given the highest satisfaction.

As an illustration of his standing in the confidence of the community, it may be stated that, when he was called on to furnish bondsmen for his fidelity in the office of sheriff, responsible persons voluntarily offered their names, so that several times the amount required was at his command.

He had good reason to expect promotion to the office of high sheriff, if he would restrain his military ardor, and decline entering the army.

In the case of most men of the world, with the avenues to honor, wealth, and domestic happiness wide open before them, it is not often that a public station so commanding would be voluntarily left for the hardships, privations and dangers, of the camp. What strong impulses could have turned him off in that direction? Already the business of his office had placed him in easy circumstances. Such was the amount of his business that he kept two horses, one of which he drove, while the other was kept up to rest, week by week, alternately. He enjoyed the respect and unbounded confidence of the public; and he only needed to make himself still as worthy of public favor as he had been hitherto, and then, with life and health, all that this world could afford was within his reach. His preference for the army, so far as we know, sprang from these two motives: First, he desired to participate in the glory which rested on the memory of those he held the most dear, in the history of his country and of his family. Second, he hoped to enjoy a more inviting exhibition of human nature in the scenes of military life than experience or books had afforded in civil life. His desire for something noble in character was greater than that for wealth or unsubstantial fame. He was satisfied with the trial of what was around him, and wished to try a new field. This is stated by himself in his published memoir:—"In the mean time, I continued my studies, storing my mind with historical knowledge. The more I read, the more dreadfully corrupt did the character of man appear. I could discern no bright spot in the history of the past. Those conquerors of the world, and heroes of history, were apparently but demons in human form. All the sorrow, suffering, and misery in the world, seemed to be increased in proportion to the power they obtained over their fellows. I began to feel very distrustful of all men. In this state of mind, I entered the service of my country. I fondly cherished the idea, that I should find one bright spot at least in the human character, as a star of hope: a love of country -Patriotism."

His military life must be given at length, in another place.

Happy, indeed, should we consider ourselves, if there were no drawback to this apparent prosperity to be noted. Rarely is it the case that the honor of God and the honor of man are coincident. If Mr. Miller was not puffed up by the latter, he had lost much of his regard for the former. In his worldly advancement, there was a serious and dangerous departure from the Christian sentiments which were instilled into his mind during his early life. Still there was no defect in his character which the most rigid worldly standard of external morality could detect. He was perfectly upright and honorable in all his dealings. He was generous, almost to a fault, with his friends; compassionate and liberal to the poor, and he held in the highest contempt every act that could tarnish a man's personal and private honor. He was not profane, even to the extent that too many are who pass for gentlemen. He was not intemperate, although he was very much exposed to this ruinous habit, from the example of those into whose company his business called him—a habit which had broken down some of his predecessors in office, by rendering them incapable of attending to their business. He escaped from it without the least stain.

It could be shown, from sentiments embodied in some of his essays, in addresses delivered before societies existing at the time, and in his poetic effusions, that his moral and religious views were of a type that would pass

with the world as philosophical, pure, and sublime. But the men with whom he associated from the time of his removal to Poultney, and to whom he was considerably indebted for his worldly favors, were deeply affected with sceptical principles and deistical theories. They were not immoral men; but, as a class, were good citizens, and generally of serious deportment, humane and benevolent. However, they rejected the Bible as the standard of religious truth, and endeavored to make its rejection plausible by such aid as could be obtained from the writings of Voltaire, Hume, Volney, Paine, Ethan Allen, and others. Mr. Miller studied these works closely, and at length avowed himself a deist.

As he has stated the period of his deistical life to have been twelve years, that period must have begun in 1804; for he embraced or returned to the Christian faith in 1816. It may fairly be doubted, however, notwithstanding his known thoroughness and consistency, whether Mr. Miller ever was fully settled in that form of deism which reduces man to a level with the brutes, as to the supposed duration of their existence. And the question is worthy of a little inquiry, to what extent was he a deist?

Robert Hall, with his usual comprehensiveness and truth, has remarked that "infidelity is the offspring of corrupt Christianity." It is much more successful in the discovery of supposed arguments against the existence of the Deity of the Scriptures, in the perversion of that which is divine, than in its institution and appointed use. Voltaire chose the ruins of human nature, in their most perverted and blighted condition, and Volney chose the "ruins" of human habitations, for the theatre on which to display their mighty but evil genius. And they conjured forth the same evil spirit which had instigated or caused the ruin, in each case, to utter a false testimony, in reference both to ruined man and his ruined habitations. These men became the oracles of that falsehood to the world! But it was never the intention of God, that man, or the world fitted up for his habitation, should be in this ruined condition: it is the work of rebellion and sin!—of sin against the greatest displays of love and goodness that were possible, and against the purest and most reasonable law that could be given; of rebellion that was marked by contempt of the universal Sovereign, and of authority enforced by the lightest test of submission. And God has spoken to us, to inform us that he has made provision for the restoration of all men, and that it is his purpose to restore all who become interested in that provision, with the world now in ruins, to a condition which no history but the Bible has made known.

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