was firm, and not touched by the adversary until the period of his life; and, with much joy and peace in believing, he fell asleep in the Lord." He had lived sixty-one years. His death was keenly felt throughout New England as a general calamity. He had been sharply opposed to Winthrop in the controversies which engaged their respective Colonies; but Winthrop was not a man to permit public or personal differences to obscure to him the duty, or despoil him of the satisfaction, of a cordial recognition of kindred excellence. After relating the ravages of an epidemic sickness in Massachusetts and Connecticut, he proceeds: "But that which made the stroke more sensible and grievous, both to them and to all the country, was the death of that faithful servant of the Lord, Mr. Thomas Hooker, pastor of the church in Hartford, who, for piety, prudence, wisdom, zeal, learning, and what else might make him serviceable in the place and time he lived in, might be compared with men of greatest note. And he shall need no other praise; the fruits of his labors in both Englands shall preserve an honorable and happy remembrance of him for ever."2

Death of

In less than two years after recording this tribute to his friend, Winthrop was called to follow him. Winthrop. Early in his sixty-second year, "he took a cold, 1649 which turned into a fever, whereof he lay sick March 26. about a month," and then closed his eyes upon

a scene of rare prosperity, which he, laboring with many other good and able men, had been the chief instrument in creating. Close by a great thoroughfare of the happy city, which itself is but a part of his monument, a simple tablet, inscribed with his bright and venerable name, covers the grave in which his body was laid amidst universal mourning. Most of his ample fortune had been sacrificed in the public service, and of the rest he had been spoiled by a dishonest agent. The public gratitude made provision for his infant child.1

Nineteen years had passed since, disgusted with the despotism and bigotry that afflicted his home, he had come, in the prime of manhood, to the various sufferings and endless anxieties of subduing a "bare creation," and of defending the fabric which he reared there against hostility from without and from within. He had not learned that, before he died, the infatuated King who had wrought such sorrow to him and his, had perished by the hand of public vengeance.2 But he lived long enough to know that the party, of which he had been a not unhonored associate, was installed in absolute control of the affairs of his native country. And his last look abroad rested upon the tranquil and affluent dwellings of a flourishing Christian people, enjoying a virtual independence which well-nigh realized the longing of the best third of his life. The vital system of New England, as it had now been created, was complete. It had only thenceforward to grow, as the human body grows from childhood to graceful and robust maturity. The time that has now passed since Winthrop lived is 1 Mass. Rec., II. 274; III. 161. his death, reported the list in OctoFor "A List of the several heads under ber. which were placed the several papers of greater or lesser public or private use of such writings as were left in honored Mr. Winthrop's study," see Mass. Rec., III. 179. A committee, appointed by the General Court in the May after

The intelligence was communicated, as having just arrived, in a letter from Roger Williams to Winthrop the younger, at Pequod, dated from the Narragansett country, May 26, 1649. (Mass. Hist. Coll., XXIX. 286.)

more than a quarter as long as the time since the Norman conquest of England. The influence of his genius and character have been felt through seven generations of a rapidly multiplying people, and of those, not of their number, whom their proceedings have in any way af fected. The importance which history should ascribe to his life must be proportionate to the importance attributed to the subsequent agency of that commonwealth of which he was the most eminent founder. It would be erroneous to pretend that the principles upon which it was established were an original conception of his mind; but undoubtedly it was his policy, more than any other man's, that organized into shape, animated with practical vigor, and prepared for permanency, those primeval sentiments and institutions that have directed the course of thought and action in New England in later times. And equally certain is it, that among the millions of living men descended from those whom he ruled, there is not one who does not through efficient influences, transmitted in society and in thought along the intervening generations -owe much of what is best within him, and in the circumstances about him, to the benevolent and courageous wisdom of JOHN WINTHROP.1

They who, to make up their idea of consummate excellence in a statesman, require the presence of a religious sense prompting and controlling all public conduct, will recognize with admiration the prominence of that attribute in the character of this brave, wise, unselfish, and righteous ruler. His sense of religious obligation was the spirit of his politics, as well as the spirit of his

1 All great effects have remote and slowly operating causes. I do not forget that various agencies must be combined to produce an important political result; but, to my view, the New-England campaign of 1775-76, the movement of John Adams and his

compeers for Independence eighty-four years ago, and—consequent upon those transactions the later products of self-government in America, are, to Winthrop's administration, something like what the fruit is to the blossom.

daily life. It had pleased God to place him where he might so act, as that the virtue and well-being of large numbers of men, living and to be born, might be the fruit of his courage, diligence, steadiness, and foresight. With clear intelligence he discerned the responsibilities of that position, and accepted them with a cordiality which made it easy to subordinate every less worthy object, and control every meaner motive that might interfere with the generous task he had assumed.

To the public service he lavishly gave his fortune. As freely he devoted to it the best labor of his mind, and sacrificed every personal ambition. No obstinacy, or petulance, or pride, hindered the upright application of his serene and solid judgment. Not only did he not suffer injustice to irritate him; he would not be disabled, nor discouraged, nor depressed by it. Immovably patient of opposition, he scanned its reasons in reconsideration of his own plans, or watched its course to learn how it could be conciliated, or to note the time when its relaxation, or its errors, should invite a repetition of the efforts which it had embarrassed. He was too right-minded and too kind-hearted to despise any man's good-will or good opinion; but he sought public favor by no arts but honest labors for the public welfare. And he was far above regarding public favor as the price that was to stimulate or to requite those labors. When, from time to time, the place of highest dignity was assigned to others, he addressed himself, with no sense of mortification, and with unabated zeal, to the tasks of humbler station. He knew how with dignity to meet injustice and slights, as well as how to hold power and receive applause with soberness and modesty. Vindictiveness was an emotion unknown to him; resentments had no resting-place in his bosom. He judged candidly; he forgave without an effort; he loved to win back the offended by graceful overtures and prompt amends; and personal discontents could not withdraw him from

alliances which would help him to promote the general good. So gentle was his nature, that no bitterness mingled with, or was excited by, the severest exercise of his official authority; men who had suffered severely from his action as a magistrate - Coddington, Wheelwright, Williams, Vane, Clarke-were afterwards in friendly correspondence with him. In private relations and intercourse, the qualities that specifically denote the gentleman were eminently his. His genuine sense of honor suspected no intention of offence. Just, frank, cordial, and ready to every expression of respect and courtesy, he gave to all their due, whether in great or in little things. Gracious and humane, he never, by the rudeness of selfassertion, gave pain to an inferior. A tender husband and father, his public cares never made him forgetful of the obligation of the domestic ties. What remains of his private correspondence is an affecting record of that union of excellences which attracts love as much as it commands veneration.

His ability ought to be estimated by the amount and the quality of what it projected and what it achieved. His scheme of public action had been so well considered, that no complication of affairs found him unprepared with the principles which were to solve it; and, in the quaint phraseology of his age and sect, he was used to express, as occasion prompted, the profoundest doctrines of social science. His comprehensive system of politics embraced a long range of the future. Not magnificence, nor inordinate power, was what he desired for the community which he was establishing; but freedom, security, competency, virtue, and content. The founders of dynasties have hitherto commanded the world's most noisy plaudits. But the time will come, when the men who have created happy republics will be thought worthy of higher praise,

The defective part of his intellectual character, as it