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To begin with, my theme is comparatively featureless. The great
historian has pass'd by the life of Elias Hicks quite without glance
or touch. Yet a man might commence and overhaul it as furnishing
one of the amplest historic and biography's backgrounds. While the
foremost actors and events from 1750 to 1830 both in Europe and
America were crowding each other on the world's stage--While so
many kings, queens, soldiers, philosophs, musicians, voyagers,
litterateurs, enter one side, cross the boards, and disappear--amid
loudest reverberating names--Frederick the Great, Swedenborg, Junius,
Voltaire, Rousseau, Linnaeus, Herschel--curiously contemporary with
the long life of Goethe--through the occupancy of the British throne
by George the Third--amid stupendous visible political and social
revolutions, and far more stupendous invisible moral ones--while the
many quarto volumes of the Encyclopaedia Francaise are being published
at fits and intervals, by Diderot, in Paris--while Haydn and
Beethoven and Mozart and Weber are working out their harmonic
compositions--while Mrs. Siddons and Talma and Kean are acting--while
Mungo Park explores Africa, and Capt. Cook circumnavigates the
globe--through all the fortunes of the American Revolution, the
beginning, continuation and end, the battle of Brooklyn, the surrender
at Saratoga, the final peace of '83--through the lurid tempest of the
French Revolution, the execution of the king and queen, and the Reign
of Terror--through the whole of the meteor-career of Napoleon--through
all Washington's, Adams's, Jefferson's, Madison's, and Monroe's
Presidentiads--amid so many flashing lists of names, (indeed there
seems hardly, in any department, any end to them, Old World or New,)
Franklin, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mirabeau, Fox, Nelson, Paul Jones,
Kant, Fichte, and Hegel, Fulton, Walter Scott, Byron, Mesmer,
Champollion--Amid pictures that dart upon me even as I speak, and glow
and mix and coruscate and fade like aurora boreales--Louis the 16th
threaten'd by the mob, the trial of Warren Hastings, the death-bed
of Robert Burns, Wellington at Waterloo, Decatur capturing the
Macedonian, or the sea-fight between the Chesapeake and the
Shannon--During all these whiles,

I say, and though on a far different grade, running parallel and
contemporary with all--a curious, quiet yet busy life centred in a
little country village on Long Island, and within sound on still
nights of the mystic surf-beat of the sea. About this life, this
Personality--neither soldier, nor scientist, nor litterateur--I
propose to occupy a few minutes in fragmentary talk, to give some few
melanges, disconnected impressions, statistics, resultant groups,
pictures, thoughts' of him, or radiating from him.

Elias Hicks was born March 19, 1748, in Hempstead township, Queens
county, Long Island, New York State, near a village bearing the old
Scripture name of Jericho, (a mile or so north and east of the present
Hicksville, on the L.I. Railroad.) His father and mother were Friends,
of that class working with their own hands, and mark'd by neither
riches nor actual poverty. Elias as a child and youth had small
education from letters, but largely learn'd from Nature's schooling.
He grew up even in his ladhood a thorough gunner and fisherman. The
farm of his parents lay on the south or sea-shore side of Long Island,
(they had early removed from Jericho,) one of the best regions in the
world for wild fowl and for fishing. Elias became a good horseman,
too, and knew the animal well, riding races; also a singer fond of
"vain songs," as he afterwards calls them; a dancer, too, at the
country balls. When a boy of 13 he had gone to live with an elder
brother; and when about 17 he changed again and went as apprentice
to the carpenter's trade. The time of all this was before the
Revolutionary War, and the locality 30 to 40 miles from New York city.
My great-grandfather, Whitman, was often with Elias at these periods,
and at merry-makings and sleigh-rides in winter over "the plains."

How well I remember the region--the flat plains of the middle of Long
Island, as then, with their prairie-like vistas and grassy patches in
every direction, and the 'kill-calf' and herds of cattle and sheep.
Then the South Bay and shores and the salt meadows, and the sedgy
smell, and numberless little bayous and hummock-islands in the waters,
the habitat of every sort of fish and aquatic fowl of North America.
And the bay men--a strong, wild, peculiar race--now extinct, or rather
entirely changed. And the beach outside the sandy bars, sometimes many
miles at a stretch, with their old history of wrecks and storms--the
weird, white-gray beach--not without its tales of pathos--tales, too,
of grandest heroes and heroisms. In such scenes and elements and
influences--in the midst of Nature and along the shores of the
sea--Elias Hicks was fashion'd through boyhood and early manhood, to
maturity. But a moral and mental and emotional change was imminent.
Along at this time he says:

My apprenticeship being now expir'd, I gradually withdrew from
the company of my former associates, became more acquainted with
Friends, and was more frequent in my attendance of meetings; and
although this was in some degree profitable to me, yet I made but
slow progress in my religious improvement. The occupation of part of
my time in fishing and fowling had frequently tended to preser
me from falling into hurtful associations; but through the rising
intimations and reproofs of divine grace in my heart, I now began to
feel that the manner in which I sometimes amus'd myself with my gun
was not without sin; for although I mostly preferr'd going alone,
and while waiting in stillness for the coming of the fowl,
mind was at times so taken up in divine meditations, that the
opportunities were seasons of instruction and comfort to me; yet, on
other occasions, when accompanied by some of my acquaintances, and
when no fowls appear'd which would be useful to us after being
obtain'd, we sometimes, from wantonness or for mere diversion, would
destroy the small birds which could be of no service to us. This
cruel procedure affects my heart while penning these lines.

In his 23d year Elias was married, by the Friends' ceremony, to Jemima
Seaman. His wife was an only child; the parents were well off for
common people, and at their request the son-in-law mov'd home with
them and carried on the farm--which at their decease became his own,
and he liv'd there all his remaining life. Of this matrimonial part of
his career, (it continued, and with unusual happiness, for 58 years,)
he says, giving the account of his marriage:

On this important occasion, we felt the clear and consoling evidence
of divine truth, and it remain'd with us as a seal upon our spirits,
strengthening us mutually to bear, with becoming fortitude, the
vicissitudes and trials which fell to our lot, and of which we h
a large share in passing through this probationary state. My wife,
although not of a very strong constitution, liv'd to be the mother
of eleven children, four sons and seven daughters. Our second
daughter, a very lovely, promising child, died when young, with the
small-pox, and the youngest was not living at its birth. The rest
all arriv'd to years of discretion, and afforded us considerable
comfort, as they prov'd to be in a good degree dutiful children. All
our sons, however, were of weak constitutions, and were not able to
take care of themselves, being so enfeebl'd as not to be able to
walk after the ninth or tenth year of their age. The two eldest died
in the fifteenth year of their age, the third in his seventeenth
year, and the youngest was nearly nineteen when he died. But,
although thus helpless, the innocency of their lives, and the
resign'd cheerfulness of their dispositions to their allotments,
made the labor and toil of taking care of them agreeable and
pleasant; and I trust we were preserv'd from murmuring or repining,
believing the dispensation to be in wisdom, and according to the
will and gracious disposing of an all-wise providence, for purposes
best known to himself. And when I have observ'd the great anxiety
and affliction which many parents have with undutiful children who
are favor'd with health, especially their sons, I could perceive
very few whose troubles and exercises, on that account, did not far
exceed ours. The weakness and bodily infirmity of our sons tended to
keep them much out of the way of the troubles and temptations
the world; and we believ'd that in their death they were happy, and
admitted into the realms of peace and joy: a reflection, the most
comfortable and joyous that parents can have in regard to their
tender offspring.

Of a serious and reflective turn, by nature, and from his reading and
surroundings, Elias had more than once markedly devotional inward
intimations. These feelings increas'd in frequency and strength, until
soon the following:

About the twenty-sixth year of my age I was again brought, by the
operative influence of divine grace, under deep concern of mind; and
was led, through adorable mercy, to see, that although I had ceas'd
from many sins and vanities of my youth, yet there were many
remaining that I was still guilty of, which were not yet aton'd for,
and for which I now felt the judgments of God to rest upon m
This caus'd me to cry earnestly to the Most High for pardon and
redemption, and he graciously condescended to hear my cry, and to
open a way before me, wherein I must walk, in order to experience
reconciliation with him; and as I abode in watchfulness and deep
humiliation before him, light broke forth out of obscurity, and my
darkness became as the noon-day. I began to have openings leading to
the ministry, which brought me under close exercise and deep travail
of spirit; for although I had for some time spoken on subjects of
business in monthly and preparative meetings, yet the prospe
of opening my mouth in public meetings was a close trial; but I
endeavor'd to keep my mind quiet and resign' d to the heavenly call,
if it should be made clear to me to be my duty. Nevertheless,
I was, soon after, sitting in a meeting, in much weightiness of
spirit, a secret, though clear, intimation accompanied me to spe
a few words, which were then given to me to utter, yet fear so
prevail'd, that I did not yield to the intimation. For this
omission, I felt close rebuke, and judgment seem'd, for some time,
to cover my mind; but as I humbl'd myself under the Lord's mighty
hand, he again lifted up the light of his countenance upon me, and
enabl'd me to renew covenant with him, that if he would pass by this
my offence, I would, in future, be faithful, if he should again
require such a service of me.

The Revolutionary War following, tried the sect of Friends more
than any. The difficulty was to steer between their convictions as
patriots, and their pledges of non-warring peace. Here is the way they
solv'd the problem:

A war, with all its cruel and destructive effects, having raged for
several years between the British Colonies in North America and the
mother country, Friends, as well as others, were expos' d to many
severe trials and sufferings; yet, in the colony of New York,
Friends, who stood faithful to their principles, and did not meddle
in the controversy, had, after a short period at first, considerable
favor allow'd them. The yearly meeting was held steadily, duri
the war, on Long Island, where the king's party had the rule; yet
Friends from the Main, where the American army ruled, had free
passage through both armies to attend it, and any other meetings
they were desirous of attending, except in a few instances. This was
a favor which the parties would not grant to their best friends, who
were of a war-like disposition; which shows what great advantages
would redound to mankind, were they all of this pacific spirit. I
pass'd myself through the lines of both armies six times during the
war, without molestation, both parties generally receiving me with
openness and civility; and although I had to pass over a tract of
country, between the two armies, sometimes more than thirty miles in
extent, and which was much frequented by robbers, a set, in general,
of cruel, unprincipled banditti, issuing out from both partie
yet, excepting once, I met with no interruption even from the
But although Friends in general experienc'd many favors and
deliverances, yet those scenes of war and confusion occasion
many trials and provings in various ways to the faithful. One
circumstance I am willing to mention, as it caus'd me considerable
exercise and concern. There was a large cellar under the new
meeting-house belonging to Friends in New York, which was generally
let as a store. When the king's troops enter'd the city, they took
possession of it for the purpose of depositing their warlike stores;
and ascertaining what Friends had the care of letting it, their
commissary came forward and offer'd to pay the rent; and those
Friends, for want of due consideration, accepted it. This caus'd
great uneasiness to the concern'd part of the Society, who
apprehended it not consistent with our peaceable principles to
receive payment for the depositing of military stores in our houses.
The subject was brought before the yearly meeting in 1779, and
engag'd its careful attention; but those Friends, who had been
active in the reception of the money, and some few others, were not
willing to acknowledge their proceedings to be inconsistent, nor to
return the money to those from whom it was receiv'd; and in order to
justify themselves therein, they referr'd to the conduct of Friends
in Philadelphia in similar cases. Matters thus appearing very
difficult and embarrassing, it was unitedly concluded to refer the
final determination thereof to the yearly meeting of Pennsylvania;
and several Friends were appointed to attend that meeting in
relation thereto, among whom I was one of the number. We accordingly
set out on the 9th day of the 9th month, 1779, and I was accompanied
from home by my beloved friend John Willis, who was likewise on the
appointment. We took a solemn leave of our families, they feeling
much anxiety at parting with us, on account of the dangers we were
expos'd to, having to pass not only the lines of the two armies, but
the deserted and almost uninhabited country that lay between them,
in many places the grass being grown up in the streets, and many
houses desolate and empty. Believing it, however, my duty to proceed
in the service, my mind was so settled and trust-fix'd in the divine
arm of power, that faith seem'd to banish all fear, and cheerfulness
and quiet resignation were, I believe, my constant companions during
the journey. We got permission, with but little difficulty, to pass
the outguards of the king's army at Kingsbridge, and proceeded to
Westchester. We afterwards attended meetings at Harrison's Purchase,
and Oblong, having the concurrence of our monthly meeting to take
some meetings in our way, a concern leading thereto having for some
time previously attended my mind. We pass'd from thence to Nine
Partners, and attended their monthly meeting, and then turn'd our
faces towards Philadelphia, being join'd by several others of the
Committee. We attended New Marlborough, Hardwick, and Kingswood
meetings on our journey, and arriv'd at Philadelphia on the 7th day
of the week, and 25th of 9th month, on which day we attended the
yearly meeting of Ministers and Elders, which began at the eleventh
hour. I also attended all the sittings of the yearly meeting until
the 4th day of the next week, and was then so indispos'd with a
fever, which had been increasing on me for several days, that I was
not able to attend after that time. I was therefore not present when
the subject was discuss' d, which came from our yearly meeting but I
was inform'd by my companion, that it was a very solemn opportunity,
and the matter was resulted in advising that the money should be
return'd into the office from whence it was receiv'd, accompanied
with our reasons for so doing: and this was accordingly done by the
direction of our yearly meeting the next year.

Then, season after season, when peace and Independence reign'd, year
following year, this remains to be (1791) a specimen of his personal
labors:

I was from home on this journey four months and eleven days; rode
about one thousand five hundred miles, and attended forty-nine
particular meetings among Friends, three quarterly meetings, six
monthly meetings, and forty meetings among other people.

And again another experience:

In the forepart of this meeting, my mind was reduc'd into such a
state of great weakness and depression, that my faith was almost
ready to fail, which produc'd great searchings of heart, so that I
was led to call in question all that I had ever before experienc'd.
In this state of doubting, I was ready to wish myself at home, from
an apprehension that I should only expose myself to reproach, and
wound the cause I was embark'd in; for the heavens seem'd like
brass, and the earth as iron; such coldness and hardness, I thought,
could scarcely have ever been experienc'd before by any creature, so
great was the depth of my baptism at this time; nevertheless, as I
endeavor'd to quiet my mind, in this conflicting dispensation, and
be resign'd to my allotment, however distressing, towards the latter
part of the meeting a ray of light broke through the surrounding
darkness, in which the Shepherd of Israel was pleas'd to arise, and
by the light of his glorious countenance, to scatter those clouds of
opposition. Then ability was receiv'd, and utterance given, to speak
of his marvellous works in the redemption of souls, and to op
the way of life and salvation, and the mysteries of his glorious
kingdom, which are hid from the wise and prudent of this world, and
reveal'd only unto those who are reduc'd into the state of little
children and babes in Christ.

And concluding another jaunt in 1794:

I was from home in this journey about five months, and travell
by land and water about two thousand two hundred and eighty-three
miles; having visited all the meetings of Friends in the New England
states, and many meetings amongst those of other professions; and
also visited many meetings, among Friends and others, in the upper
part of our own yearly meeting; and found real peace in my labors.

Another 'tramp' in 1798:

I was absent from home in this journey about five months and two
weeks, and rode about sixteen hundred miles, and attended about one
hundred and forty-three meetings.

Here are some memoranda of 1813, near home:

First day. Our meeting this day pass'd in silent labor. The cloud
rested on the tabernacle; and, although it was a day of much rain
outwardly, yet very little of the dew of Hermon appear'd to distil
among us. Nevertheless, a comfortable calm was witness'd towards the
close, which we must render to the account of unmerited mercy and
love.

Second day. Most of this day was occupied in a visit to a sick
friend, who appeared comforted therewith. Spent part of the evening
in reading part of Paul's Epistle to the Romans.

Third day. I was busied most of this day in my common vocations.
Spent the evening principally in reading Paul. Found considerable
satisfaction in his first epistle to the Corinthians; in which he
shows the danger of some in setting too high a value on those who
were instrumental in bringing them to the knowledge of the truth,
without looking through and beyond the instrument, to the great
first cause and Author of every blessing, to whom all the praise and
honor are due.

Fifth day, 1st of 4th month. At our meeting to-day found it, as
usual, a very close steady exercise to keep the mind center'
where it ought to be. What a multitude of intruding thoughts
imperceptibly, as it were, steal into the mind, and turn it from its
proper object, whenever it relaxes its vigilance in watching against
them. Felt a little strength, just at the close, to remind Friends
of the necessity of a steady perseverance, by a recapitulation of
the parable of the unjust judge, showing how men ought always to
pray, and not to faint.

Sixth day. Nothing material occurr'd, but a fear lest the cares of
the world should engross too much of my time.

Seventh day. Had an agreeable visit from two ancient friends, which
I have long lov'd. The rest of the day I employ'd in manual labor,
mostly in gardening.

But we find if we attend to records and details, we shall lay out an
endless task. We can briefly say, summarily, that his whole life was
a long religious missionary life of method, practicality, sincerity,
earnestness, and pure piety--as near to his time here, as one in
Judea, far back--or in any life, any age. The reader who feels
interested must get--with all its dryness and mere dates, absence of
emotionality or literary quality, and whatever abstract attraction
(with even a suspicion of cant, sniffling,) the "Journal of the Life
and Religious Labours of Elias Hicks, written by himself," at some
Quaker book-store. (It is from this headquarters I have extracted the
preceding quotations.) During E. H.'s matured life, continued from
fifty to sixty years--while working steadily, earning his living
and paying his way without intermission--he makes, as previously
memorandized, several hundred preaching visits, not only through Long
Island, but some of them away into the Middle or Southern States, or
north into Canada, or the then far West--extending to thousands of
miles, or filling several weeks and sometimes months. These religious
journeys--scrupulously accepting in payment only his transportation
from place to place, with his own food and shelter, and never
receiving a dollar of money for "salary" or preaching--Elias, through
good bodily health and strength, continues till quite the age of
eighty. It was thus at one of his latest jaunts in Brooklyn city I saw
and heard him. This sight and hearing shall now be described.

Elias Hicks was at this period in the latter part (November or
December) of 1829. It was the last tour of the many missions of the
old man's life. He was in the 8lst year of his age, and a few months
before he had lost by death a beloved wife with whom he had lived in
unalloyed affection and esteem for 58 years. (But a few months after
this meeting Elias was paralyzed and died.) Though it is sixty years
ago since--and I a little boy at the time in Brooklyn, New York--I can
remember my father coming home toward sunset from his day's work
as carpenter, and saying briefly, as he throws down his armful of
kindling-blocks with a bounce on the kitchen floor, "Come, mother,
Elias preaches to-night." Then my mother, hastening the supper and the
table-cleaning afterward, gets a neighboring young woman, a friend of
the family, to step in and keep house for an hour or so--puts the two
little ones to bed--and as I had been behaving well that day, as a
special reward I was allow'd to go also.

We start for the meeting. Though, as I said, the stretch of more than
half a century has pass'd over me since then, with its war and peace,
and all its joys and sins and deaths (and what a half century! how it
comes up sometimes for an instant, like the lightning flash in a storm
at night!) I can recall that meeting yet. It is a strange place
for religious devotions. Elias preaches anywhere--no respect to
buildings--private or public houses, school-rooms, barns, even
theatres--anything that will accommodate. This time it is in a
handsome ball-room, on Brooklyn Heights, overlooking New York, and in
full sight of that great city, and its North and East rivers fill'd
with ships--is (to specify more particularly) the second story of
"Morrison's Hotel," used for the most genteel concerts, balls,
and assemblies--a large, cheerful, gay-color'd room, with glass
chandeliers bearing myriads of sparkling pendants, plenty of settees
and chairs, and a sort of velvet divan running all round the
side-walls. Before long the divan and all the settees and chairs
are fill'd; many fashionables out of curiosity; all the principal
dignitaries of the town, Gen. Jeremiah Johnson, Judge Furman, George
Hall, Mr. Willoughby, Mr. Pierrepont, N.B. Morse, Cyrus P. Smith,
and F.C. Tucker. Many young folks too; some richly dress'd women;
I remember I noticed with one party of ladies a group of uniform'd
officers, either from the U.S. Navy Yard, or some ship in the stream,
or some adjacent fort. On a slightly elevated platform at the head of
the room, facing the audience, sit a dozen or more Friends, most of
them elderly, grim, and with their broad-brimm'd hats on their heads.
Three or four women, too, in their characteristic Quaker costumes and
bonnets. All still as the grave.