THE UNION OF HONTEMl||TION AND ACTION.
_A_I!Sr AJDJDJ&E3&&
ftSFORR THE
jp^i iiappa anb gemostjuniaii Societies
.
UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA
Delivered at (he Commencement of Franklin College,
On the 5th August, 1858,
BY
GEORGE A. GORDON, ESQ.,
An Honorary Member of the Phi Kappa Society.
SAVANNAH :
POWER PRESS OF GEORGE N. NICHOLS,
Corner i f Bay and Drayton Streets—Up Stairs.
•THE UNION OF CONTEMPLATION AND ACTION.
-A-ItT .A-IDIDKJESS
BEFORE THE
(u Jiapt ani) §emost|maa Jtotit&s
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA,
Delivered at the Commencement of Franklin College,
On the 5th August, 1858,
BY
GEORGE A. GORDON, ESQ.,
An Honorary Member of the Phi Kappa Society.
=3§=asiJ3©^2S^!B,4=!
SAVANNAH:
POWER PRESS PE GEORGE N. NICHOLS,
Corner of Bay and Drayton Streets—Up Stairs.
1858.
ATHENS, GA., AUGUST 5, 1858.
To Hon. G. A. Gordon.
Dear Sir :—In accordance with a resolution passed by the u Phi
Kappa Society," it is our pleasant duty to return to you the sincere
and grateful acknowledgements of the Society, for the very eloquent
and appropriate Address which you this day delivered, and to
request of you a copy of the same for publication. Your compli¬
ance with this request will gratify, not only the Society and all those
whose privilege it was to hear you, but the public generally.
Yours Respectfully,
J. M. ROBERTS, )
D. C. HODO, > Committee.
LAMAR COBB, )
o
ATHENS, GA., AUGUST 6, 1858.
Gentlemen:—In compliance with your request, I hand you here¬
with a copy of the Address yesterday delivered before the Phi Kappa
and Demosthenian Societies, and thank you for the very flattering
estimate with which you have been pleased to regard it.
I shall be abundantly satisfied if the ideas, upon which 1 have
dwelt, shall inspire a more general attachment to the University of
Georgia, whose prosperity should be a subject of universal interest
among our people. I am, Gentlemen,
Your obedient servant,
GEORGE A. GORDON.
Messers. J. M. Roberts, D. C. Hodo, Lamar Cobb, Committee.
o
DEMOSTHENIAN HALL, AUG. 5, 1858.
Hon. George A. Gordon.
Dear Sir:—In behalf of the Demosthenian Society, we beg leave
to present to you our hearty congratulations and sincere thanks for
the very beautiful, chaste and eloquent Address, which you delivered
before the two Literary Societies this morning. This action of the
Society, which we have the honor of making known to you, has
been prompted by the unanimous wish of its members, and we
4
CORRESPONDENCE.
hope that you will receive it as a testimonial of our high apprecia¬
tion of your very able and successful effort.
We have the honor to be, dear sir,
Your obedient servants,
M. P. BARROW, )
J. D. POPE, V Committee.
J. C. RUTHERFORD, )
o
SAVANNAH, AUGUST 7th, 1858.
Gentlemen:—Permit me to return through you to the Demosthe-
nian Society my sincere acknowledgments for the complimentary
action, which they have taken in reference to my recent address.
Your kind congratulations I value highly from the individual
worth of those who have thus flattered me, and I cannot but feel the
compliment still more deeply, upon learning that the history of the
two Societies furnishes no precedent for your graceful kindness.
But, while I am' thus most grateful for your partiality, I refer it,
not to any peculiar merit in the address itself, but to the fact that
my theme points steadily to that great duty of every Georgian, to
wit, the encouragement of home Seminaries of learning.
With thanks for the kind manner in which you have communica¬
ted the action of your Society,
I am, Gentlemen,
Your obedient servant,
GEORGE A. GORDON.
Messrs. M. P. Barrow, J. D. Pope, J. C. Rutherford, Committee.
JtottSS.
I have somewhere read a fanciful sketch of the courtship of the
first human couple. It was a quaint idea on which to enlarge.
Picture it to yourself for a moment.
Sprung from the breath of the Creator, from dust into existence,
a living, breathing, rational creature, the mere consciousness of
being must have been a sublime sensation to the full grown mind
of the first-created man. It was not with the feeble eye of infancy
that his dawning vision contemplated the wonders of the new crea¬
tion. It was not the untutored ear of childhood, upon which fell
the sweet strains of God's varied worshippers. It was not the
baby hand of ignorance that was stretched forth to pluck the rich
flowers of the paradise of earth. A full grown man, endued with
strength, and health, and vigor, a full grown intellect, decorated
with the rich furniture of thought and reason, a full grown mind,
embellished with the unnumbered stores of fancy and imagination,
the father of the human race emerged in an instant from the dark¬
ness of utter nothingness into the full light of a perfect life. His
were sensations, as he beheld the five day's work of the creator,
whose acuteness our dull conceptions can scarcely realize. His
were pleasures, as he wandered amid the sweet shades of the foliage
of new-born nature, whose intensity our seared faculties cannot
embrace. His were joys, as he listened to the carols of the song¬
sters of Eden, as he bathed in the waters' of the limpid Euphrates,
as he tasted of the fruits, which clustered above his head, whose
unalloyed purity our jaded thoughts cannot imagine. And when the
tender breath of Divinity superceded the unceasing pleasures of the
never wearying hours, and covered his unfatigued frame with, the
6
ADDRESS.
gentle mantle of sleep, it was only to' reserve for his awakening
senses a treasure of new delight in the human temple,
"Heaven's last, best gift,"
which was furnished for the rich emotions ot the heart. The birds
of heaven were minstrels, and the glad sky flung its light upon the
scene, as the first wedding of humanity was solemnized in Paradise.
No shafts of envy were there to mar the bliss of affection. No
breath of scandal to cloud the firmament of their joys. Together
through the ever changing scenes of untarnished nature, amid the
perfume of flowers, the music of heaven, the delights of space, ex¬
istence itself a sensation of ecstasy, might they wander forever in
an atmosphere of love undying. Who thrills with delight as the
voice of love sounds upon his ear, and can faintly imagine the sen¬
sations that the tone of love produced, as it fell from sinless lips
upon a sinless heart! Whose eye doth sparkle as it meets the
bright object of its affection, and can yet conceive the rapt gaze of
the wondering man as he beholds in the helpmate, thus given, the
incarnation of the beautiful! The past, if past there were ere
woman was created, was merged and lost in the present. The future !
Ah, that the history of the world should be the picture of that fu¬
ture!
The comparison may seem as singular as the. original idea, and
yet it has often struck me that there is an exquisite parallel between
the youthful explorer of the mysteries of science, and the first
created partaker of the delights of earth. As he enters upon the
sphere of collegiate life, 'it is, as it were, the dawn of a new exist¬
ence to the enraptured student. The years of his past are but as a
chrysalis state, the precious dust from which is to be framed the
full grown stature of the wondering novitiate. He may not, like the
progenitor of humanity, have rested undisturbed in the dust of cen¬
turies, unconscious of the wondrous change of which he is to be the
subject. He may not, like Adam of old, have been transformed in
an instant, of time from sheer nonentity into the sublimity of rational
existence. Unlike his illustrious prototype, he has passed through
the helplessness of infancy, has emerged by slow gradations from
the feeble step of childhood to the firm tread of youth, and under¬
gone many a tedious trial,- ere time has stamped upon his form and
mind the impress of maturity.
But yet, as the frail memories of his youth sink beneathrthe hori¬
zon of the past, and the mature mind grasps the unbounded range
of his present enjoyments, as his unaccustomed ear revels in the
ADDRESS.
7
sweet melodies of the lyrics of the ancients, as his unpractised eye
for the first time contemplates, through the medium of science, the
starry firmament above his head, how perfect the parallel between
his new sensations of delight and those that coursed through the
veins of the first of the human race! As the grey dawn of
the morning of his new existence rises upon his awakening senses,
the bright rays of the early sunrise fall not unheeded upon an in¬
sensate mind, but, tinged by the divine colors of scientific knowledge,
the bright luminary of earth is transformed, from a mere giver of
light and heat, into a sublime centre of a grand and universal sys¬
tem. He walks amid the green fields of earth, and plucks with
each flower a new insight into the mysteries of nature. He delves
in the shady bowers of ancient poetry, and revels amid the intoxi.
eating pleasures of their melodious rythm. In the enchanting pages
of Horace and Ovid, his beating heart, unconscious of its own
wants, finds a mouthpiece for its unspoken feelings. Upon the mel¬
ancholy language of Euripides, his untaught aspirations hang in a
perfect luxury of sadness. And when night with her mantle of sil¬
vered darkness, whereon the rapt gaze has found an exhaustless mine
of delighted investigation, invites the earthly frame to rest and re¬
pose, it is only to refresh the faculties and renew the understanding
for the still untasted pleasures of the coming day. And as the hours
speed, and weeks and months unheeded pass, what lover's eye more
fondly meets the loved one's form, than does the true student the
object of his mental devotions !
In the solitude of Eden, amid the unalloyed pleasures of its refresh¬
ing shades, the first courtship of the first man was solemnized. And
in the Eden of collegiate life, far removed from the din of the
world, with the fair form of nature defaced by none of the conten¬
tions of active life, does the earnest student woo the silent mistress
of his love, and find in her the realization of his dreams.
And yet there must flourish, even in the midst of this garden of
intellectual delight, some forbidden tree, the penalty of whose taste
is expulsion from the scenes of present joy. It would seem that
when science had scattered her costliest gems in his pathway, had
led him, with the illustrious of every age, through the varied scenes
of the past, had unfolded before his eye the rich stores of the accu¬
mulated wisdom of generations, had filled the cravings and satisfied
the yearnings of his enquiring spirit, the future history of the stu¬
dent might be sketched in anticipation, as a bright and more expand¬
ed continuation of his collegiate course. It would seem, with the
8
ADDRESS.
voices of the past thronging upon him with their lessons of experi¬
ence, softened by the melody of the rich language, wherein they are
couched, that however, wide might be his wanderings through the
world, however chequered the circumstances of his career, the rem¬
iniscences ofstudent life would
"Sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of that life,
Would come apparelled in more precious habit,
In the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when it lived indeed."
And yet the history of the world is the sad refutation of the pro¬
phecy. The goal of the four year's race attained, the diploma con-
Terred upon the graduate, and as though the gates, through which the
student has just emerged, were guarded by a sword of fire, and re¬
turn pronounced impossible, a new pathway is at once sought to be
made, the sunny memories of the curriculum blotted out from his
mind, and a future of toil and unceasing labor mapped out for his
coming course. The gladsome waters may dance and sparkle, woo¬
ing the frame of the young athlete, the venerable oak may overshadow
his once loved resting place, stretching out its everlasting arms of
welcome, groves of flowers and orchards of fruits may cluster around
and above him, and yet, as though there had been in this spotless gar-
, den, where youth had blossomed into maturity, one fatal tree whose
heritage was death, and of whose fruit he had partaken, he seeks an
atmosphere of heavier clouds, and tramples upon the flowers that
would beautify his pathway.
It is to enter a protest against this abandonment of the beautiful,
a protest against this tendency to reduce everything to the level of
utilitarianism, and an appeal in favor of the pursuits which have
been the delight of four years of a life-time, that I propose to occupy
your attention for a brief hour. The present is the hour of transition
to a number of those before me. To all that hour will soon arrive.
Behind are the trophies of many a hard battle in the arena of intel¬
lectual strife, and upon the brow are the laurels which victory has
bestowed. Before is the untried battle-field of life, with its joys
and its woes multiplied by anticipation. The past is now history.
Its records are immutable. What the future shall be none of us
can tell. What it should be, it may be within our power to depict.
Is, then, the gate forever shut upon the retiring form of the
graduate as he passes from these halls into life? May no ray of
light, which now illumines his footsteps, irradiate the avenues of Ms
ADDRESS.
9
future course 1 Must the arch of the rainbow, which encircles his
brow, find its terminus here, at the intersecting line between life and
life's shadow'? If so, then better to prolong the halcyon hours
which precede this dismal existence.
But come with me this day and let us see if such be really the
necessity of life. Let us see if a brighter future may not be
pictured for the class before me. Let us see if the preservation of a
literary taste will not exalt the character, no matter what may be
the avocation of a man, will not soften the inevitable cares of life,
and save humanity from many a reproach that is cast upon her.
Nay, farther, let us enquire whether the blending of a literary taste
with the real duties of mankind does not most fully make up the
character of that perfect man, whom we would declare worthy of
having been framed in the likeness of divinity !
Whatever may be the opinion of the present age, it has not
always been considered that the pursuit of letters was incompatible
with success in the sterner duties of life. If we summon up the
illustrious characters of the past, an analysis of their histories will
show that, whatever might have been the nature of their pursuits,
there was mingled with all a strong leaven of literary lore. Whether,
by an apt illustration to strengthen the effort of the advocate or to
beguile the hours of exemption from toil, we witness the statesman,
the politician, the lawyer, the physician, the man of responsible
position, howsoever situate, resting upon the revelations of science
and resorting to them as the text-book of their guidance. In some,
success simply developed the latent love for the literary, which
had lacked early advantages of acquirement; in others, whose
attainments had been more extended, a still fonder love for the
studies, which had unfolded the truths of science. But in all the
instances of greatness, which are presented to us in the past, few
have reached the pinnacle of their success by treading under foot
the treasures of literary truth.
Who does not recall the pithy epistle of Augustus Cassar, as he
complains of the forgetfulness of the poet Horace 1 To its utmost
drop had he tasted of the cup of unbroken success, trophies of un¬
bounded triumphs lay scattered at his feet, foes abroad and rivals at
home were alike subdued and vanquished, and the mistress of the
world was his empire. And yet, in the camp or the council-chamber,
at the head of armies or of senates, time seems always to have been
snatched to bathe in the pure waters of poetry, and, in their limpid
waves, divest himself of the dust of active life. It was not enough
2
10
ADDRESS.
that the world rang with the prowess of his arm and that countless
peoples acknowledged him their ruler. It was not enough that the
wildest dreams of youthful ambition had been abundantly realized
in his exalted station. In the midst of the laurels of victory, his
desire Avas to have intertwined the leaf of the poet's line.
" Irasci me tibi scito, quod non in plerisque ejusmodi scr.ptis mecum
potissimum loquaris."
But. why should I cite individual instances to prove a rule so
universal? Why point to the union between the warrior and the
scholar, which has transmitted to posterity, together linked forever,
the names of Anacreon and Polycrates, Xenocrates and Alexander,
Euripides and Archelaus, Virgil and Augustus, Horace and his
Mecoenas? Why recall the union of the royal with the priestly
robe in Egypt.
"Idem, rex hominum, Phcebiqvc
Sacerdos.
Why speak of Constantino, with the multitudinous labors of his
practical life intertwined with the twenty volumes on agriculture,
wherewith he added to the stores of the rustic planter.
Why summon forth from the records of the past, the conqueror
of the world, who could ravage the earth with his sword, and the
next moment call upon the pen to perpetuate his fame and achieve¬
ments in the commentaries of Julius Caesar.
With what his valor did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valor live.
Why show that in the midst of all his labors, this same illustrious
chieftain could still find time to study the defects of the divisions
of the year, and bring from his camp in Britain a theorem that
should solve the difficulty.
"Media inter prcelia semper
Stellarum, ccelique plagis, superisque vacavit."
Select we where we may, through the records of the heroes of
the past, and we will find that literary attainments were not regar¬
ded as an impediment to success, but on the contrary, sought after,
if not as the means of achieving their ends, at any rate as a beauti¬
ful accompaniment thereof.
It was not thought unworthy of the distinguished chieftain that
he should call upon the minstrel to sing him the strains of the war¬
rior poets of his antiquity. It was not deemed beneath the states¬
man that he should cultivate a love for the beautiful. The day
ADDRESS.
11
may hav© toiled the frame and taxed the energies of the worthies
of the past, but at its close, as to a feast of fat things, they would
seek the society of their literary companions. In their sweet com¬
panionship, the cares of life, the perils of the day, the anxieties of
the morrow were alike unheeded and forgotten. As a star of peace
and rest in the midst of the storms of life, to which the wearied
soul, buffetted by the winds and tossed by the waves of care could
calmly turn, and turning gather breath, the pursuit of science was
dearly prized and looked to for strength, and rest, and joy.
Nor need we go beyond the generation whose few survivors are
now, alas! so rapidly disappearing, to find a refutation of the idea,
which is the curse of this age. Go with me to old England, and
draw near the venerable form of the man, who has vindicated in
his history the compatability of an union between law and letters.
He is now an octogenarian. Before the birth of most of us, he
had borne with him into life the literary tastes of youth, and sum¬
moned into being the still famous Edinburgh Review. Judged by
the standard of to-day, this should have been the terminus of every
hope. It was very well for him in youth to have sharpened his
pen and dipped it in the ink of criticism. It was all very natural
that in boyhood's time he should have discussed and disputed in
the language of the schools. But to have defaced his outstart into
practical life by an apparent determination to cherish the pursuit
of the literary, were amply sufficient, according to modern notions,
to have buried every prospect of future eminence.
And yet, it was while a constant contributor to his literary bant¬
ling, studying the mysteries of scientific truth and evolving them
for the public good, that the reputation of the young lawyer began
to expand. Honors were won by the pen, and honors were won
by the tongue. With both did he do loyal service in defence of his
defamed queen, and when in 1830, without any preliminary step,
without having received a silk gown or any other forensic honor at
the disposal of the Crown, he became Baron Brougham, Lord
Chancellor of England, the compliment was conferred as much
upon the man of letters as upon the man of action. The combina¬
tion of the two produced the perfect character, and applied the
energies of his intellect, not only to the business of the senate, of
the bar, of law reform, but also to the less frequented studies of
science, of literature, of historic research, and popular education.
To have lived such a life, is indeed a luxury. To have garnered so
many stores and been permitted to dispense them, is a priceless
12
ADDRESS.
boon. To review such a past must be indeed a delight. And, as
though science had watched over her ardent devotee, he lives to
furnish the practical refutation of the fallacy, that letters and life
are antagonistic. A few weeks since and this statesman of another
generation appeared before the French Academy of Arts, and de-
• livered an elaborately prepared disquisition upon a subject of scien¬
tific interest. No matter that admiring senates were anxious to
receive from the lips of the patriarch the experience of years' in its
application to present action. There was a time for the serious
duties of life, and there was a time for the indulgence of the beautiful.
And he stands, this venerable old man, in the evening of his days,
beautified by the rays of the rich sunset, which a well-spent life, in
every department of human acquisition, has robbed of the first ves¬
tige of a cloud.
Nor need we travel beyond our seas to recognize the living
illustrations of the falsity of modern ideas. The monumental
marble celebrates the literary attainments of the illustrious dead of
America, and, here and there, amid the general impulse towards
naked utilitarianism, the calm observer can select a few noble souls,
who live to rebuke the error of the day.
There lives, within the rock-bound coast of Massachusetts, a man
of mature old age, whom, for generations back, his people have
delighted to honor. Years upon years that are past, he was called
from the pursuit of literature and summoned to the stormy sphere
of political life. By the side of Webster, Clay Calhoun, his fame
grew up. Fresh from his books—the mistresses of his heart's best
love—it became his lot to breast the angry wave of debate, to stem
the storm of political agitation and to serve among the pilots of the
ship of state. His term of service over, back to the cherished pursuits
of his early life coursed the desires of this student statesmen. But, in
their tranquil joys fate suffered but a brief abode, ere it sounded the
clarion of still higher duties. In the Senate, in the Cabinet, in
Embassy to the highest Courts of the world, was the flower of his
existence passed. Upon all shone bright the radiance of the star
that had enlightened his youthful aspirations. Whether debating
upon finance or disputing upon questions of international right,
whether penning a protocol or uttering an invective, the scholar was
visible in all. The pen, that to-day dipped its wings in the ocean
of diplomatic correspondence, rested to-night upon the bosom of the
studies, which had first tipped its point with beauty. The voice, that
resounded in the arches of the Senate Chamber, had modulated its
ADD RnE S S.
13
tones erewhile in the harmonies of the poet's song. And, had the
grave closed upon a career thus characterized, there were abundant
materials, from which to demonstrate the exquisite union of the
statesman and the scholar.
But the last page of such a life had not yet been reached. A
chapter still more brilliant, still more dazzling in its combination
of science and experience, remained yet to be published for the pe¬
rusal of the generation that should succeed him. About the time
that his political life had apparently closed, there sprung up, in the
heart of a matron of a sister State, the desire to reclaim from se¬
cular use the grave of the Father of his Country. And the eye of
him, who had been for a life-time exercised in the mighty struggles
of the issue of nations, recognized, with ready sympathy, this im¬
pulse of patriotism. In the breast of the retired statesman, the
eloquent appeal from the heart of woman met a quick response.
But how was he to speed the cause? Dollars and cents were to
be the bone and sinewr of this adventure, and a private fortune were
not adequate to the accomplishment of the end in view. But, within
his grasp, was a talisman, more potent than the purse. The purse
might fail and its contents be exhausted, but so long as life remained
literary exertions could effect the end. Back to the thoughts and
occupations of student life ! Back to the hours, when existence was
merged and lost in the pages that lay before him! Back to the
days, which sped so quickly in the burial of consciousness itself in
the triumphs of the pen !
But the theme ! What should that be for the orator, wrho essayed
to snatch from private possession the burial place of Washington ?
Washington! Exhaustless and vet thrice exhausted theme!
Exhaustless, in the ever flowing torrent of truth and virtue, which
springs from the contemplation of such a life. Thrice-exhausted, in
the periodical rhapsodies of endless poetasters. Had not the subject
been a thousand times chosen in the seventy years last past ? Had
not the school-bov upon the stage, the politician, the soldier, the
poet, the divine, some in strains of eloquence, some in weakest
platitudes, celebrated upon the key-note of that name the Anniversa¬
ries of American Independence? Yea! and, though not seventy
times, but seventy times seventy, had that been the selected theme,
yet should it, in the hands of the scholar, furnish abundant elements
for the most ornate oration. His name should be the theme in the
heart-offering of the attainments of the scholar upon the altar of the
grave of Washington.
14
ADDRESS.
None but a scholar could accomplish the task. It was to be either
perfect success or utter failure. And there is a sublimity in the
picture of this gray-haired man, as he turns away from the honors
which other pursuits had conferred upon him, shakes off the dust of
the cares of the world and consecrates the evening of his life to
the proud task of embalming in the hearts of his countrymen the
name and virtues of the Father of his Country. A worshipper at
the shrine of patriotism, he wrote, as it were on bended knees, his
tribute of love and respect. The resources of a life-time he sum¬
moned up. From the fount of classic history he drew forth some
apt example, long dotted for future use. A hero of antiquity here,
personal observation there, at one time a sketch of royal dead by
way of contrast, at another a picture summoned from his note¬
book in foreign travels, now reality, now the impersonation of the
ideal, until the work was complete, and an oration, worthy to be
classed by the side of the finest specimens of ancient or modern
wiiting, added a new lustre to the already brilliant literary fame of
Edward Everett. And when, a pilgrim of the purest patriotism,
embued with all the zeal and all the eloquence that animated in an¬
other cause the pilgrim hermit of the crusades, he traversed the
length and breadth of the land, he not only fulfilled the noble object
of his mission, but exemplified in his person and pursuit the beauty
of the union between the scholar and the statesman, The statesman
alone could never have achieved such a victory. The senator alone
could never have won such laurels. The scholar by himself would
have failed in the adventurous struggle. It was the commingling of
character, it was the union of the practical with the ideal, it was the
blending of the heroic and the tangible, it was the admixture of
science and experience, the union in one person of high literary
tastes and stern devotion to every duty of life, that was the founda¬
tion of the greatest victory ever achieved in life or letters
How pregnant the picture with lessons of practical warning!
Already have his efforts in the main object of his enterprise brought
tbrtli their fruit, and reclaimed from the hands of individual pro¬
prietorship the sacred soil for which he labored. But the still
nobler lesson, which his every lecture taught, seems destined to be
lost to multitudes of those whom he addressed. Still do we hear
the senseless cry that letters and literary pursuits lie like an incubus
upon the aspiring hopes of the young candidate for life. Still
do we perceive the gate of classic research shut by the hand of
the unappreciative graduate, never to be reopened through the weary
ADDRESS.
15
mazes of life. Still do we witness hosts of young men start out
with disdain and contempt of the aid, which might he derived from
hooks, while, serene and beautiful, as a monument of affectionate
warning, rises the picture of the life we have sketched, resuming in
the hour of mature old age the' literary exercises of youth, and
building, upon the foundation laid in early life, a superstructure,
which should forever denote the successful union of the scholar and
the man.
The instances which I have enumerated—and they are selected at
random and might he multiplied at pleasure—demonstrate the fact
that in the past history of the world, the cultivation of literary pur¬
suits has not proved a clog to human success. Look where we may
and we find the contrary to he generally true. And we may justly
argue that, unless there he some peculiar disadvantages now for the
first time flowing from the pursuit of letters, the utilitarian notions
of the day are founded in error.
It is very easy to talk about the shortness of life, the necessity of
labor, the uselessness of wasting precious time in aught else than a
practically remunerative occupation. Life is short. Toil and labor
are the heritage of humanity. But for that very reason, there
should he blended with the sterner duties of life, hours of rest and
recreation to refresh the jaded mind for the demands of the ceaseless
treadmill, wherein we have confined it.
And this leads me to touch upon some few of the advantages,
which flow from the preservation in active life of the literary tastes,
which the graduate at one time held in possession.
And, if for nothing else, this love for letters should be sedulously
nurtured, in that it makes the possessor thereof a domestic man. I
mean not now the exclusive pursuit of literary avocations. Expe¬
rience has shown that most of the devotees to letters alone have
been unhappy in their domestic relations. Not to mention many
of less public note, Byron, Bulwer, Thackeray, Dickens, and Herbert,
are sad illustrations of this fact in our generation. Whether it has
proceeded, ex-necessitate, from the nature of their calling, may or
may not be the case. But the fact remains, an apparent anomaly.
And this not unfrequently occurs in the one-idead man of any
profession. Music, for example, which should melt the heart and
elevate the thoughts of the rapt high-priests of her mysteries, very
often unstrings the moral perceptions of her worshipper and unfits
him for the active pursuits of life. Nay, farther, as though to
furnish in herself the most startling exhibition of contrast, she will
16
ADDRESS.
present you with the picture of one, from whose eyes are streaming
anon tears of devotional feeling as he renders some exquisite con¬
ception of Handel or Mozart, and whose degradation in the lowest
species of dissipation, but a moment after, inspires a doubt of his
identity. Many and many a poor devil, whom you raise from the
gutter in charity for his follies and sympathy for his fall, has, yester¬
day, at the shrine of his one idea, bathed in the harmonies of heaven,
poured out his sold to Divinity in the melody of praise and sounded
the clarion of victory, as he believed his vices eradicated. And yet,
there he lies, a caricature of humanity, plunged in an instant from
the pinnacle of purest pleasure to the depths of dirt and degradation.
1 do not mean, then, the fanatic in any department of literary
excellence. I do not mean the astronomer, whose gaze can never
be withdrawn from the stars, the philosopher, whose common sense
is obscured in uncommon attainments, the poet, who is unable to
descend from the clouds, the pedant, who is always on stilts. These
err, all, in greater degree than the man of simple utilitarianism.
But I mean that, for one whose attention is faithfully given to the
active duties of his profession, a cultivation of the tastes, which were
.his delight in college life, will foster a love for home, which is,
beyond all else, the safeguard of American character.
For these studies must be pursued at home. The lawyer cannot
line the shelves of his office library with Catullus and Ovid and
Lucan. The physician cannot carry to the bedside of his patient the
disquisitions of philosophic enquiry. The merchant cannot furnish
the desks of his counting-room with the volumes of classic poetry.
Undoubtedly with the avocations of each, the results of a literary
life will exhibit themselves in every transaction of the day. But
the mysteries' of science must be penetrated after the work of the
day has been accomplished, and when the mind has dismissed for the
time the anxieties of its existence. And then, under the domestic
aoof, may rest and recreation and refreshing joys be experienced in
the explorations of the domain of science.
Under the domestic roof! I will not draw the beautiful picture
of the man, who, after the toils of the day are over, draws near his
hearthstone and leads the companion of his home through the
grottoes and palaces of ancient poetry. I will not paint the beauty
of that sketch, when the man of the world locks up his cares with
his office and, by the family fireside, unfolds to the group of loved
ones around him, the wonders of the starry firmament. I will not
attempt to portray the heaven of that home, where the arrival of
ADDRESS.
17
the husband and father is the signal for the study of the book of
science. To all, such blessings are not vouchsafed. But in this age
of bustling progress, where money and gain are the watchwords of
action, what a powerful impulse in the right direction to have se¬
cured the presence ot the head of the household under the domestic
roof.
We are too regardless, in this country, of the obligations of
home. We are willing to slave ourselves by day and by night to
accumulate substance and wealth for the children of our loins.—
We are willing to traverse continents and wear out the frame and
expend the energies to gather for those at home the means of abun¬
dant subsistence. We shirk no labor and falter at no sacrifice to
obtain position and eminence for the name, which we are to trans¬
mit. But, while in ceaseless labor, we are working and toiling and
breaking down our frame, our home !—for which we are thus stri¬
ving—our home—in which we hope some day to rest—our home !
What is it! Luxury is there, for we have lavished it upon the
wife of our early love, as though all the wealth of the Indies were
worth one hour's presence of the beloved. Plenty is there, for all
that money could bestow was at the disposal of the heart, left deso¬
late by our absence. Children are there, but, like rudderless ships
on an unknown sea, they are tossed to and fro by every wind of
doctrine. All is there to constitute happiness, save the one radical
and all-important item of personal presence. That obtained, and,
although a perfect picture may not be universally drawn of every
home, yet the balance-wheel has been replaced, the regulator has
been restored and a large item in the aggregate of domestic happi¬
ness secured.
If, then, the cultivation of literary pursuits has a tendency to lead
the man of the world to spend a larger portion of his time under
the domestic roof, should not the effort be made to engraft upon
the character of the American citizen a taste for letters 1 And when
once under the domestic roof, habituated to devote a regular portion
of his time thereto, how surely, though imperceptibly, must the
sweet influences of home have their happy triumph. Little by
little, the closed door of the silent study at home will yield to the
gentle pressure of the infant hand that knocks admittance. The
frown, which clouds the brow, disappears at the sight of the sweet
image that smiles upon our cares, and, ere we know it, the pre¬
cious gift, which was meant for our comfort, is upon our knee, her
flaxen curls dancing in the light of the setting sun, her laughing
3
18
ADDRESS.
eyes twinkling in joy at her triumph and her little hand leading
the worn frame of the father into the blessed circle of the house¬
hold. There are smiles of welcome and delight. There are ears
to listen to all our thoughts, and tongues to applaud our every
achievement. There are hearts to cheer our sorrows and sympa¬
thize in our disappointments and elevate us into very demi-gods.
There are hearts never weary of hearing of all that, moves or con¬
cerns or interests us. And the parlor becomes the study, and our
loved ones our fellow-students, and we read aloud to our little audi¬
tory, so unanimous in their praises, and wonder that the hours so
quickly speed. And, when another day has begun and the heated
atmosphere of regular duties must be encountered, think you that
the influence of home is nothing to carry with you during the hours
of labor and toil ? Oh, the increase of the strength of virtue,
which is borne as a safeguard from such a home ! Who can esti¬
mate its value or determine how many a downward career it has
checked, how many a temptation it has overcome, how many a
crime it has prevented. The light of that family fireside streams
through the avenues of the next day's pursuits. It irradiates the
honest transaction, it beautifies the act of charity, it glares upon the
deed of fraud and kindles a flame of remorse in the conscience that
has been violated.
The abstraction of the mind from the every day pursuits of life
gives also to the man, what he too rarely values at its genuine cost,
time.
" All my possessions for one moment of time," were the last
words of the maiden monarch of England, who never put an esti¬
mate upon its value, until the shadows of death were burying it in
eternity. Time for reflection. Time for recuperation. Time for
the immortal spirit to exercise itself upon the things of the future.
But, in the economy of the life of an American citizen, what part in
the programme is reserved for contemplation ? Ere the eyelids
have opened upon the morning sun, dreams of the duties, which
were yesternight mapped out for the morrow, disturb the tran¬
quillity of repose. With a start of alarm, lest sleep may have
encroached upon the domain of toil, we hasten to the turmoil of
business, in its turbid current buffet and toss during the entire
day, begrudge a hurried hour, which is given to a meal, and retire
at a late hour of the night to seek in sleep our only time for repose.
Is it to be wondered at that the records of mortality show that the
average duration of existence in America is unprecedently short?
ADDRESS.
19
Is it surprising that the American mind becomes sharpened down
to a point, and incapable ot grasping in a comprehensive mariner
the subject with which it is engaged ? Is it remarkable that the
term Yankee should have degenerated into an epithet of reproach
Tire American has become too intensely practical. For the forma¬
tion of a perfect character there must be an infusion of the contem¬
plative wfith the practical. It is so in religion. It is equally so
in life.
Time was, when the religions mind sought vent for the emotions
of the heart in the solitude of nature, in the recesses of the cloister,
in the society alone of the saints. This was the contemplative stage
of religion, and was defective, in that it was exclusively contempla¬
tive. The practical religion of every day life, the visitation of the
sick, the feeding of the fatherless, the search for the poor, the
dispensing of alms, the cultivation of charities, were mostly neglected,
and swallowed up in the minute examination of the inward man,
in cruel self-abnegations, in the burial of the body in caves and
desei'ts away from the abodes of men. This was one of the results
of religious feeling, but one, which, unassisted by other equally
legitimate results, was calculated to effect little good either upon
the person or the church.
So also, there are periods when the practical display of religious
sentiment takes possession of the entire man to the exclusion of all
that is contemplative. To spend one's life in ceaseless rounds of
charity, to open one's heart to every appeal of misery, to be found
at the couch of the sick and the bed of the ri ving, to constitute
oneself a peripatetic distributor of tracts and constant militant for
the religion of peace, are often regarded as the chief elements of a
religious life. Now, all this is very useful in its place, and fulfils
one of the requirements of Christianity, to wit, the practical. But
such a character is not perfect, nor can it ever be an efficient agent
for genuine good, until it combines, with all this charity and alms¬
giving and practical piety, a strong leaven of contemplative
Christianity.
And, as in religion, so in the affairs of human life. There-
have been times in the world's history, when practical science
seemed to be at a stand-point, when the revelations of the closet
were sought simply for the gratification of the pursuit without
reference to the benefit of mankind, when philosophy lost herself in
vain and profitless labyrinths, when astronomy was merged in
astrology, when mathematics were studied simply to solve the
secrets of some mystical figure, when the classics were pursued
20
ADDEESS.
solely foe philological disquisitions and when the mind was urged
forward at its utmost tension, only to pause with all its discoveries
at the threshold of active life. This was the contemplative stage
of the history of humanity. Immured in the four walls of their
silent studies, men became dreamers—
"Haunters of old tomes,
Sitting the silent term of stars to watch
Their own thoughts passing into beauty."
The mind, trammelled by ceaseless contemplation, lost its accus¬
tomed range, became shrunk in its proportions and dwindled into a
sort of intellectual machine, from which nothing of solid or abiding
usefulness could possibly emanate. Such men are rare at the pres¬
ent. They are the characters of by-gone times. Yet even now we
sometimes meet with one of these literary fossils. A few years
since there lived in Italy a rare relic of this description. Born in
the eighteenth century and educated for the church, his energies
from earliest youth were diligently applied to the acquisition of lan¬
guages. To this and this alone, for three-score years, was every
faculty of his mind devoted, until, at the age of seventy, he is said
to have been the master of one hundred different tongues. So re¬
markable was his knowledge of the dialects, patois and slang of
every people, that he could converse with fluency with the inhabi¬
tants of any part of the globe. His proficiency was not alone the
result of natural aptitude, but also of a system, which he is said to
have framed for the ready acquisition of different languages. Such
and so extravagant was the knowledge of Cardinal Mezzofanti.
And yet, not only was he content with the simple acquisition of
these divers languages without applying his vast possessions to
practical use, but, so stupendous was his indolence, that he could
never be brought to commit to paper the system, which he had de¬
vised, and carried with him to the grave the key of the secret of
his success. The only end of his creation seems to have been to
furnish for all generations a perfect illustration of the purely con¬
templative.
But, while such an existence may be denominated a human fail¬
ure, equally true is it that the exclusively practical life is as barren
in its results, so far as the great end of being is concerned. The
incarnation of the practical seeks to ignore all that savors of study.
The traditions of the fathers it would bury with the rubbish of the
past. The pursuit of science it would stamp with the seal of senili¬
ty. The study of the classics it brands as a signet of effeminacy.
The 'cultivation of the fine arts, of painting, of sculpture, of poetry,
ADDRESS.
21
of music, it regards with contempt and considers unworthy the oc¬
cupation of human intelligence. In a purely literary man, it re¬
cognizes the tokens of a weak intellect and looks upon a scholar as
a sort of human solecism. It decries the beautiful as a prostitu¬
tion of the energies of man and plucks beauty only from utility.
It measures all achievements by the rule of profit and estimates
nothing so dear as a correct balance-sheet. Its standard of excel¬
lence is success. Its theory of perfection usefulness. A discovery
in science, which may have taxed the brains of men the most ac¬
complished, is as nothing unless its practical efficiency can be at
once recognized. And, even if abstract theory have developed some
occult law, whereby labor may be lightened, or time saved, or space
annihilated, it despises the discoverer while it applies the invention.
Everything is reduced to the level of profit and loss, and the
monuments of learning, the achievements of study, the mysteries
of science, the wonders of nature, are contemptuously spurned and
left to an inferior order of human intellect.
As the contemplative was the perfection, towards which the
aspirations of the ancients were directed, so, in an in tenser degree,
does this generation pant after the purely practical. If Mezzofanti
was an exemplar of the one, the large majority of those we meet
to-day are the impersonation of the other. Study, abstract, theoretic,
aimless, the sphere of the former. Work, mechanical, restless, the
life of the latter. Each immeasurably great in its own department.
Each a gigantic failure without combination and union with the
other. If the one consumed too much time in study, the other
consumes too little, and the result is that the intellect of this
generation is becoming circumscribed, and narrow-mindedness fast
growing to be its prominent characteristic.
I would not have the people of this day step back over the
barriers of time and dream away their lives in ceaseless study. I
wTould not have them seek some
" desert inaccessible, and
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time."
But far healthier would it be for the mind, far better for the labors^
far more lastingly remunerative for the exertions of this generation,
if, snatching from the cares of life a few brief hours of rest, they
would cultivate a taste for the contemplative. Bathing their ex¬
hausted intellects in the fountain of classic research, they would
step forth for new exertions revived and reinvigorated. Grafting
upon their indomitable energies a love for letters, they would find
22
ADDRESS.
a holiday for the mind an invigorator of manly effort. Rest is
indispensable to life. The packhor.se must at last sink down
beneath the unvaried load of his monotonous labors. The pace of
the trotter must be diversified, or he fails ere his journey's end be
reached. Drive on at the same tearing speed, o'er hill and dale
and mountain ridge, one ceaseless, uniform race, and your courser
soon must sink. Nay, inanimate matter must have its repose.
Your locomotive, which transports you by sunlight your hundreds
of leagues, must rest during the succeeding cycle of the sun ere it
can drag its burden to the goal. Your machine-shops must pause,
your factories must suspend their labors, all the appliances of man's
exertions, whether animate or inanimate, need and receive their
appointed rest, and man alone, the guide and ruler of all, must
know no repose. Vain must be the exertions of such a career,
whose existence can be but temporary. Link with this mighty
nerve a relic of antiquity. Snatch from the three-score years
of labor, time, though brief, f ir contemplation, and in the inter¬
mingling of study with toil, in the union of the practical with the
contemplative, this generation can yet exemplify in itself the perfect
attainment of humanity.
But there is one other view of the subject, upon which I would
touch as an incentive for the cultivation of the literary.
As the graduate steps forth from the scene of his four year's
labors, and, with the impulse of the age, divests himself of the
thoughts and feelings and associations of his former life, he is too
often apt with them to throw off all remembrances of the alma
mater, which has prepared him for the world. Often and often,
during his four year's course, has he dwelt with pride upon her ex¬
cellencies, dilated upon her advantages and promised himself to
consecrate the prominence, which he might acquire in life, to the
advancement and protection of her interests. Time and again has
he marvelled at the listless apathy of the scores of alumni, who, oc¬
cupying positions wherein a word might benefit her, have preserved
a studious and fatal silence. And time and again has he reiterated
the vow of allegiance, which he sware upon entrance, and pledged
himself to carve, from his future, deeds that should enure to the
lasting benefit of his college.
And yet, gentlemen of the graduating .class, take my word for it,
as I tell you now, that, if, with yrour exit this day from these halls,
you bow to the prejudices of the age, and, in the sterner demands of
ADDRESS.
23
practical life, abjure your allegiance to letters, if you yield to the
voice of ridicule and sink the scholar in the purely practical man,
I care not what may have been your devotion to your alma mater,
I care not what may have been the fervor of your vows, 1 care not
what may have been your contempt for those, whom you have
deemed untrue sons of her soil, you, yourselves, will swell the
hosts of derelict disciples, and, when the hour comes for striking a
blow for her and her interests, you yourselves will prove recreant.
Think not that yours are emotions, which they never possessed.
Think not that the vows, which you have registered upon her al¬
tars, are imperishable. Yea, the vows may endure and survive
your foul abandonment of her cause, but, so soon as your love for
the contemplative shall cease, so soon shall your alma mater fade
from your remembrance and respect.
I would not have the studies of your college life be made the
sole pursuit of your future life. I would not have the acquisition
of scientific knowledge constitute the ultima thule of your ambi¬
tion. I would not have you transform yourselves into bookworms
and literary mummies,
"Bartering to dusty lexicons and tomes
The hour-glass of your lives."
But I would have you bear with you the front of the scholar,
wheresoever your lot be cast. I would have you preserve the taste
for the beautiful, which for four years has been interwoven with
your being. I would have you enfold with love the classic veil,
which now envelopes you. The world will seek to mould you to
its own utilitarian standard. Many a man, who would die to pos¬
sess your attainments, will raise the laugh and seek to bring to scorn
the so-called pedant. The laugh may ensue, the finger of ridicule
may be pointed at you, and, if you descend, you are gone—gone
among the mass of hopeful hearts, who at annual intervals have
stood where you now stand and deemed their devotion to this uni¬
versity impregnable, but who have bowed the knee to Baal and
sacrificed themselves at the shrine of evanescent popularity. But
if with the consciousness of power—for knowledge is indeed power—
you refuse to yield, and bide your time until you can raise your
decriers to your own exalted level, not only is success inevitably
yours—this by the way—but from you may we expect, when hon¬
ors are thrust upon you, some signal act of justice to this college.
When the work of the day is past, and, in the privacy of your do¬
mestic circle, you take down the volume, once so dear, still so fond-
24
ADDRESS.
ly cherished, and, in the audience of your family group, lave your
wearied mind in the melody of the poets, a word, an idea, a pas¬
sage underscored will hear you hack to these venerable halls, the
forms and faces of your quondam classmates will pass before your
mental vision, the voice of your favorite professor will tingle on
your ear, boyhood, with all its innocent aspirations, will again en-
mantle you, and, bubbling up to recollection will come, your thrice-
repeated vows of allegiance to the interests of this university.
Then will you recall, in the maturity of manhood, the circumstan¬
ces, which had clogged the prosperity of the University of Georgia.
Then will you remember the mortification, with which you contem¬
plated the exodus, from our native State, of sons of Georgia, who
should have swelled your numbers. Then will rise up the objec¬
tions that were urged against your patriotic protests, and, before
the vision of your thoughts, memory will display the means, which
you then devised to cure the growing evil. And then, again, upon
the pages of the volume which saw your boyhood pledge, you will
renew the solemn determination to effect your youthful purposes.
And, when again you leave the pure atmosphere of home and min¬
gle in the din of active life, opportunities will be watched and occa¬
sions seized for carrying out the conceptions of your youth.
The tender teachings of contemplative hours will kindle the
desire to elevate the standard of scholastic excellence in our colleges,
and practical experience in life will superadd to this ideal aspire
tion a quenchless determination so to regulate and so endow our
collegiate schools that no son of Georgia need seek beyond her
limits the means of education.
The individual States of this Republic are, in theory and in fact,
independent, the one of the other. Save in the rights freely ceded
for general government, each State is a sovereignty. With an
American heart, we love and cling to the Union, so long as it is the
Union of the Constitution. And, as Georgians, we utter no treason
to that Union when we pray for the independence of this our native
State in deed as well as name. But so long as our sons are expa.
triated from our soil for educational purposes, so long are we
immeasurably distant from the goal of our desires. And to
remedy this, the people must be taught to feel an universal interest
in the literary founts of our own soil.
To do this is the work, not of the man, who tramples upon the
flowers of his College paradise and chooses rather the choking dust
of practical life—nor yet of him, who, in his quiet study, fritters
ADDRESS,
25
away a life-time in scientific uselessness—but this is the noble task
of that man, who, passing from the atmosphere of the purely con.
templative, which has surrounded his college course, mingles it
with the practical breath of life, and from the union resolves an
element wherein life may attain its utmost usefulness.
In the garden of Eden there flourished among the gifts of a bene¬
ficent Creator, not only the fatal tree, the taste of whose fruit was
eternal banishment, but also another tree, denominated the tree of life.
Of the fruit of this tree the progenitor of man had not partaken,
ere the penalty of disobedience had driven him from the abodes of
peace, nor, through the unceasing toils of life, might he hope to
pass the gauntlet of the flaming swords, which barred re-entrance
to the shades of bliss. Through the weary round of existence his
panting mind would seek in vain this tree of life nor could its
fruition be achieved until the horrors of death had atoned for prime¬
val disobedience.
More happy he, who in the paradise of student life may have
touched the fox-bidden fruit and suffered expulsion from its pursuits.
In the future, which lies before, him, blossoms the rich foliage of
the tree of life. Within his reach its branches wave. Its fruit
invites his touch. No river of death must be passed to reach its
elysian shades. At any moment in his future course, if he do but
mingle the contemplative with the- practical, the religious with the
useful, life in truth and divine reality will have been fully attained.