FUNERAL DISCOURSE, OS DAVID PERKINS PAGE, A. M., LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ALBANY, Delivered, Sunday ETening", Jan. 9, 1848* BEFORE THE EXECUTn'E COMMITTEE, THE FACULTY AND PUPILS OF THE SCHOOL, BY E. A. HUNTINGTON, D. D., PASTOR OF THE THIKD PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, ALBAKT. 7-7,r ALBANY: PUBLISHED BY E. H. PEASE &, CO., No. S2 State Street. 1848. FUNERAL DISCOURSE, DAVID PERKINS PAGE, A. M., LATE PRINCIPAL STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ALBANY, Delivered, Sunday ETening', Jan. 9, 1848, BEFORE THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE, THE FACULTY AND PUPILS OF THE SCHOOL, BY E. A. HUNTINGTON, D. D., PASTOR OF THE THIRD PRESBYTERIAN CHTTRCH, ALBANY. ./ ALBANY: PUBLISHED BY E. H. PEASE & CO., No. 82 State Street 1848. J. MUNSELL, PRINTER, ALBANY. CORRESPONDENCE. At a meeting- of the Executive Committee of the Slate Normal School, held in the School Room Building, January 1, 1848, it was Resolted, That the Rev. Dr. Hitntington, the Pastor of the Church to which Mr. Page belonged, be invited to preach before the Executive Committee, the Faculty and Pupils of the School, a Funeral Discourse, on the evening of the 9th of January. CHRISTOPHER MORGAN, Chairman. Wm. H. Campbell, Secretary. Albany, January 18, 1848. Rev. E. A HuNxmGTOK, D. D. : Dear Sir: — The Faculty and Students of the State Normal School, desirous that your interesting and instructive Discourse, occasioned by the death of their late Prin- cipal, David Perkins Page, should be made accessible to his friends, and those of the cause of Education generally, respectfully solicit a copy for publication. Yours, with the highest regard, J. M. WINCHELL, P. J. FARRINGTON, WILBUR MORGAN, Committee. Albany, January 18, 1848. Messrs. Wixchell, Farrington and Morgan : Dear Sirs : — It is a privilege to do what I can to perpetuate the remembrance of a man like Mr. Page, among his pupils and associates ; and I therefore yield to the gratifying request which you have communicated to me, from the Faculty and Students of the State Normal School, for the publication of my Discourse on their late Principal. I can only consent to publish it, however, with such additions as seem to be necessary to make it a correct, though it must remain a very inadequate, exliibition of his life and character. Fervently praying that you, and those whom you represent, may successt'ully follow him in his distinguished and useful career, as a Teacher and a Christian, I am, with much esteem, Very truly yours, E. A. HUNTINGTON. DISCOURSE. I. CORINTHIANS VII. 30. ^nd they thai rejoice, as though they rejoiced not. This wise and salutary caution is sufficiently enforced by the recent mournful event which, this evening-, summons us to the house of God. The festive season has been suddenly overcast with gloom. The natural gladness of all hearts, at the commencement of a new year, has given place to universal sorrow. They that rejoice are as though they rejoiced not, for they have been taught by one of the most impressive lessons of Divine Providence, that the time is short, and that the fashion of this loorld passeth away. In compliance with your request, and, I may be allowed to add, with the irrepressible prompt- ings of my own heart, I undertake to improv this solemn occasion, and it is my design to exhibit the illustration it furnishes of the im- portance of a higher aim even than one which is unquestionably productive of the greatest benefit to mankind. Would that my ability were equal to my wish to elevate before you the pure and holy religion of the gospel, as the true end of life, in that view in which it is most strikingly presented in the history of him whose death we deplore. Every dispensation which, like the present, is adapted to arrest the minds of men and give a serious direction to their thoughts, has its peculiar divine admonition. Nor, unless this be regarded, can the event be contem- plated with profit, and the interest, however powerful, it at first awakens, must soon die away. It is the voice of God, which, when he maketh the clouds his chariot and walketh on the wings of the wind, imparts all its moral sublimity to the storm, and only that man, to whom the voice of God gives no uncertain sound amid the conflicting elements, will reve- rently bow and worship. Saul and they that journeyed with him to Damascus were all alike prostrated to the earth by the miraculous light which suddenly shone around them above the brightness of the sun, but his companions, re- ceiving no communication from on high, arose and passed on, to remember the glorious vision only as an unmeaning wonder, while Saul him- self, personally addressed by the Lord out of heaven, began from that moment to preach the faith which once he destroyed, and soon distin- guished himself as the mightiest champion of the cross. In the day of adversity consider, says the wisest moralist upon the vicissitudes of time. And no more decisive or painful proof of a cor- rupt generation, who regard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands, can be given, than that with which the prophet reproaches Israel, among whom, he declares, the righteous perisheth and no man layeth it to heart. With these reflections, it is gratifying to revert to the manner in which the messengers of God have, not rarely, even before those who are generally impatient of warning and reproof, been sustained and applauded in administering the most pointed and severe admonitions which God ever conveys in the strange and awful develop- ments of his mysterious providence. The page of history discloses evidence enough that he that rehuketh a man, afterward shall find more favor than he that flattereth with his tojigue. The pathetic parable of Nathan, so boldly spoken in the ear of the royal culprit, with that most condensed and powerful application — Thou art the man! — instead of stirring up the wrath of David against the prophet, filled him with self-reproach, and, repenting in sackcloth and ashes, he again be- came, as he had been before, the man after God's own heart. Honors were heaped upon the reluctant Daniel, because he dared to inter- pret to the troubled Belshazzar in the midst of his sacrilegious debauch, the ominous writ- ing on the wall — Thou art weighed in the bal- ances and art found wanting; thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians. A higher reward crowned the boldness of Peter, in the conversion of thousands of his coun- trymen, when he charged them with the cruci- fixion, not as they supposed, of a blasphemer, but, of that Jesus whom God hath made both Lord and Christ. Nor did it diminish the esteem in which a Bossuet and a Massillon were held, in a period of almost unequalled corruption, when these eloquent prelates, pointing to the poor remains of all earthly greatness and glory, reiterated in the ears of a monarch, ever grasp- ing at dominion, those momentous truths of holy writ, which tarnish the diadem, debase the throne, reduce the most absolute potentate to a level with the meanest of his subjects, and open the graA^e and the depths of despah* for all together if they know not God and obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. "I have heard other preachers and been pleased with them ; I hear you and am displeased with myself" ■ — such was the language of even Louis the Four- teenth to one of these celebrated divines. It is not surprising, therefore, that, in a more enlight- ened age, and in the presence of an audience already convinced of the supreme importance of religion, another, whom I may not name, for he is still living, never gained for himself greater or more just approbation than when, in this very city, he eloquently and successfully invoked the combined action of all classes of society against the law of honor to which the first statesman of the land had fallen a victim, and in favor of the law of God, to which that statesman, with his latest breath, subscribed as his only confidence and support, in view of the retributions of eter- nity. How, then, should I misjudge your feel- ings, could I for a moment suppose that you would wish me to neglect this sadly propitious opportunity to write vanity and vexation of spirit upon all earthly things, and to ennoble that character and that reward alone which rise immortal from the ruins of sin and death ! Es- 2 10 pecially since, to accomplish this purpose, mine is not the odious though ofttimes necessary task, to reduce to their real insignificance those objects of human ambition upon which a ficti- tious value has been set by popular suffrage; nor to expose the absurdity and wickedness of principles which, though utterly opposed to the truth, have come to be regarded as right and praiseworthy by the majority of mankind. I am not called upon to warn you, either by the example or the fate of the lamented dead, to shun some glaring mistake into which he fell, and to learn, rather from his counsel than his conduct, to fear the Lord as the beginning of wisdom. " The holy angels accustomed to hover round these altars" need not "withdraw," because he furnishes the occasion to expostulate with a Christian assembly for observing or upholding usages unworthy of barbarians. It is my de- lightful privilege to have nothing to detract from the honor of his high station, or from the public estimate of the noble cause to which he devoted his life, in order to enhance by contrast the worth of his piety and the glory of his heavenly inheritance. Let that high station and that noble cause be regarded as they deserve to be, yet he who is most successful in them cannot 11 therefore calculate upon permission to enjoy them even for three score years and ten. However essential his services may seem to be to the welfare of his generation, and however innocent and justifiable his satisfaction with his allotment in a field of eminent usefulness, the proof is before you, as conclusive as it is melan- choly, that his life, like that of every other man, hangs in doubt, and that he may be abruptly separated from all that belongs to this world. Then let them that rejoice in the real blessings of time, rejoice as though they rejoiced not, and, while they do not despise earthly good, let them value above all price a treasure laid up in heaven. Education is not the enemy, but the hand- maid, of religion. He who succeeds in dissemi- nating knowledge among the people stands next to him who succeeds in turning many to right- eousness. And he who does both, the greater his elevation as a teacher, the more conspicuous his rank as a servant of Jesus Christ. Contem- plate him of whom we speak on that lofty height where, but yesterday, he stood towering from the midst of you, and there behold him as on a mount of transfiguration, dwelling in the pre- sence of a gracious Redeemer, with whom he is 12 ready to ascend to a yet loftier height to abide with him forever. How superior his excellence in his temporal calling, and how honorable his reward ! But, if for no other reason than because they are left behind when he goes hence to be no more, how worthless they appear in comparison with his attainments as a Christian! You may appreciate his zeal for the diffusion of knowledge, and his prosperity in this philan- thropic work, but you must appreciate still more the love of God shed abroad in his heart, and the incorruptible crown which it alone could place upon his head. Letters have always conferred a distinction upon those who have been versed in them, not inferior to the distinction of wealth, of birth, of dominion, or of arms. Poets, and philosophers, and men of science, have always taken at least an equal rank with the rich, and the mighty, and the noble, and the royal. Professors, the founders of academies, or raised to the chairs of famous universities, in order to initiate the few who have had the time, the talents, and the means to follow them into the secrets of nature, have always received the homage due to their profound and varied learning. Not so, however, with those who have consecrated their lives to 13 the instruction of the multitude in rudimental and practical truth. The time has been, nor has it long gone by, when the reputation borne by your beloved Principal, alike as a teacher and as a Christian, might have been looked upon as humble and contemptible. But it is the glory of our age and country that no such champion in the cause of popular education can live un- honored, to die and be forgotten. Instead of apprehending that I may magnify his well- earned fame, beyond your estimate of its com- parative worth, my only fear is that I shall fail to give an adequate expression to your just views of its real value. He toiled up, through a long and difficult way, to an eminence which, in your sober and rational judgment, but here and there another overshadoAvs. Alas ! that he was only permitted, like Moses, to catch a glimpse of the land he was so eminently quali- fied to subdue, and cultivate, and enjoy. But we may not give way to tears, since, like Moses too, his eye rested upon a brighter scene,* upon which he was ready and waiting to enter. Let us turn from the conspicuous spot where he fell, * " 0, when shall we awake in that bright world!" was one of his expressions, just after dictating his last counsels, and under the full conviction that death was approaching. 14 and whence he rose, in order to trace his course to it. Transfer yourselves, in imagination, to the place of his birth,^ a small farm in the town of Epping-, New Hampshire. His father, in com- fortable though not affluent circumstances, is desirous to retain him at home, to be his suc- cessor in tilhng the soil. But he manifests, at an early age, a predilection for study, and is bent on becoming a teacher. His father opposes his wishes. He needs him for the stay and the staff" of his old age. The strugglef goes on for years, between them, the son meanwhile exhi- biting an increasing partiality for the father's books, of which he has good store, rather than for his implements of husbandry, and diligently acquiring such knowledge as can be acquired in the excellent common schools of the neighbor- hood. Thus time rolls on, till at the age of fifteen or sixteen he is prostrated on a bed of sickness, and reduced to so feeble a condition that almost all hope of his recovery is aban- * Mr. Page was born, July 4th, 1810. t An affectionate struggle. It is the farthest from my inten- tion to convey the idea that the feelings natural to their endearing relations were at any time disturbed. According to all the accounts, no father could be more fond, no son more loving and durifuT. 15 doned. Just at the crisis of his disease, his despairing- father watching alone by his side, in the stilhiess of the night, he becomes suddenly sensible of a change for the better, and, with characteristic self-possession, seizes the moment of returning- consciousness to attain the end, of which, with characteristic perseverance, he has never lost sight. In a languid voice he speaks, and his father eagerly listens: "Father, I may not live, but I have one request to make, which I beg you to grant." "Any thing, certainly, my son," the father replies, with tears; "any thing which you can ask, and it is in my power to bestow." "My request, then, is, that, if I recover, you will no longer object to my going to the acade- my to prepare myself for teaching." Had that father heard a petition from that son's grave to the same effect, he could hardly have been more astounded. But his word is pledged, and as soon as his son, who now rapidly mends, is sufficiently recruited, he enters the academy at Hampton, New Hampshire, and commences the cultivation of his mind in good earnest. Nor must I omit to mention that, through the influence of his illness and other causes, he is led about the same time to make a 16 profession of his faith in the blessed Redeemer, and begins to look upon his chosen pursuit in the light, in which he ever afterward regarded it, as a sphere in which he must endeavor to promote the moral no less than the intellectual improvement of the rising generation. It would not comport with the proprieties of time and place to describe his dress, as he has been often heard with great good humor to describe it himself, at this memorable epoch in his life. Suffice it to say, that a home-spun, home-made, and out-grown coat, the only one he had, while it subjected him to now and then an unfeeling gibe from some fellow student, who had nothing but his " soft raiment" to boast of, also secured for him the staunch sup- port of those who could admire his resolute and manly character. But, more important still, it impelled him to depend, for the esteem of his companions, exclusively upon the embel- lishments of his understanding."^ * Those who know the difference between town and coun- try, in regard to dress, will know that he was comfortably clad for a farmer's boy. At home, he was by no means in want. At the academy, he was not in fashion. His father was both able and willing to help him, to a considerable extent — but as he was pursuing a course opposed to his father's wishes, he magnanimously resolved to draw upon him as little as possible. 17 A few months pass rapidly away, bnt they are not wasted, and he now feels that he may ven- ture to take charge of a common school. Gladly would he spend a much longer period in pre- paratory studies, but he relies upon his own resources, and to replenish them, he makes known to the principal of the academy his wish to enter upon his work as soon as he can be recommended. Presently his name is given to a gentleman-farmer, in search of a teacher for a neighboring district, who accordingly rides up to his boarding house, and, without dismount- ing from his horse, inquires from some one at the door for Mr. Page. Mr. Page appears. Casting a single glance at his unfortunate coat, the stranger dubiously remarks : " It is Mr. Page I wish to see." " That is my name, sir," is the abashed reply. Instantly recovering from the surprise which this reply rather tends to increase, and having learned from experience, or more probably from that sacred volume which sheds its heavenly light in every dwelling of New England, not to judge according to the appearance, the real gen- tleman at once invites Mr. Page to present him- self before the examining committee, with the 3 18 assurance that if they are satisfied with his quali- fications he shall be entrusted with the school. If there are those in this assembly to whom such incidents seem mere trifles, there are others,. I know, who will regard them as turn- ing points in the history of a man, serving mate- rially to vary his course through life, and to produce results as wide apart as the poles from those which would otherwise have marked his destiny. So simple a circumstance as plain or mean apparel has kept many an ardent youth from his desired post till his ambition has flagged, or been diverted to another object. Had Mr. Page, for such a cause, failed to secure a school, at the period to which we refer, he would have been obliged to return to his father's farm, where it is not improbable that he would have remained, to devote his life to agriculture. On the other hand, had he possessed ample means of his own to prosecute his studies with- out interruption, his tastes and his aspirations would undoubtedly have prompted him to obtain a classical education, and to enter a learned profession. Then, instead of standing forth as one of the few conspicuous ornaments of the great cause he so triumphantly advanced, he might have been lost in that numerous host 19 of regularly graduated scholars, whose common glory no individual among them can hope to outshine. Returning to the academy, he continued in it a few months longer, and then left it, not to return again, having enjoyed its advantages in all less than a year. Once more he enters upon the business of teaching. Two winters are spent in the com- mon schools of Epping and Newbury-Byfield. While in the latter place, he walks every evening into Newburyport, two miles distant, in order to instruct a class in penmanship. Soon his pecu- liar adaptation to his calling begins to be dis- covered and appreciated. Little things, which to his believing spirit assume the aspect of pro- vidential dispensations, as they ought ever to be regarded, contribute to open and pave his way as he advances. Newburyport, a town of fifteen or sixteen*" thousand inhabitants, presents an inviting field, which a few discerning friends encourage him to occupy. His plan is to estab- lish a private school. But his father is more reluctant than ever to have him prosecute his * This estimate includes the population of Newbury, which shares a street with Newburyport. The two places are in fact one, though in different townships. Mr. Page resided in Newbury. 20 calling, now that it threatens to remove him permanently from home ; and is greatly alarmed, besides, with the idea that he may return under pecuniary embarrassments, disheartened and disgraced. He gains the paternal assent, how- ever, without which he is too dutiful to resolve, and then undertakes the certainly somewhat hazardous enterprise, to command the confi- dence and patronage of a highly intelligent and cultivated people.*" With five pupils, the first day, he proceeds quietly and hopefully to his labors, and before the term closes his school is full. He obtains a more spacious apartment — but applicants for admission are always waiting for vacancies. * The following extract from the truly beautiful tribute to his memory, paid by his former pastor, the Rev. Leonard Withington, at his funeral in Newbury, will show that he had difficulties to contend with not noticed in this discourse. I quote from the report of Mr. Withington's address, in the Watchtower, January 14, 184S: " The speaker declared that he had known Mr. Page for more than twenty years, and had seen him in the most trying situations ; he had been accused, opposed, suspected, and sur- rounded with attempts to put him down. But the speaker never saw him off his balance. He was always calm, cool, col- lected. He rose from every cloud with brighter effulgence, and was a coin more current for the wear. As his rise in his youth was rapid, envy and emulation were excited by his suc- cess. But he lived down all his enemies, and there were few men over whose solemn grave such a flood of tears would so sincerely fall." 21 Without any pretension to originality or novelty in his method of instruction, he re- lied dsolely upon the zealous and faithful dis- charge of his duties, pursuing, as he himself was wont to say, " the common sense course." On account of his limited advantages, he was obliged to teach himself, while he was teaching others. Many a branch of learning was as new to him as to the class he was to guide in the study of it, but they could never find him unpre- pared to relieve their difficulties, they could never detect him in a mistake. Of close observation and sound judgment, remarkably systematic in the arrangement of his business, and diligent in the improvement of his time, he not only became rapidly familiar with the usual routine of subjects pursued in the school-room, but by no means slowly enriched his mind with a fund of general information, especially in reference to the theory and practice of teaching. He found leisure, moreover, to explore, one by one, several of the most important departments of science; and as his knowledge was neither vague, nor superficial, nor inaccurate, but em- phatically the reverse ; gifted, too, as he was, with uncommon descriptive powers, he soon possessed a plentiful store of the best illustrations 22 of every point he was required to elucidate, together with the rare ability to employ them with skill and success.* Discerning the pecu- liarities of character and disposition almost intuitively, and deeply interested in the welfare of the pupils committed to his charge, he seldom if ever failed perfectly to control the most eccen- tric and perverse, and finally to effect an entire reformation in their feelings and deportment. Punctual to a proverb, the very genius of order, and cheerful as the day, firm but not severe, dignified but not haughty, social but not trifling, there was a charm about him as irresistible as it was benign and salutary. Above all, never for- getting the immortality of mind, and never losing sight of the eternal consequences of his influence over it, the moral force of his unaf- fected and fervent piety was, without ostenta- tion, constantly exerted and powerfully felt wherever his authority was acknowledged-! * A striking example, of which he is known to be the author, though he modestly speaks of himself in the third person, may be found in his book, p. 319. t The devotional exercises, with which it was his com- mendable custom to open his school in the morning, consti- tuted, in the judgment of those who participated in them, the strong arm of his singularly felicitous government. Not that he designed them for this purpose, but, marked as they were 23 But it would be idle to attempt to enumerate all the causes of his growing reputation and prosperity. Within five years from the time he first entered the Hampton Academy, he finds him- self an associate principal, and at the head of the English department, in the Public Gram- mar School of Newburyport. In this prominent situation he daily becomes more widely known, as a successful teacher. The rich fruits of his experience begin to be shaped into his popular and preeminently practical lectures, and in this form they are generously distributed for the com- mon good.* Leading minds look upon him as by humility, sincerity, and an affectionate solicitude for the highest good of his pupils, they invested him with a sacred character, which could not be approached with disrespect by the most thoughtless or wayward, and which inspired the con- fidence and love of all. Then, too, the spirit of reverence for a present God seemed to be imbreathed by these exercises through every soul, and its tendency to secure order, harmony, obedience and application, was seldom defeated by any sub- sequent occurrence of the day. This is unqualified language, but I am confident it will be unanimously sustained by all who have enjoyed his instructions, or been associated with him in teaching. His skill in music ought also to be mentioned among his qualifications for his profession. He had a power- ful voice, and fine ear, and threw his whole soul into the exer- cise of singing. * These lectures gained him great credit in this state, and won a host of friends for the Normal School, at the outset, 24 standing in the front rank of instructors in that state which has no superior, and hardly a rival, in the cause of education, and which measures the qualifications of its agents in this cause by the highest standard. In closing this period of his history, a period of twelve years, it is not too much to add, that through the whole of it he steadily increased in ivisdom, human and divine, and in favor with God and man. The scene changes, and we draw nearer home. Under happy auspices the Normal School of this state is established, and an annual appropriation made to sustain it for five years. The execu- tive committee is most judiciously selected, and upon them, of course, devolves the organization of the new institution. They tremble under the when so much depended upon the public opinion of its Prin- cipal. He delivered them, during vacation, before the Teach- ers' Institutes, many of which he attended in the course of three years. Last autumn he visited eleven counties, and in about thirty days lectured forty-seven times, having met, in all, more than a thousand of the teachers of the common schools of the state. No one could be more welcome in their asso- ciations. His talents as a speaker were much above medi- ocrity. The people crowded to hear him, wherever he went, and listened with undivided attention, sometimes for two hours. One of his happiest efforts is embodied in his book, in the chapter " On Waking Up Mind," and maybe taken as a fair specimen of his style. It could not be written out from a mere brief, without loss, but it was warmly declared, on one occasion, to be " the best lecture that was ever delivered." 25 responsibility of appointing its principal and pro- fessor. They know that every thing depends upon the choice they make of its first officers. But their diligence and prudence are equal to the emergency. After sufficient time for inquiry, they meet to compare notes, and having ascer- tained all the requisite information respecting difterent teachers of eminence, they resolve to come to an election. The late Francis Dwight, of whom I may make honorable mention since he is no more, had been induced to enter into correspondence with David P. Page, of New- buryport, on account of the high encomiums with which his name was uniformly pronounced, and on this occasion produces his letters. These letters are read, and the committee respond at once to the enthusiastic exclamation — " That is the man for us !" But a difficulty arises. They have never seen Mr. Page. His letters are weighty and powerful ; who knows but that in bodily jjre- sence he is weak, and in speech contemptible ? One of their number is forthwith appointed to visit him with the authority to present to him their unanimous invitation to take charge of the school, if the living epistle answers to the writ- ten. The result might have been anticipated by any one who ever saw him. At the same time, 4 26 an equally propitious appointment is made of the Professor of mathematics.* Mr. Page removes to this city, and, in conjunction with his distin- guished coadjutor, in whom he finds a sympa- thizing friend, assumes his last and highest trust in the same glorious cause to which full seven- teen years of his life have already been devoted. Every body is at once prepossessed in his favor. The management of the school is universally approved. No display — no concealment. The enemies of the enterprise, if it has any, are alike disappointed because there is nothing behind the curtain to excite suspicion, nothing in view to be charged to the account of empiricism. All the talents and attainments of the Principal are brought into the field to purchase for the insti- tution a deserved and enduring reputation. For three years it rises uninterruptedly in the public confidence, and is styled at last, without impro- priety — The Glory of the State. The Principal shares its honors. It could not be otherwise. Perhaps no man in the midst of us has in so short a time become more generally known, or more highly esteemed, or more warmly beloved. His admirable adaptation * Prof. George R. Perkins, of Utica, since wisely chosen to fill tile viicuncy occasioned by tlie death of Mr. Page. 27 to his place, was from the first the theme of universal remark. While the choice of such a man redounds to the praise of the executive committee, it should, and 1 doubt not does call forth the grateful thanksgivings of every lover of the commonwealth to that God who has de- clared that wisdom and knowledge shall be the sta- bility of the times which he will delight to bless, and who fulfills one of his most gracious promises when many run to and fro, and knowledge is in- creased. It is difficult to sketch in few lines a correct and striking portrait of him whose course we have thus far attempted to follow. The artist can readily produce the expression of a counte- nance which is remarkably irregular, but he finds it a harder task to bring out a likeness if each separate feature of the original bears its due proportion to the rest. We have been con- templating an unusually symmetrical character. By no means an ordinary man, even to the eye of a stranger, he did not attract attention by one predominant excellence, the bare mention of which, by itself, would raise his image to the view. He came here in full maturity, and with yet undiminished vigor. The various traits 28 which distinguished him had reached their per- fection, not one of them dwarfish, not one of them gigantic, when compared together, but all equally developed. He was just what a teacher should be, a model for youth. His principles derived from the highest source, he not only inculcated but obeyed them, for he was a com- plete master of himself On this account, in his case, that which seldom happens, the man and the author were the same. In his invaluable guide to the inexperienced teacher, he has for- tunately left his own delineation of himself, and probably better executed than it could have been by any other hand however expert. I cannot hope to succeed in grouping his peculiarities so that you shall recognize him in their general effect, though each one I mention may be ac- knowledged to be distinctive. Equanimity, never overcome even in the school room ; fore- sight, penetrating the future on all sides, and preparing him for every emergency ; prudence, the mistress of hand, and tongue, and eye, directing the slightest movement; industry, always outstripping obligation ;* these, as I name * It is astonishing how little he found to do in the prospect of death, and still more astonishing that he did that little with his usual calmness and precision, not an hour before his reason was dethroned. It seems as if he had been setting 29 them, do they not almost seem to be buried with him ? Who else possesses them all in an equal degree? Stability, frankness, courtesy, kindness, sympathy, must be awarded to him without reserve. Ever learning, especially from experience, and never forgetting; clear in his per- ceptions, fair in his representations, definite in his positions, comprehensive in his views ; delibe- rate, discriminating and impartial; if he was not a profound scholar, he was a wise, and safe, and most interesting teacher. He had a true thirst for knowledge, and the ability, in a very uncommon degree, to excite it in his pupils. In addition to this, the even balance of his various powers gave him a taste for the details of busi- ness. He took a real pleasure in regulating those small matters which in the aggregate throw a light or a shadow over every commu- nity, and above all, over a school. Without wasting a moment, scarcely a thought, without distracting attention, the insignificant causes often of great disturbances were quietly removed by a word, or a look, or a gesture. The inde- scribable attraction of the man, as well as of the his house iii order, for weeks before his last ilhiess, under the influence of presentiment. But if he had died ten years ago, such were his habits that, without doubt, the same remark could then have been made with the same propriety. 30 theatre of his labors, consisted not a little in the absence of petty annoyances, and the presence of unobserved yet not unfelt gratifications. His insight into human nature has already been no- ticed. This was, perhaps, his highest endow- ment. In connection with his benevolent spirit and decision of character, it saved his authority from all useless collisions with fractious and obstinate tempers, and secured a cordial sub- mission to all necessary restraints and require- ments. Hence the voluntary, cheerful, and pro- ductive industry which gave life and progress to the scene which he directed. He himself led the way, with his eye ever on the summit. We do not claim for him a finished classical or scientific education. But his attainments were various, and accurate, and important, beyond those of many a philosopher. In the most cul- tivated society he was, not only agreeable, but instructive. He had something to give for what- ever he received, and generally an equivalent. At all events, in self-knowledge, and self-disci- pline, the ultimate end of study, he was not sur- passed, and hence the certainty of his success in any enterprise which he would venture to undertake. Advancing step by step, as his strength increased, he was sure to hold each 31 new post with ease, and confidence, and appro- bation. Where last he soared, he sustained himself on steady wing, without a tremor. But one arrow could reach him, and that would compel him to stoop, only for a higher flight. It is customary and proper, yea more, it is obligatory, when eulogizing the worthiest of men, to admit that they had their faults. This man had his faults. We know that he had them, for he died — alas for us that he died so soon! — and death has passed upon all men, for that all have sinned. I am not intentionally keep- ing back the evidences of his humanity. But, though, I doubt not, they were manifest enough to himself and to his God, they never attracted my attention ; or, perhaps, more correctly speak- ing, they never assumed such a distinct and per- manent form before my mind as to enable me to classify and name them. This is my only reason for leaving my outline of his character in this respect still more defective than in others. But, whatever may have been his corruption of heart, and it was originally like that of every child of Adam, whatever may have been its ex- hibitions in his conduct, it is consoling to reflect that over all was thrown, for more than half his life, the mantle of divine forgiveness. He was 32 a sinner, but he was a penitent sinner. He was a believer in the scheme of redemption, revealed in the gospel. He was an humble disciple of Jesus. His piety, though not at all of a secta- rian cast, was at the greatest remove from that indifference which so often takes the place of exclusiveness. He was a man of faith, and prayer, and works of righteousness and charity. This was his richest gift, and he so con- sidered it. It is not pretended that he did not miagnify his office as a teacher, that he did not exalt the cause of popular education, that he did not glory in his successful promotion of that cause, or that he did not enjoy the reputation it gave him. Nevertheless is it true, emphatically true, that he felt in his soul the comparative worthlessness of all things seen and temporal, and that he set his heart on the treasure laid up in heaven. The uncertainty of life, the nearness of death, were not mere speculations in his mind. He acted upon their truth. He knew that when his summons came, he could carry nothing away. As a pilgrim and stranger here, he taught us all by his example, no less than by his end, to rejoice as though ive rejoiced not in this world's choicest favors, however honorably ob- tained or benevolently used ; but, assured that 33 the time of our departure is- at hand, so to live that we may count it gain to die. Pardon me that I linger thus upon his character. I am reluctant to proceed in his history. But I yield to the painful necessity. In three years Mr. Page, together with his associate, no less eminent than himself in a different sphere, and aided by a corps of excellent teachers selected by the wisdom of both, had imparted the most valuable and last- ing reputation to the Normal School; and so completely did he fill his place at the head of it, that he was felt, by the executive committee, the faculty, the students, and the people through- out the state, to be almost essential to its pros- perity, if not to its existence. All the friends of the institution, and all the recipients of its bene- fits, to use that good old English expression, were " bound up in him." It was characteristic of the man, that he so identified himself with his station, whatever it might be, that he seemed the life and soul of it. Thus, but a few days since, he was all to his family, all to his Bible- class, all to his school; a strong and polished pillar in his church, the ornament and pride of his adopted state. I see him in better health 34 than usual, with buoyant spirits, dismissing his pupils to their winter recreations, and preparing himself to revisit his former home, expecting to participate in a scene of all others the most un- like that in which he is unconsciously about to be the chief actor. At the door of the school- room all save his family and a few intimate friends lose sight of him. He is supposed, for more than a week, to be far away, giving himself up to the most innocent and refreshing enjoy- ments, in the society of his kindred and of the cherished companions of other days. But, un- beknown to the community in the midst of which he remains, he is suddenly engaged in that warfare from which there is no discharge. All the circumstances combine to conceal his perilous position. Nature herself wraps it in thick and gloomy mists, from public observa- tion. The conflict goes on for nine wearisome days, and yet more wearisome nights. The good soldier is nearly exhausted in bodily strength, though the spiritual man is propor- tionably invigorated, when, at eventide, the last day of the old year, the report spreads like a panic that he is dying! — followed, after the hush of the night, just as the first morning of new year dawns, by the more stunning report 35 that he is dead ! When has the great destroyer erected such a beacon on a more conspicuous spot, the threshold of a year? If such a man may be cut off in the midst of his days, who can depend upon the necessity of his services in any cause, however good, as a pledge of long life ? To the most philanthropic citizen, to the most faithful Christian, to the whole community, and to all the members of the church to which he belonged, his death is no ordinary warning, whether the time, the circumstances, or the vic- tim be considered, that they know not what shall be on the morrow ; that, since to each one of them the end of all things is at hand, they should be sober and watch unto prayer, being ensamples unto thejlock of God, that when the Chief Shepherd shall appear they may be prepared to receive from his hands a crown of glory thatfadeth not aioay. It is no exaggeration to assert that the death of Mr. Page was a heavy bereavement to two contiguous states, and that the news of it, simultaneously communicated to their extremi- ties by an electric shock, broke up the fountains of sorrow in the hearts of the friends and sub- jects of popular education throughout both, and on all sides, far beyond their limits. But what avails it to the widowed wife to 36 repeat, what has been so justly proclaimed, that " his death is a public calamity" ! What, to say that it subdued the joyous spirit of the season to sadness, and filled every house and every heart with grief and commiseration! " Tell me not," she answers, " that, when the husband is gone, the teacher is lamented. Tell me rather that when both die, the Christian sur- vives. Let me revert to his calm confidence in the Resurrection and the Life, when certain that he is grappling with the King of Terrors. Let me behold him, when the struggle is over, though divested of all that in which, here below, he could only rejoice as though he rejoiced not, in the full possession and fruition of blessings which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man ; the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. Let me hear him say: 'It is a solemn thing to die, but if it is the will of God, I die cheerfully, for my trust is in the Savior of sinners !' Be my consolation in the evidence of his eternal rest, and in the good hope through grace of eventually sharing it." God grant thy prayer, stricken mourner, and bind up thy broken heart ! May He be unto thee, and unto thy fatherless children, an ever- lasting portion. 37 To the afflicted pupils of the Normal School, let me say, that the impulses and aspirations of deep sorrow are far more in accordance with the real wants of the soul than the feelings and desires in any other state of mind. It is always wisest to aim after that which, in the hour of mourning and in the heart overflowing- with grief, assumes the greatest importance. Do not understand me to urge you to give up the wish, and the ambition, with which your beloved Principal inspired you, to distinguish yourselves in the useful and honorable profession for which you are preparing. But I would most earnestly beseech you to make it your first object to imi- tate him in your devotion to that higher and holier cause for which he chiefly lived, and through which, we trust, he has obtained the incorruptible crown. Bear witness, if I have flattered his religious character. If not, then as you loved, trusted, and admired him, walk with him through evil and through good report in the footsteps of Jesus Christ. You have felt the influence of his whole deportment in this direc- tion, while he was yet with you. Now that you sorrow most of all because you shall see his face no more, call to remembrance his words and example, alike for your instruction and encour- 38 agement in the way of life. How faithfully he reproved you when you strayed; how solemnly he warned you of the danger of a course of sin; how tenderly he sympathized with you in your trials, of which no ear but his ever heard; how kindly and constantly he administered to your wants and ensured your comfort in sickness, here among strangers, far away from your homes! Through the sleet and the storm, to the last, would he go to your lodgings, often a Sabbath-day's journey, after dark, in order to cheer and relieve you. So would he exhibit that character which is the fruit of the faith of the gospel, and by it, he being dead yet speaketh. In that character, study to be like him, if in nothing else. Then shall his removal prepare the way for your own to the better land. I can only say to the associate Professor and fellow teachers of our departed friend, that you have in his early death a motive, to which my words can give no additional weight, for double diligence in your responsible station, and for keeping your lamps trimmed and burning, since you know not the hour when the Son of Man cometh. No personal application I can make of the so- lemn and afflictive dispensation which has occa' 39 sioned this discourse, would impress its painful but important lesson more indelibly upon your minds, honored members of the executive com- mittee, than it has already been impressed by di- vine power. In regard to its effect upon the school you sustain not more officially than cor- dially, great as the calamity is, which has depriv- ed you of your strong arm, it is attended with the consolation that he has left the institution under a firmly established system, most excellent in itself, most favorably regarded, and compara- tively easy to be maintained. You have no reason, therefore, to be disheartened in your glorious work. May the same overruling Pro- vidence, which has hitherto blessed your exer- tions, continue to bless them, till you too are called to your reward. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 021 721 940 1