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JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN 
 
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 BROWN THURSTON 
 
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 PORTLAND, MAINE 
 
 
 
 1890 
 
 
 
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According to the gkaoe of God which was given unto me, as a wise master- 
 buildek i laid a foundation. 
 
 1 Corinthians Hi. K^Revised Version. 
 
 One WHO nevek turned his back, but marched breast forward. 
 Never doubted clouds would break. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I Biographical Sketch, ^ . . • i 
 
 II Inaugural Address, 37 
 
 III Religion and Philanthrophy, 6i 
 
 IV Bishop Butler, 87 
 
 V Daniel Webster as a Statesman and an Orator, . . 115 
 
 VI Christian Education, i47 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCIi 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY S. BURRAGE, D.D. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Two thoughts (2 Tim iv. 7) were present with the Apostle 
 Paul as he came to the close of his long and eventful career; 
 first, that his had been a well-spent life, and second, that 
 ■throughout his Christian course he had never relinquished 
 his personal faith in Christ. All along the ages, from the 
 time of the apostle, there have been others, disciples of the 
 same Master, who could say, " I have completed the glori- 
 ous contest, I have finished the course, I have kept the 
 faith." They are the men who with an untiring energy 
 . have labored as did Paul for the higher interests of man- 
 kind ; and who like him, in all their Christian way, have 
 proved faithful to their divine Savior and Lord. Of such 
 was James Tift Champlin. 
 
 He was a son of John and Martha (Armstrong) Champ- 
 lin, and was born in Colchester, Connecticut, June 9, 181 1. 
 Soon after his birth his parents removed to Lebanon, in the 
 same state, where he spent his boyhood and youth on his 
 father's farm. When about fourteen years of age he united 
 with the Baptist church in Lebanon. The desire for a col- 
 legiate training at length took possession of him, and in the 
 autumn of 1828, when a little more than seventeen years of 
 age, he repaired to Colchester Academy, where he entered 
 upon a course of preparation for college under Preceptor 
 
2i JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Otis- His studies were continued at Plainfield Academy, 
 under Preceptor Witter. 
 
 In September, 1830, he was admitted to the Freshman 
 class in Brown University. Dr. Wayland had entered upon 
 his duties as president of the university in February, 1827, 
 and his strong personality made an abiding impression upon 
 the young student. " I greatly admired the man," was his 
 testimony in his later years, " and received a great impulse 
 from his life, his teachings, and especially from his sermons 
 in the church, and his short, pithy addresses to the students 
 in the chapel." At the graduation of his class in 1834, he. 
 delivered an oration on " The Philosopher and the Philan- 
 thropist Compared," with the valedictory addresses. Among 
 his classmates were Hon. J. R. Bullock, afterward governor 
 of Rhode Island, and Rev. Silas Bailey, d.d., president of 
 Granville College, now Denison University, at Granville, 
 Ohio, and later president of Franklin College, at Franklin, 
 Indiana. 
 
 A few months before he received his degree, Mr. Champ- 
 lin was elected principal of the Manual Labor school at 
 Pawtuxet, Rhode Island, near Providence. But the posi- 
 tion was not an agreeable one, and in a few months he 
 returned to the university as a resident graduate. In Sep- 
 tember, 1835, he was appointed a tutor in the university, 
 and retained the office until March, 1838. Rev. J. S. Magin- 
 nis, D.D., in the preceding year, had resigned the pastorate 
 of the First Baptist Church in Portland, Maine, in order to 
 accept the professorship of biblical theology in the Semi- 
 nary at Hamilton, New York. He suggested Tutor Champ- 
 lin as a suitable candidate for the vacancy, and the latter 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 6 
 
 came to Portland, and preached in the old church on Fed- 
 eral Street the first two Sundays in January, 1838. Corre- 
 spondence followed, and February 5, 1838, the church voted 
 unanimously to extend a call to Mr. Champlin. The soci- 
 ety concurred on the following day. Mr. Champlin pre- 
 ferred not to decide the question of duty in reference to this 
 call until he had become better acquainted with the people 
 among whom he was invited to labor. After spending sev- 
 eral weeks in Portland he addressed a letter, April 11, to 
 the committee of the church, announcing his acceptance of 
 the call; and having been received to membership April 30, 
 from the Baptist church in Lebanon, Connecticut, Mr. 
 Champlin was ordained in Portland, May 3, 1838. At this 
 service Dr. Dwight of Portland read the Scriptures and 
 offered prayer; President Pattison of Waterville preached 
 the sermon ; Rev. Adam Wilson of Portland offered the 
 ordaining prayer; Rev. Thomas Curtis of Bangor gave the 
 charge to the candidate; Rev. T. O. Lincoln, pastor of the 
 Free Street Church, Portland, extended the hand of fellow- 
 ship ; Rev. Z. Bradford of Yarmouth delivered the address 
 to the church ; and the concluding prayer was offered by 
 Rev. Alvan Felch of New Gloucester. Mr. Champlin en- 
 tered upon his labors with great earnestness, and proved an 
 efficient and successful pastor. But from the first his health 
 was very precarious. His lungs were weak and susceptible 
 to cold and irritation, and preaching greatly aggravated the 
 difficulty. But he loved the work, and was happy in it. 
 
 In the second year of his pastorate, June 12, 1839, Mr. 
 Champlin was married to Mary Ann Pierce of Providence, 
 Rhode Island, President Wayland performing the ceremony. 
 
4 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 In 1840, precious revival influences were enjoyed, and about 
 eighty new members were added to the church by baptism. 
 On the annual Fast Day, 1841, he preached a sermon on 
 the " Death of President Harrison," which was published by 
 request of the society. But pleasantly as he was situated, 
 and much as he loved his work, the bronchial difhculty, that 
 had troubled him from the beginning of his pastorate, in- 
 creased, and there were times when he was unable to preach. 
 At the annual commencement of Waterville College, Au- 
 gust II, 1841, he was elected professor of ancient lan- 
 guages in that institution. The conviction already had 
 been frequently forced upon his mind that it would be 
 impossible for him long to continue in the pastorate. Yet 
 he could not endure the thought of engaging in any entirely 
 secular calling. A professorship at Waterville would ena- 
 ble him to continue his labors for the higher interests of 
 mankind; and in a letter dated August 23, 1841, he pre- 
 sented to the church his resignation as pastor. In this 
 letter, after stating the reasons that had led him to request 
 dismission, he said, referring to the position offered to him 
 at Waterville : — 
 
 As this office will enable me to avail myself of my early studies, and 
 at the same time presents a field of usefulness perhaps fully as important 
 as the ministry, while it will relieve me almost entirely of the most injuri- 
 ous part of my present employment, I feel myself bound to ask my dis- 
 mission as pastor of this church, in anticipation of accepting the appoint- 
 ment. I have not come to this conclusion without much serious and pray- 
 erful consideration, and I hope not without the approbation of my heav- 
 enly Father. It would give me pleasure to spend my days with you, did 
 it appear to be duty, but I cannot make myself think it is. I have been 
 as happy and as contented in my relation to this church as I well could be 
 in connection with any church ; and I am happy to have this opportunity 
 
JAMES riFT CHAMPLIN. 5 
 
 of expressing my sincere and heartfelt thanks for the Christian kindness 
 and courtesy with which you have invariably treated me, as well as for the 
 many favors and attentions which you have bestowed upon myself and 
 family. Be assured that they will never be forgotten. 
 
 The resignation was accepted, and the church, in a letter 
 dated August 30, 1841, responded to the pastor's communi- 
 cation. From this letter I take the followino- • _ 
 
 When but a little more than three years since you became our pastor, we 
 fondly hoped that a long time would elapse ere the relation between us 
 would be dissolved. As weeks and months rolled away, each succeeding 
 one witnessing a stronger and still stronger attachment between yourself 
 and this church, the h<*)pe that you would be able in time to come to bring 
 to us the lessons of experience, and the wisdom of age, was cherished by 
 us with the reasonable confidence that it would be real^ed. But an all- 
 seeing and an all-wise God had otherwise ordained. A little more than a 
 year since, during the precious revival enjoyed under your ministrations, 
 we had evident intimations that your work in the ministry must be short. 
 The conviction was a painful one, but time has not contributed in the least 
 to soften it. It is this conviction alone, dear brother, which reconciles us 
 in any degree to the idea of giving you up. But as the hand of Provi- 
 dence seems plainly to have indicated the path of duty, we have, though 
 with deep and painful regret, complied with your request to be dismissed 
 from the pastoral charge of this church. Allow us before closing to ex- 
 press our highest sense of the value of your labor among us, of the truly 
 evangelical character of your pulpit ministrations, of the ability and impar- 
 tiality with which you have expounded to us the Word of God, and of the 
 solicitude with which you have watched over our spiritual interests. We 
 heartily thank you, dear brother, for your labors of love among us, for 
 your patience and forbearance, and for all the means you have adopted to 
 do us good. The Lord abundantly reward you and bless you in the new 
 and effective sphere of usefulness which he has opened before you. It 
 gives us great pleasure to know that you are to remain in our state. Al- 
 low us to hope that we shall see you occasionally, at least, in our pulpit, 
 and that we shall never cease to have an interest in your prayers. 
 
b JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 This letter .was signed in behalf of the church by Thomas 
 Hammond, Joseph Ricker and Joseph Hay. 
 
 The society adopted the following resolutions: — 
 
 Resolved, That the members of the First Baptist Society in Portland 
 deeply regret that the relation hereto existing between them and their pas- 
 tor, Rev. J. T. Champlin, is dissolved in consequence of the ill health of 
 the latter, and that his usefulness is now about to cease among us. 
 
 Resolved^ That the thanks of this society be presented to him for his 
 uniform kindness toward us personally and his untiring efforts for our spir- 
 itual welfare. 
 
 Resolved, That we shall keep in lasting remembrance the earnest and 
 eloquent appeals of our pastor to us for our everlasting good. 
 
 Resolved, That in taking leave we present to him our united and affec- 
 tionate desires that his health may be restored, and a long and useful life 
 be vouchsafed to him, and that when he shall be called to leave all earthly 
 things that he shall be greeted with the joyful words, " Well done, good 
 and faithful servant." 
 
 Lemuel Cobb, \ 
 
 Edwin Fernald, \ Committee. 
 
 Charles Davidson, ) 
 
 Dr. Champlin removed to Waterville, September 8, 1841, 
 and entered upon what proved to be his life-work, succeed- 
 ing in his professorship the late Phinehas Barnes. Water- 
 ville was then a remote country village on the stage line 
 between Augusta and Bangor. For twenty years the col- 
 lege had struggled with poverty, and as yet only the begin- 
 nings of a collegiate institution had been made. It was still 
 the day of small things. The endowment was small, the 
 equipment was small, the salaries were small, and the classes 
 were small. But the institution had a strong corps of in- 
 structors. Three of them. Dr. G. W. Keely, professor of 
 mathematics and natural philosophy, Dr. J. R. Loomis, after- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 7 
 
 ward for twenty years president of Lewisburg, now Buck- 
 nell University, professor of chemistry and natural history, 
 and Dr. Champlin, professor of Greek and Latin, were grad- 
 uates of Brown University. Loomis and ChampHn, who 
 were pupils of Dr. Wayland, had imbibed his spirit and 
 adopted his methods; and this last was also true of Pro- 
 fessor Keely, who was a tutor at Brown in the first year of 
 Dr. Wayland's presidency. In 1843, Rev. David N. Shel- 
 don succeeded Eliphaz Fay as president of the college. At 
 the same time, Martin B. Anderson, a graduate of the col- 
 lege, and afterward president of Rochester University, was 
 made professor of rhetoric. These all were men of intel- 
 lectual strength, and by their ability and sound scholarship 
 they gave to the college a reputation which it%ad not before 
 secured. 
 
 Early in his connection with the college Professor Champ- 
 lin felt the need of a better edition of "Demosthenes on the 
 Crown " than the one by Negris, in use at that time. Gath- 
 ering around him the best helps he could obtain, he devoted 
 himself untiringly to his task, availing himself of the en- 
 couras:ement and criticism of his interested associates. The 
 work was finished and published in 1843, and immediately 
 came into use in many of our American colleges. A review 
 of the work, by Professor Felton of Harvard College pre- 
 sumably, appeared in the "North American Review" for 
 January, 1844 (pages 240-243). After indicating what is re- 
 quired in a good critical edition of this " most valuable and 
 interesting among all the remains of Attic eloquence," 
 the reviewer said : — 
 
 These conditions have been ably fulfilled by the present editor. The 
 text he has presented is a great improvement upon that of Mr. Negris. It 
 
8 JAMES TIFT CHAMP LIN. 
 
 is fairly printed, and on good paper; the only fault to be found with this 
 part of the work is a number of typographical errors in that portion of the 
 text which accidentally was deprived of the benefit of the editor's revision. 
 A well written preface explains the editor's plan, and states the sources 
 from which he has drawn his chief materials. This is followed by a copi- 
 ous analysis, embracing a general sketch of the plan of the oration, and 
 then a careful enumeration of the topics, paragraph by paragraph, as they 
 are successively handled by the orator. This analysis is carefully and 
 accurately executed, and will be of material advantage to the student for 
 understanding the orator's arrangement. The text is followed by a body 
 of notes, containing ample explanations of legal terms and technical for- 
 mulas, historical facts comprehended in the political life of the orator, and 
 careful analyses of the difficult passages. The best authorities have been 
 freely consulted, and the information they contain judiciously combined. 
 Hermann's excellent "Manual of Political Antiquities," and Thirwall's 
 learned and impartial "History of Greece," have been constantly used. 
 We approve the plan of this edition, and think the execution of it faithful 
 and able. The work is a valuable addition to the series of classical books 
 published in the United States. 
 
 Professor Champlin's edition of the " Oration on the 
 Crown" passed through many editions, and for more than 
 thirty years was the text-book generally in use in American 
 colleges in the study of this masterly oration. 
 
 Other classical works followed. In 1848, Professor 
 Champlin published "Select Popular Orations of Demos- 
 thenes"; in 1849, a translation of Kiihner's Latin Gram- 
 mar, from the German; in 1850, an edition of the Oration 
 of ^schines on the Crown; in 1852, a " Short and Com- 
 prehensive Greek Grammar." In 1855, in recognition of 
 his scholarly worth, the University of Rochester conferred 
 upon Professor Champlin the honorary degree of Doctor of 
 Divinity. 
 
 In 1857, on the resignation of President Pattison, he was 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 9 
 
 elected president of the college and professor of moral and 
 intellectual philosophy. The difficulties of the position he 
 clearly recognized. In his inaugural address, delivered 
 Tuesday afternoon, August lo, 1858, he said: — 
 
 Knowing full well, as I do, the history and condition of the college, I do 
 not regard the office as a sinecure. Following a succession of able and 
 learned men, and entering upon my duties at an important crisis in the his- 
 tory of the institution, I see nothing but labor and responsibility before 
 me ; and in these, indeed, I find my chief incitement. Whatever may be 
 the illusions of youth in this matter, one at length learns that labor is less 
 irksome than leisure, and responsibility more inspiring than a state of easy, 
 quiet security. A fair field for the exertion of one's powers, the opportu- 
 nity of doing something for the higher interests of society, the hope of 
 giving greater efficiency to an important instrumentality, the consciousness 
 that a large circle of interested spectators are watching the workings of a 
 new arrangement, are among the more powerful and wholesome incitements 
 which can be addressed to the human mind. 
 
 Such motives seem to me to exist in all their power in the present case. 
 I admit the responsibility of the position. I welcome the labor, and hope 
 to be able to approve myself to the friends of the institution as a faithful 
 servant, whether successful or not. Indeed, I see much to encourage in 
 the case. With a highly eligible situation, with a respectable number of 
 interesting and interested students, with an increasing band of alumni to 
 advocate our interests wherever they go, and a large constituency of 
 friends, who, I trust, will show themselves ready, when the call is made — 
 as it must be soon — to supply the only great need of the institution, " ma- 
 terial aid," I cannot but feel that there is no ground for discouragement 
 Certain it is that if Waterville College, in its present state of maturity, and 
 with its acknowledged advantages of situation, etc., does not for the future 
 make reasonable progress, it will be either from the want of proper man- 
 agement here, or for the want of proper co-operation and support among 
 its friends. Let us hope that neither will be wanting, that the designs of 
 Providence in planting the institution may not be frustrated. 
 
 In the spirit of these noble words, recognizing fully the 
 obstacles to be overcome. Dr. Champlin entered vigorously 
 
10 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 and intelligently upon his new task. Waterville College, in 
 1857, had three buildings, very much out of repair, and an 
 invested fund of about twelve or fifteen thousand dollars. 
 To increase this fund was a matter of present urgent neces- 
 sity, and in 1859, Rev. Horace T. Love was employed by 
 the college for this purpose. He succeeded in obtaining 
 subscriptions to the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars, 
 and then relinquished his agency. The work was soon 
 taken up by President Champlin and other members of the 
 faculty, but their self-denying efforts were not crowned with 
 great success. National affairs, to the exclusion of other 
 things, attracted the attention and demanded the energies of 
 the people. 
 
 But in the third year of the civil war, when in Boston one 
 day, Dr. Champlin learned from the late Jonah G. Warren, 
 D.D., then corresponding secretary of the Missionary Union, 
 that Gardner Colby of Newton, some of whose early years 
 were spent in Winslow and Waterville, and whose mother 
 Dr. Chaplin, the first president of the college, had be- 
 friended, was meditating generous purposes toward Water- 
 ville College. Dr. Champlin called on him at once, and 
 the result was that Mr. Colby attended the commencement 
 of the college in August that year. On commencement 
 day Dr. Champlin received from Mr. Colby the follow- 
 ing note: — 
 
 Waterville, Aug. 10, 1864. 
 Rev. J. T. Champlin, d.d., 
 
 My Dear Sir: — I propose to give Waterville College the sum of fifty 
 thousand dollars ($50,000), the same to be paid without interest as follows, 
 viz. : — 
 
 Twenty-five thousand dollars when your subscriptions shall amount to 
 one hundred thousand dollars, independent of any from me. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. H 
 
 Twenty-five thousand dollars when one hundred thousand is paid on your 
 subscriptions, not including any from me ; and upon the condition that the 
 president, and a majority of the faculty, shall be members in good standing 
 of regular Baptist churches. 
 
 If either or any of these conditions are broken, the entire fifty thousand 
 dollars shall revert to myself, or my heirs or assigns. I remain, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Gardner Colby. 
 
 The contents of this note were made known to the alumni 
 and friends of the college at the commencement dinner. 
 Rev. F. W. Bakeman, d.d., who was then a student in the 
 college, and as one of the marshals of the day was present at 
 the dinner in the old town hall, has given a graphic account 
 of the scene when the announcement of this proposed gift 
 was made : — 
 
 Dr. Champlin arose and stood a brief pause, as if to command the un- 
 reserved attention of the company. How pale he looked ! How strangely 
 his voice seemed to shake as he spoke ! There were no tears in his eyes, 
 but there was what makes tears in his utterance. As long as I live I shall 
 recall the grand old man in that historic hour, which was to him the vic- 
 tor's crown, after years of hardest warfare. And now the announcement 
 was given that the gentleman at his side, a short, plump little man, with a 
 benevolent appearing face, who might have been taken for one of the 
 Cheeryble brothers, had made the definite and formal proposition to give 
 the college the sum of fifty thousand dollars as a permanent fund, on con- 
 dition that the friends of the institution should add one hundred thousand. 
 The announcement ran through that company like a kindling fire. Mr. 
 Colby was known to few ; his intention was known to fewer still. The ru- 
 mor had not got abroad. It was a genuine surprise. For a moment there 
 was stillness, as in the hush before the breaking of the tempest — and 
 then — there was a tempest — a wild demonstration of joy and glad sur- 
 prise, such as I have never since witnessed. Hands, feet, voices, knives 
 and forks rapping on the tables, all bore a part in the concert of applause. 
 Men shook hands, and fairly hugged each other in their transports of joy. 
 
12 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Such unfeigned delight is seldom seen. The hall rang again and again to 
 their cheers. It seemed as if they would never stop. The fountains of 
 affection had been broken up, and their torrents could not be easily 
 checked. Never from that day have I questioned the devotion of Colby's 
 alumni. Fifty thousand dollars does not seem so great now as it did then. 
 For Waterville, under the circumstances, that sum was a princely fortune. 
 But there was more than this in consideration. Men saw that this dona- 
 tion meant one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of endowment. They 
 had faith to believe that it would be raised. In this glad hour the long- 
 needed inspiration had come, and all things were now possible. Men 
 realized instinctively that on this auspicious day a new era had begun for 
 our long-struggling institution. This hour marked an epoch. Meanwhile, 
 through all this storm of applause, the Cheeryble brother, who was its 
 beneficent cause, sat blushingly. To the clamorous calls of his name he 
 made a brief response, no word of which can I recall. The facts of that 
 day crowded out words. What Mr. Colby felt on that occasion no man 
 can know, I have often thought that ten years of life would be a small 
 price for the experience of so blissful an hour. Finally the doxology was 
 sung, and the commencement of 1864 was over \ the night-time in the his- 
 tory of Waterville College was ended, and morning had come to Colby 
 University. 
 
 In raising the one hundred thousand dollars required in 
 order to secure Mr. Colby's conditional gift, Dr. Champlin 
 performed heroic service, as did some of his colleagues ; 
 and the money was at length obtained. Then, in 1866, at 
 Dr. Champlin's suggestion, and entirely without any under- 
 standing with Mr. Colby, the trustees voted to apply to the 
 legislature of the state for an act changing the name of the 
 college to Colby University; and the act was passed Janu- 
 ary 23, 1867. 
 
 The college now entered upon an era of prosperity. 
 Added funds came into its treasury for building purposes. 
 Memorial Hall, costing about forty thousand dollars, was 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 13 
 
 erected ; Coburn Hall, costing more than twenty-five thou- 
 sand dollars, followed ; then the old chapel was remodeled 
 at an expense of six thousand dollars, and the North Col- 
 lege at an expense of eight thousand five hundred dollars. 
 And yet in 1872, when these improvements had been made 
 and paid for, the invested funds of the college had increased 
 to two hundred thousand dollars. Of the money thus ex- 
 pended or invested, Dr. Champlin obtained (directly or indi- 
 rectly) and collected nearly two hundred thousand dollars ; 
 and as chairman of the prudential committee he had the 
 entire oversight of the above-named improvements, and the 
 chief direction of the investment of the college funds. 
 
 During this period of upbuilding and endowing the 
 college, Dr. Champlin prosecuted his studies '%\\\\ old-time 
 vigor. When he became president of the college he de- 
 voted himself to the duties of his professorship of moral 
 and intellectual philosophy with the same interest with 
 which he had hitherto devoted himself to the Latin and 
 Greek classics. He soon published an edition of " Butler's 
 Analogy and Ethical Discourses." This was followed, in 
 i860, by "A Text Book on Intellectual Philosophy"; in 
 1 861, by his " First Principles of Ethics"; and in 1868, by 
 his *' Lessons on Political Economy." These works passed 
 through successive editions, and were used as text-books in 
 other colleges. But, as the late Mr. H. W. Richardson, edi- 
 tor of the Portland Daily Advertiser, and a pupil of Dr. 
 Champlin, said : — 
 
 The service which Dr. Champlin rendered to the college and to his gen- 
 eration is not measured or even indicated by a list of his published works. 
 He was not merely, or even primarily, a literary man. He was pre-emi- 
 nently a man of affairs — - a man who would naturally have become a great 
 
14 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 merchant or a successful politician. His tendencies were all practical. 
 He edited Greek and Latin text-books because in the place where he 
 found himself that was the thing to do. When he left the professorship of 
 ancient languages he turned to other studies without regret, and with the 
 same industry and sound appreciation of the requirements of his new 
 position. 
 
 August 2, 1870, in connection with the annual commence- 
 ment, President Champlin delivered an historical discourse, 
 it being the fiftieth anniversary of the college. Having 
 reviewed the history of the college, he closed with these 
 words : — 
 
 Standing now, as we do, at the middle point of the first century of the 
 existence of the institution, whether we look backward or forward, have we 
 not reason to thank God and take courage ? The college has been useful ; 
 the university, I have no doubt, is destined to a still higher usefulness. 
 The foundations are already laid, and well laid, and the superstructure, I 
 am confident, will gradually rise in fitting beauty and proportions. It will 
 have a history to be -recounted, I have no doubt, at the close of another 
 half-century. And as the centuries roll on, chapter after chapter will have 
 to be added to this history, till some future generation, looking back over 
 its whole course, and estimating the influence which has gone forth from 
 it to bless the world, will come to realize, if we do not now, how great a 
 boon to a community is a Christian institution of learning, established and 
 sustained and nurtured up to a high purpose by the prayers, the labors and 
 the contributions of the wise and good. 
 
 Dr. Champlin now felt that his work, as president of the 
 college, was done, and at the commencement in July, 1872, 
 he asked to be relieved of the burden he had carried so 
 long. By request of the trustees he remained at his post a 
 year longer. When he then retired from the service of the 
 college, Colby University had an invested fund of two hun- 
 dred and fourteen thousand dollars, and no debts. He had 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 15 
 
 been connected with the college thirty-two years, one-half of 
 the time as professor and one-half of the time as president. 
 
 The trustees of the university, in accepting Dr. Champ- 
 lin's resignation, adopted the following resolution : — 
 
 Resolved^ That in accepting his resignation, the Board of Trustees would 
 express their gratitude to Dr. Champlin for the long-continued, diligent 
 and laborious services which he has rendered as an instructor, and for the 
 singular devotedness to the general interests and welfare of the university 
 which he has uniformly manifested ; and that, in retiring from the office of 
 the presidenc}'^, he will bear with him the friendship and good wishes of 
 this Board. 
 
 In i860, Brown University conferred upon Dr. Champlin 
 the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity, and in 1872, 
 when he resigned the presidency, Colby University conferred 
 upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. 
 
 It was Dr. Champlin's purpose upon his retirement from 
 the college, to spend his remaining years in Waterville; but 
 three of his children were living in Portland, and family ties 
 soon drew him thither. He removed to Portland in April, 
 1874, and here, among his books, and surrounded by those 
 whom he loved, he passed the closing years of a useful and 
 busy life. In 1875, he was made a trustee of Colby Univer- 
 sity. Continuing his literary labors, he prepared a volume 
 of " Bible Selections for Family Reading." Then, returning 
 to his classical studies, he prepared a volume of "Selections 
 from Tacitus," which he published in 1876. In 1880, he 
 published a work on the Constitution of the United States. 
 
 Of his minor publications the following are worthy of 
 mention: — In 1846, Dr. Champlin preached a sermon be- 
 fore the Maine Baptist Convention at Brunswick, entitled 
 "Apollos the Preacher," which was published by the con- 
 
16 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 vention. He published also the following review arti- 
 cles: — "Popular Lecturing," Christian Review, April, 1850; 
 "Grote's History of Greece," Christian Review, October, 
 1 851; "Bishop Butler," Christian Review, July, 1854; 
 " Hume's Philosophy," Christian Review, April, 1855 ; 
 "Moral Philosophy," Christian Review, April, i860; "Pro- 
 tection and Free Trade," Baptist Quarterly, October, 1873; 
 and " Psychology," Baptist Quarterly, April, 1874. June 24, 
 1856, he delivered an address before the Society of Mis- 
 sionary Inquiry of Newton Theological Institution, on "Re- 
 ligion and Philanthropy." March 14, 1878, he read a paper 
 before the Maine Historical Society, entitled " Educational 
 Institutions in Maine while a District of Massachusetts," 
 which is included in volume viii of the society's collec- 
 tions. He also frequently accepted invitations to deliver 
 addresses before educational societies, teachers' conventions, 
 lyceums, etc. 
 
 In 1872, at the annual meeting of the Maine Baptist Edu- 
 cation Society at Bath, it was voted, on motion of Dr. 
 Champlin, " That it is expedient that an effort be made to 
 endow Waterville Classical Institute, by starting a subscrip- 
 tion, to raise for it a fund of fifty thousand dollars." At the 
 meeting of the same society in 1873, a committee was ap- 
 pointed to confer with the trustees of Colby University in 
 reference to this matter. One of the results of that confer- 
 ence was the passage of resolutions by the Board of Trus- 
 tees, recommending " That an effort be made to raise one 
 hundred thousand dollars at the earliest day practicable, for 
 the endowment of three preparatory schools, one of which 
 shall be located at Waterville, one at some place in the east- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 17 
 
 erii section of the state, and one in the "western section." 
 At the meeting of the Education Society in 1874, it was 
 announced that ex-Governor Coburn had offered to give 
 fifty thousand dollars for the endowment of Waterville Clas- 
 sical Institute, provided fifty thousand dollars additional 
 should be raised for the endowment of the other proposed 
 schools. Rev. A. R. Crane undertook the work of raising 
 this fifty thousand dollars, and the money, when secured, 
 was committed to the trustees of Colby University for the 
 benefit of Hebron Academy and Houlton Academy (now 
 Ricker Classical Institute), as was Governor Coburn's gift 
 for the benefit of Waterville Classical Institute (now Coburn 
 Classical Institute, in memory of Hon. Stephen Coburn and 
 his son, Charles M. Coburn). Dr. Champlin took a very 
 deep interest in the endowment of these preparatory schools, 
 and in 1878, when the subscription had been completed, he 
 prepared a plan for organizing the department of academies, 
 which was adopted by the trustees of Colby University. 
 
 One of his last efforts for the orood of others was in be- 
 half of the church in Portland, of which he was once pastor. 
 In the great fire in that city, in 1866, the First Baptist 
 Church lost its house of worship. More than ninety fami- 
 lies connected with the church were made homeless by the 
 destructive flames. In rebuilding, a debt was incurred 
 larger than was anticipated. The burden thus assumed was 
 heroically borne, but its weight at length was sev.erely felt. 
 Dr. Champlin, on returning to Portland, had united with the 
 Free Street Church, which was nearer his residence ; but he 
 had lost none of his affection for the old church to which 
 he had ministered at the beginning of his public career, and 
 3 
 
18 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 he desired to see at least a part of this burden of debt re- 
 moved. Accordingly, in 1880, he invited some of the mem- 
 bers of the church to a conference, at which he said he 
 thought ten thousand dollars could be raised if an effort 
 should be made, and offered to give one thousand himself. 
 At the last communion season which he was able to attend 
 at the Free Street Church, he referred to the oppressive debt 
 resting upon the First Church, and urged his associates to 
 help the mother church in this time of need. The Free 
 Street Church generously responded. The brethren and 
 friends at the First Church, as always, responded to this 
 new call heartily and with much self-sacrifice. In other 
 places friends of the church nobly aided, and in a short 
 time nearly ten thousand, seven hundred dollars were ob- 
 tained ; the remaining debt, about nine thousand dollars, 
 was refunded at a lower rate of interest, and the First 
 Church entered upon a new stage in its history, encouraged 
 and strengthened. 
 
 Only one shadow rested upon Dr. Champlin during these 
 closing years of his life. November 24, 1875, his only 
 daughter, Mrs. Caroline C. Burrage, dearly beloved, was sud- 
 denly and unexpectedly taken from the home circle. Sub- 
 missively he bowed his head ; and though his words were 
 few, yet all could see that for him the rest of the way in life 
 was through the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 He was last in Waterville at the commencement in 1879. 
 The privilege of meeting with his old associates and pupils 
 he greatly enjoyed. They received him with enthusiasm, 
 and he rejoiced with them in the evidences of the growing 
 influence and prosperity of the college. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 19 
 
 In May, 1880, he attended the national Baptist anniversa- 
 ries at Saratoga, but the extreme heat of anniversary week 
 affected him, and he hastened back to Portland. " I am 
 confident that this is paralysis," he said, as feebly he came 
 up the steps of his home in the early morning of his arrival. 
 He remained in his study during the day, and at night, on 
 retiring, he ascended the staircase unaided. When he 
 awoke the next morning his right side was paralyzed. 
 
 At the commencement at Colby University in July fol- 
 lowing, at the annual meeting of the alumni, the class of 
 1855 presented the following preamble and resolution, which 
 were adopted by a rising vote : — 
 
 Whereas^ We learn that, in the Providence of God, Rev. Dr. Champlin, 
 for many years a professor in Waterville College, and l%ter the esteemed 
 and venerated president-of the university, has been suddenly stricken by 
 disease, and is now lying in a comparatively helpless condition of bodily 
 infirmity. 
 
 Resolved^ That we hereby express our heartfelt sorrow in view of this 
 affliction laid upon one whom we regard with feelings of profound respect 
 and sincere affection. As those who have been immeasurably indebted to 
 him for instruction and counsel in former years, and who have learned 
 something of the geniality of his nature by the intercourse of friendship 
 and of social life, we desire to tender to him our earnest sympathy, accom- 
 panied by a fervent prayer that God would bless the means employed for 
 his restoration, and so extend his useful life that he may continue to be a 
 benefactor to this institution which he has so tenderly cherished, and for 
 which he has so zealously labored. 
 
 Dr. Champlin slowly improved during the summer months, 
 and several times he rode out a short distance; but the effort 
 was too great, and he did not leave the house again during 
 his illness. His mind remained unclouded until about a 
 month before his death. He often expressed a fear that in 
 
20 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 the progress of his disease reason would at length fail him, 
 and that he would then become a burden to his family. 
 While he was thus laid aside, Dr. Shailer, pastor of the First 
 Church, with whom he had long been associated in different 
 relations, suddenly died; and when the tidings were borne to 
 his sick chamber, he said he counted Dr. Shailer happy in 
 that so suddenly and so peacefully he had been transferred 
 to the better land. Yet no murmur escaped his lips during 
 those long and weary months. Quietly, trustfully, he 
 awaited the end. Talking to himself on his bed one day, 
 he was asked what he was talking about. He replied, " Po- 
 litical science ; the importance of Christianity to the world ; 
 and Tacitus — how I should like to teach it again! My 
 Tacitus is the best book I have written, I think." During 
 the last month of his life, after his mind became clouded, it 
 was noticeable that it remained clear in reference to matters 
 pertaining to the college, and most pathetic was his appeal 
 one day, when in his delirium, imagining himself away from 
 home, he asked to be taken back to Waterville, where he 
 had labored so long and so well. He did not wish to sur- 
 vive the loss of reason, and in this his desire was mercifully 
 granted. On Tuesday night, March 14, 1882, he did not 
 rest as well as usual. He said he was tired, and as the night 
 wore away he asked if it was almost morning. About five 
 o'clock Wednesday, March 15, the nurse noticed that his 
 breathing was short and quick. His wife was at once sum- 
 moned, but when she reached the bedside she found that he 
 had ceased to breathe ; so suddenly and so easily, after long 
 months of suffering and weariness, he had entered into the 
 rest that remaineth to the people of God. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 21 
 
 Beside Mrs. Champlin, three children survived him : — 
 James P. Champlin, Augustus Champlin, and Frank A. 
 Champlin, all of Portland. 
 
 The funeral services occurred at the Free Street Church, 
 on Saturday afternoon, March i8. It was Dr. Champlin's 
 wish that his successor in the presidency at Waterville, Rev. 
 Henry E. Robins, d.d., should be present, and participate in 
 the services, but his health did not permit, and reluctantly he 
 was compelled to remain at home. " I have a deep appreci- 
 ation of Dr. Champlin's services to the college," he wrote. 
 " He rendered possible whatever success I have been able to 
 achieve." Nearly all of the alumni and the trustees of the 
 university residing in Portland and vicinity were present. 
 Hon. Percival Bonney, Prof. Edward W. Hall o^ Colby Uni- 
 versity, Hanson M. Hart, Esq., and Hon. Neal Dow, were 
 the pall bearers. The casket, in front of the pulpit, was sur- 
 rounded with beautiful floral emblems, including a broken 
 column, cross^nd crown, sickle and sheaf. A vase of flow- 
 ers on a stand at the foot of the casket was from the resi- 
 dent alumni of the university. 
 
 At the opening of the service the choir sang " Rest in the 
 Lord." Rev. T. D. Anderson, jr., pastor of the First Bap- 
 tist Church, read selections from the Scriptures. Addresses 
 were then made by Rev. James McWhinnie, Professor 
 Moses Lyford of Colby University, and General J. L. Cham- 
 berlain, President of Bowdoin College. 
 
 REV. J. McWHINNIE'S ADDRESS. 
 
 As his pastor, it falls to me first, in this last service, to speak of our 
 brother, James Tift Champlin, who for the past eight years has been a 
 faithful member of the Free Street Baptist Church. 
 
22 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Born in the same state, I had often heard of him as a son of Connecti- 
 cut, honoring his native commonwealth as the able and successful presi- 
 dent of Waterville College. I had met the graduates of the college in the 
 seminary and elsewhere, and from them had become interested in his char- 
 acter before I had seen him, and when it was not in all my dreams that I 
 should ever become his pastor. When I came to Portland at the call of 
 the church, it was with considerable apprehension I learned that Dr. 
 Champlin was a member of it, and that if I accepted the call I must 
 assume the position of his religious shepherd and teacher. But, to my 
 relief, the Doctor was one of the first to greet me and to offer me his help 
 and sympathy. Most kindly, generously, he fulfilled the pledge he freely 
 offered. The seven years of this relation, in many respects intimate and 
 confidential, have seen not a single word or deed on his part to mar their 
 harmony. He has sometimes advised or corrected me, but not so often as 
 I wished ; for when he came to me it was always so kindly as to charm me, 
 almost so deferentially as to make me wonder. He was a generous hearer, 
 overlooking mistakes, not lavish in words of praise, but always listening 
 for and rejoicing in the truths of the Gospel. 
 
 On coming to Portland in 1874, Dr. Champlin was returning to the 
 scene of his first labors and successes in the state. In 1838, while still a 
 young man, he became pastor of the First Baptist Church, which position 
 he retained for more than three years. For himself and the church these 
 were happy years. He was permitted the joy of welcoming to the church 
 nearly one hundred members, most of them upon profession of their faith 
 in Christ. Many of these remain until this day. Many others preceded 
 him to the church triumphant. With these he now knows the meaning of 
 Paul's jubilant words, " What is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing ? 
 Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming.-"' 
 In consequence of an affection of the throat, aggravated by preaching, 
 he was compelled to resign the pastorate August 23, 1841, when he re- 
 moved to Waterville. He left the church a strong and united body, with 
 nearly three hundred members, well fitted for the influential position it 
 has since maintained. 
 
 Returning to the scene of these early labors with a national reputation 
 as a wise and successful college president, honored by scholars throughout 
 the land, many of whom were his pupils, esteemed by his brethren in the 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 23 
 
 ministry and in all the churches, he yet found no difficulty in settling down 
 into the quiet and comparative obscurity of his Portland life. I venture 
 to say nothing has more won the respect of those who knew him in these 
 high places of usefulness than the graceful and childlike humility of his 
 later years- Not a vestige of bitterness marked his speech or conduct. 
 The successful pastor, the college president, the denominational leader 
 and counselor, became at once the faithful, helpful layman, always in his 
 place in church, regular in the prayer-meeting as his health permitted, 
 often leading our devotions, and testifying in the simplest manner to the 
 truth and power of the Gospel. After his health forbade his attendance at 
 the meetings of the church, his interest in them remained unabated ; and 
 when any new case of inquiry or conversion was reported, it was to him 
 always a cause of thanksgiving. 
 
 Two years ago next month Dr. Champlin felt impressed that he must 
 carry out a purpose which he had long cherished. The First Baptist 
 Church, his former flock, was heavily burdened with debt, ^n inheritance 
 of the great fire, which had not only destroyed their house of worship, but 
 impoverished many of their members. This debt, in spite of every exer- 
 tion and sacrifice, had become well-nigh fatal to the prosperity of the 
 church. Our brother resolved to help them and to summon others to their 
 aid. He took into his counsels a generous brother of this church, and 
 together they pledged two thousand dollars. With this amount he came 
 before his brethren at the next communion, and urged the need of the 
 mother church, and the duty of aiding them in one more strong effort to 
 raise ten thousand dollars of their debt. The effort was successful, and the 
 church was lifted from its state of discouragement to one of assured con- 
 fidence for the future. 
 
 This was the last of our brother's earthly work. It was his last com- 
 munion with the church. In a few weeks, while at Saratoga attending the 
 national anniversaries of the denomination, he was stricken with incipient 
 paralysis. Returning home, he became more and more, but almost imper- 
 ceptibly, a victim of the disease. During the greater part of the time 
 since his mind has retained its clearness and strength, and his interest in 
 the college, the church and affairs has been undiminished. He has read 
 much of general literature, but his constant companion was his New Tes- 
 tament, which he loved most of all, and of which it was his delight to 
 
24 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 speak. Among his latest works was a volume of " Scriptural Selections for 
 Family Worship," accompanied with explanatory and practical comments. 
 Thus his life-work began and ended with the exposition of the Word of 
 God, the deep, pure well of divine wisdom and truth. 
 
 I need not dwell upon his character and private life ; they were such as 
 became a teacher of learning, a preacher of righteousness, a disciple of 
 Christ. Imperfect he was indeed. No man was more conscious of his 
 imperfections or more sincerely mourned over his faults ; but his life and 
 character present no blot or stain to be covered up or apologized for. If 
 he was just with others he was severe with himself ; and those who knew 
 him best soon discovered the kindness of heart beneath his stern demeanor. 
 It is the testimony of many who at first feared him, that before they parted 
 with him they loved him as a father. And none will cherish his memory 
 more dearly than the graduates of the college who have seen him and 
 known him in these last years of his life. 
 
 It was plain to us all that our friend entered into the valley of the 
 shadow so long ago as November, 1875, when the dear daughter, who 
 had been such a comfort and stay, was translated from his home. It was 
 then he said to me in the deepest anguish, "The joy of our heart is 
 ceased." From that time his step was feebler and his eye more dim. He 
 still retained his habits of study and composition ; but it was daily plainer 
 to his friends that the silver cord was loosed and the pitcher breaking at 
 the fountain. The later stroke of disease was only a lower descent into 
 the valley, where at last he has quietly laid aside his labors and entered 
 into rest. He now sees the King in his beauty, and seeing him as he is, 
 is transformed into the same image from glory to glory. 
 
 When the Lord told his disciples that he must leave them, he said, 
 " None of you asketh me, whither goest thou ? But because I have said 
 these things sorrow hath filled your hearts." To those who remain in sor- 
 row to-day I commend the thought of the happiness of the husband and 
 father now released from earth's care and pain, already entered upon the 
 life of pure and holy service, of far higher attainment in knowledge, of the 
 perfection of spiritual beauty, of blessed reunion with the loved ones gone 
 before. I commend the hope of a joyful resurrection, the consummation 
 of the Christian's faith. Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 25 
 
 PROFESSOR LYFORD's ADDRESS. 
 
 Entering college in 1839, I had completed about one-half of my course 
 when Dr. Champlin came to Waterville as a professor. I knew him as my 
 teacher for two years. What I knew of him is and has been known by all 
 who have been under his instruction. I need not dwell upon it ; it has 
 already been alluded to in the remarks that have been made. Sometimes 
 college students, on their first approach to Dr. Champlin, felt that he was 
 stern, and not easily approached ; but I can bear witness to what has 
 already been said, and to what can be testified to by so many others, that 
 the nearer we got to him the more warmth we found ; and very few stu- 
 dents ever went through the college and graduated who did not leave it 
 without profoundly reverencing him and loving him. 
 
 After an absence of thirteen years, from 1843 to 1856, I became associ- 
 ated with him as a member of the faculty. For one year following he 
 occupied his place as professor, and I stood on the same level with him. 
 For sixteen years after that I looked up to him as the honoi%d head of the 
 institution. The more I saw of him the better I knew him, and the more 
 I loved and respected him. 
 
 Associated together as a half-a-dozen of us were for that length of time, 
 we had opportunities for knowing him better than if we had been associ- 
 ated in larger numbers. We were brought very closely together during 
 those sixteen years, and some who are here may be aware that such rela- 
 tions are not always the most pleasant. There have been cases where it 
 was otherwise. But I am very much gratified to be able to stand here and 
 have nothing to conceal, and nothing whatever to reserve. Every remem- 
 brance of that sixteen years is pleasant. 
 
 Dr. Champlin was a man you could trust. That is saying more than at 
 first might seem. Those of this audience who have lived the longest know 
 best what it means. We never suspected him of anything he did not put 
 forth. He was an honest man, a noble-hearted man, a generous-souled 
 man in every respect, at all times and under all circumstances. ' I know 
 that is saying much, but it is deserved. 
 
 We knew him at Waterville not only as a member of the college faculty, 
 not only as president of the college, but in the social meetings. We knew 
 him everywhere where good could be done by a man occupying his posi- 
 tion. He was not an impulsive man, yet he did not wait for people to urge 
 4 
 
26 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 him forward. His inquiry seemed to be first of all, " What can I do, what 
 ought I to do ? " and when satisfied of that he did it in the best way he 
 could. I do not think he could ever have said, as do some persons, after 
 having performed a duty which devolved upon him, no matter how sud- 
 denly, that he had disgraced himself by not doing it better. He always 
 did the best he could, and left the result to Him to whom he owed the 
 duty. He was a man in all respects, everywhere, and under all circum- 
 stances. He always seemed to think more of soul than of semblance, 
 more of man than manner. I think it may safely be said that the longer 
 we cherish his memory, in whatever capacity we have known him, in what- 
 ever relations we have sustained to him, the greener it will grow. 
 
 PRESIDENT chamberlain's ADDRESS. 
 
 A man has passed away from us whose work abides and will abide. We 
 come here to-day to bid adieu to this venerated form, and to renew our 
 memories of him, of his work, of his life and of his love. We meet to 
 make him even more to us hereafter than before. I come also to stand 
 here with you, and mingle my tributes with yours. To the man who loved 
 his country, his state, and the community in which he lived, and who la- 
 bored for them with his best, I offer the salutations, may I say, of a fel 
 low-citizen. To the scholar, to the strong and strenuous man in the cause 
 of education, to the maker of books, to the instructor of youth, the college 
 which I represent offers a sincere and affectionate tribute. 
 
 I had met our dear friend perhaps but little, considering that in his 
 broad, generous heart he was so willing to consider me so much a friend ; 
 but the occasions on which we had met, and the relations we sustained to 
 each other on those several occasions, revealed us to each other, perhaps, 
 in a manner that drew us together in a peculiar way. I first knew him 
 when he was laboring so zealously to build up his college, our college, the 
 college of the state, the college of the country, and the college of Chris- 
 tianity. I sympathized with him in that, and I remember he thought it 
 worth his while to consult me as to changing the name of that venerable 
 institutior;. I was not a graduate, but as a citizen of the state I hesitated 
 about having the old familiar name of the college changed ; and then I 
 saw, in the reasons he gave me, the wide and profound views he took of the 
 influences and means by which institutions of learning must be built up. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 27 
 
 That was the beginning of our acquaintance, which rapidly grew to friend- 
 ship. I was made a welcome guest in his home more than once, and he 
 has honored my home with his presence. It came to be almost a custom 
 with him to visit our college annually, and I often saw him at the meetings 
 of the Historical Society. Lately we had some conversations together 
 upon the preparation of his work on Constitutional Law, and then I had 
 occasion to see and appreciate the broad and loyal patriotism of the man, 
 and the soundness and clearness of his views as to those great questions 
 which belong to the foundation of our institutions and our government. 
 
 Thus I have seen our dear friend in different relations, and from each 
 successive step of approach to each other I have honored him, and raised 
 him higher and higher in my thoughts, and taken him nearer to my heart. 
 
 I wish I were able to say the things which still might be said with truth, 
 things other than those which have been brought before us this afternoon. 
 But I must, dear friends, be allowed to speak of the remarkable industry 
 and energy of our friend. I have had occasion to know something of the 
 work he was doing for his college, but how he could at t^ same time he 
 was doing so much to found the institution financially, arrange to put forth 
 so many books, evincing thorough scholarship and hard work, I cannot 
 understand. I regard it as an example, one indeed I had almost said 
 which rather discourages than encourages us, for how can we follow, how 
 can we reach to those heights which he seemed so easily to achieve .-' The 
 thought of it almost rebukes me, and makes me feel that I have done lit- 
 tle in comparison. 
 
 The work he did for the college abides in more ways than one. It has 
 been said that the institution is a monument to him. Those who know its 
 history know how true that is. But beyond books, and beyond college 
 walls of brick and stone, and beyond even the words of instruction in the 
 class-room, there is a mighty power which the true educator wields, and it 
 is that of influence. I think in a college, for example, it is more the influ- 
 ence of the man than the books he may have written, or the words of in- 
 struction he may have uttered, which works on the minds and character of 
 his pupils. The strongest feature in education, it seems to me, is influ- 
 ence. Now, our friend's true, strong, generous and noble character I am 
 very sure must have impressed those who met him from time to time, as it 
 impressed me. I owe him a debt of that kind. The influence of his char- 
 
28 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 acler, of the man he was, fell into my spirit, I know, like good seed. 
 When I know how many there must be in the community and all over the 
 world in whom lives to-day the effect of the influence of our friend's char- 
 acter, I say his work abides in a different sense from the monument of 
 brick and stone which he has left behind. He lives, dear friends, in our 
 hearts, and his spirit abides with us. How then can we wholly bid him 
 farewell ? We do not. It is almost, as I said at the beginning, like a 
 greeting, like a salutation we make to that image of him which exists in 
 all of us who knew him, an image which we must respect and love and 
 venerate. 
 
 God help us worthily to follow those influences^ worthily to cherish and 
 nurture those good seeds of sound doctrine, of noble character, of true 
 Christianity, which he has cast abroad. 
 
 I must nor detain you longer ; I know how weak and unworthy of him 
 my poor words seem to you j but I lay here the chaplet of dearest memo- 
 ries and affections. These flowers, emblems of beauty and immortality, 
 are not more sweet than the thoughts and loving memories which are 
 linked with him. 
 
 At the close of the addresses the choir sang " Only Wait," 
 and Rev. Asa Dalton of St. Stephen's Church offered a fer- 
 vent prayer. After the benediction by Rev. James McWhin- 
 nie, the alumni and friends took a farewell look at the de- 
 ceased, and the burial at Evergreen Cemetery followed. 
 
 Two tributes, from men long and intimately associated 
 with Dr. Champlin in educational and religious work in 
 Maine, are added. The first is from a letter written by Rev. 
 S. K. Smith, d.d., the senior professor in Colby University, 
 and dated March i6, 1882: — 
 
 We shall all feel deeply the death of Dr. Champlin. He came to 
 Waterville as professor when I entered Colby as student in 1841. I knew 
 and honored him as my teacher, and was associated with him also as an 
 instructor for twenty-five years, and during all this period I saw in Dr. 
 Champlin one character, and that was a character of unswerving, invinc- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 29 
 
 ible integrity. He was true to his convictions and true to every relation of 
 his life. He no doubt made mistakes, but I believe he was entirely inca- 
 pable of doing a conscious wrong to a fellow-being. During his presi- 
 dency here what particularly struck those who were connected with him 
 was the complete subordination and hiding of his own personal interests 
 beneath the broader interests of the College. During the fifteen years of 
 that arduous and overburdened presidency I never heard a teacher under 
 him lisp the suspicion that one official act of his was prompted by a sel- 
 fish or dishonorable motive. No work was too high for him, no work too 
 low that was lawful and necessary for the accomplishment of the noble 
 ends he sought. Nor was any task too severe or sacrifice too great. I 
 saw him under every variety of trial, perplexity, annoyance, and disaster, 
 and yet I never heard him utter one word of complaint. If he was 
 wronged, if he had grievances, no associate of his was ever asked to share 
 these burdens with him. There was a noble heroism in that character. 
 And now I ask myself, will the Baptists of Maine understand the great- 
 ness of their loss ? To those who knew him as we did here the sense of 
 it will grow as the years roll on, and the hollowness of this world of shams 
 is more and more exposed. 
 
 The following is a letter from Rev. J. Ricker, d.d., dated 
 Augusta, March i6, 1882 : — 
 
 The announcement of Dr. Champlin's death touches me very deeply. 
 Though a few years my senior, I have known him intimately for the last 
 forty years and more. When I went to Portland in 1839 to take edito- 
 rial charge of the Advocate, he was pastor of the First Baptist Church, 
 and as such welcomed me to membership in that body, and signed my 
 license to preach the Gospel. In my first pulpit endeavors his sympathy 
 and counsels were invaluable to me. My memory of them, now that he 
 has passed beyond the veil, is of a very vivid and tender character. He 
 probably never realized to the full extent how much he helped me in those 
 years of self-distrust and misgiving. It is a great debt that I owe him. 
 
 I could not but be well acquainted with his subsequent career at Water- 
 ville, both as professor and president. It is a memorable service that he 
 rendered to that college. It is reasonably certain that no other man would 
 have rendered a like service, and equally certain, I think, that scarcely 
 
30 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 another man, under the same circumstances, could have rendered it. He 
 did just the right work in just the right way and at just the right time. 
 On its earthward side it was a thankless task. From the higher standpoint 
 of the moral and the spiritual it was a work to inspire and nerve the whole 
 being to action. To an unreflecting observer it seemed plodding; but to a 
 soul gifted with even a faint pre-vision of the fruitage sure to follow, it was 
 instinct with life and beauty and lofty inspiration. Dr. Champlin needs no 
 monument at the hands of others. He has reared his own, and it is a 
 monument that speaks with rare and touching eloquence to those of us 
 who survive him. In enduring brick and stone it dots the campus of 
 Colby University ; but though that brick and stone may mutely tell to 
 coming ages something of what he did, they can never tell it all. Indeed, 
 they can give but a faint hint of his lifework. Who shall say that, but for 
 his quiet, persistent, heroic endeavors to place Waterville College upon a 
 secure financial basis, Gardner Colby would ever have seen the grand pos- 
 sibilities involved, and have dowered her with a name coupled with the 
 magnificent gift of two hundred thousand dollars t If what a man moves 
 others to do, no less than what he does himself, belongs to the fruitage of 
 his life, then to President Champlin, I think, more than to any other 
 human agent, belongs the credit of securing to Colby University the 
 hundreds of thousands that now enrich its treasury and augment its 
 usefulness. But it is not alone, or perhaps chiefly, to the buildings and 
 endowment that we should have regard in estimating the aggregate results 
 of such a life. The profound thinking, the critical sholarship, the patient 
 study, the wise teaching, the wholesome counsels, the scrupulous fidelity in 
 all little things, are to be taken into the account as well. Indeed, these 
 last constitute the "upper half" of the character of this distinguished 
 man. True, he could make no special boast of brilliancy; but that is only 
 the thing of a day. He neither was, nor affected to be, a genius ; but he 
 was something far better. With an unusually robust intellect, an honest 
 heart and a fixed purpose, he pushed his investigations into every field of 
 inquiry pertaining to the several branches of learning he was called to 
 teach. With unflagging industry he toiled, with pre-eminent fidelity he 
 sought to discharge the great trusts committed to his keeping, and hence 
 was faithful in little and also in much. His life has been a distinguished 
 benediction, whether considered in its relation to the church or state, to 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 31 
 
 learning or to religion. Many and many are the persons who will feel an 
 impulse to drop a tear of love and gratitude upon the grave of James Tift 
 Champlin. 
 
 The following is an extract from a letter written by Rev. 
 G. D. B. Pepper, d.d., who succeeded Dr. Robins in the pres- 
 idency at Waterville. The letter is dated Chester, Pennsyl- 
 vania, March 17, 1882: — 
 
 I have just heard that Dr. Champlin has gone on to his home. I have 
 much reason to remember him with grateful respect. His sound, practical 
 wisdom, coupled with great kindness and patient forbearance, was of incal- 
 culable benefit to me during my ministry at Waterville, and has assumed 
 new value in my estimation year by year as I have looked back to those 
 days. I have learned that such characters as his are rare. I rejoice that 
 he was spared to a full age for the completion of a noble lifework. 
 
 In a letter, Rev. A. Bunker of Toungoo, Burma, records 
 the following reminiscence : — 
 
 I believe that all students who went to Colby to do solid work found a 
 friend in Dr. Champlin, and, as the years roll round, my admiration for 
 his character increases. Dr. Champlin had a very tender heart under a 
 stern exterior. This I discovered while yet in college. I remember on 
 one occasion going to him to get an extension of time on " term bills." I 
 was very poor, struggling through college, with no help save my own hands, 
 and my "term bills" caught up with my resources and passed them. On 
 presenting my case to the good Doctor in his private room, I was almost 
 annihilated when he exclaimed, in his abrupt manner, " The laws of the 
 college must be obeyed; the laws of the college must be obeyed"; but 
 when I turned rather hopelessly toward the door, the good man stepped up 
 to me, put his hand tenderly on my shoulder, and said, " Young man, don't 
 be discouraged ; help will come if you deserve it." I never heard any- 
 thing more about the three "term bills " in arrears till the close of my 
 course, when I paid them. If the laws of the college were obeyed, the 
 good Doctor stepped in between them and me somehow. Some time after 
 this, while I was walking in front of the buildings, putting the finish on a 
 
32 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 morning lesson, I saw him coming toward me. I began to wonder what I 
 had done to require the attention of the Doctor to me personally. He 
 approached me, and speaking pleasantly, said, " What are you going to 
 be — a minister? Deacon Greenough of Portland has given a scholar- 
 ship, which is assigned to you, and I suppose he would like to know what 
 you are going to do." This was the way he announced that the help 
 would come for the rest of my course. Dr. Champlin stamped himself 
 upon his pupils, and among the many whose instruction I have had the 
 honor to enjoy. Dr. Champlin holds a large place. 
 
 On Tuesday, June 27, 1882, Rev. A. K. P. Small, d.d., 
 then pastor of the First Baptist Church, Fall River, Massa- 
 chusetts, delivered in the chapel at Waterville an address 
 before the alumni, commemorative of the services of ex- 
 President Champlin. In this address he said : — 
 
 Coming up to our annual literary festival this year, we look in vain for 
 the honored form of one who moved regularly through these walks during 
 more than thirty years, becoming so identified with what is most substan- 
 tial here as to seem an e_ssential part of this classic retreat. We look in 
 vain for him ? That is hardly true. How much of himself, of his best 
 life, of his far-reaching wisdom — more than could be seen in a single hu- 
 man form — is here before you ! These halls, consecrated to devotion, to 
 sacred memories and to erudition, this grateful shade, these scholastic 
 environments, all, all bear, and will continue to bear, what permanent 
 impress of himself ! 
 
 The pen of a competent and appreciative writer has already secured for 
 history suitable record of his deeds. The president of another college 
 has beautifully uttered the enviable tribute of contemporary educators. 
 Pastor, associates, friends, have spoken of what he was, as pillar in the 
 church, citizen, husband, father, friend. The sacred requiem has been 
 chanted over the silent form from which, nearly four months ago, the 
 immortal spirit fled. His name, his honor, are secure beyond the neces- 
 sity of any words that can now be uttered. Yet you, sons and daughters 
 of this institution, could not allow such violence to your own sense of grat- 
 itude and obligation as to pass through these anniversary days without 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 33 
 
 claiming a few moments, not for empty pageantry or formal eulogy, or the 
 repetition of funeral rites, but for the privilege of offering a simple, unob- 
 trusive garland at this favorite shrine of his professional and executive 
 honors. 
 
 No better utterance in your behalf can now be attempted than im- 
 perfect translation into words of the prominent lesson which his life so 
 permanently fastened upon this very place, viz. : that the noblest monu- 
 ment for one's self is what he builds for those who follow him ; putting 
 himself into what is better than even the nearest perfect effigy of bronze 
 or marble — into the educated lives of those who shall better perpetuate 
 his memory. 
 
 What evidences are here that President Champlin spent himself in build- 
 ing for others, yet spent himself in exactly the best way to perpetuate him- 
 self — bequeathing appointments of a literary home, in the perpetual influ- 
 ence of which he shall live in the successive generations of uplifted, cul- 
 tured lives. We refer not to these granite edifices alone, but to his accom- 
 panying and more special intellectual work. Those who have never written 
 nor edited a single volume that becomes a permanent educating power 
 have no conception of the amount and varied elements of best life that 
 must be given to it. But with the wearing responsibilities of the govern- 
 ment of a college, and the peculiar financial burdens of the chairman of 
 the prudential committee, through a career of most important building 
 enterprise, all the while constantly filling the chair of instruction in the 
 department of intellectual and moral philosophy, and at the same time so 
 regularly and accurately carrying through the press standard classical and 
 metaphysical works, like Greek grammars ; editions of ^schines, Demos- 
 thenes, Butler; original text-books upon intellectual philosophy, ethics and 
 political economy — such achievements of laborious scholarship President 
 Chamberlain was pleased to call a mystery. To those who know how much 
 of almost superhuman physical and mental life that requires, it is the mys- 
 tery next to miracle. 
 
 And now, garnered among the treasures most secure, for the archives of 
 the university and its tributary academies, for the honor of this town, for 
 5 
 
34 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIJV. 
 
 the church, and the interests of sound learning, is the untarnished charac- 
 ter and the continual influence of President James Tift Champlin. 
 
 Like words of glowing eulogy were spoken in private as 
 well as in public. They came as a conviction begotten in 
 college days, and strengthened amid the struggles of later 
 life in which Dr. Champlin's teachings and conduct proved 
 suggestive and helpful They may all be summed up in the 
 glad welcome of the Master, "Well done, thou good and 
 faithful servant ! " 
 
INAUGURAL ADDRESS 
 
 V 
 AS PRESIDENT OF WATERVILLE COLLEGE 
 
 Deliveked Tuesday Afternoon, August 10, 1858 
 
INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 
 
 Gentlemen of the Trustees and Friends of the Instittition : — 
 
 It has seemed to me proper, on assuming the duties of 
 the presidency of the college, that I should address to the 
 assembled guardians and patrons of the institution a few 
 remarks, indicating my views of the office and the character 
 of the public education which it may be expected will be 
 here imparted. I need not say that, knowing ^11 well, as I 
 do, the history and condition of the college, I do not regard 
 the office as a sinecure. Following a succession of able and 
 learned men, and entering upon my duties at an important 
 crisis in the history of the institution, I see nothing but 
 labor and responsibility before me — and in these, indeed, I 
 find my chief incitement. Whatever may be the illusions 
 of youth in this matter, one at length learns that labor is 
 less irksome than leisure, and responsibility more inspiring 
 than a state of easy, quiet security. A fair field for the 
 exertion of one's powers, the opportunity of doing some- 
 thing for the higher interests of society, the hope of giving 
 greater efficiency to an important instrumentality, the con- 
 sciousness that a large circle of interested spectators are 
 watching the workings of a new arrangement, are among 
 the most powerful and wholesome incitements which can be 
 addressed to the human mind. 
 
 37 
 
38 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Such motives seem to me to exist in all their power in 
 the present case. I admit the responsibility of the position. 
 I welcome the labor, and hope to be able to approve myself 
 to the friends of the institution as a faithful servant, whether 
 successful or not. Indeed, I see much to encourage in the 
 case. With a highly eligible situation, with a respectable 
 number of interesting and interested students, with an in- 
 creasing band of alumni to advocate our interests wherever 
 they go, and a large constituency of friends, who, I trust, 
 will show themselves ready, when the call is made — as it 
 must be soon — to supply the only great need of the insti- 
 tution, " material aid," I cannot but feel that there is no 
 ground for discouragement. Certain it is that, if Waterville 
 College, in its present state of maturity, and with its ac- 
 knowledged advantages of situation, etc., does not for the 
 future make reasonable progress, it will be either for the 
 want of proper management here, or for the want of proper 
 co-operation and support among its friends. Let us hope 
 that neither will be wanting, that the designs of Providence 
 in planting the institution may not be frustrated. And that 
 you may see what ground there is to hope that the failure 
 will not be here, I propose briefly to sketch the character of 
 the education which we shall aim to impart to those com- 
 mitted to our care. 
 
 College education has received various designations, as 
 the higher education, a scholastic education, an education in 
 the arts and sciences, etc.; but none of its designations 
 seem to me so appropriate as that of liberal education. This, 
 to my mind, best expresses the character of the education 
 which ought to be imparted in a college. It is one of those 
 
yAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 39 
 
 fortunate designations, which, hitting upon the true nature 
 of the thing intended, is equally applicable to it at all times, 
 and under all degrees of development. Originally it was 
 simply the education of a freeman, as opposed to that of 
 the servile classes — the education of a gentleman, in short. 
 In this sense it marks that state of society when education, 
 and all other advantages of any account, belonged to a priv- 
 ileged class, who sharply distinguished themselves from the 
 lower classes as freemen, gentlemen, nobles, etc. These 
 had all the property, all the authority, all the social advan- 
 tages, and consequently all the education which deserved 
 the name. They alone possessed the means for any gener- 
 ous culture. If others had any education, it was such as 
 they picked up under great disadvantages, and kence neces- 
 sarily confined to the commonest things — to a few pro 
 cesses immediately useful, without any reference to its influ- 
 ence upon the mind itself. 
 
 A liberal education, then, was from the beginning, accord- 
 ing to the standard of the times, an enlarged education, an 
 education aiming to develop the mental powers, to liberalize 
 and enfranchise the soul. A liberal education has always 
 been the noblest education which was to be had — a real 
 drawing out and unfolding of the nature, rather than the 
 mechanical inculcation of a few rote-and-rule processes — 
 an education valuable for its effects upon the mind and 
 character rather than for the various dexterities and qualifi- 
 cations for business imparted by it. Always possessing this 
 character, a truly liberal education, under the enlightenment 
 of the present age, takes an enlarged view of human nature 
 its capacities and destinies. It recognizes, indeed, as every- 
 
40 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 thing right must recognize, the real interest of man as its 
 end ; but it cannot beheve that interest to be wholly tem- 
 poral and material, much less that it consists wholly in 
 immediate mercenary advantages. It values at something 
 real culture ; it values education for itself, for its effects 
 upon the soul as well as upon the purse ; it aims primarily 
 to liberalize and enfranchise the soul, that it may have a 
 more just conception of its true interests, and greater abil- 
 ity to secure them. 
 
 With this explanation of what a college education should 
 be, we are prepared to consider how far our course comes up 
 to the ideal, and especially on what grounds it may claim for 
 itself the title of liberal. And I remark in the first place, 
 that the course of study pursued and to be pursued here 
 deserves to be considered liberal, on account of its tendency 
 to free the soul from the dominion of sense. From its 
 dominion, I say — from its undue influence, not, of course, 
 from all influence of sense. This would require more than 
 monastic severity of discipline. I refer to no such austere 
 mortification of sense as this; nor, on the other hand, to that 
 lofty triumph over sense which is gained in the impassioned 
 and spiritual contemplations of pure religion. Yet it is 
 something of the same sort, as far as it goes, though ob- 
 tained through a very different medium, and unsanctified by 
 the same holy object of contemplation. 
 
 From our earliest years we find ourselves surrounded by 
 material objects, which address themselves to our senses, and 
 solicit and receive a large part of our attention. Our sen- 
 sations are wholly determined from without, independently 
 of our own efforts, and there is great danger of our giving 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 41 
 
 ourselves up entirely to their influence, and thus becoming 
 the sport of external impulses. This is the case with the 
 lower animals, and there is much in the lowest forms of 
 human life which approaches it. To follow sense requires 
 no exertion, as it is only obeying the present impulse. It is 
 only to eat when hungry, to sleep when exhausted, to avoid 
 what gives pain, to seek what gives pleasure, and thus obey 
 the strongest impulse for the time being, without any fore- 
 thought or will of one's own. Such is life with the savage, 
 and it becomes different with man only as he is emancipated 
 from sense by education. As each individual is drawn out 
 and developed by education, he becomes more and more 
 separated from the common, passive instrumentalities of na- 
 ture. All study tends in some degree to this einancipation. 
 As an independent and determined concentration of the 
 mind upon some particular subject, any special study is a 
 rebellion against the dictation of sense. 
 
 But while this is true of all studies, there are certain stud- 
 ies which are specially adapted to carrying out this emanci- 
 pation from sense in its higher relations, as the mathematics 
 and metaphysics. Upon these, therefore, we chiefly rely for 
 effecting this species of soul-emancipation. These have 
 always been prominent studies in this college, and I trust 
 ever will be. The idle clamor which has often been raised 
 against them as " scholastic," " unpractical," etc., has been 
 raised, in turn, by shallow pretenders, against all sound 
 studies; and if heeded would banish from our colleges all 
 but the most showy and flashy arts, and leave them but 
 little above the level of fashionable boarding-schools for 
 misses. Should a college course be reduced to the mere 
 6 
 
42 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 acquisition of arts and accomplishments ? Should not a 
 college, rather, teach science, as the foundation of all the 
 arts ? Mathematics, metaphysics, etc., we are told, are un- 
 practical ; that is, they do not impart dexterities which can 
 be turned to immediate account. But do they not lay the 
 foundation for the useful arts .? Ask the land surveyor, the 
 navigator, the mechanician, the reasoner, the thinker, where 
 he got his art, and he will point you to the one or the other 
 of these sciences as its chief source. But aside from any 
 particular arts which may be founded upon these sciences, 
 they tend more than any other studies to emancipate the 
 soul from sense, and thus give it that independence and free- 
 dom of movement which are essential to all fruitful thought, 
 and hence to all useful art. 
 
 Mathematics is the science of quantity. It has to do 
 with the how much, whether in space, time, number or de- 
 gree — all abstract conceptions, or mere forms of thought. 
 Pure mathematics is an absolute science, the mere devel- 
 opment of the contents of certain conceptions. While we 
 conceive of space as admitting of all possible relative posi- 
 tions and forms, we conceive of this, as well as of time and 
 degree, as susceptible of infinite divisions and subdivisions, 
 and this, too, irrespective of any material things or actual 
 created objects, occupying space, existing in time, or exhib- 
 iting degrees of force, density, or any other quality. And 
 so also number, or discrete quantity, as it is called, does not 
 necessarily suppose the existence of particular things, but 
 may represent merely a succession of like portions of pure 
 space and time, or degrees of force, etc. 
 
 Here, then, is a science, not only cut quite clear of sense, 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN., 43 
 
 but which actually dominates over sense, by imposing its 
 laws upon all sensible objects, as was seen by Pythagoras of 
 old, who taught that number, or quantitative proportion, was 
 the generating principle of all things, since it determined 
 their form. And what must be the effect of such a science 
 in emancipating the soul from sense ? It carries the 
 thoughts quite over this material crust of things and sets 
 them afloat under the most unrestrained conditions. While 
 engaged in it, during the crisis of absorption in its most 
 abstract processes, the mind not only triumphs over, but is 
 absolutely divorced from, sense. 
 
 And even in its applications the science still hovers above 
 the particular sensible objects to which it is applied, and 
 determines them, rather than is determined bji them. At 
 most, it applies to things only ideally ; it waits on observa- 
 tion, but only to perform what sense cannot do, to deter- 
 mine by its calculations and formulas the exact positions, 
 times, and degrees of things. Hence, even here, it disci- 
 plines the mind to superiority to sense ; and by the vast dis- 
 tances in space, the remote periods in time, and the exact 
 ideal determinations to which it carries the thoughts, tends 
 to make them denizens of the universe, and break the power 
 of local, material objects over them. Accordingly mathe- 
 matical studies not only vindicate to themselves the right 
 to a place in a course of liberal study, but to a high and 
 commanding place, as one of the most effective means of 
 freeing the mind from the dominion of sense. Aside from 
 their great and acknowledged usefulness, in their deter- 
 minations of the distances, times, forms, masses, forces, and 
 numbers of objects — results so important that we could 
 
44 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 scarcely live without them — they must ever remain one of 
 the great gymnastics by which the mind is trained to that 
 superiority to sense so essential to all free, independent and 
 effective action. 
 
 Much the same may be said of the study of metaphysics, 
 as a means of disenthralling the soul from sense. Meta- 
 physics proposes to itself nothing less than to penetrate to 
 the very essence of being, to go wholly below phenomena 
 and all sensible qualities, and behold, as it were, face to face, 
 the very nature of matter, of the soul, and even of God him- 
 self. This has been its high aspiration in all ages, and prob- 
 ably always will be, with however little prospect of ever being 
 able to realize it. The human mind is ever pressing upon 
 the infinite. The reason is ever struggling toward unity. It 
 always expects to be able to resolve co-ordinate causes into 
 higher and still higher unities, until it reaches an absolute 
 unity, a sole first cause. This, with Pythagoras, as already 
 observed, was number or proportion ; with the Eleatic phi- 
 losophers it was the one general underlying substance of all 
 phenomenal existence ; with Plato it was the world of ideas, 
 existing potentially in the human mind and actually in the 
 mind of God, constituting the true, revealed in the beauti- 
 ful, and working together in the grand procession of things 
 for the just and the good; while with the Christian philos- 
 opher it is an uncaused, personal creator, independent of 
 nature, and yet " God all and in all." It is in grasping at 
 these grand conceptions that the mind is carried farthest 
 away from sense to its highest point of ideality. Of all sys- 
 tems of mere philosophy no one has done so much in rais- 
 ing its disciples above sense as Platonism, and this for the 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 45 
 
 reason that it exalts the mind to higher and more spiritual 
 conceptions. Indeed, it knows no other world than the 
 ideal, carrying the mind through a grand gradation of ideals 
 from beginning to end. It is confessedly the noblest instru- 
 ment of culture ever wrought out by the unassisted reason 
 of man, and it is so chiefly on account of its lofty idealism. 
 
 But aside from these lofty problems of metaphysics proper, 
 which are ever destined, perhaps, to be the object of the 
 aspiration and faith of man, rather than of his positive 
 knowledge, much of the same effect is produced by the 
 study of mere psychology. Psychology, to be sure, is an 
 inductive science, but the observation from which the induc- 
 tions are made is of a spiritual subject, wholly inappreciable 
 by sense. The observation being wholly internal, can be 
 conducted only by the utmost abstraction from sensible ob- 
 jects. Thus the subject of observation is spiritual, and the 
 act of observation spiritual. The whole study is of the 
 most subtle character — subtle in its nature, in its processes, 
 and in its results. Every step in it is taken only by with- 
 drawing from sense, and is therefore a direct triumph over 
 sense. And thus it is that metaphysical philosophy, in all 
 its forms, conspires with the mathematical sciences, as spe- 
 cial instrumentalities, in effecting that disenthrallment of 
 the soul from sense, so essential to all free and fruitful 
 action. 
 
 Secondly, we claim for the course of study, as pursued in 
 this college, the title of liberal, on account of its tendency 
 to free the soul from the dominion of the imagination. I 
 do not here, of course, refer to the cultivated and trained 
 imagination, which has learned its proper sphere, and be- 
 
46 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 
 
 come the obedient servant of the reason in carrying out its 
 high behests — as such it needs no restraining — but to the 
 imagination in its rude, untutored state, when it is more un- 
 der the control of sense and feeling than of reason. In this 
 state, aroused by external sensations or internal feelings, it 
 fills the chambers of the soul with an array of fantastic fig- 
 ments, which too often pass for realities. In obedience to 
 that general tendency of the human mind to search for 
 causes, or, perhaps I should say, as a result of that inherent 
 conviction, that every change is effected by some operat- 
 ing power, the untrained imagination fancies a personal 
 cause in each case. It is thus that rude nations people 
 every element with supernatural beings, to account for the 
 various changes which transpire around them. We see this 
 tendency exhibited conspicuously in the early history of the 
 Greeks. As remarked by a recent writer : — 
 
 The legends of that lively race may mostly be traced to that sort of awe 
 or wonder with which simple and uneducated minds regard the changes 
 and movements of the natural world. The direct and easy way in which 
 the imagination of such persons accounts for marvelous phenomena is to 
 refer them to the operation of persons. When the attention is excited by 
 the regular movements of sun and moon and stars, by the alternations of 
 day and night, by the recurrence of the seasons, by the rising and falling 
 of the seas, by the ceaseless flow of rivers, by the gathering of clouds, 
 the rolling of thunder, and the flashing of lightning, by the operation of 
 life in the vegetable and animal world, in short, by any exhibition of an 
 active and motive power, it is natural for uninstructed minds to consider 
 such changes and movements as the work of divine persons. 
 
 Nor are such excess and crudeness of imagination confined 
 wholly to primitive times and rude states of society. They 
 undoubtedly indicate a want of right and sound culture, but 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 47 
 
 not necessarily of all culture. Considerable knowledge of 
 certain sorts may co-exist with a wild capriciousness of im- 
 agination. It is only by long and sound training that we 
 learn to discriminate clearly between imagined figments and 
 valid knowledge. These figments are found among the 
 contents of the mind, and are easily mistaken for veritable 
 knowledge. There is more or less admixture of fancy with 
 fact in all untrained minds, and persons of a strong imagi- 
 nation, perhaps, never learn wholly to separate them. We 
 see how much care is requisite in order to discriminate the 
 two from each other in the article of telling the truth. A 
 little carelessness here, as every one must have observed, so 
 confuses the two elements in the mind that one is scarcely 
 able to discriminate the true from the fictitious.% Persons of 
 unveracious habits soon reach a state in which they can 
 relate as fact the wildest tissue of fiction, and with a confi- 
 dence and naivete utterly astounding to a truth-discriminat- 
 ing hearer. Indeed, the imagination is always, as Bishop 
 Butler calls it, a " forward, delusive faculty, ever obtruding 
 itself beyond its sphere." It is ever conjuring up images 
 which it would impose upon us as realities. Like all our 
 faculties, it is indispensable in its place, but a source of infi- 
 nite embarrassment and confusion when out of its place. 
 
 Now, while all accurate and careful study tends to chasten 
 the imagination, and confine it to its appropriate sphere, the 
 study of the physical sciences furnishes the best corrective 
 to the obtrusiveness of this power. Mental science; indeed, 
 analyzes the operations of the faculty, and points out the 
 unreal nature of its figments, but natural science curbs and 
 restrains the faculty itself. It pushes it back from a vast 
 
48 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 domain which it has taken possession of, and reclaims that 
 domain to itself on the most undoubted title. Natural sci- 
 ence, whether as a study of facts or a study of laws, is a 
 most wholesome corrective to the imagination. Facts are 
 opposed to fancies, and the more the mind is stored with 
 them the less room there is for that imposing array of fan- 
 cies with which the untutored imagination fills the soul. 
 Imagination has been called a "dying sense"; its images, 
 therefore, are the ghosts of departed perceptions, and often 
 usurp their place. These ghosts must be dispossessed of 
 their usurped rights, and the study of the facts of nature is 
 the sorcery by which they are to be exorcised. The study of 
 nature is a trained and careful use of the senses, in order to 
 ascertain the real facts which exist there. It is not trusting 
 to mere sensation, but is the application of intelligence to 
 sensation. In this study nothing is trusted to but veritable 
 perceptions, which are equally removed from sensations and 
 fancies. There is no room for fiction here ; all fancies are 
 thrust aside as impertinent, and the sole question is, what 
 are the exact facts in the case. Such exactitude is the best 
 possible training for the imagination. 
 
 But natural science has its laws as well as its facts. It 
 becomes science, indeed, only as its facts are connected by 
 general conceptions which both simplify and explain them. 
 These laws are certain supposed modes of interaction among 
 substances, which suggest a rational ground for various ob- 
 served phenomena, and connect them together by a common 
 thread. The deducing of these laws from the facts is the 
 philosophy of nature, and, as such, is a portion of that study 
 of the abstract, which is the special corrective of the domi- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 49 
 
 nation of sense. But it is also a corrective of the domina- 
 tion of the imagination. As these deduced laws of nature 
 are general conceptions suggesting a rational ground for the 
 various facts and changes which we witness around us, they 
 remove the necessity for the assumption of the direct action 
 of personal agents in order to account for these phenomena. 
 Natural science thus banishes from nature the polytheistic 
 machinery of the untutored and awe-struck imagination. 
 This anarchy of deities retires before the march of science, 
 being replaced by the unifying conceptions of the under- 
 standing. As saith the poet : — 
 
 The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
 
 The fair humanities of old religion, 
 
 The power, the beauty and the majesty, ^ 
 
 That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, 
 
 Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
 
 Or chasm or wat'ry depths — all these have vanished ; 
 
 They live no longer in the faith of reason. 
 
 But none the less does the real Deity retain his place and 
 influence in nature. These laws of nature are but rational 
 causes, that is, conceptions of certain modes of interaction 
 among substances, framed to satisfy the demands of the rea- 
 son and the purposes of science. In themselves, the as- 
 sumed causes or principles of action are wholly occult, or 
 unknown in their nature. To say, for instance, that all the 
 varying motions of the heavenly bodies are referable to a 
 general law of attraction, is only expressing a general fact, 
 which embraces a multitude of particular ones, and express- 
 ing it in terms calculated to suggest, from the analogies of 
 our experience, a formal cause for the phenomena. It does 
 7 
 
50 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 not at all explicate the nature of attraction, or tell us in what 
 it consists. That attractive power, in itself, may be nothing 
 but the direct agency of God. It is certainly as conceiv- 
 able that it is this, as that it is the actual influence of bodies 
 of inert matter over each other, which are separated by 
 almost illimitable tracts of intervening space. And so of 
 the other laws of nature. They are mere unifying concep- 
 tions; and as such, they are significant indications of the ten- 
 dency of the human mind — not, certainly, to no first cause 
 — but to a single First Cause. The banishment of polythe- 
 ism, therefore, is only a step toward the establishment of a 
 general and all-comprehending Providence of the " one liv- 
 ing and true God." Thus, while natural science lays the 
 spectral deities of the imagination, it evokes from the depths 
 of our consciousness the intimations of a single, every-where- 
 present God. 
 
 Thirdly, we claim for our course of education here the 
 title of liberal, because it has a tendency to set free the 
 tongue. Perhaps it may be thought this is quite an un- 
 called-for result of education. You may be disposed to 
 think that the tongue is quite free enough without any spe- 
 cial training; and possibly your private experience of its 
 power may have often reminded you of the aptness of the 
 Apostle's description of it, as " a fire, a world of iniquity, 
 setting on fire the course of nature, and itself set on fire of 
 hell; an unruly evil, which no man can tame." But it is 
 just because it is this unruly evil in its untutored state that 
 it needs training — not, indeed, to make it less free, but to 
 give it a higher freedom in the expression of the pure dic- 
 tates of taste, of reason, and of conscience; a freedom which 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 51 
 
 shall never be choked by passion, nor paralyzed by shame, 
 on account of the unworthiness of the sentiments which it 
 is uttering. The tongue, to be sure, is, in one sense, free 
 enough without education, but it is coarse, and ribald, and 
 vulgar. It vibrates with electric rapidity under the agita- 
 tions of passion — darts out malice, spits out hate, flashes 
 out envy, and rattles out ribaldry and billingsgate, according 
 to the prevailing passion of the moment. But this is little 
 more than a spasmodic freedom. There can be no rational 
 freedom of the tongue any more than there can be of the 
 soul, without culture. The same tongue which is so glib 
 under the inspiration of passion falters and fails in the 
 expression of all connected and elevated thought. 
 
 The true relation of thought and speech '\^ happily indi- 
 cated in the Latin by the words employed to signify the two 
 processes, ratio and oratio, that is, the reason and the mouth- 
 reason. All true, intelligent and fruitful discourse is but 
 reason externalized, thought flowing out in speech. And 
 yet speech is an art quite distinct from thought. Though 
 we cannot speak intelligently without thoughts to utter, it 
 does not follow that we can utter skillfully, without special 
 training in the art, any thoughts which we may chance to 
 have. We might just as reasonably expect one to show 
 himself at once an expert mechanic, who had learned the 
 principles of the art wholly from books, without any actual 
 practice. Nay, more than this : we might as reasonably 
 place timber and tools before one who knows nothing of 
 house-carpentry either theoretically or practically, and ex- 
 pect him with these means to proceed to construct an ele- 
 gant house. The mind which has thoughts merely has 
 
52 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 barely the materials of speech — neither the rules nor the 
 skill for using them. In order thoroughly to set free the 
 tongue, the mind must be supplied not only with the general 
 material of thought, but with the theoretical principles for 
 its right expression, while there must be added to all actual 
 practice in its expression. Here, then, is a demand for a 
 large and important department of instruction. And how 
 is this demand met in our college course } 
 
 I answer, it is met, and in the most effectual manner as I 
 conceive, by the special studies of rhetoric and the different 
 languages, particularly the ancient classical languages. 
 Rhetoric, with the accompanying exercises in composition, 
 criticism, elocution, declamation and debate, is wholly de- 
 voted to teaching the art of speaking and writing well. 
 This is its sole business and aim. It imparts both the prin- 
 ciples and the practice of the art, as far as this can be done 
 under the limited conditions of college life. It has not the 
 advantage, to be sure, of mature minds, filled with the fruits 
 of experience, and hence apprehending the subject under its 
 most practical relations, to which to impart its instructions ; 
 nor can it call to its aid those great occasions, as they arise 
 in the operations of general society, which give eloquence 
 to the tongue and vigor to the pen. It cannot, therefore, 
 make perfect speakers and writers, since the conditions for 
 this do not exist, and cannot exist, with so immature sub- 
 jects. Experience, wisdom, responsibility, are required to 
 perfect eloquence and style, and these cannot exist in youth, 
 whether in college or out. In this, as in other departments 
 of college study, the aim is to lay the foundation for future 
 development — to impart such instruction as will give one 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 53 
 
 the use and control of his mind, and open to him the vari- 
 ous magazines of thought, whence he is to take his armor 
 for the conflict of Hfe. And this is all that can be done in 
 youth under any course of training. The study of rhetoric 
 and its accompanying exercises brings the mind to the con- 
 templation of style in writing and manner in speaking as 
 distinct arts. It awakens it to a sense of fitness in expres- 
 sion, and teaches it how to attain that fitness. It thus 
 places before the mind the true ideal, and gives it the means 
 and the impulse to aspire to it. With such a foundation 
 laid in college, its principles may readily be carried out in 
 after life, in the study of general literature, and the manly 
 exercises of public speaking and writing. 
 
 And with rhetoric the study of foreign lai%uages con- 
 spires to produce the same result. A foreign language can 
 be acquired only by studying it in its principles and ele- 
 ments. It compels attention to these, and hence is a much 
 more effective means of training in the general principles of 
 language, than the study of authors in our mother tongue. 
 And this is especially the case with the ancient classical lan- 
 guages. Besides that we find in them a fuller and happier 
 development of general linguistic principles than in any of 
 the modern languages, they are far more potent in compell- 
 ing attention from their completely antique cast and style of 
 thought. Nay, more; so different is the whole manner of 
 conception and arrangement of words in these languages, 
 compared with our own, that a sentence to be done from the 
 Latin or Greek into English must be conceived and con- 
 structed entirely anew. Hence every exercise in translation 
 is a direct exercise in mental composition, as well as verbal 
 
64 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 
 
 expression. They are thus the best possible guides to the 
 young, in composition and expression — placing before the 
 mind (as is requisite for beginners) the materials, and requir- 
 ing that they should be reconstructed into good English 
 sentences, expressed in good English words. 
 
 Besides, the Latin and Greek form the basis of nearly all 
 the cultivated modern languages, and constitute the models 
 on which a large part of their most valuable literature has 
 been constructed. The Greek and Latin authors were all- 
 in-all at the revival of letters in the Middle Ages, and for 
 centuries furnished the inspiration of nearly every author 
 who wrote in any tongue. Nay, even at the present day 
 they contain many of the finest specimens of literature — ■ 
 in poetry, eloquence, philosophy and history — to be found 
 in any language. Thus a large part of the highest spirit of 
 literature is either directly treasured in these venerable lan- 
 guages, or intimately associated with them. All modern 
 history and literature have been so filtered through them as 
 to receive more or less of the classic aroma in the passage, 
 like the smoke of the Turk's pipe which is drawn through 
 a compartment filled with sweet-scented waters. 
 
 It is thus that the study of rhetoric, and of our own and 
 foreign languages, furnishes one with the words, the rules 
 and the art of expression, till the tongue, which once stam- 
 mered, and faltered, and blundered in expressing the sim- 
 plest ideas, has become so endued with eloquence that 
 nothing seems too hard for it to express — that no subject is 
 too profound or lofty, too abstract or intricate, to be clothed 
 by it with the drapery of an appropriate and splendid 
 diction. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 55 
 
 Finally, we claim for our course of study the title of lib- 
 eral, because the grand tendency of the whole is to free the 
 soul from the dominion of passion. Passion, as embracing 
 the various mental perturbations, whether occasioned by 
 local physical causes in the organism, or by the perceptions 
 of the mind, stands opposed to reason. Feeling is not prop- 
 erly a cognition, or if it be, it is the lowest form of cogni- 
 tion. It is blind compared with intelligence. It is in part, 
 to be sure, consequent upon intellectual perceptions, and va- 
 ries in dignity with the character of those perceptions ; but 
 even here it is only the servitor of intelligence. Feelings 
 are right only when consequent upon a truly rational view of 
 things. When not thus consequent, when not warranted by 
 reason, when in any way excessive, as they alwa}^ are when 
 they assume the form of passions, they are opposed to rea- 
 son. The development of reason, therefore, must tend to 
 the suppression of passion, or excessive and unworthy feel- 
 ing. It tends to give intelligence the mastery among the 
 various mental impulses. Reason developed takes a clear 
 and comprehensive view of things. The mind is no longer 
 under the blind s^uidance of the false and distorted feelines 
 consequent upon the crude perceptions of sense and imag- 
 ination. Reason is clear, and calm, and comprehensive, and 
 bids away all such chimeras from the mind. An educa- 
 tion, therefore, which tends to free the soul from the domin- 
 ion of sense and of the imagination, as we have endeavored 
 to show to be the case with the education here given, must 
 tend, also, to free the soul from the dominion of passion. 
 
 This must be allowed to be, at least, the theoretical ten 
 dency of all sound education. And we believe it does, in 
 
56 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 most cases, actually have something of this effect. We 
 believe soundly educated men are less under the dominion 
 of passion than the uneducated. But while we cannot but 
 admit this fact, and claim for our course of education here 
 all the influence in this direction which can come from mere 
 enlightenment, we are aware of its inadequacy fully to free 
 the soul from the dominion of passion. And what can be 
 strono-er proof of a native depravity of heart in man than 
 that it is so ! Here we see that even the most fully de- 
 veloped reason is insufficient to restrain the excesses of 
 passion. History shows this by the most conspicuous 
 examples. The "law of the members" is too strong for the 
 " law of the mind." Passion will not down at the bidding of 
 reason ; and reason, however much developed, is not always 
 sufficiently wakeful to perceive its encroachment. Hence 
 the balance of the mind is evidently disturbed by some great 
 disarrangement, since the less worthy power is found to pre- 
 vail over the more worthy. 
 
 We are compelled, therefore, in the last resort, to turn 
 away from all science as a sufficient training for the pas- 
 sions. Their radical and fatal excess can be cured only by 
 the restraining and transforming influences of the Divine 
 Spirit. Indeed, as sound educators, looking at human na- 
 ture as it is, we must reject, at least in its highest accept- 
 ance, the maxim of the great Roman orator and philosopher, 
 that " philosophy is the cure of souls." History shows that 
 this cure lies in religion alone. And accordingly, while we 
 claim for science and literature a strong restraining influ- 
 ence, we are not ashamed to say that we turn, for the last 
 and highest discipline of the soul, to the renovating energy 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 57 
 
 and purifying power of the religion of Christ. If in con- 
 nection with the doctrines of science and the humanities of 
 Hterature we shall be able also to convey into the minds of 
 our pupils the doctrines and spirit of this holy religion, then, 
 and only then, we shall consider our work done, and well 
 done. 
 
 Such, gentlemen, is my conception of what a college edu- 
 cation should be, and the ideal of what we hope to make it 
 here. How far we are to realize this ideal will depend very 
 much upon the co-operation and support which we receive 
 from the friends of the institution. With proper aid from 
 without, we hope to be able so to conduct its internal affairs, 
 that your institution, now comparatively feeble, shall at least 
 keep pace with the progress of other things, ^d gradually 
 acquire the influence which its commanding position at the 
 center of the state entitles it to. And if it shall only do 
 this, who can fully foresee the strength and honor which will 
 gather around it from generation to generation. A well- 
 endowed and well-conducted college is a most mighty and 
 beneficent power. When the capitol of a great nation is 
 reared, which is to witness for ages the deliberations of the 
 fathers of the state, and whence are to issue the laws for the 
 government of the people, when a vast territory has been 
 penetrated by roads, which are to remain forever highways 
 for the traveler, a great work has been done ; but not so 
 great as when that territory has been dotted all over with 
 schoolhouses and colleges. Capitols may crumble, roadbeds 
 may be obliterated by eruptions from beneath, or the grad- 
 ual attrition of the elements, but intelligence cannot be 
 destroyed. While the graceful temples of Greece, and the 
 
68 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 proud capitol, and even the granite-paved roads of Rome, 
 are in ruins, Pindar and Plato, Horace and Cicero, still sing 
 as sweetly and discourse as sublimely as they did amid their 
 native olive-groves, or on their Sabine farms. The influence 
 of education is silent, but mighty. More subtle in its work- 
 ings than electricity, more pervasive than light, it has been 
 ordained as one of the great regenerating powers of the 
 world, and, with morality and religion, constitutes the three- 
 fold cord by which Divine Providence is drawing man on to 
 his sublime and glorious destiny. 
 
RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE "THE SOCIETY OF MISSIONARY INQUIRY" 
 
 newton theological institution 
 June 24, 1856 
 
RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY. 
 
 The acceptance of an invitation to address a society of 
 young men preparing for the Christian ministry, and associ- 
 ated specifically for the purpose of missionary inquiry, seems 
 to require that I should select a theme bearing more or less 
 directly upon the great commission of the Master whom we 
 all profess to serve. But you will not, I know, be too exact- 
 ing upon this point. You will readily, I dare^say, allow me 
 any reasonable latitude. You will not require that I should 
 speak directly and specifically upon the subject of missions. 
 A subject so dear to the church has necessarily been often 
 and ably handled. The exigencies, the trials and the tri- 
 umphs connected with the progress of so glorious a cause 
 have called out appeals so stirring, vindications so triumph- 
 ant, defenses so eloquent, and anthems so exultant, that I 
 shall readily be excused for declining to mar the beauty and 
 impressiveness of so grand a testimony by any poor efforts of 
 mine on the present occasion. It will be enough if I do not 
 wholly lose sight of this subject. I am to speak this even- 
 ing to young men preparing for the Christian ministry, and 
 who expect to devote their lives to the great work of reform- 
 ing and saving their fellow-men. Now this work of evan- 
 gelization may be considered, on one side, as the cause of 
 God, and on the other as the cause of man. It is God's 
 
 61 
 
62 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 truth working for man's good. It is deity laying hold of 
 and elevating humanity. The minister, while he is the 
 priest of God, is the servant of man. In serving God we 
 the most effectually serve our race. Evangelization, there- 
 fore, has two phases to it — Godward, it is religion ; man- 
 ward, it is philanthropy. And this will constitute my theme, 
 
 RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY. 
 
 These words express nearly all that is excellent in the 
 character and conduct of men. They designate the two 
 great forces which are at work in the reformation and regen- 
 eration of our race. All the means and instrumentalities 
 which are employed for the improvement of man are orig- 
 inated and sustained by these forces. It is by their united 
 action that society has been advanced thus far in its prog- 
 ress, and is destined to be carried on to perfection. The 
 love of God and the love of man are the grand motives to 
 all good. A brief exhibition and illustration of the rela- 
 tions of these two great reforming and regenerating forces, 
 not only as they are in themselves, but as they have actually 
 appeared in the history of the world, cannot be uninterest- 
 ing or uninstructive. Forces in themselves entirely harmo- 
 nious and conspiring, they have often been drawn into sharp 
 contrast, and even antagonism with each other, by the per- 
 versity of man. In this, as in so many other cases, what 
 God hath joined together man has not feared to put 
 asunder. 
 
 Their true relation is easily exhibited. Religion is prima- 
 rily love to God, philanthropy, primarily love to man. Ac- 
 cording to one derivation, religion is the bond of piety or 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 63 
 
 filial affection to God, while according to another it is the 
 sum of those solemn emotions which we are conscious of in 
 reviewing our life and conduct. In either case it is the 
 voice of conscience when confronted with its Maker — the 
 solemn feelings of penitence, reverence, obligation, love, 
 which we have when our inmost being is laid open to the 
 view of God, and our whole life, as it were, is brought up 
 and examined in the lis^ht of his countenance. Religion is 
 thus the highest, the most comprehensive, and the most 
 authoritative sentiment of the human soul. By rightful 
 authority it presides over the whole life and conduct, and 
 when elicited by proper incitements, and directed by proper 
 precepts, as is the case under the Christian system, leads 
 to the most beneficent results. Such a sentiment, under 
 proper guidance, cannot, of course, be silent %n so impor- 
 tant a subject as our duty to our fellow-men. Indeed, the 
 Scriptures, the record of the Christian faith, are filled with 
 precepts and examples on this subject. The very spirit and 
 essence of Christianity are concentrated in that little snatch 
 of choral song which broke from the skies at the advent of 
 its Founder into the world : — 
 
 Glory to God in the highest, 
 
 On earth peace, good-will to men ! 
 
 God first, and man next ; this is the order and sum of 
 Christianity. It magnifies God and ennobles man. It not 
 only enjoins the love of God, but the love of man — and 
 the love of man as the creature of God, thus making the 
 love of man almost a part of the love of God. As a creat- 
 ure of God, as an immortal and responsible being, even the 
 most degraded specimen of the race is commended to our 
 
64 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 sympathy and regard. If made by God, if cared for and 
 loved by him, he certainly should be by his fellow. The 
 Christian religion is as superior to all other religions in its 
 humanity as in the tone and character of its piety. Some 
 humane precepts and examples, doubtless, may be found in 
 pagan authors and pagan books of religion — sentiments, 
 it may be, rising almost to the moral dignity and beauty of 
 that contained in the "golden rule" of our Savior; but such 
 sentiments in any but Christian authors are only rare and 
 occasional — pearls quite covered up and lost in the mass of 
 superstitious rubbish by which they are surrounded. It 
 cannot be said of any heathen system of religion that its 
 o-eneral spirit and substance are humane. On the contrary, 
 this is eminently the spirit of the Gospel. What can be 
 said of no other religious system, it outlaws no class, and 
 denounces none, except for their sins. It knows no distinc- 
 tion between men except what is based upon character. 
 The hio-h and the low are alike offered forgiveness on con- 
 dition of faith and repentance, and are alike rejected if they 
 adhere to their sins. While it frowns away the proud, unre- 
 lenting Pharisee, it receives the penitent publican ; while it 
 pronounces its heaviest woes upon the self-righteous scribes 
 and doctors of the law, it beckons back the repentant prodi- 
 o-al, and makes the Mary out of whom the Savior cast seven 
 devils one of the honored women who followed him wher- 
 ever he went, even to the cross and the sepulcher. 
 
 Accordingly, the spread of Christianity has everywhere 
 proved the birth of philanthropy. Indeed, philanthropy is 
 grandly inaugurated in the very act of propagating Chris- 
 tianity. Its disciples are commanded to preach the Gospel 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 65 
 
 to every creature, and in obedience to this command Chris- 
 tian men and women have gone forth to seek out and save 
 the lost, at the sacrifice of every earthly comfort — have left 
 kindred and friends, happy climes and happy homes, the 
 sweets of social intercourse, the quiet enjoyments of retire- 
 ment and study, and all the unnumbered decencies and 
 pleasures of civilized life — to consort with the most de- 
 graded specimens of humanity, enveloped in filth, benighted 
 by ignorance and brutalized by vice ; to accompany them in 
 their pursuits and their migrations, to thread with them the 
 tangled jungle or roam the wild mountain, to dwell where 
 they dwell and lodge where they lodge, to die where they 
 die, and with them to be buried, that they may rescue them 
 from their darkness and woe, and fit them for the kingdom 
 of heaven. This is philanthropy indeed — philanthropy in 
 its divinest form. And just in proportion as these efforts at 
 evangelization are successful in any part of the world, a 
 spirit of philanthropy springs up in the community and 
 spreads through all the departments of life. 
 
 The world over, philanthropy is found only in the train 
 of Christianity. The most enlightened nations of heathen 
 antiquity, with many elements of civilization, were grossly 
 deficient in humanity. Even the Greeks, who, not without 
 reason, considered the surrounding nations as barbarians, 
 had but faint conceptions of a common brotherhood among 
 men, and but little of that fellow-feeling and sympathy 
 which, with the Christian, makes another's woes his own. 
 Their Bible was the Iliad, a book of charming simplicity 
 and beauty, and relieved by many touching scenes of tender- 
 ness and pathos between particular friends, but after all a 
 9 
 
66 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 book of fearful carnage from beginning to end, involving 
 both gods and men in the contest. Even at Athens woman 
 was banished from society, and the great mass of the people 
 but little cared for ; while at Sparta, every tie of home and 
 affection was rudely sundered to meet the demands of an 
 iron military discipline, the like of which, perhaps, the world 
 has never witnessed — children being taken from their par- 
 ents at a tender age and brought up at public tables on a 
 sort of blood-pudding, called black broth, and couched upon 
 bundles of reeds by night, while they were directed to cul- 
 tivate their dexterity and courage by theft and murder 
 among the despised Helots and Perioeci who surrounded 
 them. 
 
 The gods of Greece, though not of so malignant a char- 
 acter as those of eastern nations, were yet in early times 
 not unfrequently propitiated by human sacrifices, as is seen 
 in the story of Iphigenia, which even the cultivated Atheni- 
 ans of the age of Pericles did not blush to witness exhib- 
 ited on the stage with all the pomp of the tragic art. With 
 a literature singularly rich and refined, no treatise has de- 
 scended to us devoted specifically to the interests of human- 
 ity, or evincing large and generous views of the brotherhood 
 of man. Greece has left many monuments which will never 
 (jie — books, statues, temples, fortresses — but not even the 
 shattered remains of an almshouse or an asylum. Much 
 less has pagan Rome left anything of this sort. Bristling in 
 every part with the implements of war, Rome was more of a 
 camp than a state. A few reflecting minds, nursed in re- 
 tirement, sometimes expressed noble sentiments, one of 
 which, at least, still retains its place among the humane sen- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 67 
 
 timents of modern times — " I am a man, and therefore am 
 interested in whatever is human " ; — but such sentiments 
 are not common even in the writings of the noblest of her 
 authors. Rome was the conquering, domineering mistress 
 of the world, and neither knew nor cared anything about 
 humanity. A nation whose serious employment was war, 
 and whose favorite pastime was gladiatorial shows, could 
 have exercised but few of the charities of life. 
 
 Such was the condition of Greece and Rome even in 
 their best estate. But this estate they had fallen from be- 
 fore the introduction of Christianity, and had lost, among 
 other things, nearly all the humane sentiments which they 
 had ever possessed. Christianity found these once renowned 
 states exhausted, prostrate, dying, but it soon breathed into 
 them new life. And in nothing was this new life seen more 
 than in the growing spirit of humanity, which began to dif- 
 fuse itself through the community. It soon reached in its 
 effects those who were the proper subjects for its exercise, 
 the poor, the unfortunate and the distressed, who felt its 
 influence, in the alms which they received, the houses of 
 refuge which were erected for their comfort, and the exer- 
 tions made for their improvement. At length it reached 
 even the slave, and set him free (what, alas ! it has not even 
 yet done among us), and it has gone on emancipating one 
 class after another, and correcting one abuse after another, 
 till the present time. 
 
 The same results have followed the propagation of Chris- 
 tianity among heathen nations, in modern times. I need 
 not detain you by a rehearsal of the tale of cruelty which 
 has been borne back by modern missionaries from every 
 
"° JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 part of the dark domain of heathenism — of human sacri- 
 fices in one quarter, of the burning of widows in another, 
 of the exposure of infants and the aged in another, of cruel 
 tortures, and even crushings beneath the wheels of the pon- 
 derous car of their idol-gods in another, and the systematic 
 grinding and trampling upon the helpless everywhere, till 
 poor, oppressed human nature seemed no longer able to 
 bear its burdens ! You are all acquainted with these sad 
 histories, and equally acquainted with the happy effects 
 which have ensued from the diffusion of Christian truth in 
 these same habitations of cruelty — of the direct abolition of 
 many of these cruel rites and practices, the awakening of a 
 general spirit of humanity and Christian love through large 
 communities, and in some of the almost complete establish- 
 ment of the humane sentiments and institutions of Chris- 
 tian lands. These facts are so notorious as to need no 
 rehearsal here, and to all unprejudiced minds must be re- 
 garded as conclusively establishing the dependence of phi- 
 lanthropy upon Christianity. Such, then, is their true rela- 
 tion. But this relation has often been denied, and very dif- 
 ferent relations asserted to exist between them. Let us 
 examine these asserted relations. 
 
 In the first place it is contended by many that philan- 
 thropy does not necessarily follow Christianity, but might 
 as well precede it. In refutation of this assumption it would 
 seem sufficient to reply, that it is entirely unsustained by 
 facts — nay, that all the facts are directly against it. This 
 has appeared in what has already been said. We have 
 found philanthropy only in the train of Christianity ; and 
 not only so, all attempts to reverse this process have sig- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 69 
 
 nally failed. For centuries it has been a favorite theory 
 with the enemies, and with even some of the friends, of 
 Christianity, that the most effectual way to improve men is 
 to civilize them before attempting to Christianize them. 
 This, I say, has been the theory of a large class of pre- 
 tended or real philanthropists for centuries, and yet I am 
 not aware that they have, in all this time, been able to 
 adduce a single fact, either transpiring in the natural course 
 of things or realized by experiment, tending to sustain their 
 theory. 
 
 Projects of civilization on this plan have been much 
 talked of, and some have been attempted, but all have sig- 
 nally failed. The results of such efforts were well brought 
 out in a very careful and protracted examination of persons 
 interested in such matters before a committee of the British 
 Parliament in 1835. It there appeared that some mission- 
 ary societies had pursued this method in certain cases, but 
 in all without the least success ; that in some cases the 
 hearts of the bands of artisans, sent out to civilize heathen 
 tribes, had failed them before they had reached the scene of 
 their labors, and where this had not been the case, they had 
 met with no success at all. And it seems to me that such a 
 result might have been anticipated from the beginning. 
 
 The truth is, on such a plan, both the motives to labor, 
 on the part of the agents employed, and the motives to 
 reformation, on the part of those to be civilized, are quite 
 inadequate to the demands of the case. Why should a mere 
 artisan, or teacher even of human science, with no other 
 motives than those drawn from this world, spend his days 
 among filthy and degraded savages, when he might be so 
 
70 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 much more comfortable and successful at home? And what 
 could he expect to accomplish if he should conclude to do 
 so ? How could he hope, by any motives with which he is 
 furnished, to induce the benighted barbarian to give up his 
 wild habits, and adopt the quiet and peaceful arts of civiliza- 
 tion ? The savage has his religion, or superstition, which to 
 him is as sacred and authoritative as that of the Christian 
 to him. Indeed, the grosser the superstition the more 
 universal its connection with the life and conduct of its dev- 
 otees. All superstitions deal largely with forms and cere- 
 monies; they have a ceremony connected with every act 
 and situation in life. Nay, they ascribe a large part of the 
 acts of life directly to their gods. A given course of life 
 thus becomes religiously sacred in their eyes. It is all asso- 
 ciated with and sanctified by their religion. The gods who 
 have preserved them hitherto, and prospered them, as they 
 imagine, in their present mode of life, would be angry with 
 them, they think, if they should change it. Thus, when a 
 chief of one of the tribes of Indians in Upper Canada was 
 urged by the governor to induce his people to give up their 
 wandering habits, and devote themselves to civilized pur- 
 suits, he promptly declined, saying, "Who knows but the 
 munedoos (gods) would be angry with us for abandoning 
 our own ways." 
 
 There can be no improvement in life unless there is first 
 an improvement in the religion. While one feels that his 
 religion requires a certain mode of life of him, you labor in 
 vain to induce him to change it. The religion must first be 
 changed, and then the mode of life may be changed in ac- 
 cordance. This is as certain as anything can be. How pre- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 71 
 
 posterous, then, to attempt to change the habits of savages 
 to those of civilized men, while still under the influence of 
 their old superstitions ! One religion can be displaced only 
 by another. Civilization is no substitute for religion, and 
 cannot take its place. It is the fruit of the Christian re- 
 ligion, and can exist, at least in its higher forms, only where 
 that exists. We come, then, to the same conclusion here as 
 before, that men can be civilized only by being first Chris- 
 tianized. False religions must be first displaced by the 
 true, and then right modes of life may be substituted for 
 those which are faulty. 
 
 It is truly surprising that a view so false should have been 
 retained so long, and after all that has transpired to refute it 
 in fact should still be retained. From the time of Christ 
 to the present the spirit of trade and of gain has carried 
 civilized men to all parts of the earth, and brought them 
 into contact with the uncivilized of every grade and nation. 
 They have dwelt with them, traded with them, exhibited 
 their modes of life before them, and exercised their arts 
 among them; and yet, where is the nation, or individual 
 even, in any part of the world, who has been civilized by 
 these means ? Many have been corrupted thus, as all know, 
 but we have yet to learn that any have been civilized. No ! 
 neither the spirit of gain nor mere philanthropy can reclaim 
 men from heathenism. Nothing short of the love of God 
 in the soul, flowing out in love to man — nothing short of a 
 conviction of the lost condition of man by nature,. and the 
 necessity of a divine remedy for sin which has been provided 
 in Christ, can furnish the motives and means requisite for 
 evangelizing, and thus civilizing, the world. 
 
"^^2 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 And this is now, perhaps, universally admitted, in theory 
 at least, by religious men. And yet is it always acted upon 
 even by such? Are missionary operations always, even now, 
 conducted wholly, and with full faith, upon the principle 
 that evangelization must precede civilization ? Is not too 
 much reliance still placed upon mere civilizing processes ? 
 Is not teaching, as distinguished from preaching, of this 
 nature? General education is unquestionably a civilizing 
 rather than an evangelizing process. And can it succeed 
 when resorted to previous to evangelization ? If what has 
 been said is true, and the teachings of experience can be 
 relied upon, it would seem that the missionary, in the earlier 
 stages of a mission at least, should bend all his efforts to the 
 conversion of those to whom he is sent. He should strive 
 to first get their hearts right, to show them a better religion, 
 and bring them personally to embrace it, and then the way 
 will be prepared for general instruction and other civilizing 
 processes. This was the way in which Christ and his apos- 
 tles proceeded, and we must believe it will always be found 
 to be the most effectual way. But I must pass to another 
 view of our subject. 
 
 Not only has philanthropy been placed before religion, but 
 it has often been contended, and still is, more strenuously 
 than ever perhaps, that philanthropy is all and religion noth- 
 ing — that religion, properly, is only philanthropy. This, ev- 
 idently, is an atheistic view ; for if there be no religion, then 
 there can be no God. Yet perhaps it does not always imply 
 quite as much as this. The old Epicurean idea of the 
 Deity, as sitting in undisturbed repose, neither soliciting the 
 services nor noticing the actions of men, is not yet quite 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 73 
 
 renounced. There are multitudes even in Christian lands 
 who regard God so habitually as afar off, and have so loose 
 and vague views of their relations to him, that they hardly 
 imagine themselves to owe him any duties or service. Nay, 
 it is to be feared that there are professing Christians whose 
 views of the divine requirements and of their personal obli- 
 gations are so low that they scarcely conceive that their pro- 
 fession of Christianity imposes on them any other duties 
 than those which pertain to man. Christians of this sort 
 are ever crying "morals," "works," "deeds of the law"! 
 Their views are so low that they almost leave God out of 
 the account. Are they preachers ? a riot or a fugitive-slave 
 case is a perfect god-send to them, as furnishing a far more 
 available text than can be found in Scripture. A temper- 
 ance society, an anti-slavery society, and almost any reform 
 society, is well-nigh as sacred in their eyes as the church. 
 They have renounced the cure of souls for the cure of evils, 
 and lost sight of God in their zeal for man. There is un- 
 doubtedly a large and increasing class of those calling them- 
 selves Christians who are of this character, in whom philan- 
 thropy is usurping the first place — in whose minds it stands 
 decidedly first, and is fast becoming all. 
 
 But this tendency is not confined to the church, nor is it, 
 perhaps, chiefly exhibited there. It is the effect of a pois- 
 onous leaven now largely at work in society — the rank out- 
 growth of a philosophy as deadly as the grave ; for philan- 
 thropy, as a special cultus, must needs have its philosophy. 
 This philosophy, variously denominated pantheism, natu- 
 ralism, spiritualism, positivism, issues in the deification of 
 humanity. Pantheism merges all in one ; and this one sub- 
 
74 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLTN. 
 
 stance you may, as you please, denominate either God or 
 Nature. For decency's sake it is usually denominated God; 
 but it might as well be the one as the other, as far as the 
 interests of virtue and religion are concerned ; for whether 
 God or Nature it is no personality. This God or Nature 
 comes to consciousness only in man and other sentient be- 
 ings. Man, then, is God rising to consciousness, and taken 
 in the endless succession of the race is the infinite and eter- 
 nal God — indeed, the only God endowed with the higher 
 attributes of intelligence. Man is thus deified, and deified 
 in a higher and nobler sense than any other part of nature. 
 
 According to this philosophy, to be sure, all things are 
 divine — the trees, the rocks, the clods of earth ; but man is 
 specially and pre-eminently divine — the noblest and the 
 only adequate manifestation of God in his higher nature. 
 While, therefore, the disciples of this school are devout wor- 
 shipers of nature in all her forms, dwelling with wrapt devo- 
 tion upon all her grand, inspiring and lovely objects, and 
 not disdaining even the mean and the lowly — while they 
 behold the Deity alike in the mountain and in the ocean, in 
 the pumpkin and in the pigweed, they bow down with the 
 profoundest reverence before man ; and man, of course, just 
 as he is. For not only is man divine, but all his faults and 
 follies — his passions, his lusts, his crimes, which cry for 
 veno-eance, and all the unutterable thoughts and acts of 
 wickedness. He is divine, every inch of him, and as such 
 is, in his totality and with all his adjuncts, a fit object for 
 our reverence and love. He is not merely commended to 
 our sympathy as our fellow, but claims our devotion. 
 
 No wonder that such a philosophy should produce a false 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 T5 
 
 philanthropy. It wrests man from his natural relations and 
 places him before us as an object of worship. It converts 
 philanthropy into religion, and thus makes it all and in all. 
 It fairly eliminates religion as anything more than philan- 
 thropy. If a disciple of this philosophy worship at all, he 
 must worship man ; for there is no other God for him to 
 worship. Inanimate nature, as unintelligent, he can wor- 
 ship in only a subordinate degree, and rising in his devotion 
 through the different grades of animate beings, he reaches 
 the highest object of worship in the most gifted of our race, 
 and proclaims the consummation of devotion to be " the 
 worship of genius." 
 
 It is in doctrines like these, as I conceive, that much of 
 the mock philanthropy of our times has had its origin. Not 
 that these doctrines, in their integrity and fuH significance, 
 have been very widely diffused in the community; but 
 scraps and fragments of them have been thrown about in all 
 directions by popular lecturers, pamphleteers, and newspa- 
 per writers, till the public mind has become deeply tinctured 
 with them. Men have been presented with the bright side 
 of them, and have been caught by their glare. Of genuine 
 philanthropy, begotten by right views of man and his rela- 
 tions, there can hardly be too much ; but of this spurious 
 philanthropy, our age has seen enough and more than 
 enough. With all its pretensions it is yet a philanthropy of 
 words rather than of deeds — either simpering and sighing 
 like a sick girl, or swelling and swaggering like a bully. 
 While its sentimental moods find expression in beautiful 
 words or beautiful tears, its more energetic feelings vent 
 themselves in violent declamation, wrangling and fisticuffs, 
 
T6 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 When it ceases to be pensive and musing, it becomes vio- 
 lent and wrathful, and goes at the work of reform with a 
 sort of Jehu-like vengeance and dispatch. This, plainly, is 
 not the kind of philanthropy to reach and eradicate the 
 deep-seated evils of the human heart. It is not the philan- 
 thropy to carry one through privations, toils, and even 
 death, for the good of others. By rejecting religion for its 
 foundation it loses all its power — by assuming to be all, it 
 really becomes nothing. 
 
 But again — swinging to the other extreme after the man- 
 ner of the human mind — it is sometimes maintained, that 
 religion is all and philanthropy nothing. This view ignores 
 humanity, as the former ignores Deity. Like that, and 
 scarcely less fatally, it separates two elements which prop- 
 erly belong together, and are wholesome when together, but, 
 like disengaged gases, are noxious when apart. 
 
 Of this sort is the religion of the dogmatist, who is so 
 penetrated and possessed by the doctrine as to lose sight of 
 its practical application. With him religion is all theory 
 and no practice, all plan and no appeal, all law^ and no Gos- 
 pel. It is thrown quite back from all contact with earth — 
 shot quite over the world and its realities — and becomes 
 little more than a doctrine of God and redemption as a 
 scheme — a plan reaching from everlasting to everlasting. 
 This is not, perhaps, a leading fault in the religious charac- 
 ter and thinking of the present day — the tendencies now, 
 indeed, are rather in the opposite direction — but looking 
 back into the past, we see the sturdy dogmatist stalking in 
 the dim distance, the most conspicuous figure on the stage 
 of action. The Augustines, the Calvins, the Hopkinses 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 77 
 
 and the Emmonses of the church stand out prominently in 
 her history, and have exerted a controlling influence upon 
 the general type and style of Christian character — a type 
 of character, however, now fast passing away, and faulty as 
 it has shown itself to be, not likely, perhaps, to be replaced 
 by anything much better. 
 
 The religion of mere sentiment and passive feeling is of 
 this sort; that dainty, fastidious, quietistic religion, which 
 flourishes only in the gloom of the cloister, or the dimly- 
 lighted and softly-cushioned church — a religion which is 
 nursed by pensive musings and solemn music, which glows 
 amid the soft perfumes and luxurious furnishings of the 
 parlor, or within the solemn walls of a convent, where the 
 Babel-roar of the huge, weltering world is never heard. 
 What can such a religion do for perishing man ? It may 
 calm and soothe the breast of the possessor, but for all 
 aggressive effect upon the evils of life and the powers of 
 darkness it is utterly powerless ; with all its show of devo- 
 tion it is little more than a species of refined self-indulgence. 
 A Christian of this sort is too fastidious and dainty for phil- 
 anthropic efforts; he shrinks from all contact with man, and, 
 like the tortoise, drawing in and safely securing each extrem- 
 ity within his impervious crust, he heeds not the roar with- 
 out, till at length, aroused from his profound repose by 
 extraordinary commotions, he timidly thrusts out his head 
 to learn the cause, when, alas! too late, he finds himself and 
 the whole community tossed by the convulsions of the final 
 overthrow. 
 
 Again, the religion of fashion, of form, and of studied 
 propriety, is of this sort. This phase of religion piques 
 
78 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 itself upon its dignity and decorum. It moves among men, 
 to be sure, but with a calmness and a reserve which are 
 rarely attracted, and never ruffled by what is transpiring 
 around. It is not so much fastidious as indifferent — it is 
 proud rather than prudish. It can hardly be said, like that 
 impartial messenger of which Horace speaks, to knock indif- 
 ferently at the door of the hut and the palace, but wherever 
 it does enter it maintains a dignity and a propriety which 
 are altogether above criticism. It is so decorous and polite 
 that it would not for a world disturb a slumbering con- 
 science, nor raise an unpleasant emotion in any breast. 
 Every public service is a lesson in politeness and propriety. 
 Young men bow down before it, and old men do it rever- 
 ence. Indeed, it is a special favorite with the "silver grays," 
 and may always calculate upon the support of the " upper 
 ten " ! 
 
 This religion of dignity, propriety and form, of course can 
 have but little to do with philanthropy. It is altogether too 
 bustling and exciting a business, if not too vulgar. To visit 
 an almshouse, to preach to the poor, to enter a brothel, to 
 cast devils out of Magdalens, to go to a temperance meet- 
 ing, to reclaim inebriates, or rush into a crowd to rescue a 
 fugitive slave, just to be dragged back into bondage, but ill 
 befits the calm decorum and profound formality of the pet 
 preacher of the fashionable classes. Such a preacher must 
 deal but little with religion, and entirely eschew politics ; 
 and politics he will find it convenient to interpret as embrac- 
 ing about everything pertaining to the moral and social con- 
 dition of man. He must not preach against slavery, for this 
 would be disturbing the compromises of the constitution 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 79 
 
 (now, indeed, rather badly disturbed, anyhow), and would be 
 likely to endanger the Union, and thus ruin the trade — in 
 cotton and other things — between the North and the South. 
 He must not preach on temperance, for this might lead to 
 a war over the wine-bottle and the rum-jug, in which war, 
 very probably, some of his own dear parishioners might suf- 
 fer ! Nor must he preach on licentiousness, for this would 
 be altogether too indecent a subject for the pulpit, and quite 
 likely by implications might hurt the feelings of some of his 
 hearers ! He would thus be completely shut up unto faith, 
 for he would be obliged to dwell wholly in ideal regions, 
 touching upon nothing whatever which seriously affects 
 life and conduct. He would, in short, be like the minister 
 we have read of — and who so greatly pleased his hearers — 
 that had nothing to do with either politics or i^ligion ! 
 
 But, thank God, religion is not always exhibited thus in 
 caricature. It is not always found dissevered thus in its ele- 
 ments, and presented in a one-sided, distorted and fantastic 
 form. Pure religion and undefiled is not, we hope, without 
 its witnesses in all parts of the Christian world. It is found 
 in all its robustness and beauty in many a heart. It is seen, 
 at the same time, drawing its support from God, and bestow- 
 ing its blessings upon man. It is the ornament of many of 
 the fairest characters of our race, and the source of bless- 
 ings unnumbered wherever it goes. Bringing the soul into 
 intercourse with God, and transfusing it with the calmness, 
 the grandeur, and the beauty of heaven, it inspires a love 
 for our fellow, and confers on him an importance, of which 
 mere worldly philanthropy has no conception. To such an 
 one philanthropy is no godless work, it is the natural fruit 
 
So 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 of a pious heart, and invested with all the sacredness of a 
 high religious duty. While philanthropy, without religion, 
 is either sentimental and simpering, or noisy and extrava- 
 gant, the philanthropy which flows from true piety is calm, 
 gentle and diffusive, embracing all in the arms of a univer- 
 sal love. A mere worldly philanthropy can, at best, but 
 imitate its forms, without ever reaching its spirit. What- 
 ever excellence it has it owes to the general prevalence and 
 influence of Christianity. And yet, with a singular spirit of 
 ingratitude, it often puts on airs, and parades itself in invid- 
 ious contrast to religion — like the Hottentot youth (to 
 adopt an illustration of Dr. Franklin, applied to the infidel- 
 ity of Thomas Paine), who, when he has attained to manly 
 years, turns around and beats his mother as evidence of his 
 manhood. Philanthropy is so bright a jewel that it is sure 
 to be worn — if not by the Christian, yet by the infidel, and 
 with all the greater ostentation, like the tawdry ornaments 
 of a harlot. Let the Christian, then, retain what so clearly 
 belongs to him, and which appears appropriate and lovely 
 only in his keeping. 
 
 Young gentlemen, as the future pastors of churches, and 
 the representatives of the religious character of a section of 
 the Christian community, I commend to you this large and 
 comprehensive view of religion, which makes it embrace all 
 that is excellent in practice, as well as all that is generous in 
 sentiment and noble in character. Let it be seen, in your 
 case, that religion is no abstract, unworking principle, sev- 
 ered from everything in life, and fit only for the cloister. 
 Let religion be in you indeed, a fountain of living water, 
 springing up unto everlasting life. Let it flow over and 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 81 
 
 flow out, irrigating all the heritage of God; and keeping 
 the fountain full by constantly drawing upon the inexhaust- 
 ible Fountain above, it will overflow continually. Thus 
 filled and urged by the love of God, you will each of you 
 realize in your lives, in a sense infinitely higher than was 
 originally intended by it, the truth of that renowned saying 
 of antiquity already alluded to, "I am a man, and therefore 
 am interested in whatever is human." While you will not 
 make so serious a mistake as to place the cure of particular 
 evils above the cure of souls, you will yet feel an interest in 
 whatever promises to improve the condition, or mitigate the 
 sufferings of man. While your sympathies will stretch 
 across oceans and continents, and embrace with special af- 
 fection and unutterable yearnings the millions upon whom 
 not even the first rays of the Gospel, nor scarcely of philan- 
 thropy, have ever fallen, you will not forget the suffering 
 and the outcast at home. The poor will receive your sym- 
 pathy and aid, the ignorant your instruction, the victims of 
 intemperance and lust your admonitions and counsels, and 
 the slave your earnest advocacy and prayers. 
 
 Place before yourselves for imitation the noblest speci- 
 mens of whole-hearted and large-hearted Christianity which 
 the history of the church presents; — a Howard, who, moved 
 by Christian love, spent a whole life and a large estate in 
 the most laborious and painstaking acts of benevolence ; 
 who, while he aroused all Europe by traversing its length 
 and breadth that he might " dive into the depths of dun- 
 geons and plunge into the infection of hospitals," and thus 
 bring to light their untold tales of woe, at home, in his lit- 
 tle village of Cardington, gladdened the hearts of the peas- 
 II 
 
82 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 antry by building for them cottages, establishing schools for 
 their instruction, and mitigating their sorrows in all possible 
 ways ; — a Wilberforce who, while he pursued with an en- 
 ergy and a sagacity which command our admiration, that 
 great measure of his life, and of modern times, the abolition 
 of the slave trade, did not disdain to write books on practi- 
 cal religion, and even to keep his mind furnished with top- 
 ics and trains of religious remark, so as to be able to mete 
 out to each one a word in season; — a Judson who, though 
 possessed of a natural delicacy and refinement of nature, 
 and highly accomplished as a gentleman and a scholar, was 
 yet, by the grace of God, enabled to relinquish kindred and 
 home, and all the amenities of civilized life, and bury him- 
 self in the depths of Eastern jungles, amid the most de- 
 graded specimens of our race, that he might tell them of 
 Christ, translate for them the Word of God, and in conjunc- 
 tion with others lay among them the foundations of a Chris- 
 tian civilization, which, with the blessing of heaven, shall 
 one day light up the Orient with splendors above those of 
 the midday sun ! 
 
 But these and all other worthies fade away before the 
 Great Master who is proposed to us as the highest object 
 for our imitation. They do but say to us, in the language 
 of the Apostle, " Be ye followers of me, as I am of Christ." 
 All human excellencies are but feeble reflections of his. 
 The character of Christ, as presented in the Gospels, is the 
 most attractive portraiture in the world's history. With 
 such a character, invested with such divine and saving 
 power, well may he have said of himself, "And I, if I be 
 lifted up, will draw all men unto me." Christ lives in his 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 83 
 
 followers, and the history of the world is brightly illuminated 
 along the line of his true disciples. The youth who early 
 receives Christ as his Savior and Exemplar, and follows 
 up by subsequent study the line of his influence in the 
 world, moves among the noblest examples and the most in- 
 spiring influences presented in the history of the race. 
 It is in the midst of such influences and examples that the 
 fairest characters are formed. The church and the world 
 are looking to the ranks of religious young men, who have 
 enjoyed the advantages of high Christian culture, for the 
 lights which are to enlighten the world. May they not look 
 in vain! 
 
BISHOP BUTLER 
 
 % 
 
 REPRINTED FROM CHRISTIAN REVIEW 
 
 JULY, 1854 
 
BISHOP BUTLER. 
 
 Memoir of the Life, Character and Writings of Joseph Butler, etc. By 
 
 Thomas Bartlett, a.m. London: J. W. Parker. 1839. 
 The Analogy of Bishop Butler, with a Life of the Author, etc. By William 
 
 Fitzgerald, a.m. Dublin : James McGlashan. 1849. 
 Prelections on Butler's Analogy. By the late Thomas Chalmers, d.d., ll.d. 
 
 Works, Vol. ix. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1850. 
 A Systematic Analysis of Butler's Analogy. Part II. By the Rev. Henry H, 
 
 Duke, B.A. London; Joseph Masters. 1847. 
 
 The last twenty-five years have witnessed a most striking 
 and gratifying change in the popular appreciation of Butler 
 as a moralist and Christian philosopher. His "Analogy," in- 
 deed, was never entirely destitute of marks o^ public favor, 
 having passed through three editions during his lifetime, 
 and a regular succession of editions afterward. But as a 
 moralist he has, till of late, had but few followers. He 
 formed no distinct school, but for generations stood almost 
 alone — a giant in the midst of surrounding pigmies. Even 
 Mackintosh could say of him, in his day, "There are few 
 circumstances more remarkable than the small number of 
 Butler's followers in ethics ; and it is, perhaps, still more 
 observable, that his opinions were not so much rejected as 
 overlooked." This neglect he attributed to the difficulties 
 of his style; but not, as it seems to us, with entire justice. 
 Butler's style, it is true, does not possess all the graces of 
 the most accomplished masters of the English language, but 
 it is generally good, plain English, notwithstanding. His 
 words are proper and his constructions correct and idio- 
 
 8" * 
 
88 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 matic. Indeed, h^ is occasionally elegant, presenting passa- 
 ges here and there, not unworthy of the best writers. 
 
 Dr. Whewell,* with more justice, as we conceive, has 
 ascribed the intricacies and difficulties of Butler, beyond 
 what are necessarily involved in his matter, to his method of 
 philosophizing — to his strict adherence to the simple gen- 
 eralization of facts, without committing himself to any par- 
 ticular theory for their explanation. He does not adopt a 
 theory, and thus render its vocabulary of short, technical 
 terms available to him in speaking of the various phenom- 
 ena which are referred to it ; but keeping aloof from all the- 
 ories, and hence rejecting all technical terms, he is obliged 
 at every turn to repeat a kind of definition or description of 
 the thing intended. Such a method, while it gives rise to 
 circumlocutions and repetitions in the presentation of his 
 subjects, is the genuine method of the discoverer — it is pre- 
 cisely that of Bacon, and justly entitles him to the appella- 
 tion which he has received, of "the Bacon of Theology." 
 His exteme cautiousness on this point, as well as an equal 
 cautiousness, by proper limitations and sufficiently wide gen- 
 eralizations, to secure his principles from all objections and 
 make them truly adequate to his subject, has given rise, as 
 we conceive, to all, or nearly all in Butler's writings, which 
 can be complained of as unnecessarily perplexing or obscure. 
 He is said to have remarked to a friend, that his plan in 
 writing the "Analogy" had been "To endeavor to answer, as 
 he went along, every possible objection that might occur to 
 any one against any position of his, in his book." And 
 this seems to be the spirit in which he always wrote. The 
 
 * Hist. Mor, Philos. in England, Sec. viii. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 89 
 
 very difficulties and obscurities of his style, then, are but 
 the evidence and effect of the excellence of his method, and 
 the breadth and completeness of his treatment. 
 
 Defensible, however, as are the obscurities of Butler's 
 style, they have undoubtedly had no inconsiderable influence 
 in retarding his progress to general appreciation and favor. 
 But this tardy justice, we are persuaded, has been more 
 owing to extraneous circumstances than to anything in the 
 style of Butler. The central point of Butler's moral system 
 is conscience, or a moral faculty, which, under the form of a 
 moral sense, had been brought into disrepute, more espe- 
 cially by Shaftesbury. Conscience, to be sure, as treated by 
 Butler, is distinct enough from the moral sense of Shaftes- 
 bury and Hutcheson, but as being a distinct faculty was lia- 
 ble to be confounded with it, and to be reglh-ded with the 
 same suspicion. This prejudice would naturally tend to di- 
 vert attention from his system, and keep the dominant sys- 
 tems of Clarke and Wollaston in the ascendant, till the 
 utilitarian system, which from the time of Hobbes had 
 enjoyed no inconsiderable share of the public favor, was 
 molded into a more plausible and decorous form by Paley. 
 This once accomplished, Butler was more and more lost 
 sight of. From the undoubted merit of his other writings 
 and the easy perspicuity with which he delivered his moral 
 precepts, as well as from their dexterous adaptation to ordi- 
 nary wants, Paley became at once the text-book at the uni- 
 versities, and the standard for moral reference in every-day 
 life. Paley's ascendency was thus complete, and remained 
 almost unchallenged for a long series of years. At length, 
 however, his defects began to be very generally felt, and in 
 
 12 
 
90 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 looking around for a better rtiaster, all the soundest minds 
 turned at once to Butler; so that now the reaction in his 
 favor has become almost universal, both in this country and 
 in England. The books at the head of this article are a 
 portion of the fruit of this newly-revived zeal for Butler, and 
 are placed there as evidence of this, rather than for distinct 
 review. We shall simply make them a hook to hang a few 
 general observations on, touching Butler and his works. 
 
 And, in the first place, it is remarkable how little these 
 fresh investigations have added to the extremely scanty me- 
 morials of his life. They have corrected a few dates, added 
 a few not very important facts, and discovered a few letters 
 not before published, but have scarcely thrown a single 
 additional ray of light upon his private habits and internal 
 history. All inquiry upon this point, respecting which light 
 is so much desiderated, seems to have been provokingly 
 fruitless. We can hardly be reconciled to knowing so little 
 of the intellectual habits of one whose mental experience 
 must have been so rich and varied. We really begin to feel 
 that modern biography, filled as it too often is with details 
 ad nauseam, is not so great an evil, after all ; for had it ex- 
 isted in the days of Butler, it might, as it does now, have 
 chronicled the stupidities of many a dunce, but would, in all 
 probability, have more than atoned for this, by giving us 
 some adequate memorials of a life and character so intensely 
 interesting and instructive. The magnificent intellectual 
 products which he has left, indicating a mind of the greatest 
 depth and candor, and the few glimpses which we get of his 
 pure and amiable life, whet the curiosity to the keenest edge 
 for more and more varied information in regard to him. 
 
■JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^^ 
 
 But oblivion has forever barred the access to such informa- 
 tion. Living a bachelor all his days, and naturally of a 
 timid, retiring, and even melancholy disposition, he held his 
 chief converse with those profound and pregnant thoughts 
 which give so solemn and venerable an air to his pages, and 
 notwithstanding his high station, apparently came but little 
 into contact with men. Such being the case, we must rest 
 satisfied with the scanty memorials of his life which have 
 been left us, grateful that we possess his works so complete, 
 from which we may not only gain the choicest wisdom, but 
 fill out with the most undoubting confidence the ideal of a 
 character of the rarest excellence and beauty.* 
 
 The works of Butler have now been before the world con- 
 siderably over a century, and it is remarkable how few of his 
 principles have been invalidated by the exp^ience and criti- 
 cism of so long a period. The general result, indeed, as 
 already observed, has been a growing conviction of the cor- 
 rectness of his principles, and appreciation of their impor- 
 tance. Assuming, as he does, the defense of virtue and 
 piety, and throwing himself into the breach to arrest the 
 progress of vice and infidelity, he stands exposed to the ma- 
 lignant attacks of all the enemies of righteousness ; he pre- 
 sents a barrier to such, which they must demoHsh before 
 they can advance any further. No wonder, then, that he 
 has been closely scanned and violently assailed. Many an 
 assailant has walked around the walls and scrutinized them 
 narrowly, for some indefensible point at which he might 
 scale them or open a breach, but generally without the 
 
 * There are three portraits of Butler known as originals, of which that taken at forty, 
 by the celebrated Vanderbank, and published in Bartlett's Memoirs, is the most ap- 
 proved, and presents a striking combination of grace, benignity and intellect. Bonum, 
 virum facile crederes, magnum libenter. 
 
92 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 slightest success. We propose briefly to consider some of 
 the objections which have thus been made to our author, 
 and estimate their value. 
 
 These objections have been chiefly made against the 
 "Analogy." No considerable objections have been urged 
 against Butler's moral system. Mackintosh decides that 
 there are no errors in this, though he thinks there are some 
 defects — such as, that he neglects to assign any ground for 
 the supremacy of conscience, or any objective rule for its 
 action. These, we think, will hardly be regarded as valid 
 objections at the present day. As to his having overlooked 
 the evidence of the secondary character of self-love, which 
 is another supposed defect referred to by this critic, we con- 
 sider this rather the effect of his occasional and fragment- 
 ary method of treating morals, than as any real oversight. 
 There can be no doubt that he fully understood and allowed 
 the secondary character of this affection, and would have 
 signalized it in a suitable manner in any full treatise on the 
 subject ; indeed, as it is, it is more than implied in several 
 instances.* With the exception of the " Dissertation on the 
 Nature of Virtue," all Butler's moral treatises are in the form 
 of sermons, admirably developing all the great principles, 
 but without any pretense of covering and exhausting the 
 whole subject. We should naturally expect some omission 
 of details in such a mode of treatment. Indeed, this method, 
 besides breaking the unity of his system, has undoubtedly 
 damaged the reputation of Butler as a moralist in other re- 
 spects. Sermons are not the most attractive species of lit- 
 erature to most readers, and are particularly unpromising as 
 
 * See especially his first sermon on the Law uf our Neighbor. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 93 
 
 the vehicle of a philosophical system. Undoubtedly this 
 has had its full" share in retarding his progress to that full 
 and high appreciation as a moralist, which he deserves. 
 
 But the chief exceptions taken to Butler have been against 
 his "Analogy," of which the first is this : — That the course 
 of nature has been so altered by the fall as to leave no safe 
 ground for an analogy between it and the system of grace. 
 But the course of nature is still God's Providence, is still 
 Divine Providence, and the world is God's world ; and as 
 long as this is the case, there must be just ground for an 
 analogy between the systems of nature and grace. What- 
 ever may have been the effects of the fall upon the course 
 of nature, it is absurd to suppose them to be such as to 
 make it a false or unsafe interpreter of the character and 
 will of God. Indeed, natural religion is professedly founded 
 upon nature as it is, and its teachings, as far as they go, are 
 not at all at variance with those of revealed religion. At 
 all events it is allowed that the effects of the fall are con- 
 fined chiefly or solely to man and his relations, and hence 
 do not touch the oreneral framework of nature and course of 
 Providence ; and it is from these confessedly intact parts of 
 nature that some of Butler's most weighty analogies for the 
 special peculiarities of the remedial system are drawn. 
 
 Again, it has been objected to the "Analogy " that it only 
 shifts the difficulty from revealed to natural religion, and 
 thus puts weapons into the hands of the atheist for the over- 
 throw of both. What is sustained by nature may, in a gen- 
 eral sense, be said to be natural, and hence analogy may be 
 regarded as bearing particularly upon natural religion. But 
 whatever be the religious teachings of analogy drawn from 
 
94 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 nature, they are of course null to an atheist, who not believ- 
 ing in God can not believe in religion. With him, there- 
 fore, the apparent disorders in nature are regarded as real, 
 and used by him as an argument against the existence of 
 God and religion. Now, supposing this to be the necessary 
 deduction from Butler's argument by an atheist, the argu- 
 ment is still valid against the deist, and all other objectors, 
 who must always constitute the great majority of unbeliev- 
 ers. But this is not the necessary nor even the natural 
 effect of his argument upon the atheist. By considering 
 these disorders as only apparent, as being parts of a scheme 
 too vast and complicated for our feeble comprehension, he 
 reconciles the mind to their consistency and justice, and 
 thus wrests from the atheist the arguments which he draws 
 from this source against God and natural religion, as well as 
 those of deists against the Christian religion. 
 
 Again, it has been objected to the "Analogy" by Tholuck,* 
 that it runs an analogy between the course of nature and 
 the kingdom of grace, while it ought in consistency to be 
 directly between the two kingdoms. This objection is 
 rather technical than real. Indeed, it is almost founded 
 upon a misrepresentation. Butler draws his analogies not 
 only from the course, but from the constitution of nature. 
 He takes nature in all its parts, as it exists, as a fact, and 
 draws out the grand parallelism which exists between it and 
 religion ; he confronts the book of nature with the book of 
 revelation through their whole extent. Nature is viewed as 
 a kingdom just as much as grace is. They both have a con- 
 stitution and a course — one just as much as the other, and 
 may, therefore, be legitimately compared with each other in 
 
 * Quoted by Fitzgerald. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 95 
 
 both these respects. But if Tholuck's meaning is, as per- 
 haps it is, that both nature and rehgion are treated too 
 much as facts, and too little as twin products of a common 
 generating plan, then his objection resolves itself into a 
 mere preference for a transcendental and speculative mode 
 of treating the subject, instead of an accessible and practi- 
 cal one. Butler had too much good sound sense, and too 
 much of the Baconian respect for facts, to attempt to go 
 behind both nature and grace, and develop them from a 
 common generating plan in the divine mind. The thing 
 objected to, then, is what all sound practical thinkers will 
 regard as his grreatest excellence. 
 
 On the other hand, some particular arguments of the 
 "Analogy " have, as we think, been assailed with success — 
 particularly the argument for the oneness of tfle living agent, 
 from the oneness of consciousness, and that for the exist- 
 ence of God, from our necessary conceptions of infinite 
 space and time. But these arguments are not at all essen- 
 tial to his general conclusions, and indeed, are not his own, 
 but Dr. Clarke's, reluctantly acquiesced in and adopted (as 
 we learn from his early correspondence with that distin- 
 guished philosopher and divine), and not put forth with any 
 promfnence or much confidence. These two arguments, 
 together with another from the chapter on the Moral Gov- 
 ernment of God (that in justification of our being created 
 with a capacity for evil), are subjected to a most searching 
 criticism in " Duke's Analysis." As to the objection of Chal- 
 mers, and other Scottish metaphysicians, against Butler's 
 occasional use of analogy as a positive argument, this will 
 be considered at a later stage of this article. 
 
96 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 Having disposed of these objections to Butler's principles 
 we are prepared to proceed to the principles themselves. 
 His principles constitute what may be called a moral system 
 and a religious system. The former is contained in his 
 " Sermons at the Rolls " and the " Dissertation on the Na- 
 ture of Virtue," and the latter in the "Analogy." We pro- 
 pose briefly to illustrate the central principle of each system 
 — Conscience and Analogical Reasoning. 
 
 There are three great classes of perceptions, or intuitions, 
 which present themselves under a striking similarity of char- 
 acter, and have always been associated in men's thoughts 
 and their expression of them — the perceptions of the Good, 
 or Right, of the Beautiful and of the True. The True 
 is conceived as embracing whatever is real in existence, 
 whether material or logical, whether in fact or in thought ; 
 the Right, whatever is fitting in action to the relations sub- 
 sisting among beings ; the Beautiful, whatever in nature or 
 in action is fitting in proportions, or mode, or attending cir- 
 cumstances. The faculty by which we apprehend Truth is 
 Reason, that by which we apprehend Right is Conscience, 
 and that by which we apprehend the Beautiful is Taste. 
 They all, evidently, belong to the general principle of intel- 
 ligence, since they are only so many forms of knowing, but 
 are rightly distinguished as different faculties, since they 
 each perform a different office, or apprehend things under 
 different relations. A development of the similarities and 
 differences between these powers and their objects will tend 
 to fix the place of conscience, and establish its co-originality 
 with the other two faculties. 
 
 In attempting to define the Right, the Beautiful, the True, 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 97 
 
 it was necessary to state vaguely, at least, what they are con- 
 ceived to be ; but strictly they are each incapable of defini- 
 tion. We may doubtless learn by experience something of 
 the circumstances under which our faculties pronounce a 
 thing true, or right, or beautiful, and thus make out a toler- 
 able description of the conditions under which they decide, 
 and may call this a definition ; but this is only for our own 
 convenience, and to meet the necessities of the case. Thus 
 we say, reason pronounces that true which has a real exist- 
 ence, either in fact or conception; and that truth, therefore, 
 is what is real. But this is a mere hypothesis. Whether 
 what the reason receives as true is real, or only seemingly 
 so, we can never determine. It seems real, doubtless ; but 
 this is only saying that it seems true. That is to say, the 
 reason receives a thing as true simply became it recognizes 
 it as true, and not because it knows its essential nature. So 
 if we say the reason receives that as true which is presented 
 to it in the legitimate use of the senses, of the memory, of 
 the judgment, etc., this is only describing the circumstances 
 under which it receives truth, not at all the criterion of it. 
 Hence we come to the result that, as in all our original per- 
 ceptions, truth is susceptible of no real definition, except an 
 identical one ; and all that we can say of it is, that truth is 
 what is received as such by reason. 
 
 The same holds of the beautiful and the right. For the 
 sake of convenience we describe them in a loose way, as 
 consisting in a certain fitness or harmony of things. But 
 whether there really be any such fitness in them or not, we 
 can never positively determine. What we recognize as 
 right or beautiful seems, each in its own sphere, to possess 
 13 
 
98 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 a certain fitness; but we are -confessedly not judges of the 
 absolute fitness of things. The fitness referred to is simply 
 a moral or aesthetic fitness, and is merely the conception 
 which we have of the character of the ri^ht or the beautiful. 
 Hence we do not recognize anything as right or beautiful 
 because it is fit, but conceive it as fit in that it is right or 
 beautiful. So if we attempt to define these perceptions by 
 enumerating the conditions under which they arise, we are 
 only stating the circumstances under which they emerge 
 into consciousness, not describing their nature nor account- 
 ing for them. Here, then, as in the previous case, right can 
 be defined only as that which is recognized as such by con- 
 science, and the beautiful only as that which is recognized 
 as such by the taste. The True, the Right and the Beauti- 
 ful, therefore, represent original perceptions, and Reason, 
 Conscience and Taste appear as original powers. 
 
 But let us attend to some real, or supposed, differences 
 between the action of these powers. Conscience, it is said, 
 is not simply a discerning, but an impelling, or a command- 
 ing and forbidding power. And are not the other powers 
 so too, at least to some extent? The language of conscience 
 is, " This is the way, walk ye in it " ; and is the language of 
 reason or taste anything less than this.? Does not reason 
 say, just as distinctly, if not as authoritatively, " This is the 
 truth, conform ye to it " ? and taste, " This is the beautiful, 
 admire and imitate it " ? And would not a man act just as 
 absurdly who should discern the true or the beautiful, and 
 pay no regard to it in his conduct, as the man " who knows 
 his duty and does it not " ? The man who, understanding 
 the law of gravity, should throw himself from a precipice, or, 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^9 
 
 perceiving the beauty of graceful manners, should assume 
 those of a clown, would be as inconsistent as he who, know- 
 ing the duty of honesty, refuses to pay his debts. 
 
 Still, it may be said, besides the apprehension of right 
 and the impulse to it, various emotions or moral feelings, 
 such as approbation, disapprobation, indignation, remorse, 
 etc., are connected with the decisions of conscience, or 
 rather, with the observance or violation of its rules. And 
 are there not emotions, also, connected with the operation of 
 the other powers ? The emotions, in each department of 
 our nature, seem very much dependent upon our general 
 conceptions. It is plain that there could be no such thing 
 as emotions if there were no notions of truth, duty, etc., 
 since the very knowledge of all the particular things capa- 
 ble of producing emotion is comprehended ill these. Even 
 the discovery of abstract truth is attended with emotion, 
 often the most intense, as witnessed in the ettreka of Ar- 
 chimedes, and the particular objects which the passions go 
 out after must first be apprehended intellectually before 
 they can be enjoyed sensually. Indeed, while the desire for 
 such objects cannot exist before they are perceived, in very 
 many cases it springs up at once on their perception, and 
 does so in all cases, after experience of their power to grat- 
 ify. And as to the emotions connected with the beautiful, 
 these confessedly spring up immediately in consequence of 
 its perception. A man of taste sees everything as beautiful 
 or deformed, and the perception always awakens with it cor- 
 responding emotions. The pleasures, and the vexations of 
 taste, too, are familiar to all. It seems, then, that there still 
 remains a general analogy between the three powers and 
 
100 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN: 
 
 their concomitants. The moi-al feelings are but a natural 
 appendage to the moral faculty, as the other classes of de- 
 sires and emotions are to the other powers. 
 
 And yet there is a difference. It must be admitted, with 
 Plato, that the passions are more especially the ministers of 
 conscience. Conscience has to do with actions, and there- 
 fore needs their aid more than either of the other powers. 
 As our eternal weal or woe, as well as our present happiness, 
 depends upon our conduct, and as others are affected by it 
 also, it is much more important that we should be made to 
 follow the dictates of conscience, than those of either reason 
 or taste. Besides, it has the Right to maintain among con- 
 flicting interests and principles of action, and hence has a 
 more diiTficult part to perform. Accordingly we might ex- 
 pect that all the motives for obedience to conscience would 
 be brought to bear upon us which can be thus brought con- 
 sistently with freedom of choice. We are not forced to 
 obey conscience, since this, by destroying our freedom, 
 would destroy all virtue, and thus render the obedience 
 worthless. But we are impelled to obedience by the most 
 weighty motives ; by a command sterner and more impera- 
 tive than any other of which our nature is susceptible, by an 
 approbation, a peace calmer and sweeter than any which 
 earth affords, and by a fear of punishment more withering 
 and a remorse more pungent and torturing than anything 
 this side the world of woe. At the command of conscience, 
 the passions, like so many avenging spirits, spring up to tor- 
 ture the contemner of its authority. Shame crimsons his 
 face and guilt pierces his heart; Remorse rends his soul like 
 an evil spirit ; Fear haunts him by night and by day ; In- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 101 
 
 dignation and Revenge frown upon him from the faces of 
 his fellows ; dread Displeasure looks down upon him from 
 above, and all the Avenging Passions pursue him as so 
 many Furies. Thus it is that the passions are more espe- 
 cially the ministers of conscience. The commands of con- 
 science are the most authoritative and the most powerfully 
 enforced of any of our impulses. Our nature accords to 
 them the highest place among the impulses to action, and 
 pronounces all contravention of them by interfering pas- 
 sions, usurpation. And thus with our author we may truly 
 say of conscience, that " had it strength as it has right, had 
 it power as it has manifest authority, it would absolutely 
 govern the world." 
 
 Right, then, appears as a simple, original quality of ac- 
 tions, and conscience as an original power, presiding with 
 authority over the moral relations of things, as reason does 
 over their veritable relations, and taste over their aesthetic 
 relations. But as laborious attempts have been made, and 
 still are made, to reduce the idea of right to some more sim- 
 ple idea, and especially to that of utility, we shall devote a 
 few paragraphs to the consideration of such a possibility. 
 
 The doctrine of utility as a principle of morals has re- 
 ceived various forms, and has been variously applied by dif- 
 ferent speculators. In Hobbes, it is a bold and shameless 
 resolution of all virtue into the lowest form of selfishness ; 
 in Shaftesbury, it becomes a more decorous and defined 
 principle of self-love ; while in Paley and Bentham it swells 
 into that vague and ideal end, not only of all action, but of 
 all existence, the principle of general utility, or the greatest 
 good of the greatest number. But in all these forms there 
 
102 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 is a common element; they all ' resolve virtue into happi- 
 ness, and make right only another name for utility; while, at 
 the same time, by assuming happiness, either public or pri- 
 vate, as the great utility, they make happiness the grand end 
 of life and the sole criterion of virtue. The question will 
 be met, therefore, if it can be shown that the Moral Faculty 
 sits in judgment upon the moral character of happiness, as 
 it does upon other elements of conduct, and thus makes it 
 but one of many considerations, which it embraces in its 
 determinations of the morality of actions. This, therefore, 
 we hasten to show. 
 
 It is admitted that one element of happiness, and a most 
 important one, too, consists in self-approbation, and the ap- 
 probation of others; not simply in the approbation of cer- 
 tain actions of ours, but in the approbation of ourselves, 
 also, on account of these actions. We do not speak of the 
 satisfaction or gratification which one feels when he has 
 done merely a wise act, as when he has made a good bar- 
 gain, or used his wits successfully in disentangling a compli- 
 cated plot, but of a positive approbation of one's self as 
 havino- done well, even when he has done nothino; for him- 
 self, and has exerted no wisdom or prudence at all ; as in 
 plunging, without thought of self, into the water to rescue 
 another from drowning, or any other act of pure benevo- 
 lence. The utilitarian moralist delights to resolve all acts 
 of benevolence into acts of selfishness, and would say that 
 even such acts as the above are performed upon a refined 
 calculation of the satisfaction and approval which he fore- 
 saw would follow them. Let him do so, if he can take 
 pleasure in thus stultifying himself for the sake of defaming 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 103 
 
 his kind ; but it is plain that his explanation is wholly at 
 variance with the facts in the case, and especially does not 
 at all account for that peculiar self-approbation and public 
 approbation which accompany such acts, on the special 
 ground that they are generous, noble acts, and free from all 
 taint of selfishness. Whence, then, comes this approbation ? 
 Why does he approve himself and others for such acts, while 
 he disapproves those of an opposite character? Can any 
 other answer be given to this question, than that he approves 
 of some acts and disapproves of others, because he feels the 
 former to be right and the latter to be wrong? The happi- 
 ness of self-approbation and public approbation, then, de- 
 pends upon the rightness of our actions, and not their right- 
 ness upon the happiness which they bring. For surely it 
 would be reasoning in a vicious circle to sa^ that the happi- 
 ness connected with an action depends upon its rightness, 
 and yet that its rightness depends upon its capacity of pro- 
 ducing happiness. 
 
 As to other kinds of happiness, besides that which arises 
 from the moral approbation of ourselves or others, some of 
 it is simply innocent, and some of it is regarded as decid- 
 edly, and even heinously, wrong. Not simply the acts, we 
 mean, but the happiness itself connected with the acts, is 
 disapproved as wrong. This is the case with most selfish 
 and sensual enjoyment, especially when it is at the expense 
 of others — as the enjoyment of the drunkard, of the deb- 
 auchee, etc. That is, happiness itself is approved or disap- 
 proved as right or wrong ; how then can it be the source of 
 the idea of right ? 
 
 Again, it is right to promote the happiness of others and 
 
104 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 wrong to injure them, or interfere with their happiness. 
 But it is not, certainly, deemed right to promote all kinds of 
 happiness in men. Some kinds of happiness in others ap- 
 pear immoral, as they do in ourselves, and such we cannot 
 minister to and be innocent. Even genuine benevolence to 
 others, as sacred a duty as it is in general, is limited, at 
 least as far as the outward act is concerned, by higher duties, 
 and becomes wrong when it goes beyond that limit. All 
 which goes to show that happiness, instead of being the 
 source of the idea of right, is itself judged of by the Moral 
 Faculty, like other acts and states. That is, the idea of 
 right and wrong is supreme and ultimate within this sphere, 
 as within others. 
 
 The truth is, the coincidence of Right even with the 
 Greatest Amount of Happiness, is a mere speculation, in- 
 teresting enough, and perhaps probable in itself, if we regard 
 the final issue of all things. But to say that the notion of 
 right and wrong in the mind is determined in each case by 
 a view of the utility of the act, in any sense, or that the 
 consideration of consequences can be a sufficient rule of 
 action to guide our lives, seems to us absurd. For how can 
 the consequences be calculated ; and especially, how can they 
 be calculated with the rapidity which is necessary in the 
 practical conduct of life ? 
 
 We are thus brought to the central principle of Butler's 
 Moral System, the independence and supremacy of Con- 
 science among the different principles of action. This, we 
 say, is really his central principle ; and the supremacy of 
 conscience is developed with masterly ability and distinct- 
 ness, though its independence is rather assumed than estab- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 105 
 
 lished, or even asserted with any steadiness or emphasis. 
 At the time he wrote the terminology of morals was in great 
 confusion, as well as its principles.* Not only were ethical 
 writers divided as to whether there is any independent prin- 
 ciple of morality, but as to the name which should be given 
 it, admitting its existence. While, on the one hand, moral- 
 ity was referred to the Principle of Utility or the Will of 
 God, as well as to a Moral Faculty, on the other, the Moral 
 Faculty was variously denominated Right Reason, the 
 Moral Sense, and Conscience, besides other occasional and 
 periphrastic designations. In this unsettled state of things, 
 Butler did not choose to commit himself in terms to any of 
 the conflicting theories, but seems, rather, in some passages, 
 anxious to conciliate them. But the whole structure and 
 weight of his system is in favor of the exislfence of a moral 
 faculty and an independent morality, although he does not 
 describe it as such in set terms. 
 
 We now pass to Butler's Religious System. This is not 
 so much a system of doctrines as a system of defenses of the 
 commonly received doctrines of religion, both natural and 
 revealed. It is entirely unique in character, and contained 
 wholly in his treatise on the "Analogy of Religion to the 
 Constitution and Course of Nature." 
 
 The single principle of defense employed in all parts of 
 the treatise is that of analogy or likeness among things- 
 The principle is evidently used with great moderation and 
 fairness, and yet it may be well to fix its true nature and 
 use somewhat more definitely than has been done by the 
 author. In a passage in the introduction he declines, as for- 
 
 * See Whewell's " History of Moral Philosophy in England," Lecture viii. 
 14 
 
^^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 eign to his purpose, the instituting a systematic inquiry into 
 the nature and uses of analogical reasoning, and devolves 
 that duty upon the logicians. This duty has not been alto- 
 gether neglected by that class of writers,* and accordingly 
 its nature and limits are now as accurately determined as 
 those of any other species of reasoning. 
 
 Analogical reasoning is a species of induction; or, more 
 properly, is of the nature of induction — is an incomplete 
 induction. In induction proper, two things agreeing in one 
 or more properties are inferred to agree in a certain other 
 property, which is shown to be invariably conjoined in one 
 of the things with the property or properties which it has in 
 common with the other; while in analogy it is only neces- 
 sary that this third property should not be capable of being 
 shown not to be connected in one thing with the qualities 
 in which the two agree. Thus, in one case, the inference of 
 further agreement is made with certainty, in the other, with 
 only a certain measure of probability ; — in the one the con- 
 clusion is that the third thing must follow, in the other that 
 it may. And this probability must vary in different cases, 
 from the lowest presumption, or a bare possibility, to the 
 highest moral certainty. The inference of further agree- 
 ment between the two things resting wholly upon their ob- 
 served likeness in certain properties or circumstances, the 
 probable truth of the inference must depend wholly upon 
 the nature of the observed likeness. If the observed like- 
 ness be such that the inferred likeness would naturally, and 
 almost unavoidably, flow from it, as where two things are 
 observed to be alike in a fundamental property, and are in- 
 
 * See especially "Mill's System of Logic," book iii, chap. xx. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 107 
 
 ferred to be alike in a property derived from this, or the 
 reverse, the inference is made with the highest moral cer- 
 tainty ; but where the observed likeness is only slight and 
 unimportant, any further likeness is inferred with feeble 
 probability. But every observed likeness is some warrant for 
 inferring a further likeness, since things alike in anything 
 are more likely to be alike in another thing, than those 
 which have nothing in common. And, on the same princi- 
 ple, every dissimilarity is some warrant for inferring a fur- 
 ther dissimilarity. Hence, the real strength of an analog- 
 ical inference depends upon the extent and importance of 
 the similarities between two things, compared with the ex- 
 tent and importance of their dissimilarities. 
 
 With this explanation of the nature of analogy, we are 
 prepared to appreciate the application whicll has been made 
 of it by our author. It is employed by him in defense of 
 the doctrines and evidence of religion, chiefly against objec- 
 tions, but occasionally as a positive argument. The legiti- 
 macy of its use in repelling objections on this subject, no one 
 can doubt; nor can any one doubt its triumphant success, 
 who will patiently follow the author through the treatise. 
 The case stands thus: — Religion, as an institution and a sys- 
 tem of doctrines ordained of God, is objected to by men as 
 unreasonable and inconsistent in many parts, and it is pro- 
 posed to repel these objections by showing that the like ob- 
 jections may be made against nature and the present course 
 of things, which are now allowed to be from God. It is 
 asked how religion, which has so many objectionable feat- 
 ures, can be from God, and it is answered, that these objec- 
 tionable features are just as consistent with the idea of its 
 
108 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 being from God, as the like features in nature are with its 
 being from God. The two systems, then, the material and 
 the spiritual, the present and the future, are shown to be 
 alike in objectionable features, and they are inferred to 
 be alike in their origin. The argument does not profess to 
 prove that either of the systems is from God, but that one 
 can not be denied to be from God, on account of objection- 
 able features, unless the other be ; and this it is fully com- 
 petent to do, and does do, beyond the possibility of a reply. 
 It is sufficient thus to have indicated the nature of the argu- 
 ment in its negative or defensive form ; the ingenuity and 
 thoroughness with which it is applied can be learned only 
 by a perusal of the whole treatise. 
 
 As to the argument in its positive form it is but little 
 used in any part of the work. It is capable, however, of 
 being used thus, as is evident from the account which has 
 been given of the nature of the principle of analogy. The 
 most extended application of it in its positive form is to be 
 found in the first chapter of Part First. There the object 
 is not so much to repel objections against the doctrines of 
 a future life by analogies from the present, as to render the 
 fact of our existence beyond death probable. Hence the 
 analogies from the transformations of plants and animals, 
 and from the continuance of life in man through various 
 mutilations, suspensions of the signs of life, and the wasting 
 of disease up to the moment of death. These analogies 
 certainly render it probable that the living agent will survive 
 death. They do not simply remove opposite probabilities, 
 as contended by Dr. Chalmers ; they give a positive credi- 
 bility to the doctrine. With some acknowledged imperfec- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 109 
 
 tion in certain links of the argument no one can rise from a 
 careful perusal of the chapter without feeling that the doc- 
 trine is something more than "not disproven," that it is, in- 
 deed, nearer to what is called "proven," though not, of 
 course, established demonstratively and beyond all cavil. 
 At all events, it is plain that analogy may have a positive 
 force, and it seems to us that it has in this and many other 
 parts of Bishop Butler's treatise. 
 
 But, after all, it is admitted that the great force of anal- 
 ogy, as applicable to the subject of religion, is defensive, and 
 hence conservative in its effects. And it is precisely this 
 which has given to the treatise of Bishop Butler, from the 
 moment of its first appearance to the present time, its ac- 
 knowledged pre-eminence among all the books which have 
 been written in defense of religion. It co«ifounds the cav- 
 iler, it checks the reckless speculator. Those upon whom 
 the interests of morality and the other great interests of 
 society rest are always conservative. From the nature of 
 the case they always must be. Not that the truth and the 
 right are always on the side of conservatism, but great in- 
 terests must not be jeoparded by sudden changes; and espe- 
 cially things practically good must not be surrendered too 
 hastily for what is asserted to be theoretically better. This 
 is the universal cry of reckless speculators — they always 
 profess to have discovered some better way a way more con- 
 sonant with reason, and free from the inconsistencies and 
 absurdities of that in practice. But the really responsible 
 men in society are always chary of theories ; their motto is, 
 "Prove all things: hold fast that which is good." And in 
 matters of religion they find no more powerful auxiliary in 
 
11^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 doing this than Butler's "Analogy." It tends to prevent a 
 reckless spirit of speculation on the subject, and throws up 
 an impregnable rampart before the sterner doctrines of re- 
 ligion which are more likely to be objected against. 
 
 We know of no author who has shown so clearly the 
 incapacity of man to speculate upon these high subjects. 
 If the presumption and arrogant pretensions of man can 
 ever be humbled, they must be before his wide-sweeping and 
 far-reaching analogies. He bids the daring critic of the 
 works and ways of God go on with his reveries, and fill out 
 his amended system of things, and then in the simplest and 
 quietest way possible shows him that he has no faculties for 
 such speculations, and that his scheme is a mere series of 
 imaginings, proposed as a substitute for the veritable facts 
 of nature. He refers the hardy objector against the doc- 
 trines of religion to the like things in the providence and 
 dealings of God here; and justifies the ways of God to man 
 implied in religion, by an appeal to what he actually experi- 
 ences in this life. To the supercilious caviler, confident in 
 his shallow wisdom, he presents both the system of things 
 with which we have come in contact, and that which is re- 
 vealed to us, as but fragments of an infinitely larger scheme, 
 and hence as little susceptible of rational criticism from us 
 as the fragment of a demolished statue, or a few detached 
 wheels and springs of a complicated machine. 
 
 It is a little remarkable, too, that in nothing has Butler 
 been more successful than in his defense of the sterner doc- 
 trines of religion. Where religion is most liable to be ob- 
 jected against, there, precisely, is analogy the strongest. 
 Nature is always serious, and often stern. It gives little 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. Ill 
 
 countenance to that mawkish sentimentality which would 
 disrobe God of all his severer attributes, and subject him to 
 the control of the single principle of sympathy or benevo- 
 lence. And it is one of the greatest merits of the "Anal- 
 ogy " that it brings out in all its strength this confirmatory 
 testimony of nature to the sterner aspects of the character 
 of God and religion, as revealed in the Scriptures. Butler 
 undoubtedly betrays, at times, some meagerness, and per- 
 haps defectiveness, in his views of Christian doctrines, es- 
 pecially of the distinguishing doctrines of grace, but he saw 
 too clearly the teachings of analogy to shrink from the doc" 
 trines of a controlling principle of righteousness in the char- 
 acter of God, and a state of punishment for the wicked in 
 another world. The chapters which treat of these subjects 
 are argued with great fullness and ability, lind are among 
 the most successful in the treatise. 
 
 Butler's "Analogy " has been a highly honored book. It 
 has been more universally admired for its depth and thor- 
 oughness than any other book on the same, or perhaps any 
 other subject. It has received the homage and acquiescence 
 of the best minds in every age since its appearance. It has 
 done more to shield religion from the ruthless attacks of its 
 enemies, and drive back the Vandal hosts of infidelity from 
 our altars — we had almost said — than all other books put 
 together. Nor is its mission yet completed. It is as much 
 needed now as ever, and as well adapted as ever to guard 
 our faith, and will remain, we doubt not, to the end of time, 
 one of the chief bulwarks of its defense. 
 
DANIEL WEBSTER 
 
 AS A 
 
 STATESMAN AND AN ORATOR. 
 
DANIEL WEBSTER AS A STATESMAN AND 
 
 AN ORATOR. 
 
 The Works of Daniel Webster, six volumes, 8vo, Boston : Charles C. Little and 
 James Brown, 1851. 
 
 The works of Daniel Webster form a legacy such as 
 has rarely been left to the American people — a legacy pe- 
 culiarly precious, because perfectly indigenous — all Amer- 
 ican, without the least foreign air or savor about it, and red- 
 olent in every part with the sweet hopes and memories of 
 our native land, her institutions and laws, ^or am I sur- 
 prised that our richest legacy should have fallen to us in 
 this shape, and our greatest man have developed himself in 
 this line. Dissociated both by our position and institutions 
 from all the great nations of the earth, and without a vener- 
 able antiquity of our own to awaken the interest and ambi- 
 tion of the historian, or fill and garnish the imagination of 
 the poet, while we are too practical and too much pressed 
 with the wants of a young people to allow of a high degree 
 of either metaphysical or aesthetic culture, there is still in 
 our condition and institutions the most imperative demand 
 for statesmanship and oratory. 
 
 As among the ancient Greeks, to be a statesman was con- 
 sidered merely as acting the part of a good citizen, so with 
 us, every good citizen is expected to know something about 
 politics, and to be prepared to bear an honorable and useful 
 part in managing the state. We are a popular, constitu. 
 
 115 
 
116 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 tional government, consisting of about thirty affiliated states, 
 bound together in a national Union by a general government 
 of limited powers, and sustaining complicated and delicate 
 relations to the integral units composing the Union. Ours 
 is strictly a government of law, and not of force ; everything 
 is adjusted by law, and all public, and most private, ques- 
 tions are settled, and can be settled, only by legal discus- 
 sions. Where military rule exists, the sword settles all 
 questions ; there is no need of talk — the less talk the bet- 
 ter ; there is not even a word with the blow, but the blow is 
 dealt in silence, and the work all the more effectually done. 
 So, too, in great measure, in all arbitrary governments. 
 When a ruler can say, " I am the state," why should he al- 
 low his subjects to discuss matters ? And when less arbi- 
 trary than this, he still allows the privilege to but few, and 
 to these only in a given line. Despotism is simple, but con- 
 stitutional government necessarily embraces a complicated 
 system of laws, forms and precedents. And when we add 
 to this that our government is not only legal, but popular — 
 that it is created and administered by an agency periodically 
 appointed by the people, we see what a field it opens for the 
 display of popular eloquence. In our courts of justice the 
 speaker finds his eloquence demanded and aided by the 
 presence of a jury; in the legislative hall, by interesting 
 questions, conflicting views, and able opponents; while at 
 our political elections he is stimulated almost to madness by 
 the dense crowds of upturned faces which surround him. 
 
 With its complicated and nicely adjusted system of laws, 
 its popular courts, popular legislatures and popular elec- 
 tions, no country in the world ever presented such a field 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 117 
 
 for eloquence as ours, and hence is the natural mother of 
 such a son as Daniel Webster. Mr. Webster was pre-emi- 
 nently a statesman and an orator. Statesmanship was the 
 great business of his life, the grand resultant of all his intel- 
 lectual activity, to which his profound legal and other attain- 
 ments were only subservient. Excluding, therefore, other 
 views which might be taken of his character, I purpose, in 
 this paper, to offer a few observations upon the character 
 of Daniel Webster as a Statesman and an Orator. 
 
 And at the outset we are struck with the perfection in 
 which he combines in himself this double character. Mr. 
 Webster's oratory was always statesmanlike, and his states- 
 manship always dignified, and adorned with oratory. His 
 oratory was almost always employed upon great state-ques. 
 tions. No orator of his times devoted his Aoquence so ex- 
 clusively to the state. Most of his celebrated legal argu- 
 ments hinge upon constitutional questions, and even his 
 political speeches have little that is trivial or merely partisan 
 in them, but treat of great national questions, usually in a 
 cool, dispassionate way. I shall not, then, attempt to dis- 
 criminate these two characters ' in him, nor care to inquire 
 very closely, in each case, whether my illustrations apply to 
 him in the one or the other character — I shall rather, prac- 
 tically, consider the two characters as one. 
 
 The first thing which strikes one in the speeches of Mr. 
 Webster is the great dignity and importance of the matter. 
 The greatness and dignity of his mind are reflected in 
 nearly all his speeches. His mind scorned and rejected a 
 mean, or low, or trivial subject, as a sound stomach does 
 poison. But whatever it received, though in itself of but 
 
lis JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 common importance, it raised, by- its own encircling majesty, 
 to the dignity of uncommon things. I doubt if another 
 case can be pointed to, of an orator, having occasion to 
 speak on so many and widely-differing occasions, through 
 the period of a long life, and often under strong temptations 
 to cater to a low and depraved taste, who so uniformly se- 
 lected important topics, and treated them in so manly and 
 dignified a style. 
 
 But above this, his great efforts were all on great subjects. 
 There is no factitious greatness about his speeches ; they 
 are merely full, lucid, able and ample discussions of subjects 
 in themselves great. Their greatness consists in being 
 equal to their great subjects — in being adequate and appro- 
 priate exhibitions of matters of which most minds have but 
 faint and meager conceptions. There is rhetoric in them, 
 doubtless, but only such as the subject demands, and the 
 absence of which would be a fault rather than a virtue ; it 
 furnishes the fit relief and adornment to subjects of so vast 
 and grand proportions. Open his works, and carefully 
 turning over the leaves, observe, as you advance, the sub- 
 jects and manner of his discourse. Commencing with those 
 splendid and elaborate discourses on the early history, wor- 
 thies and monuments of our country, you fall in succession 
 upon his many speeches on our manufactures, our com- 
 merce, our currency, our religion, our laws, our Constitution 
 and our Union. When did an orator have such materials to 
 select from } and when select so nobly t You will find no 
 such list of subjects in the synoptical table of the speeches 
 of any other orator, living or dead. 
 
 Indeed, in perusing these speeches, one is conscious of an 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 119 
 
 involuntary feeling of gratitude, that all these grand ques- 
 tions arose in Mr. Webster's day, and have been discussed 
 by him for all coming time. For myself I confess to 
 a very strong feeling of that kind. In his " Patriotic 
 Speeches," as they have been called, such as deal with the 
 early history and worthies of our country, how vast the ser- 
 vice which he has done for the American people and for 
 mankind ! These speeches forever rescue from oblivion, 
 and invest with a high and glorious immortality the priva- 
 tions, the sufferings and the daring of our noble ancestors. 
 They give a voice, and an all-potent one, too, to the early 
 events of our history, which, without them, for aught that 
 could have been accomplished by ordinary minds, must have 
 remained comparatively dumb and silent. Articulated by 
 such a voice, and dignified and adorned b^ such an elo- 
 quence, they are safely consigned to the keeping of the great 
 heart of humanity, which will never fail to cherish and imi- 
 tate them. 
 
 And to say nothing of the other great subjects which en- 
 gaged his eloquence, who does not rejoice that Daniel Web- 
 ster lived to discuss, in all its forms, and under almost every 
 conceivable aspect, the nature, value and means of preserv- 
 ing our glorious Constitution and equally glorious Union.'* 
 Notwithstanding the censure which some parts of his 
 course on this subject have drawn upon him, and perhaps 
 with some justice, his services as an advocate and defender 
 of our Constitution and Union, are undoubtedly pre-emi- 
 nent above those of any other man, and the American peo- 
 ple will always owe to him a debt of gratitude, which they 
 can never (were they better disposed to than we fear they 
 
120 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 now are) fully discharge. He early saw and felt the vast 
 importance of the Union to the people of these states; he 
 early studied, and never through life ceased to study, its na- 
 ture and powers, and furnished himself with facts and argu- 
 ments for its elucidation and defense. So that, while we 
 find in all his speeches, from the very first to the very last, 
 the expression of some timely hope, or fear, or appreciating 
 sentiment about this much-cherished union — forming to- 
 gether a coronet of gems of which any brow might be proud 
 — there were occasions when the whole majesty and inten- 
 sity of his great soul were poured out upon this subject in a 
 torrent of scathing argument and burning eloquence, which 
 nothing could resist. 
 
 A truly great mind, in the course of a lifetime, usually 
 meets with some fitting occasion for the display of its high- 
 est powers. Such an occasion for Mr. Webster arose when 
 the monster Nullification reared its hideous form in the Sen- 
 ate of the nation, and threatened to rend the Union asun- 
 der. Creeping stealthily for a time among the marshes of 
 morbid, sectional feeling, and growing by what it fed on, it 
 at length thrust its head into the halls of the national legis- 
 lature, in the debate on Foote's resolution, and was afterward 
 charmed in, and exhibited at full length, in the famous Re- 
 solves of Mr. Calhoun. The crisis had come, and who 
 should meet it ? There was but a single man there equal 
 to the task, and that man was Daniel Webster. There were 
 many true and faithful men there, who would vote right on 
 the question, many who would make a respectable argument 
 against the doctrine in debate, but only one who could meet 
 and settle it forever — only one, who, from his courage, his 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 121 
 
 transcendent abilities, his readiness in debate, and complete 
 mastery of the subject, could gather his armor hastily about 
 him, and take the field at a moment's warning. All eyes 
 were turned to him, nor did he disappoint the public 
 expectation. 
 
 The two speeches of Mr. Webster on this subject, in the 
 Senate of the United States, the first, in reply to Mr. Hayne, 
 in the debate on Foote's resolution, and the second, in reply 
 to Mr. Calhoun, on the Force Bill, not only met the crisis 
 externally, but actually ; yes, triumphantly, gloriously. The 
 mind that follows him through those speeches is not only 
 exhilarated and delighted as it passes along, but when it 
 reaches the close, shuts the book with a concussion, from an 
 impulse of spasmodic joy, and lays it down with an inten- 
 sity of conviction, and an absorbing, bewildCTing sense of 
 admiration, which overwhelm, and almost benumb its pow- 
 ers. There is a fitness, a fullness, a brilliancy, a cogency, in 
 those speeches, which take the mind captive. There are 
 passages in them, before which the mind actually stands in 
 awe. As, for instance, in the reply to Mr, Hayne, where, in 
 the midst of a most terrific torrent of sarcasm, which the 
 nerves are scarcely able to bear, by referring to what might 
 be the effect upon him of a certain degree of provocation, 
 and thus implying that he was then speaking with compara- 
 tive coolness and tameness, he flashes a gleam of light upon 
 a depth of wrathful indignation and scornful ire, before 
 which one actually trembles : — 
 
 Sir, I shall not allow mj'self, on this occasion, I hope on no occasion, to 
 be betrayed into any loss of temper ; but if provoked, as I trust I never 
 shall be, into crimination and recrimination, the honorable member may 
 i6 
 
122 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 perhaps find that, in that contest, there, will be blows to take as well as 
 blows to give ; that others can state comparisons, as significant, at least, 
 as his own, and that his impunity may possibly demand of him whatever 
 powers of talent and sarcasm he may possess. I commend him to a pru- 
 dent husbandry of his resources. 
 
 Of all Mr. Webster's speeches, the two on this subject are 
 undoubtedly his greatest. And of these, while that in reply 
 to Hayne has the greatest personal interest and point, and 
 excites the highest degree of admiration, that in reply to 
 Calhoun is perhaps the most compactly argued, and exhib- 
 its the greatest solidity of talent. Mr. Webster always rises 
 with the occasion. The greater the crisis, the greater his 
 courage ; the higher the theme, the loftier his flight. In- 
 deed, he seems much more at home on great questions than 
 on small ones, and meets them far more adequately. A 
 lofty region is far better suited to the constitution of his 
 mind. He feels more in his native element in these upper 
 regions, and moves more gracefully and easily. Being con- 
 stitutionally of a somewhat lethargic temperament and 
 heavy mold, he was aroused only by great subjects, and on 
 small ones often made still smaller efforts. Hence it is that 
 all his great speeches are on great subjects — great either in 
 themselves, in their associations, or in their bearings. And 
 this, more than anything else, shows the greatness of his 
 mind. 
 
 Another marked characteristic of Mr. Webster's oratory 
 is found in the general tone of his speeches. That this tone 
 would always be elevated might be inferred from what has 
 already been said. But beyond this there are certain inter- 
 esting features or variations in the general tone, which de- 
 serve special attention. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 123 
 
 And, in the first place, Mr. Webster's speeches are 
 strongly characterized by a patriotic tone. Indeed, there 
 are certain of his speeches, and these among his most cele- 
 brated, which are so filled and pervaded by this spirit as to 
 have received the designation of "Patriotic Speeches"; such 
 as his Plymouth discourse, his Bunker Hill speeches, and 
 his eulogies on Adams and Jefferson, Washington, etc. 
 In these he goes back to do honor to our self-denying and 
 heroic ancestry, and the illustrious band of patriots who 
 achieved our independence — to rekindle his own patriot- 
 ism, and that of the nation, at the altars of our early mar- 
 tyrs and heroes. And as we follow him in those splendid 
 discourses, now depicting the sufferings and sacrifices of the 
 early settlers on these inhospitable shores, of "chilled and 
 shivering childhood, houseless, but for a Another's arms, 
 couchless, but for a mother's breast," now summoning from 
 their tombs the shades of our illustrious heroes, and em- 
 balming their memory with a nation's tears, and now raising 
 his eyes to the future, and saluting the rising generations as 
 they come, bidding them welcome to this pleasant land of 
 their fathers, we find ourselves rapt up to something the 
 same height of patriotic enthusiasm as the speaker, and are 
 ready with him to approach the tomb of Warren, and pour 
 out our lamentations in that touching apostrophe to the 
 departed hero, which in tenderness and pathos is scarcely 
 equalled by the happiest inspiration of the Tragic Muse: — 
 
 But ah ! Him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the 
 premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! Him ! the head of our 
 civil councils, and the destined leader of our military bands, whom noth- 
 ing brought hither but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit ! Him ! 
 cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; 
 
1^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 falling ere he saw the star of his country rise ; pouring out his generous 
 blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of free- 
 dom or of bondage! — how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle 
 the utterance of thy name ! Our poor work may perish, but thine shall 
 endure ! This monument may molder away ; the ground it rests upon may 
 sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail ! Where- 
 soever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of 
 patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy 
 spirit ! 
 
 And not only in these speeches devoted to patriotic rec- 
 ollections, but in all his speeches, his patriotism shines forth 
 conspicuously. There is everywhere, both in his words and 
 deeds, unmistakable evidence of an intelligent and genuine 
 patriotism ; he allowed no occasion of evincing it, either in 
 act or in speech, to pass unimproved. 
 
 Indeed, there was a wholesome national feelingr in Mr. 
 Webster, which we should like to see more universally ex- 
 hibited by public men. There was no foreign air or savor 
 about him. As he said of Washington, his character is 
 wholly an American product. He sprung from a sound 
 republican stock, and he proved himself worthy of his par- 
 entage. His education, his way of thinking and feeling, 
 and all his tastes and habits, were American. Not that he 
 had a contempt for what is not American, or participated in 
 the vulgar prejudices against foreign nations, or overesti- 
 mated our relative position in the scale of nations. While 
 he was enlightened and fair-minded with regard to other 
 nations, he was equally enlightened and fair-minded with 
 regard to his own. He had neither the partiality which 
 blinded him to the faults of his country, nor the foreign 
 learning which made him exaggerate her faults, or magnify 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 125 
 
 the advantages of other countries at her expense. Mr. 
 Webster carried this feehnor with him into his business as a 
 statesman, and, like all sound, practical statesmen, uniformly 
 acted upon that profound principle announced to the Athe- 
 nians by Demosthenes, more than two thousand years ago, 
 " That the prosperity of their state would be best promoted 
 by following domestic, not foreign, examples." In the like 
 spirit Mr. Webster says, in his speech on General Jackson's 
 Protest, " Our American questions must be discussed, rea- 
 soned on, decided and settled, on the appropriate principles 
 of our own constitutions, and not by inapplicable precedents 
 and loose analogies drawn from foreign states." And this 
 accurately exhibits his general spirit as a statesman. 
 
 Mr. Webster was national, also, in another sense of that 
 word. That is, he was not a sectional man, out embraced 
 the whole Union in his views and desires. If any man 
 could set up a claim of loving the Union more than others, 
 Mr. Webster was that man ; for he said and did more for it 
 than any, and we had almost said, every man of his age. 
 And notwithstanding all that has been said to the contrary, 
 I will not yet believe that regard for the Union had nothing 
 to do with his speech on the Compromise Measures, which 
 has been so much complained of. How stood the case with 
 us at that time ? The Union was not, perhaps, immedi 
 ately in danger. Mr. Webster, as far as we have been able 
 to ascertain, nowhere says that he thought so ; but that sec- 
 tional and party feeling had become so excited ^nd exas- 
 perated on the questions arising out of the acquisition of 
 new territory, and kindred questions, that unless soothed 
 and tranquilized by certain compromises it would inevitably 
 
126 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 lead to disunion. And considering the nature of the ques- 
 tions agitated, and the inducements and facilities for form- 
 ing a southern republic (an idea not wholly abandoned, it is 
 evident, even now), we confess that we do not greatly disa- 
 gree with Mr. Webster on this point. At least, considering 
 all the circumstances in the case, and the fact that many 
 other great and good men thought the Union in danger, it 
 is but fair to consider that Mr. Webster thought so too. 
 And if he did, we put it to any candid, fair-minded man, if 
 he did not, in the main, act rightly in the premises. The 
 statesman cannot control Providence, he does not make 
 events, but takes them as they are, and makes the best of 
 them. His business is practical, and as long as evil exists 
 in the world it must often be a choice between evils. If 
 there was, at the time referred to, on the one hand the dan- 
 ger of disunion, and on the other the danger of strengthen- 
 ing the slave-power, here, plainly, were two evils to choose 
 between; which of the two should a wise statesman have 
 chosen ? Great as is the curse of slavery, frightful as is the 
 array of evils following in its train, will any one, looking at 
 the interests of humanity as a whole, or even to those of the 
 slave, in the end allow, I do not say the original introduc- 
 tion of this curse, but a temporary augmentation of its 
 power, to overbalance in his mind the evils which would 
 flow from the sundering of these states ? Blasted and pur- 
 blind must be the sight which could see things thus. 
 Where would the slave be in that case.'* Helpless and 
 hopeless in the hands of his taskmaster, and subject at any 
 moment to be marched off to Mexico or Cuba, or the Lord 
 knows where, to meet the demands of an aggressive and 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 127 
 
 expanding slave republic. And if it be added to this, that 
 the slave-power has not yet been at all strengthened, as far 
 as any actual extension of slavery is concerned, by the pas- 
 sage of the Compromise Measures, and probably never will 
 be, as Mr. Webster strenuously maintained would be the 
 result, who will undertake to condemn the statesman for his 
 course.? or, rather, who will fail to honor him for it.? There 
 are some things in that speech, as well as in the speeches on 
 the same subject, which he delivered in various parts of the 
 country, immediately after that, that I could wish were differ- 
 ent, but with his general course on this question, under the 
 circumstances, I cannot find it in my heart to complain. 
 
 Another feature in the pervading tone of Mr. Webster's 
 speeches is a sound and intelligent love of liberty. We see 
 this in his love and admiration for its defender^ and martyrs, 
 both in our own and in other lands. It burns in every line 
 of his Patriotic Speeches ; it adds warmth and grace to his 
 speeches on Greece and the Panama Mission ; it comes out 
 in his efforts for the Hungarian exiles, and shines forth con- 
 spicuously in all his acts and sayings during the whole 
 course of his life. Witness its outbursts in his indio^nant 
 rebukes of the maligners of the South American Republics, 
 in his speech on the Panama Mission : — 
 
 We are told that the countiy is deluded and deceived by cabalistic 
 words. Cabalistic words ! If we express an emotion of pleasure at the 
 results of this great action of the spirit of political liberty; if we rejoice 
 at the birth of new republican nations, and express our joy by the com- 
 mon terms of regard and sympathy \ if we feel and signify high gratifi- 
 cation that, throughout this whole continent, men are now likely to be 
 blessed by free and popular institutions ; and if, in the uttering of these 
 sentiments, we happen to speak of sister republics, of the great American 
 
128 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 family of nations, or of the political system and forms of government of 
 this hemisphere, then, indeed, it seems, we deal in senseless jargon, or 
 impose on the judgment and feeling of the community by cabalistic words ! 
 Sir, what is meant by this ? Is it intended that the people of the United 
 States ought to be totally indifferent to the fortunes of these new neigh- 
 bors ? Is no change in the lights in which we are to view them to be 
 wrought by their having thrown off foreign dominion, established independ- 
 ence, and instituted on our very borders republican governments essen- 
 tially like our own ? .... If it be a weakness to feel a strong interest in 
 the success of these great revolutions, I confess myself guilty of that weak- 
 ness. If it be weak to feel that I am an American, to think that recent 
 events have not only opened new modes of intercourse, but have created 
 also new grounds of regard and sympathy between ourselves and our 
 neighbors ; if it be weak to feel that the South, in her present state, 
 is somewhat more emphatically a part of America than when she lay ob- 
 scure, oppressed and unknown, under the grinding bondage of a foreign 
 power ; if it be weak to rejoice when, even in any corner of the earth, 
 human beings are able to rise from beneath oppression, to erect them- 
 selves, and to enjoy the proper happiness of their intelligent nature — if 
 this be weak, it is a weakness from which I claim no exemption. 
 
 But, it has been objected, Mr. Webster was in favor of 
 founding government on property, and always advocated 
 that view of the constitution which gave the largest powers 
 to the general government, and these views are not favora- 
 ble to the largest liberty. As to this founding of govern- 
 ment on property, of which so much has been said by his 
 enemies, let us see what it amounts to. We are not aware 
 that Mr. Webster refers to this subject but twice, in any of 
 his speeches or writings. He refers to it in his speech 
 on the Basis of the Senate, in the convention to amend 
 the constitution of Massachusetts, and in his Plymouth 
 discourse. 
 
 In the first case he contends that, since the representa- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 129 
 
 tion in the House was based upon polls, it would be wise 
 and proper, for the purpose of giving it a somewhat differ- 
 ent constituency, and thus making it a more effectual check 
 on the other branch, to base the representation in the Sen- 
 ate on the aggregate of property; so that, while the one 
 body represented the individuals of the state, the other 
 should represent the property of the state. This, it will be 
 perceived, is a very different thing from proposing that only 
 men of property should be admitted to full citizenship, and 
 made eligible to office, which is the common impression that 
 has been given of his views on this subject. And consider- 
 ing that a free government must always be one of checks 
 and balances, we see not why such an arrangement would 
 not be quite as wise and as consistent with ^neral liberty, 
 too, as that actually adopted. 
 
 Where Mr. Webster alludes to this subject in his Ply- 
 mouth discourse, he is speaking of the bearing of the laws 
 for the descent and transmission of property upon the free- 
 dom of a government, and of the fortunate arrangement and 
 happy effect of the laws on this subject in our own country. 
 Having discussed the bearings of the division of property 
 upon government, and shown that free governments can 
 exist only where property is free in its transmission and 
 alienation, he makes this general remark, as a sort of maxim 
 for legislators, and a test of political wisdom under all cir- 
 cumstances : — "It would seem, then, to be the part of polit- 
 ical wisdom to found government on property; and to estab- 
 lish such distribution of property, by the laws which reg- 
 ulate its transmission and alienation, as to interest the 
 great majority of society in the support of the government." 
 17 
 
130 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 That this is a general remark, and not a rule by which he 
 supposed our government might be advantageously re- 
 formed, is evident not only from all that precedes it, but 
 also from what immediately follows it. He goes on to say: 
 " This is, I imagine, the true theory and actual practice of 
 our republican institutions. With property divided as we 
 have it, no other government than that of a republic could 
 be maintained, even were we foolish enough to desire it." 
 The founders of our government, then, had established the 
 requisite laws on property for maintaining, and even render- 
 ing necessary, the form of government which they set up, 
 and hence were wise legislators, according to his maxim. 
 The laws of property which they established are so free, and 
 property in consequence is so widely diffused, that, in the 
 general sense in which he used the term, our government 
 actually is founded on property. 
 
 As to Mr. Webster's view of the powers of the general 
 government of the Union, it is not true that he advocated 
 the largest construction for them. He simply contended 
 that it should have, and ought to use, all that belonged to 
 it — neither more nor less. Doubtless he claimed for it 
 more than Nullification allowed it, but then it should be re- 
 membered, he with equal vehemence denied it what General 
 Jackson and some others have claimed for it. He claimed 
 for it, to be sure, the power of creating a national bank, 
 of laying a protective tariff, and carrying on internal im- 
 provements. But it was only because he thought these pow- 
 ers belonged to it, and ought not to be relinquished. He 
 drew these powers both from an obvious construction of the 
 constitution itself, and from the history of its formation and 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. IBl 
 
 early operation. And I must say that I have never seen his 
 arguments, on most of these points, fairly refuted. Whether 
 it may be wise or not for the general government to exercise 
 these powers is another question, but that they are fairly 
 within its scope, we think Mr. Webster and others have 
 clearly shown. It was the great effort of Mr. Webster's life 
 to maintain the constitution and laws of the country in 
 their original integrity, and if this be a fault, it is one in 
 which he had good reason to glory. 
 
 Again, Mr. Webster's speeches exhibit a striking moral 
 tone. Perhaps no eyes, save those of envy and slander, ever 
 detected anything beyond venial faults in the life and con- 
 duct of Mr. Webster ; but however this may be, there can 
 be no doubt of the high moral tone of his writings. Like 
 all great orators, he everywhere recognize^ and does due 
 homage to the principles of virtue and religion. He is 
 another illustration of the truth, that every truly great ora- 
 tor must have in lively exercise, at least the instincts of vir- 
 tue. Nothing but this will carry him to the height of a great 
 argument. 'Nothing but this will attract him to those store- 
 houses of truth and fields of illustration, which contain the 
 materials for investing his theme with a commanding inter- 
 est and dignity. Nothing but this will enable him to com- 
 mand, at the same time, the hearts and the heads of men, and 
 thus carry with him their highest and warmest convictions. 
 Mr. Webster undoubtedly had these instincts in a very high 
 degree and in very lively exercise. He had a sound moral 
 training in his youth, was through life a frequent reader of 
 the Holy Scriptures, and, as many who best knew him be- 
 lieve, a devout Christian. His moral culture was certainly 
 
132 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 remarkable, and produced the mpst striking effects upon his 
 eloquence. How often he surprises and delights us by a 
 happy Scriptural allusion or quotation ! and how often he 
 ennobles his argument by investing it with the sanctions of 
 morality and religion, of God and of goodness! In the only 
 direct personal collision which he ever had with Mr. Cal- 
 houn, in which the latter had thrown out certain vague, un- 
 defined charges against him, he gives a terrible energy and 
 point to his retort, by adding to it the weight of Scripture 
 authority : — 
 
 I think we read, sir, that one of the good spirits would not bring against 
 the arch-enemy of mankind a railing accusation ; and what is railing but 
 general reproach, an imputation without fact, time, or circumstance ? 
 
 While all his speeches are sprinkled over with these moral 
 touches and allusions, there are several which are remarka- 
 ble for their moral and religious tone, especially his Eulogy 
 on Jeremiah Mason, and his speeches in the Girard will 
 case, and the trial of the Knapps. In the first of these 
 there is a passage of great solemnity and interest, which 
 would do honor to the heart of the devoutest Christian. As 
 it expresses more directly and fully, perhaps, than any pas- 
 sage in his works, his own solemn convictions on the subject 
 of personal religion, it may well be quoted here: — 
 
 But, sir, political eminence and professional fame fade away and die 
 with all things earthly. Nothing of character is really permanent but vir- 
 tue and personal worth. These remain. Whatever of excellence is 
 wrought into the soul itself belongs to both worlds. Real goodness does 
 not attach itself merely to this life ; it points to another world. Political 
 or professional reputation cannot last forever ; but a conscience void of 
 offense before God and man is an inheritance for eternity. Religion, 
 therefore, is a necessary and indispensable element in every great human 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 1^^ 
 
 character. There is no living without it. Religion is the tie that connects 
 man with his Creator, and holds him to his throne. If that tie be all sun- 
 dered, all broken, he floats away a worthless atom in the universe \ its 
 proper attractions all gone, its destiny thwarted, and its whole future noth- 
 ing but darkness, desolation and death. A man with no sense of religious 
 duty is he whom the Scriptures describe, in such terse but terrific language, 
 as living " without God in the world." Such a man is out of his proper 
 being, out of the circle of all his duties, out of the circle of all his happi- 
 ness, and away, far, far away, from the purposes of his creation. 
 
 The speech in the Girard will case was entitled by its 
 author, in the pamphlet edition published at the time, " The 
 Christian Ministry and the Religious Education of the 
 Young." It is an argument for placing education upon a 
 Christian basis, and the importance and necessity of the 
 Christian ministry in a Christian scheme of education. As 
 Mr. Girard had expressly excluded all Christian ministers, 
 not only from all part in the management, but even from 
 entering on the premises, of the orphan school, to be 
 founded according to his will in the city of Philadelphia, 
 Mr. Webster took the ground before the court that a be- 
 quest made under such conditions was not, in the eye of the 
 law of a Christian country, properly a charity, and therefore 
 not entitled to the ordinary legal protection which charities 
 enjoy against the claim of the heirs at law. It is the noblest 
 argument on this subject, and the noblest tribute to the 
 value of Christian institutions, that any statesman of our 
 country, or, perhaps, of any country, has left. It excited 
 the greatest interest at the time, and called forth not only 
 the admiration and commendation of individuals' all over 
 the country, but even of some religious bodies. The sub- 
 ject is wholly religious in its bearings, and is treated through- 
 out in the most impressive and solemn tone. 
 
134 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 It is on the general doctrine of Mr. Girard's will that the 
 minds of the young should not be preoccupied or preju- 
 diced, as it is usually termed, by religious instruction, but 
 should be left blank on this subject till they arrive at matu- 
 rity, that they may form their religious views for themselves 
 — a doctrine still held by many mistaken people. I wish all 
 such would read Mr. Webster's whole speech on this and 
 kindred topics. I quote only the following passage : — 
 
 Why, sir, it is vain to talk about tlie destructive tendency of such a sys- 
 tem ; to argue upon it is to insult the understanding of every man ; it is 
 mere, sheer, low, ribald, vulgar deism and infidelity ! It opposes all that 
 is in heaven, and all on earth that is worth being on earth. It destroys 
 the connecting link between the creature and the Creator ; it opposes that 
 great system of universal benevolence and goodness that binds man to his 
 Maker. No religion till he is eighteen ! What would be the condition of 
 all our families, of all our children, if religious fathers and religious moth- 
 ers were to teach their sons and daughters no religious tenets till they 
 were eighteen ? What would become of their morals, their character, their 
 purity of heart and life, their hope for time and eternity ? What would 
 become of all those thousand ties of sweetness, benevolence, love and 
 Christian feeling, that now render our young men and young maidens like 
 comely plants growing up by a streamlet's side ? the graces and the grace 
 of opening manhood, of blossoming womanhood ? What would become 
 of all that now renders the social circle lovely and beloved ? What would 
 become of society itself ? How could it exist ? And is that to be consid- 
 ered a charity which strikes at the root of all this \ which subverts all the 
 excellence and the charms of social life ; which tends to destroy the very 
 foundation and framework of society, both in its practices and opinions ; 
 which subverts the whole decency, the whole morality, as well as the whole 
 Christianity and government of society ? No, sir ! no, sir ! 
 
 The speech in the trial of the Knapps is one of great in- 
 genuity and power, and is pervaded in all parts by a high 
 moral tone. There is one passage in it, on the power of 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 135 
 
 conscience, of so marked a character as to arrest the atten- 
 tion of every reader, and which I venture to transfer to my 
 pages, at the risk of repeating what is already famihar: — 
 
 Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe 
 nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner where 
 the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye 
 which pierces through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the splen- 
 dor of noon, such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by 
 men. True it is, generally speaking, that " murder will out." True it is, 
 that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those 
 who break the great law of heaven by shedding man's blood, seldom suc- 
 ceed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much atten- 
 tion as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thou- 
 sand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circum- 
 stance, connected witli the time and place ; a thousand ears catch every 
 whisper ; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on th% scene, shedding 
 all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze 
 of discovery. Meantime the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is 
 false to itself ; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to 
 be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not 
 what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of 
 such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it dares 
 not acknowledge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask 
 no sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret which 
 the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him, and leads him whither- 
 soever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and 
 demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads 
 it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his 
 thoughts. It has become his master ; it betrays his discretion ; it breaks 
 down his courage ; it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from with- 
 out begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, 
 the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must 
 be confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from confession but 
 suicide, and suicide is confession. 
 
136 JAMMS TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 But there is another sense in which Mr. Webster's 
 speeches exhibit a remarkable moral tone — they breathe 
 throughout what might be called a high constitutional mo- 
 rality. We freely admit the right of a people to revolution. 
 We as freely admit the right of an individual to disobey the 
 law for conscience' sake, he acknowledging his civil liability 
 for the violation, and manfully taking the consequences. 
 For genuine conscience is no sneak. The great martyrs to 
 civil and religious liberty never won their title to the crown 
 of martyrdom by sneaking, but while they openly proclaimed 
 the injustice of the law, they vindicated their sincerity, and 
 gave weight to their testimony, by calmly and meekly yield- 
 ing themselves up to suffer the penalty. When they placed 
 their consciences above the law, they placed them, also, 
 above racks, and tortures, and death itself. There is doubt- 
 less such a thing as a "higher law." But a higher law which 
 deserves the name must be calm, self-reliant and manly. 
 When a case of conscience actually arises, when the 
 " higher law " plainly demands your obedience, follow it ; 
 but in all cases which fall short of this, obedience to the 
 established laws of the land is the plain dictate of morality ; 
 nay, it is a high and sacred duty, which in a free govern- 
 ment, like ours, rises almost to the character of a cardinal 
 virtue. It is by the prevailing sense of this obligation 
 among the people of this country that we have been pre- 
 served thus far, and enjoy the happiness and prosperity by 
 which we are surrounded. 
 
 If we need illustrations to teach us the importance of this 
 principle, we have them, and very impressive ones, too, in 
 the history of other nations. Within the past year we have 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 137 
 
 seen the only considerable republic on the continent of Eu- 
 rope go down under the clutch of a tyrant, for the want of 
 this very feeling. Had there existed a tithe of the constitu- 
 tional morality in France which exists in this country, Louis 
 Napoleon might have been the president of France, but 
 never could have become its emperor. In his proclamation 
 to the people, on his first strike, the prince-president gravely 
 said to them that he had " left the law to return to right " ; 
 which, I suppose, he thought a very pretty saying, a genuine 
 bon mot. But how would such a saying sound from the 
 president of these United States } " Left the law to return 
 to right " ! What utter confusion of ideas ! Was not the 
 right in the law } and if it was not, who authorized him to 
 go in search of it elsewhere .f* The republic was legally es- 
 tablished, and rightfully could be abolished Vnly by law. 
 This single sentence, so confidently put forth, and so read- 
 ily received by the nation, reveals the whole ground of the 
 downfall of the French republic. There was no sound 
 constitutional morality either in the people or their chiefs. 
 So, too, with the Mexican and South American republics. 
 These republics are mostly modeled after our own, and have 
 been in existence about half the period of our Union. But 
 how different their history ! It presents little else than a 
 succession, in each state, of plots and revolutions, conducted 
 by rival chieftains, each endeavoring to supplant the other, 
 and gain possession of the chief power, not by the free votes 
 of the people, but by the sword. It is hoped that.somic of 
 them are improving a little of late, but they still exhibit a 
 great want of that practical regard for law which has been 
 the fruitful cause of much of their calamitous history. 
 i8 
 
138 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 But with US, by the favor of Providence, a sound consti- 
 tutional moraHty has become so thoroughly established (and 
 may it never become unsettled) that law and majorities, the 
 two great principles of our government, are acquiesced in 
 without the least show of resistance, or even a murmur. 
 When the voice of the majority is fairly pronounced, the 
 most extensive party organizations and the intensest party 
 excitement collapse and subside, like a tempest which has 
 spent its force. Nor is it necessary that the majority should 
 be large in order to command a quiet acquiescence. There 
 are constantly occurring among us instances of elections, 
 and that, too, to the highest offices, carried by a single vote, 
 where the, successful candidate takes his seat as quietly as 
 though elected by a majority of thousands. This virtue, 
 undoubtedly, we inherited largely from our English ances- 
 try, but it needs constant and assiduous cultivation, and it 
 will ever be one of the chief elements in the fair fame of 
 Mr. Webster, that he so studiously, perseveringly and effect- 
 ually inculcated and enforced it, through the whole course 
 of his life. The words of Senator Seward, recently uttered 
 in the senate of the nation, referring to Mr. Webster's de- 
 cease, so happily express the great service which Mr. Web- 
 ster rendered the country in this regard, that I venture 
 to quote them here : — 
 
 The first revolutionary assembly that convened in Boston promulgated 
 the principle of the revolution of 1688 — " Resistance to unjust laws is 
 obedience to God " — and it became the watchword throughout the colo- 
 nies. Under that motto the colonies dismembered the British Empire 
 and erected the American Republic. At an early day it seemed to Daniel 
 Webster that the habitual cherishing of that principle, after its great work 
 had been consummated, threatened to subvert, in its turn, the free and 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 1^9 
 
 beneficent constitution, which afforded the highest attainable security 
 against the passage of unjust laws. He addressed himself, therefore, 
 assiduously, and almost alone, to what seemed to him a duty of calling the 
 American people back from revolutionary theories, to the formation of 
 habits of peace, order, and submission to authority. He inculcated the 
 duty of submission by states and citizens to all laws passed within the 
 province of constitutional authority, and of absolute reliance on constitu- 
 tional remedies for the correction of all errors, and the redress of all injus- 
 tice. This was the political gospel of Daniel Webster. He preached it 
 in season and out of season, boldly, constantly, with the zeal of an apos- 
 tle, and with the devotion, if there were need, of a martyr. It was full of 
 saving influences while he lived, and those influences will last so long as 
 the constitution and the Union endure. 
 
 It remains that I make a few observations on the style of 
 Mr, Webster's speeches. Style is to writings what manners 
 are to the man, or what the cut is to a coat. It is the 
 fashion of one's thoughts. Language is the fabric, and 
 the book, the speech ; the article, the made garment ; and 
 every writer is his own tailor. If he be a bungling work- 
 man, the cloth is spoiled; if skillful, the wonder is how so 
 comely a garment could be made from such homespun stuff. 
 Mr. Webster always preferred the homespun to the factory- 
 made or imported article, but he was no bungler in making 
 it up. And as a well-made garment always fits the person 
 for whom it was designed, so a good style always fits the 
 intellectual character of the writer. It is its very image 
 and superscription. This is eminently the case with Mr. 
 Webster's style. He copied no foreign modes, he sought no 
 model out of himself, but simply sought to develop fitly and 
 adequately what was in himself. His style is simply Daniel 
 Webster embodied in speech. In the small space now left 
 I shall not attempt fully to characterize that style, but sim- 
 ply to name two of its prominent qualities. 
 
140 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 The first is its highly argumentative character. Mr. 
 Webster does not, to be sure, make so much use of illative, 
 causal and syllogistic words as some, but he is always reason- 
 ing, notwithstanding. The mere outward form and frame- 
 work of reasoning, the mere array of "fors," and "there- 
 fores," and " consequentlys," which are but the stepping- 
 stones in the ascent of reasoning, and which a master mind 
 always dispenses with in a great measure, are by no means 
 formidable in his speeches ; but the real substance of reason- 
 ing is there, and is felt all the more for being disencumbered 
 of these dialectic clogs. Mr. Webster's speeches are always 
 founded upon matter, not upon vacuity, as is the case with too 
 many speeches. He always has an important subject, which 
 he opens his way into further and further, every sentence he 
 utters. He always has a goal before him, which he steadily 
 keeps in view, and as steadily approaches at every step. 
 He has a point to prove, and he is always proving it. 
 There is no retrogression in his movements, no running off 
 on tangents, no introduction of irrelevant matter, no excur- 
 sions into the regions of fancy, no distracting array of learn- 
 ing, no bewildering corruscations of wit or of rhetoric, but 
 simply straight-forward, pertinent, forcible argument — often 
 brilliant, no doubt, often ornamented, but yet none the less 
 solid argument. The great subject, tossed to and fro by his 
 giant strength, and smitten now here and now there by his 
 huge hammer, often rings with piercing echoes, and sends 
 forth brilliant flashes of light, but they are drawn from the 
 subject itself by the strength and skill of the workman — 
 the light which is seen is the real, native light of the sub- 
 ject, and not mere fireworks. I should like to exhibit the 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 141 
 
 argumentative character of his style, by presenting an anal- 
 ysis of one of his great speeches, but space does not allow, 
 and if it did, it would only be presenting a dry skeleton, in- 
 stead of the living and life-giving form itself. 
 
 The other quality in Mr. Webster's style, which I here 
 name, is its remarkable simplicity. There is nothing meta- 
 physical, nothing stilted, and, generally, nothing elaborate 
 about it. Not that Mr. Webster was wanting in metaphys- 
 ical power, but that under the potent alchemy of his mind, 
 abstractions were changed into concrete forms. It has been 
 said that it takes time to be simple, and it might be added, 
 that it takes talent, too. What a feeble mind works up to 
 through complicated and laborious processes, spreading out 
 a formidable array of stepping-stones, and formulas, and di- 
 alectic machinery of every sort, a powerful and well-trained 
 mind grasps at once in its elementary forms, and presents it 
 with all the simplicity of nature. Such, pre-eminently, as I 
 conceive, was the process with Mr. Webster. His was a 
 mind of gigantic strength, developed and directed by severe 
 discipline and profound study. He had the requisite talent, 
 and took the requisite time, to be simple. Compared with 
 the metaphysical disquisitions of Calhoun, or the elaborate 
 discourses of Burke, the speeches of Mr. Webster have full 
 as much, and generally much more, solid thought, while 
 they have the great advantage of being infinitely more sim- 
 ple and direct in their style. The business of the statesman 
 is practical, and a statesman, to be a good one, rnust be a 
 practical man, and have a plain, practical style of communi- 
 cating his thoughts. In this Mr. Webster is unapproached, 
 and almost unapproachable. There may be others who 
 
142 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 equal him in the bare matter of. simplicity, but for discuss- 
 ing a great or profound subject in all its fullness and com- 
 pleteness, according to a method and in language adapted 
 to the comprehension of the humblest class of minds, I 
 know of no equal. His style is almost conversational, and, 
 indeed, quite so in parts of many of his speeches. He often 
 seems to throw himself into a subject, and seize one frag- 
 ment of it after another, and hold it up and talk about it, as 
 a naturalist would about a mineral, till you see all its pecul- 
 iarities, its angles of crystalization, its composition, and 
 whole structure and history. He carries a strong business 
 tact with him into his speeches. He has ideas which he is 
 certain are valuable, and which he feels it is important that 
 his hearers should understand and appreciate. He holds 
 them up, therefore, to those around him, and expatiates 
 upon their qualities earnestly and eloquently, and yet famil- 
 iarly, as a merchant does upon his wares. This style of 
 speaking may perhaps be thought by some to possess small 
 merit compared with high-sounding and high-soaring ora- 
 tory, and flowing, transcendent eloquence, but not by those 
 experienced in public affairs. It is just what is needed, and 
 just what does the work in deliberative bodies, and is worth 
 more to a nation than oceans of phosphorescent rhetoric. 
 The solidity and simplicity of Mr. Webster's style forms its 
 crowning ornaments, and more than anything else accounts 
 for his vast ascendency over all the other statesmen and ora- 
 tors of our country. 
 
 But I must bring these observations to a close ; and in 
 doing so I feel how poor and meager they are, compared 
 with the great subject to which they relate. Words cannot 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 143 
 
 convey an adequate conception of the eloquence of Daniel 
 Webster. In order to have any just idea of it, one must 
 have witnessed its display for himself. His great power of 
 thought and language was sustained and seconded by a per- 
 son, a voice and a bearing, such as rarely grace the forum. 
 He had the body of Agamemnon and the voice of Nestor, 
 with a solemn dignity of bearing peculiarly his own. Of 
 immense solidity and firmness of attitude, he seemed, while 
 speaking in the court or in the senate, not unlike one of those 
 bronze statues of the monarch of the forests, which stand in 
 the public squares of large cities, with a copious stream of 
 limpid water issuing from the mouth for the cooling and 
 refreshing of those around, and in which the only motion 
 discoverable is that occasional jar and agitation caused by 
 the uprising of the rushing waters, struggftng to escape. 
 The privilege of witnessing, in person, one of Mr. Webster's 
 highest oratorical efforts, was always regarded as among the 
 rarest sights in our land. To the cultivated man it was bet 
 ter than Franconia, Niagara, or the Mammoth Cave. But 
 the opportunity for such a sight has passed away forever, 
 and nothing is left to perpetuate the impression, but the 
 poor words of those who have happened at some time to be 
 favored with it. The great orator, with his statue-like form, 
 his massive head, his jutting brow, his speaking eye, his com- 
 manding voice, and all that made him impressive to mortal 
 sight, has gone down to the grave. He has taken his place 
 among departed worthies, and has already become an histor- 
 ical character. And as we look back through the gallery of 
 history, adorned at long intervals with the forms of the 
 great, we seem to see no form taller or more majestic than 
 
144 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 his. He moves with all the ease and dignity of conscious 
 equality among the Demostheneses, the Ciceros, the Chat- 
 hams and the Burkes of other ages, and not without some 
 indications of superiority to them all. Inter pares facile 
 princeps. 
 
CHRISTIAN EDUCATION 
 
 % 
 
 COLLEGE CHAPEL 
 
 FEB. 29, 1872 
 
CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 
 
 Psalms hi. io. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 
 
 These words have seemed to me as appropriate as any to 
 the purpose which I have in view, of addressing you on the 
 subject of Christian education. Systems of education, 
 according to the prevailing spirit or element which charac- 
 terizes them, may be divided into the scientific, the aesthetic 
 and the Christian. To this list, indeed, n^ght be added 
 what is called practical education. This, however, is but 
 a method, not a system, of education. It concerns the man- 
 ner of imparting knowledge, or the aim kept in view, rather 
 than the substance of the knowledge imparted. Practical 
 education is opposed to theoretical education, and hence 
 may be either the scientific, the aesthetic, or the Christian 
 system carried out practically. Or, if in certain cases the 
 term practical education has come to be used to designate 
 the system of truths taught, it refers to such truths as are 
 readily made practical, and then it would be little more than 
 a subdivision of scientific education. 
 
 There are, then, properly speaking, but three systems of 
 education — the scientific, the literary or aesthetic, and the 
 Christian. Of these, the scientific relies chiefly upon the 
 truths of science for furnishing and educating the mind. 
 And by science is coming to be understood almost exclu- 
 
 147 
 
148 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 sively physical science. Mathematics is scarcely embraced 
 under it, except as an instrument for investigating the laws 
 of nature, and as to metaphysics, it is wholly rejected. In 
 short, the term science as now used means little more than 
 what is known as positive science, which ignores all abstract 
 conceptions, such as those of " attraction," " force," " causa- 
 tion " — whether first or final — and devotes itself wholly to 
 facts, and their generalization by simple enumeration, ac- 
 cording to their succession and similarity. The tendency of 
 science, I say, is to this form, and, as far as it approaches it, 
 a simple scientific education must appear to every one a 
 very defective and incomplete means of culture. Is it 
 enough for one to know simply the facts and laws of phys- 
 ical nature } to be able to recognize and classify the natural 
 objects by which he is surrounded ? to know what in experi- 
 ence will bring weal and what woe } Shall he not inquire 
 also into the nature, origin and destiny of his own soul ? 
 Shall he not seek after God, if haply he may find him ? 
 May he not pry into the causes of things, and study their 
 adaptations and design? There is here, it is obvious, a 
 wide field untouched by science in its popular, accepted 
 sense. 
 
 So also is a strictly literary or aesthetic education one- 
 sided and incomplete. Such an education does not, it is 
 true, wholly ignore the high problems just named, yet it 
 attends to them, as well as to scientific questions, but inci- 
 dentally. Its great instrument for educating the mind is art 
 and letters. These letters may relate to any subject, pro- 
 vided it be viewed under the relations of taste. They may 
 embrace science and metaphysics and theology in their 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 149 
 
 lighter and more attractive forms. All polite literature, 
 whether in the form of philosophy, of history, of fiction, or 
 of poetry, is pressed into its service. And with these, and 
 the study of the fine arts, much undoubtedly may be done 
 in furnishing and training the mind. But much also will 
 remain undone ; and especially the more robust and mascu- 
 line powers of the mind will remain comparatively undevel- 
 oped — the powers of generalization and abstraction, of 
 broad and comprehensive conception, and of high and 
 subtle reasoning. Such a training may produce a refined 
 and elegant culture, but will leave the mind impotent to 
 grapple with the more profound and difficult questions 
 which underlie all knowledge, or are connected with our 
 being and destiny. 
 
 An cesthetic education, then, is not less dMective than a 
 mere scientific education, though in a different way each 
 should be supplemented by the other, and to make the sys- 
 tem perfect, both should be supplemented by a Christian 
 education. And by Christian education I do not mean pre- 
 cisely what is sometimes expressed by it. I do not mean so 
 much an education in the forms and details of Christianity, 
 as an education which founds and proceeds upon some of 
 its great fundamental principles — such as the existence of 
 God as a creator and governor of the universe, the reality 
 of design or final causes in the works of nature, the person- 
 ality and immortality of the human soul, and the like. I 
 am speaking of education in its public and general relations. 
 The details of a Christian education belong to the family 
 and the church ; but a public education should at least rec- 
 ognize and rest upon its fundamental principles. And it is 
 
1^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 remarkable that the above-named principles, and a few oth- 
 ers like them, such as the reality of an external world, are 
 what Dr. Reid calls principles of common sense, and ap- 
 peals in their defense — successfully, as I think — to the 
 common sense of mankind. By others they are called met- 
 aphysical and theological ideas, and by Kant, ideas of the 
 pure reason. But, by whatever name they are called, they 
 obviously lie at the foundation of all knowledge, and are 
 essential to connect it together and give it coherence. If 
 external nature, to adopt the definition of Mr. Mill, be noth- 
 ing more than " a permanent possibility of impressions," and 
 we ourselves only the correlative possibility of receiving or 
 realizing these impressions, and God and Providence be 
 merely the ceaseless and endless on-flowing of these impres- 
 sions, given and received in orderly succession according to 
 fixed laws, what is knowledge but the baseless fabric of a 
 vision ? In the language of Fichte, "All reality is converted 
 into a marvelous dream, without a life to dream of, and with- 
 out a mind to dream; into a dream made up only of a dream 
 of itself." And not only are these ideas necessary in order 
 to give substance and coherence to knowledge, but they are 
 of the very highest importance in their moral and disciplin- 
 ary effect. What better, what more wholesome gymnastic 
 is there for the mind, than is found in the investigation and 
 study of these great ideas, so intimately connected with the 
 origin, the existence and destiny both of ourselves and other 
 things ! Every system of knowledge or education, then, 
 which excludes or ignores these ideas, is radically defective, 
 and unworthy at least of a Christian country. Let us pro- 
 ceed now to a more detailed consideration of some of these 
 fundamental truths. 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 151 
 
 I. Of the belief in the existence and providence of God- 
 The existence of God has been said to be the condition of 
 the possibility of all things. No God, no universe ; no cre- 
 ator, no creation. But the Christian conception of God is 
 not merely that of a creator, but of a kind, ever-present and 
 ever-provident Father. He is represented in Scripture not 
 only as the maker of all things, and of ourselves among 
 other beings and things, but as sustaining all things in exist- 
 ence by the constant exertion of his power, and directing 
 their movements by the constant exercise of his wisdom; as 
 embracing in his Providence every movement in this vast 
 scheme of things, and ordering them all for the best good 
 of his intelligent creatures ; as knowing our thoughts, 
 words and deeds, and holding us responsible for the same ; 
 as compassionating our case as sinners, anJl making pro- 
 vision for our recovery from our lost estate ; but that, 
 although thus long-suffering and compassionate, yet, as our 
 final judge, he will by no means spare those who persist in 
 sin, but consign them to their just doom in another world. 
 What a conception this ! How admirably adapted to our 
 condition ! How encouraging to the right-minded, how 
 deterrent to evil-doers ! Obliterate it, and what a chasm, 
 what a blank it leaves ! And yet there are those who would 
 obliterate it. And on what grounds.? 
 
 Some say that they cannot find God. They look for him 
 but they behold him not ; they listen, but they hear not his 
 voice ; they search through nature, but they find no traces 
 of him. To such the history of all growths and changes in 
 the world, including races of men, animals, plants, and all 
 other transformations which take place, are but genealogical 
 
152 
 
 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 tables of succession, wherein one thing begets another, and 
 so on indefinitely ; yes, indefinitely, perhaps, but not on this 
 account infinitely. These changes are all effects as well as 
 causes, and effects, too, before they are causes, and however 
 great their number, would not supply the necessary condi- 
 tion of a cause which is not also an effect. The chain is 
 not only made up of finite links, but of links without a sta- 
 ple to fasten to. And then, are we sure that God does 
 not intervene between the links, to form the connections 
 throughout the whole length of the chain ? Or, if it be 
 said that these transitions from one thing to another are all 
 made by forces inherent in nature itself, we may still inquire 
 who put those forces there ? Does matter generate force of 
 itself ? Are we to believe that all these powers of attraction 
 and repulsion, that these afiinities and repugnances which 
 pervade nature, that the wonderful agencies of light, heat 
 and electricity, that the myriad adaptations among objects, 
 as of iron for the railroad track, of coal and wood for the 
 generation of heat, of the horse for the bridle and his rider, 
 the ox for the yoke, the eye for the light — are we to believe, 
 I say, that all these are self-constituted and independent.? 
 Impossible ! Is it not infinitely more probable that this 
 scheme of men and things was made with mutual corre- 
 spondences, so as to work together by a wise and beneficent 
 creator .? 
 
 To most men, I am persuaded, this seems vastly the more 
 probable hypothesis. And yet there are some who appear 
 to doubt it. For, say they, matter is eternal — it cannot be 
 destroyed, it cannot be created. We may change its form, 
 we may decompose it, we may burn it, we may evaporate it, 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 153 
 
 but we cannot destroy it, nor diminish nor increase its 
 amount by a single particle. Very true, we cannot, but 
 does this prove that God cannot ? Indeed, this is begging 
 the whole question, which is, whether the existence of mat- 
 ter, and the world as it is, do not require the supposition of 
 a creator. We are brought back, then, to the point just 
 considered, whether it is more probable that this scheme of 
 things, including men, animals and other objects, with all 
 their powers, properties, adaptations and correspondences, 
 exist, and always have existed, independently and of them- 
 selves, or have been brought into existence, and sustained 
 by an omnipotent creator. I trust there is no one present 
 who has any doubt on this point. And yet it may not be 
 amiss to glance for a moment at the way in which those 
 who hold to the eternity of matter and reject the idea of a 
 creator attempt to account for things as we find them. We 
 find matter existing both as organized and unorganized, ani- 
 mate and inanimate, and with almost infinite variations 
 under each of these forms. And the question is, how has 
 matter attained these forms if there has been no creation. 
 Why, say they, by a constant evolution from simpler to 
 more complicated forms, and this by an internal power of its 
 own. Unorganized matter somehow works itself up into 
 organized, and organized matter into animate matter. Yes, 
 somehow ! but how they never have explained, and, I be- 
 lieve, never can. A most elaborate attempt, indeed, has 
 been made to explain this evolution through the .different 
 forms of animate life, by Mr. Darwin and his followers, in 
 their theory of the " Transmutation of Species." It is true 
 that Darwinism is not necessarily atheistic, and yet it must 
 20 
 
154 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 be apparent that that is its tendency. If existing species of 
 plants and animals have sprung from a single original spe- 
 cies by " natural variations and the survival of the fittest," 
 why may not this original form of organic life have been 
 evolved directly from inanimate matter ? 
 
 And the theory is equally prejudicial to the doctrine of 
 final causes. The lowest hypothesis which will satisfy the 
 Christian idea of God is, that he concurs in all changes, or, 
 in other words, that, if he has endowed matter with certain 
 powers, these powers are not independent of himself — they 
 must be sustained and seconded by him in order to be ope- 
 rative. Without this there is no room for such a thing as 
 Providence. And not only so, but that he has made things 
 with permanent adaptations, so as to serve given ends, 
 which may be said to be the ground or cause of his having 
 made them so. And what evidence has the vaunted theory 
 of evolution presented, and what can it present, to show 
 that these adaptations are not designed and permanent ! 
 Has it been able to point out any clear case — or any ap- 
 proach, even, to a clear case — of the transformation of spe- 
 cies during either the historical or fossiliferous period? 
 Does it not rather depend upon slight, local, exceptional 
 cases of transformation, and from these leap to general con- 
 clusions, which are by no means warranted by the facts .? 
 And what advantage has the theory for the explanation of 
 nature over the old idea of adaptation and design ? Take, 
 for instance, the giraffe — how does it happen that this ani- 
 mal has such an exceptionally long neck ? The transmuta- 
 tion theory assumes that it has become so in the struggle 
 for life, in other words, by the necessity for high feeding in 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^^^ 
 
 a country liable to droughts ; in brief, indirectly at least, as 
 the result of stretching. Now, what advantage philosoph- 
 ically has this view over that which regards this species of 
 animal as made originally by an all-wise God for this very 
 purpose, to get its sustenance from the shrubs and trees, 
 while the other animals in the same habitat should feed 
 upon the ground? And if philosophically the conception 
 has no advantage over the common one, morally it is at a 
 great disadvantage in the comparison, and on the score of 
 probability also, as I believe. 
 
 Indeed, this argument from design and final causes, which 
 is well-nigh robbed of all significance by the evolution the- 
 ory, is perhaps the most striking and convincing of all the 
 arguments for the existence of God. To design or con- 
 ceive of ends and contrive means to attain tkose ends, is the 
 distinctive act of human intelligence, and hence, when we 
 discover in our own bodies and in other objects around us 
 such striking evidences of design and adaptation of means 
 to ends, we very naturally, and legitimately, too, ascribe 
 them to a wise and beneficent creator. Thus the Apostle 
 Paul, in the first of Romans, says, " The invisible things of 
 him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being 
 understood by the things that are made, even his eternal 
 power and Godhead." So also the Psalmist: "O Lord, 
 how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou made 
 them all ; the earth is full of thy riches." And again, " I 
 will praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made : 
 marvelous are thy works ; and that my soul knoweth right 
 well." And who in studying his own frame, and contem- 
 plating the various aspects of nature, is not conscious of 
 
156 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 similar sentiments struggling far utterance ! What a piece 
 of mechanism is the human body, furnished as it is with 
 levers and joints and lubricating fluids! supplied with ducts, 
 veins and arteries to nourish, with muscles to move, with 
 bones to sustain and protect, with nerves to feel and flesh to 
 round it out and make it a fit tabernacle for the indwelling 
 of the spirit ! The ancient Greeks, who had a lively per- 
 ception of beauty and order, designated the universe by a 
 word which embodied both these ideas — cosmos ; and this 
 has not been thought by one of the greatest naturalists of 
 modern times an unsuitable title under which to publish to 
 the world the results of his vast explorations through the 
 realms of nature. " Beauty and order " ; these are the grand 
 characteristics of nature which meet us everywhere — 
 whether we view a limited landscape, made up of hill and 
 dale, forest and rippling stream ; or traverse vast tracks of 
 country diversified by mountain and prairie, lake and water- 
 fall, and irrigated by great rivers, making their way to the 
 ocean; whether we look out upon the earth clothed with 
 verdure or sheeted with snow ; whether we look up to the 
 heavens studded with stars, or down into the deep sparkling 
 with gems ! And who but an all-wise and benevolent being 
 could have so made and ordered all these things ! Surely 
 " The heavens declare the glory of God ; and the firmament 
 showeth his handiwork." 
 
 It is not pretended, of course, that the evidence of the 
 existence of God is demonstrative, that is, so conclusive that 
 the opposite is absolutely impossible. The question is not 
 of a nature to admit that kind of proof — but the proof is 
 next to that, it possesses the very highest degree of prob- 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 157 
 
 ability ; and the importance of the doctrine is so great that 
 the slightest degree of probability in its favor should be 
 sufficient to determine as to its acceptance. Hold on to 
 this great idea, therefore, against all specious reasoning and 
 against all solicitations of wicked men and wicked passions. 
 Indeed, it is so fundamental, so primary in its nature, so 
 essential to everything which deserves the name of knowl- 
 edge or enters into our experience, that one cannot rest long 
 in its rejection. If cast out it will return to haunt you, so 
 that you must entertain it either as a reality or as a specter. 
 Settle down upon it, then, as a finality, and conforming your 
 lives to it, rest in it in peace and security ! 
 
 II. But in addition to the doctrines of a first and of final 
 causes, there is another fundamental Christian doctrine 
 which it comes within the scope of the present discourse to 
 consider, namely, the personality, the responsibility and im- 
 mortality of the human soul. It is true that neither this nor 
 the other doctrines named are exclusively Christian ; they 
 were all held, with greater or less certainty, by many of the 
 ancient Greek and Roman philosophers, to say nothing of 
 other heathen writers. But they are adopted and set forth 
 with much greater distinctness and prominence in the Scrip- 
 tures, so much so, that of the doctrine now under consider- 
 ation it is said, that " life and immortality are brought to 
 light in the Gospel." And, as there could be no Savior if 
 there were no God, so there could be no salvation if the 
 soul were not immortal. These doctrines, therefore, are 
 fundamental to Christianity, and hence deserve to be de- 
 nominated Christian. 
 
 My exposition of the doctrine of immortality must neces- 
 
158 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 
 
 sarily be brief. And it is not needful that much should be 
 said in its defence. Our instincts all plead for immortality. 
 Every one shrinks from the thought of annihilation — of 
 perishing with the brutes. I am to speak, however, not sim- 
 ply of the immortality of the soul, but of our personality 
 and responsibility. Immortality without personality would 
 be merely endless existence, without any one to be inter- 
 ested in it. The immortality of the soul, unless that soul 
 has a distinct, conscious personality, is no more than the 
 immortality of the rocks and trees, and other unconscious 
 things. Personality, then, supposes consciousness, and a 
 unity and continuity of consciousness. It is a conscious- 
 ness all one's own, the privity, if I may so say, to what is 
 going on within a certain sphere, to which no other person 
 has access. This is the first element of personality. A 
 second element is, that this conscious being discriminates 
 himself from other things — there is to him a me and a not 
 me. He knows himself, and he knows other things as dif- 
 ferent from himself. A third element is the power of choos- 
 ing and acting [for himself. Such a self-conscious, self- 
 discriminating and self-controlling existence is a person or 
 individual. He is not to be confounded with things around 
 him ; he is no mere phenomenon, appearing and disappear- 
 ing amid the transformations of nature, no mere waif thrown 
 up from pantheistic depths, but a distinct, self-centered indi- 
 vidual, the crowning work of creation, the noblest work of 
 God. And having the power of knowing and choosing, 
 of knowing the right and choosing it, of course he is 
 responsible. 
 
 And can it be that such a being is made to endure but for 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 159 
 
 a day! Made in the image of God, why should not his 
 existence run parallel with that of God ? A person, a hu- 
 man being, has been defined as a soul served by a material 
 organism. The organism, the body, may die, but why 
 should this involve the death of the soul ? Its dissolution, 
 to be sure, removes to mere lookers-on the sensible evidence 
 of the existence of the soul ; but the body being of a differ- 
 ent nature from the soul, as all the phenomena of life go to 
 show, what destroys it would not be likely to destroy the 
 soul. As the taking down of the scaffolding does not at all 
 damage the house, but on the contrary only renders its fair 
 proportions more striking, so we may well suppose that the 
 dissolution of these limbs and external senses, which have 
 been so helpful and essential to the soul in the experience 
 of life in this material world, will be only disencumbering it 
 of what has obscured its glory, and removing the only obsta- 
 cle to a higher and more spiritual existence. Indeed, I see 
 nothing incredible in the supposition of Bishop Butler, that 
 the soul will be so little affected by the dissolution of the 
 body as to pass through the crisis of death without the sus- 
 pension of its usual processes of thinking, and thus, by the 
 death of the body, be born directly into a new life. And 
 surviving the death of the body, we can see nothing to limit 
 its duration. 
 
 This, I am aware, is but a slight and very partial exhibi- 
 tion of the arguments for the immortality of the soul, and 
 even were they all presented in their most convincing form, 
 it is freely admitted, as in the previous case, that they would 
 fall short of a perfectly demonstrative proof. The proof 
 here also is merely probable, though in the highest de- 
 gree so. 
 
160 JAMES Tift champlin. 
 
 And this, as you are aware, is the case with most ques- 
 tions. Only questions of quantity admit of absolutely de- 
 monstrative proof. Hence all moral and religious questions, 
 as well as most questions pertaining to practical life, are 
 merely probable. Indeed, as observed by Bishop Butler, to 
 man with his limited powers probability is the guide of life. 
 And what is probability ? When we pronounce any event 
 or conclusion to be probable, we always mean that the pre- 
 ponderance of reasons seems to us to be in favor of such 
 event or conclusion, as against any other. This preponder- 
 ance may be greater or less in different cases, but in all 
 cases, in order to constitute probability, it must be sufficient 
 to incline the reason to a particular conclusion, and as rea- 
 son is given us for a guide within its sphere, what convinces 
 the reason should determine the conduct. If it do not, we 
 show ourselves prejudiced and perverse. 
 
 Hence it is that so much stress is laid upon faith in the 
 Scriptures. Faith, as far as it is a matter of the intellect, is 
 belief, probable opinion, and is by no means confined to re- 
 ligious questions. The great metaphysical questions, which 
 are fundamental to all science and life, such as the real, sub- 
 stantive existence of matter and of our own souls, as well 
 as the existence of God, are matters of faith. They can- 
 not be absolutely demonstrated ; yet the indications are all 
 in their favor, and meet upon all sides. They appeal to us 
 through our senses, through our feelings and through our 
 reason, so that we cannot long rest in their rejection. And 
 so it is with strictly religious questions, such as our condem- 
 nation for sin under the law of God, the necessity of an 
 atonement, the reality of a state of retribution in another 
 
JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 161 
 
 world, and the like. These questions meet us on every side, 
 and solicit our attention and acceptance in ten thousand 
 indescribable ways. We may try to disprove them, and 
 think we have done so, but they will return in every hour of 
 seriousness. They will be called up at innumerable points 
 in the experience of life. The interest at stake being so 
 great, we cannot and ought not to disregard the slightest 
 probability in their favor. In religious matters, therefore, 
 faith has great scope, and ought to have great influence 
 with us. 
 
 Thus an education which rests upon the doctrines of first 
 and final causes, and of the immortality of the soul, is at 
 the same time an effectual discipline of that habit of mind 
 which is concerned in Christian faith, and hence opens the 
 way into the very heart of Christianity. Sucl^an education, 
 then, may well claim for itself the title of Christian, espe- 
 cially in these days, when there are so many who ignore or 
 reject these doctrines, in their mad attempt to undermine 
 the foundations of our religion. Let Christians, then, hold 
 on to these doctrines all the more tenaciously, instil them 
 carefully into the minds of their children, and see that they 
 are inculcated in their institutions of learning. They are 
 by no means the whole of religion, but they are essential as 
 a foundation for it — the best possible safeguard, the surest 
 anchorage for the mind to rest in. Being once intelli- 
 gently received and vividly realized, they open the mind to 
 the reception of the other truths of religion, and dispose the 
 heart to receive them. 
 
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