THE CHARACTER OF MODERN SCIENCE, OR, THE MISSION 
 OF THE EDUCATED MAN. 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVEUED BEFORE THE 
 
 ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
 
 COLUMBIAN COLLEGE, 
 
 JULY 21, 1852. 
 
 BY HON. FREDERICK P.^ STANTON, 
 
 OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 WASHINGTON; 
 
 I'RlXrED BY ROBERT A. WATERS. 
 
 1852. 
 
1949 
 
 \ 
 
 i2 
 •y 1 
 
 :he character of modern science, or, the mission of 
 the educated man. 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVEBED BS70EE TBS 
 
 ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
 
 GGLIIMBIAN COLLEGE, 
 
 JULY 21, 1862. 
 
 /;■;■;' 1 ^ > ' / ' ■ 
 
 ' BY HON. FREDERICK P. STANTON, 
 
 OF TENNESSEE.' 
 
 WASHINGTON: d 
 
 PRINTED BY ROBERT A. WATERS. 
 
 1852. 
 
ft ' 
 
HON. FREDERICK P. STANTON. 
 
 Sib : At a meeting of the Alumni Association of Columbian College, 
 held on the evening of the twenty-first instant, it was unanimously *' Re- 
 solved, That the thanks of this Association be tendered to the Hon. F. P. 
 Stanton for his very excellent and able address delivered before the Asso- 
 ciation this evening, and that a copy thereof be respectfully solicited for 
 publication." 
 
 I have been honored by being appointed the medium of communicating to 
 you the expression of thanks and the request embodied in the above reso- 
 lution. Allow me to add my personal thanks and solicitations, to the wish 
 of the Association, and, with the hope that you will acquiesce therein, to re- 
 main with the highest respect and esteem, 
 
 Your very obedient servant, 
 
 W. B, WEBB. 
 
 WA8HI5GT0N CiTY, July 22d, 1852. 
 
 Washington, 2Zd July, 1852. 
 SiE : I hat'e the honor to acknowledge the receipt of yours of the 22d 
 instant, conveying to me information of the resolution of the Alumni As- 
 sociation and requesting a copy of my address for publication. 
 
 Appreciating the value of your estimate of my production, and grateful 
 for the compliment it implies, I send you a copy according to the request 
 of the Society, although I am conscious that a critical examination of it 
 will tend only to diminish the estimate they have placed upon it. 
 I am, very respectfully, 
 
 Your 'obedient servant, 
 
 FRED. P. STANTON. 
 W. B. Webb, Esq., 
 
 Washington City, D. C. 
 
ADDRESS. 
 
 I have undertaken a task, gentlemen, for the due performance of 
 which I have had as little leisure, as I am conscious of possessing 
 ability. Peculiar circumstances made my acquaintance at the Col- 
 lege so slight, that I have none of those agreeable reminiscences 
 which would naturally find expression on the present occasion, 
 and which would serre so well to relieve the tedium of an unpre- 
 tending address. Besides, since a very early age, I have been en- 
 gaged in the active duties of life under such conditions, that I have 
 had little opportunity for the cultivation of those branches of learn- 
 ing, which would serve at least to adorn, if not to constitute entirely, 
 the staple of such a production as you might reasonably expect from 
 one of the Alumni of Columbian College, 
 
 But in the absence of those friendly ties which naturally grow 
 up in the intimacy of College life, when we tread together the 
 flowery paths of literature, or with severer toil, struggle, hand in 
 hand, along the rock-built and star-lit heights of modern science, 
 there is yet another bond of sympathy to unite us, as strong, as true, 
 as natural, as that which springs from early association in the pur- 
 suit of knowledge. I speak of that common feeling — I may well say, 
 that common experience — among educated men, that they are des- 
 tined to occupy the foremost rank in society, and in a great measure, 
 to control its impulses, and give direction to its efforts — that they are 
 entrusted with a holy mission, to be faithfully fulfilled for the benefit 
 of mankind, and that they are mutually responsible for the correct 
 exercise of the power which knowledge imparts. The enlightened 
 man, who feels the whole importance of his position, cannot fail to 
 be sensible of the tie which connects him with every other member 
 of his own class, and which produces a solidarity of interests and 
 aims, requiring mutual confidence, support, and co-operation. A 
 
generous and self-sacrificing spirit, looking to higher aims than 
 mere personal aggrandizement or selfish enjoyment, and therefore 
 seeking association for the development of good, is the characteristic 
 of that man whose mind has been awakened by the electric touch 
 of truth, to behold nature, physical and moral, in all the sublime 
 simplicity and benevolence of her divine laws. This natural con- 
 nexion among educated men — this broad sympathy which makes 
 of them one brotherhood, imbued with the same noble thoughts and 
 bent upon achieving the same lofty puposes, may well serve to 
 supply the place of those warmer and more pleasing attachments 
 which spring from youthful association, at school or in college. 
 Starting with this conviction, and feeling its influence supreme over 
 my own mind and heart, I shall proceed at once to the subject which 
 I have chosen for my brief address^ — that is, to mark the char- 
 acter AND TENDENCY of modcm science, and thus to explore 
 (rapidly and imperfectly it may be) the field in which lies the mis- 
 sion of the educated man. 
 
 In entering upon this theme, I pause for a moment to make some 
 distinctions which seem to me to be necessary, in order to a clear 
 and perfect understanding of the ideas which it is my purpose to 
 present. In the first place, then, by the term '* educated man, " 
 I do not mean the man of mere learning, who has simply hoarded 
 up the thoughts of others and appropriated them to his own use. 
 I am indeed very far from undervaluing even these important ac- 
 quisitions. But I mean to characterize the man, who, having ob- 
 tained the leadmg elements of knowledge, has been trained in ad- 
 dition, to see with his own eyes and think with his own thoughts, 
 and not merely to see and think through the medium of what other 
 men have believed and recorded. It follows, therefore, that my 
 definition of the educated man, highly as I prize the advantages of 
 college discipline and instruction, would not necessarily imply the 
 enjoyment of these invaluable opportunities. The man whom na- 
 ture has endowed with a strong mind and an ardent love of knowledge 
 — the man of independent thought, who pursues his investigations 
 by the light of that torch which God has placed in his own reason — 
 ^this man has, in a thousand instances, outstripped his brother in 
 
the race of intellect, though the latter may have been tutored by 
 the best masters and with the most assiduous and unwearied care. 
 Nor, in the second place, when I speak of educated men as a 
 class, do I intend the inference that their interests are distinct from 
 those of their less favored brethren, or that their rights, social or 
 political, are or ought to be, superior, I do indeed believe in the 
 nobility of genius and of virtue— of intellectual and of moral 
 strength. To these, all men of pure hearts and good purposes 
 will spontaneously do homage ; and in a natural, uncorrupted state 
 of society, such qualities Mrill necessarily and inevitably command 
 respect and exercise authority. But this will follow only because 
 these virtues are the gift of God for the benefit of all, and because 
 he who truly possesses them will so use them — not for his own 
 individual, so much as for the general good. Otherwise, there 
 would be a fatal antagonism between the two classes, in which 
 the man of knowledge would always domineer tyranically over his 
 weaker and more ignorant brother. Too often in the history of 
 mankind, and even at this day, in too many social and national or- 
 ganizations, is the superiority of intellect made the instrument of 
 oppression and injustice. But in these instances the moral element 
 is wanting, and the blessings of knowledge are perverted from the 
 purpose for which they were intended. Instead of applying the 
 authority, with which heaven has clothed them, to the noble pur- 
 pose of improving the condition of all, imparting a portion of their 
 own light and strength to the weaker and less enlightened, they are 
 used only as the ladders, by which pride, ambition, and selfishness 
 seek to mount up to greatness upon the shoulders of the mass of 
 mankind. It is not in such a sense that I speak of educated men 
 as being entitled to the foremost rank in society ; but I place 
 them there, because they have the capacity to do infinite good and 
 the honorable opportunity to devote themselves, with generous and 
 disinterested zeal, to perform the great duty to which that capacity 
 and that opportunity, by the only true *• divine right," appoint them. 
 Nor is this class so definite and distinct in its character, as to 
 stand out from the rest of the community, isolated and unconnected. 
 On the contrary, the scale of intellect runs up, from the lowest 
 
to the highest, by regular gradations ; from the unlettered clown, 
 whose ignorance may place him but little above idiotcy, to the most 
 exalted and resplendent genius. Thus the chain of human sym- 
 pathy is maintained in perfect continuity, and no man has yet ap- 
 peared, so far above his fellows, as to have been unapproached in 
 his mental power. Newton had his Leibnitz — Homer has been 
 followed by Milton and Shakespeare — Alexander by C^sar and 
 Napoleon, and all of them were contemporaneous with others, whom, 
 doubtless, similar opportunities might have exhibited in the same 
 splendor of intellect. In modern times, especially, the tendency of 
 things is strongly towards equality. Knowledge, to a certain ex- 
 tent, seems to pervade the whole civilized race, and to descend, from 
 generation to generation, in the very organization of man, accumula- 
 ting power as it goes. It is broadly diffused among the masses of 
 mankind, and the distinction between the learned and the unlearned 
 is every day growing less. But there will ever be an eternal dis- 
 tinction between the man of independent and original thought, and 
 him who is only the servile imitator of other men's acts and the 
 avaricious gatherer of their ideas. And so long as social institu- 
 tions and human nature remain the same as now, there will also 
 be a line sufficiently broad and distinct, separating men of liberal 
 education from those of smaller capacity or of limited opportunities, 
 though the extremes of the two classes may insensibly run into each 
 other. 
 
 Having thus attempted briefly to define what I understand to be 
 the true character and position of the educated man, I proceed to take 
 a rapid glance over that illimitable field of action, in which are to be 
 found all his resources, and all the high and noble aims, towards 
 which his labors are directed. 
 
 The earliest impressions upon the human mind are from the outer 
 world. Consequently the knowledge of physical phenomena is the 
 basis of all education. The faculties of thought are first aroused ta 
 action by the information of the senses ; and from the simplest act 
 of perception, by gradual development, the most complex operations 
 of intellect are eventually produced. The moral sense, and all the 
 social sciences which are founded upon it, though they have their 
 
origin and fundamental principles in the very organization of the 
 human soul as one of its primitive necessities, are, nevertheless, sub- 
 sequent in their development to the ideas of physical existence and 
 of mathematical and dynamic relations, and, to some extent, are de- 
 pendent upon them. In any notice therefore of these two grand di- 
 visions of human knowledge, the first place, in the order of time as 
 well as of dependence, must be assigned to the physical sciences. 
 Hence it is that modern systems of education begin to be based upon 
 the principle, that children ought first to be taught to know the 
 things around them — to comprehend the simplest problems of 
 mathematics, and the elementary facts of geology, mineralogy, and 
 botany ; and thence to advance, by natural and easy steps, up to 
 the highest principles of natural philosophy, chemistry, and as- 
 tronomy. The abstract sciences of mind, of morals, and of govern- 
 ment follow in the natural order, and readily yield to the student 
 who has thus ascended, by regular steps, up to the high and often 
 inaccessible portals of these sublime branches of knowledge. 
 
 But in the mere physical world, what infinity of objects present 
 themselves to bewilder the thoughts of him who would attempt to 
 give only a general outline of what is known at the present day ! 
 To what principle of comprehensive generalization shall one have 
 recourse, in order to embrace within the limits of a single address, 
 even the physical, independent of the intellectual and the social ? 
 The task would be hopeless even to far abler heads than mine. 
 I shall not make the effort ; for too well I know, that I have not 
 the eagle wings of genius, which would bear me to the empyrean 
 heights of this august theme. I can only glance at some few lead- 
 ing topics, which lie obviously in the path of him who pursues the 
 investigation of nature — being the most prominent objects and fur- 
 nishing the most efficient instruments, in that field of enterprize 
 which is open to the man of education. 
 
 From the gravitation of bodies on the earth, we learn the princi- 
 ples which control the movements of all the orbs of the universe ; 
 and thus, from the simplest and most familiar occurrences within the 
 sphere of our immediate experience, we are able to rise to the com- 
 prehension of the grandest phenomena of nature. The process by 
 
10 
 
 which this is accomplished, is strikingly analogous to that by which 
 the infant is enabled gradually to ascertain the true forms and re- 
 lations of things within the scope of his vision. Originally every 
 object of sight must present only a simple surface, with colors blended 
 in strange variety and confusion, without any indication of distance 
 or solidity. But by the senses of touch and muscular exertion, the 
 child discovers that his ball is hard and round; and after sufficient ex- 
 perience of this, he learns to connect, by sight, that peculiar shading 
 which belongs to the sphere, with the ideas of rotundity acquired 
 by the other senses. Henceforth, he pronounces such an object 
 spherical, at whatever distance he may distinctly see it. In the same 
 way, he acquires a knowledge of all the varities of solid form which 
 it is possible for bodies to assume. He observes further, that as bodies 
 are removed to a greater or less distance (measured, at first, by the 
 muscular effort to reach, to crawl, or to walk to them) they become 
 less or more vivid in color, and the angle formed by the axes of 
 the two eyes changes by the effort to see it in its new position. By 
 long experience, and an almost unconscious appreciation of these 
 muscular and nervous changes, and their constant association with 
 certain conditions, he learns to judge of relative position and distance 
 by sight alone, forgetting the intermediate process by which the judg- 
 ment gradually acquired this power. 
 
 Precisely in this way has been attained our knowledge of the 
 planetary and sidereal systems. In the infancy of learning, the 
 motions of the planets, and even of the sun and moon, were to the 
 general mind, but a confused series of irregular movements, the 
 nature of which was wholly misunderstood. The original import 
 of the word planet is " wanderer" and those motions which in re- 
 ality are the most certain and regular in all nature, so as to be fore- 
 told with great accuracy for ages to come, were long thought to be 
 the most incomprehensible and irregular. •* The inconstant moon,'* 
 had waxed and waned for thousands of years, before its phases were 
 understood. The recurrence of certain similar positions of the heav- 
 enly bodies, after certain cycles, gave some indistinct idea, that there 
 was "method in the madness" of these wanderers; but it has only been 
 within a few centuries past, that the dim visions of Pythagoras, in- 
 
11 
 
 dulged before the christian era, have become the realities distinctly 
 seen by Copernicus and Galileo, and still further unfolded and de- 
 monstrated by Kepler and Newton. But at this day, the weak and 
 confused sight of infancy has given place to the strong, penetrating, 
 and analyzing vision of manhood. I say, by a process precisely 
 analogous to that by which the child eventually learns to distinguish 
 forms and distances among terrestrial objects around him. The 
 light of a lamp falling upon an orange and seen in various directions 
 explains to the weakest comprehension, all the phases of the moon, 
 of Venus, or of Mercury. These bodies are therefore globes, and 
 they periodically assume certain positions relative to the earth and 
 the sun, which demonstrate the character of their respective orbits. 
 These conclusions, at first so incredible as to awaken the thunders 
 of the Church which proscribed them as impious speculations in 
 opposition to the divine order of things, have now become as fami- 
 liar to the general apprehension as are the distances and forms of 
 objects to the practised eye of manhood, and with almost the same 
 unconsciousness of the slow and toilsome steps by which they were 
 reached. 
 
 It is the muscular sense which enables us to comprehend force or 
 momentum as the result of motion, or of the tendency to motion. 
 This also gives us the idea of inertia as one of the qualities of all 
 bodies. In the same way, therefore, that we apply our knowledge 
 of forms and positions, as acquired by the slow mental process al- 
 ready mentioned, to the positions and movements of the heavenly 
 bodies, explaining their revolutions and periodic times, do we also 
 extend our ideas of inertia and momentum, weighing the sun and 
 the planets as if in a scale, and measuring their respective influence 
 upon each other, in the most extraordinary manner, and with the 
 most amazing results. Thus have we recently seen accomplished 
 that greatest wonder and most magnificent triumph of moden science, 
 the discovery of the planet Neptune by the disturbing effects of its 
 attraction upon Uranus. 
 
 "The planets, by their trembling fliglit, 
 
 A hidden influence long had proved ; 
 A sphere was rolling out of sight, 
 
 To whose impulse the system moved " 
 
12 
 
 The beauty and wonder of the matter is, that this blind impulse 
 should have been so accurately understood and measured, as to be 
 the means of directing the telescope of the Astronomer to the precise 
 point of the heavens where the disturber was to be found. Whether 
 a fortunate accident, as it has been sometimes characterized, or more 
 probably a legitimate result of accurate calculation, it is, at all events, 
 one of the most beautiful and characteristic results of the immense 
 power and penetration of modern science. And yet, after all, it is as 
 simple a phenomenon and as obvious a deduction from observed 
 facts, as it would be to conclude that the wind is blowing at a certain 
 distant spot where we see the tall trees waving to and fro, though a 
 breathless stillness may prevail in the air immediately around us. 
 It was as if the fisherman with his line in his hand, feeling an 
 impulse from some unknown objectinthe waters below, should heed 
 the admonition, exert his strength, and take his prey — in more strict 
 analogy still, from the fact, that it is the application of ideas derived 
 from this muscular sense which in the stalwart arm of the fisher- 
 man appreciates the force applied to his line, that enables us to com- 
 prehend the forces which control the planetary movements. The 
 telescope was turned to the point from which the impulse was sup- 
 posed to come, and this new denizen of the vast ocean of space was 
 taken in the net of science, fixed in its appropriate orbit, to be hence- 
 forth, forever, as familiar to our thoughts as Jupiter or Mars. 
 
 Again, it is from the same simple ideas and by the same natural 
 steps, that we rise to such knowledge as we have of that still graa- 
 der field of existence — the sidereal universe. The naked eye re- 
 veals to us but a faint conception of that vast and sublime system of 
 worlds, of which our planetary system is but a simple unit among 
 innumerable others, many of which are, doubtless, of much greater 
 extent and magnificence. The telescope of modern times multiplies 
 these immense objects almost to infinity, until the mind is lost and be- 
 wildered in the vain attempt to conceive their whole extent and num- 
 bers. Double and triple stars of diflferent colors, revolving about their 
 common centres of gravity ; nebulae resolved into countless clusters 
 of separate stars, each perhaps the centre of a system like ours ; and 
 these extending into the infinite depths of space as far as instruments 
 of the highest power can penetrate — where even the rays of light, 
 
13 
 
 with their unimaginable volicity have been occupied for centuries in 
 traversing the distance to our earth — these are some of the wonders 
 which modern investigation has developed and rendered familiar to 
 the minds of all. And though this knowledge, like the light of some 
 of those distant stars, may have been thousands of years in making 
 its way down to this generation of men, yet, like that light again, it 
 is now diffused broadly among all civilized communities and has be- 
 come the common property of humanity. Thus, from the simple 
 conceptions of the child in his limited range of vision and experience, 
 are we enabled to reach the sublimest heights of knowledge. The 
 same principle which enables him to judge of the distance which he 
 seeks to traverse in order to gain his mothers outstretched hand, 
 empowers us to judge of the distance of the remotest star — or rather, 
 I should say, teaches us to know that the distance is beyond calcu- 
 lation or conception. The parallax afforded by the earth's orbit — 
 a base of about one hundred and ninety millions of miles, gives but 
 an uncertain, I believe I may say, conjectural element for the calcu- 
 lation of the distance of the nearest fixed star. But while circum- 
 scribed in our knowledge by the limits of our senses — a double limi- 
 tation, bounded on the one hand by the vanishing point of impercep- 
 tible minuteness, and on the other, by the overwhelming power of 
 incomprehensible magnitude — we are yet able to form some idea of 
 that vast cluster of clusters in which our system is placed, and of 
 our relative motion in it. The point of the heavens to which our 
 system seems to be tending by some unknown movement in the il- 
 limitable regions of space, is designated by the slow and gradual 
 opening of the interstellar spaces in that direction, and the closing of 
 them in the opposite quarter. Beyond this apparent relative move- 
 ment, we know not .whether this grand aggregation of immense 
 systems has a motion of its own, or whether it is fixed in its general 
 position — whether it is limited in extent, or whether an infinity of 
 space is filled with an infinity of systems, multiplied upon each 
 other in infinite progression, which only the mind of God himself 
 can comprehend. 
 
 All our knowledge, of whatever character, is obtained by the 
 same process, the human mind proceeding by direct and natural 
 
14 
 
 steps, from the small to the great, the near to the distant, and from the 
 simple to the complex. Mathematical relations themselves, and all 
 the intricate and powerful processes by which they have been so 
 wonderfully developed, have their origin, likewise, in the simplest 
 perceptioTis of the senses. These relations exist in nature — they are 
 facts growing out of the very constitution of things as established 
 by the Creator. Their simplest elements are directly received and 
 tested by the senses. The equality of two triangles whose respec- 
 tive sides are equal, is a fact which can only be ascertained original- 
 ly, by the sight, the touch, an^ the muscular sense. No abstrac' 
 reasoning from general axioms can impart a knowledge of these 
 fundamental truths. Such relations, then, being absolute and ne- 
 cessary, existing in the nature of things, it is the effort of the human 
 mind to find out the most difficult of them, by the application of the 
 reasoning powers to the simple elements supplied by the senses. 
 But it is a singular fact — no, it is not singular, for it is a necessary 
 result — ^that some of the most intricate processes of calculation, in- 
 volving the higher mathematics, may be wrought out by machine- 
 ry. Space, numbers, quantities — lines, surfaces, and solids — these 
 are the subjects of all mathematical investigation and analysis. It 
 is therefore plain that these may be measured and estimated by ma- 
 chinery with unerring certainty, if the elements be but correctly 
 combined and arranged. How far human ingenuity may extend 
 this principle and make it available, is another question ; though the 
 success of Babbage's celebrated calculating machine would seem 
 to indicate that something practical might possibly grow out of it. 
 But while such inventions may never be made practically useful, 
 they serve to show (what perhaps requires no demonstration) that 
 the principles of mathematics are thus inherent in the nature of 
 things — not creations of the mind, but existing truths to be discov- 
 ered by it. The celebrated laws of Kepler are necessary conse- 
 quences of gravitation, diminishing as the square of the distance in- 
 creases, and of tangential motion of an inert body. Under these 
 conditions, the radius vector cannot do otherwise than describe equal 
 areas in equal times. And inasmuch as motion is in lines, enclos- 
 ing spaces, which are in proportion to squares ; while gravitation 
 
15 
 
 emanates from a point in all directions, filling spaces in the form of 
 solid spheres, which have the proportion of cubes — it follows that 
 the squares of the periodic times must be in proportion to the cubes^ 
 of the distances. Thus it appears, that the solar system, itself, is but 
 a great machine perpetually exhibiting those subHme truths, and 
 working out with unerring certainty those mighty problems, the 
 discovery and solution of which, exert so intensely the highest 
 powers of the human intellect. We have therefore here again ar- 
 rived at the same result to which we have already adverted in other 
 connexions, that our most exalted knowledge is but the develop-' 
 ment, extension, and application of those simple elements, which we 
 receive in childhood through the medium of our senses. 
 
 Having wandered so far into the boundless regions of space, it is 
 necessary to return to our dwelling place upon earth, in order tc 
 start again in a new direction. We are at no loss for a connecting 
 chain to conduct us back from the remotest borders of the visible 
 universe to our central point of observation. This we find in that 
 subtle element of imponderable ether, which is the medium of light, 
 heat, and electricity. I believe the existence of this substance is no' 
 longer considered a mere hypothesis, but is set down as one of the- 
 certainties of science. First theoretically conceived ; as affording 
 the best explanation of the phenomena of light, then applied to ex- 
 plain also those of heat, electricity, and magnetism — so many proofs- 
 of its existence have accumulated upon the minds of those who in* 
 vestigate the subject, that it is now no longer permitted to question 
 its reality. It has even been conjectured (if that be not too weak a 
 phrase to express the fact) that an independent proof of its existence, 
 of a nature wholly different from those which first suggested the 
 idea, has been found in the influence of some hidden cause, ope- 
 rating slightly to retard the motions of those light planetary bodies, 
 the comets. This obstruction, plainly shown in the gradual lessen 
 ing of the orbits of periodic comets, is very naturally ascribed lo' 
 that elastic and imponderable medium which pervades all nature, oc- 
 cupying not only the vast regions of space enclosing the remotest 
 fixed stars, but also penetrating and filling the minute interstices be- 
 iween the ultimate particles of all bodies. It is the only possible 
 
16 
 
 -means of communication between us and the distant parts of the 
 universe ; for, by its vibrations, propagated with inconceivable ra- 
 pidity, the sensation of light is produced upon the optic nerve, and 
 we thus acquire a knowledge of the existence of luminous bodies, 
 though they may be placed at an almost infinite distance from us. 
 This subtle element, almost spiritual in its nature, imperceptible to 
 ■the sight or the touch, and imponderable as thought, is itself the 
 means of making every thing else visible and perhaps even ponder- 
 able; for gravitation may be but a more general form of that mag- 
 netism whi^h is admitted to be one of its effects. Thus does this 
 intangible medium become the most active and energetic cause in 
 all nature. It is, in truth, that alone which binds the most distant 
 parts of the universe together by invisible links, conveying im- 
 pulses from one to the other of the most v^^idely separated bodies, 
 and making every part of universal nature sensitive to the existence 
 •of every other part. It is the spirit — the soul of the universe — 
 breathed into its mighty bosom by the same God, who breathed the 
 breath of life into the nostrils of man. 
 
 How important a part this great element performs in the minuter 
 operations of nature on the surface of the earth, in its atmosphere, 
 and within its rocky frame and central fires, it is no purpose of 
 mine to attempt to show. Such an attempt would involve an ex- 
 tent of learning and a power of condensation, to which I make no 
 pretensions. But allow me, gentlemen, in very general terms, to 
 glance at the subject with barely sufficient distinctness for the par- 
 ticular purpose which I now have in view. 
 
 Some fifty or sixty simple elements, by their innumerable combi- 
 nations, constitute all that we see or know in the physical world 
 around us. Wonderful and countless are the varieties of form, 
 color, and consistency, produced from these few prolific elements 
 by the agency of that imponderable ether of which I have spoken. 
 The operations of elective affinity, the law of definite proportions, 
 the phenomena of polarity, and the mysterious agency of electricity 
 in the composition and decomposition of bodies — these are some of 
 the most beautiful and wonderful facts presented in the whole scope 
 of physical nature. Elasticity, malleability, transparency, and all 
 
11 
 
 ihe difTerent useful or interesting qualities of matter, are due to the 
 particular disposition of the ultimate atoms, among themselves, and 
 in relation to that universal ether which pervades them all. That 
 most subtle poison, prussic acid, is composed of the same substances, 
 in slightly different proportions, which combine to form the in- 
 nocuous thing called sugar, and which, again, in proportions but little 
 varied, re-appear in the form of starch. The hardest of known sub- 
 stances, the diamond, beautiful in its brilliant refractive transparency, 
 is but another form of ordinary carbon. And this again, combined 
 with a comparatively soft metal, iron, renders the latter capable of 
 assuming almost every conceivable variety of temper ; from that of 
 a body, inferior in hardness only to the diamond, down to a degree 
 of softness like that of iron ; and from almost the brittleness of glass 
 to the toughest and most elastic of substances. But there is a strik- 
 ing peculiarity in the character of the metals, likely to lead, even- 
 tually, to results of the highest importance in the economy of life. 
 It seems to be an established fact, that while the metals are the most 
 ponderous of substances, and would seem, therefore, to possess a 
 greater ultimate mass than others, their atoms actually occupy a 
 smaller space, having larger interstices filled with imponderable 
 matter. Hence the facility of motion among their particles, giving 
 rise to their ductility and malleability, and their power of conduct- 
 ing heat and electricity. The facts from which this conclusion is 
 drawn, are thus stated by Dr. Hare, of Philadelphia : 
 
 •• It has been most sagaciously pointed out by Faraday, that 430 
 " atoms which form a cube of potassium, in the metallic state, must 
 " occupy nearly six times as much space as the same number of 
 " similar atoms fill when existing in a cube of hydrated oxide of 
 " potassium of the same size, which, besides 700 metallic atoms, 
 •* must hold 700 atoms of hydrogen and 1 400 of oxygen, in all, 2800 
 "atoms; whence it follows, that in the metallic cube there must be 
 ♦• room for six times as many atoms as it actually holds." ***** 
 
 " An enormous quantity, both of the causes of heat and electricity, 
 •' exists in metals." ***** 
 
 " The superiority of the metals, as electrical conductors, may be 
 " the consequence of the pre-eminent abundance of imponderable 
 
18 
 
 ^' matter entering into their composition, as above alluded to in the 
 '* case of potassium." 
 
 Glancing, as I have done, gentlemen, over the wide field of enter- 
 prise which the physical world presents for the investigations of the 
 educated man, and fixing our eyes momentarily upon some of the pro- 
 minent objects, we are here arrested by the importance of this ele- 
 ment as an instrument of incalculable power in the hands of the hu- 
 man race. If this all-pervading, imponderable substance, performs 
 the office of conducting impulses through the whole extent of the 
 visible universe, at the enormous velocity of 200,000 miles per 
 second; if, as in all probability, is true, it be the agent of gravitation> 
 holding the mighty spheres in their places and controlling the mo- 
 tions of vast and illimitable systems of worlds ; if it reduces the great 
 internal mass of our own globe to an ocean of liquid fire, and has 
 strength to rend and convulse the rock-built frame that erp^elopes 
 the burning flood within, as well as the plastic power to control 
 and carry on the vast amount of chemical and vital operations that 
 take place on its surface; if it evaporates the illimitable waters and 
 fills the atmosphere with clouds; if it starts the hurricane and puts 
 in motion those immense storms that sweep the continent and the 
 ocean by one continued movement ; and again, if Nature tias stored 
 away in convenient form for the use of man, immense quantities of it 
 in the measureless coal fields and hills of iron, which are found in 
 almost all parts of the earth; and, if the ingenuity of man has al- 
 ready made it a swift messenger upon the telegraphic wire, and 
 harnessed the invisible agent to the steam engine, and forced it to 
 perform the work of millions of men, what limits, I ask, are to 
 be placed to the developments of power likely to result from future 
 investigations and discoveries ?• From the part which this subtle 
 element performs in the mightiest operations of nature, it is appar- 
 ent, that no task necessary to be performed by man, is above or be- 
 yond its capacity. Who knows, that "the enormous quantity of 
 the cause of heat," which exist in metals, may not be soon devel-* 
 oped by some cheap and easy process, so as to multiply, indefinitely, 
 the power of man, at the same time that the expense and danger of 
 its use may be indefinitely diminished. A stream of hydrogen gas 
 
19 
 
 poured upon a piece of sponged platinum, developes such a quantity 
 of heat as to become instantly inflamed ; yet the metal is not con- 
 sumed or wasted. May not this principle be susceptible of appli- 
 cation, in some manner, to supersede the present arrangement of the 
 steam engine and to present a safer, more economical, and better 
 disposition of means for the production of power 1 But if this be only 
 an idle speculation, we have seen something lately presented to the 
 world, which promises to accomplish much in the way of improve- 
 ment. I allude to what is called the "caloric engine," or the ''air 
 engine," by which it is claimed, that heated air can be successfully 
 substituted for steam. I am not sure that I understand, correctly, 
 the principle involved in this supposed improvement ; but I take it 
 to be an arrangement by which the conducting and absorbing power 
 of metals arranged in the form of a sponge, is employed to obtain a 
 great economy of heat, by successively imparting it to, and absorb- 
 ing it from the air as it passes through them. Whether this inven- 
 tion shall succeed or fail, it is evident that man has already received 
 the clue which is to conduct him to the attainment of far higher 
 capacities and powers — I mean physical capacities and powers — 
 than any which have yet been developed. 
 
 When man was first created, God commanded him to go forth 
 and "subdue the earth." This was not less prophetic than it was 
 imperative. Already has the ocean become a highway of easier 
 transit than the solid land itself. A comparatively small portion of 
 the earth's surface is yet unknown to man, and this is daily diminish- 
 ing. Certain regions in the interior of the great continents are yet 
 unknown wildernesses, though fast becoming familiar to the energy 
 of the explorer, and even of the settler ; and certain other regions, as 
 yet inaccessible, about the two poles, are all that remain to be sub- 
 dued by the conquering hand of man. I have ardent faith in his 
 power to accomplish this God-appointed task. The agent to effect 
 it seems to be already in his grasp. If he may never attain the 
 power actually to control the atmosphere, so as to direct its mighty 
 changes, he is at least already in a fair way to acquire an accurate 
 knowledge of its laws — to understand and to foresee the character, 
 extent, direction, and velocity of the mighty storm, so as to evade its 
 force and disarm it of destructive power. 
 
30 
 
 With such a field for the employment of his faculties, and with 
 such instruments of power, no man of liberal education can be in 
 want of great objects worthy to employ his noblest energies for the 
 benefit of mankind, even in reference to their physical condition and 
 wants. The arts, agriculture, mechanics, mining, and commerce, 
 are all susceptible of the application of scientific principles ; and, 
 for this purpose alone, independent of the high gratification it would 
 confer upon the mind, a correct knowledge of the physical world, 
 in all the infinite relations of its different parts, and especially those 
 which concern the earth we inhabit, including the vegetable and 
 animal kingdoms, is of an importance scarcely inferior to that which 
 concerns man himself, in his intellectual, moral and social character ; 
 because the condition of man, in these higher respects, is almost en- 
 tirely dependent upon his physical elevation and comfort. And, 
 though this may not be always true with reference to individuals, 
 or relatively, among different races of men, yet, in reference to any 
 single people taken as a whole, the assertion cannot be denied. 
 
 Thus, gentlemen, in a somewhat desultory manner, but, I hope, by 
 links of association which may not seem to be altogether unnatural, 
 I have been brought to that department of knowledge which con- 
 cerns man, his duty and his destiny. I need not say to you, that the 
 sciences derived from these are of a higher order, of infinitely greater 
 complexity, and therefore of far more difficult acquisition, than those 
 which concern only the physical universe. They involve history, 
 society, mind, language, laws, and morals, It is, no doubt, an un- 
 questionable fact, that these important branches of knowledge have 
 proceeded, and must necessarily proceed, ^*pari passu'^ with the 
 knowledge of material things. No correct understanding of the 
 laws of mind, of the nature and true functions of the human in- 
 tellect, could have been acquired, so long as the causes of things 
 were sought in speculative, mental inquiries, rather than in patient 
 observation of nature ; and society itself could never have made any 
 imporcant progress, so long as philosophers considered it a degrada- 
 tion of the immortal mind to apply the thoughts to the accomplish- 
 ment of results useful in the economy of life. No more important 
 step in mental science was ever made, than when the Baconian 
 philosophy came to be acknowedged and observed in the investiga- 
 
21 
 
 tion of physical phenomena. I do not mean to say, that Bacon was 
 the first to act upon the principles which he stated so clearly ; for, 
 all valuable knowledge of nature possessed before his day, must 
 have been acquired by the means which he characterized as the 
 true philosophical process. But it was his great merit to see dis- 
 tinctly the necessary limits of human knowledge — the legitimate 
 objects and the correct laws of human investigation. A false men- 
 tal philosophy, discoursing learnedly of ^ewer<2 and species as ac- 
 tual existences, and ofideas, as images possessing form and sub- 
 stance and actually passing into the mind and dwelling there, long 
 operated as a serious obstacle to the discovery of truth. It was only 
 when the world was freed from the dominion of Aristotelian phi- 
 losophy — from those antiquated errors which blocked up the ways 
 of science, and held the learned world in thraldom for so many ages, 
 coloring and corrupting even Christianity itself, that men began to 
 make real progress in both departments of human knowledge. 
 Both advanced together, for they were in a great measure mutually 
 dependent ; and an important error in one, rendered inevitable a 
 wide departure from truth and nature, in the other. 
 
 But it is not my purpose to enter into any analysis of mental phe- 
 nomena, or to attempt any metaphysical investigations whatever. 
 My only object is to characterize the present period in the history 
 of man, as that in which the highest and surest principles of science 
 may be applied to the elucidation of all subjects, whether they con- 
 cern the movements and mutual influences of physical bodies, or of 
 individual men, of societies, and nations. I do not mean to say, 
 that the ultimate truths of these complex, social scienq^s, have been 
 arrived at and become fixed and settled in the minds of educated 
 men. But, I do say, that they are undergoing experiment and in- 
 vestigation, which cannot fail to result in the most important ac- 
 quisitions of truth. And it is precisely here, in the growth and 
 change of institutions, in the conflict of opinion, and the great 
 movements and progress of society, that is to be found the noblest 
 field for the exertion of intellectual power. In all ages, this has 
 been the object of thought, and the fruitful theme of discussion, to 
 the greatest minds of their respective eias. But it is only the social 
 
and governmental systems of modern times that begin to reveal the 
 light of a true philosophy, illuminated as they are by the experi- 
 ence of past generations, and inheriting the results of their long 
 continued labor and their inevitable progress. 
 
 Looking over the general history of man, from the earliest ages 
 down to the present time, it is apparent to the investigating mind, 
 that there is a law of development for nations, as well as for indi- 
 viduals ; and that the combination of powers, the lise and fall of dy- 
 nasties, and the growth and decay of institutions, are not accidental, 
 spontaneous and irregular, but are governed by fixed laws, and are 
 also directed by Providence to the accomplishment of great and wise 
 purposes. The elements out of which these results grow, by the 
 operation of natural and invariable laws, are the mental and physical 
 capacities, and the distinctive passions, impulses, and dispositions of 
 individual men, nations, and races, modified by climate and local 
 conditions. These causes being put into operation, their legitimate 
 results must inevitably follow. A race of men launched upon the 
 tide of existence, have, by virtue of all the conditions I have men- 
 tioned, a determined course to run — a course of progress, which 
 will make its own way and fulfil its own destiny, in accordance with 
 a system of laws as unalterable and as supreme as those which con- 
 trol the physical universe. The vast variety of circumstances and 
 the multiplicity of individual facts entering into the grand problem, 
 may render it so complicated that human wisdom may be utterly 
 incapable of seeing the drift and direction of events, and may be obli- 
 ged to await the lapse of generations before any clear view of the 
 great movement can be obtained. Like that grand movement of our 
 solar system, which is indicated by an apparent change in the posi- 
 tion of the fixed stars, scarcely perceptible after the flight of centuries, 
 the destiny of nations and races, perpetually working itself out by 
 the slow and silent operation of natural causes, is to be determined 
 only after the lapse of long cycles, and by reference to faithful ob- 
 servations recorded in the history of the past, and to those luminous 
 points of hope and promise in the future, which are the guiding 
 stars of humanity. 
 
 Complicated as these operating causes may be, they are, neverthe- 
 
23 
 
 less, as I have already said, working out by their own inherent 
 power, an inevitable and necessary result. With as much certainty, 
 with as much regularity, as the planetary system itself, these social 
 systems are exhibiting before us the mighty problem of human des- 
 tiny, so far as this state of existence is concerned. Our social 
 mathematics have not yet arrived at that degree of perfection, that 
 we can unfold the laws in operation, as readily and as distinctly as 
 we can the physical laws to which I have referred. But those laws 
 do exist, and it is our task to find them out — a great, a noble task^ 
 which, in its final accomplishment, is destined to confer upon man 
 a moral and social power, as stupendous for the promotion of good, 
 as his knowledge of physical laws has conferred upon him, in that 
 humbler department of science. 
 
 While these complex laws are as yet imperfectly understood, there 
 are, nevertheless, to be observed in all nations some striking and 
 prominent peculiarities of character or condition so generally pre- 
 vailing, or some visible occurrences of so commanding an influence, 
 as to enable the philosophic mind to perceive with some certainty 
 the direction which development will take, at least for a limited 
 period. It is this fact — that amidst the confused operation of com- 
 plicated causes, and the perpetual conflict of opposing forces in so- 
 ciety, some insight into the future may be obtained — some idea, more 
 or less clear, of the tendency of events, and the means by which they 
 may be wisely modified or controlled — which renders it interesting 
 and important to inquire, how far individual eflfort and individual 
 character can accomplish any thing towards the direction of these 
 grand social phenomena — how far the great events of history may be 
 controlled by the errors and crimes, or by the genius and wisdom, of 
 rulers and of distinguished men in all the walks of life. It would be 
 vain to deny that these have an important bearing upon the interests of 
 mankind. But, on the other hand, it is equally clear that the charac- 
 ter and purposes of distinguished men are themselves controlled, in a 
 great measure, by the condition of that society in which they are born 
 and reared. Nay, it ought more properly to be said, that the genius 
 and whole character of any individual are the offspring — the creature, 
 of that society itself. The mind of every man, so far as training and 
 
24 
 
 education go, is necessarily dependent upon surrounding circum- 
 stances, while even its original faculties have been controlled, and 
 in fact made what they are, by the character and condition of its suc- 
 cessive generations of ancestors. Occasionally some gifted individual 
 vdll arise, and, by a combination of fortunate conditions, be enabled 
 to concentrate in his own mind the light which is diffused among a 
 whole generation of men ; in him it may be so intense and far-reach- 
 ing, that it will require many years to bring up his own generation to 
 the pinnacle of progress upon which he stands. Yet he has done 
 nothing more than to gather the scattered rays of knowledge and 
 experience, which existed in the community from whose bosom he 
 springs. He is but the gleaner, who comes along in the path of the 
 passing generations and picks up the neglected sheafs which are the 
 product of their toil and suffering — all the more precious and 
 valuable because they have been overlooked by the unthinking 
 crowd — but only valuable because they are the results of their life 
 and labor. Indeed, nothing else is valuable, so far as social and 
 govermental science is concerned. Institutions must be the growth 
 of the society in which they are established; they cannot be trans- 
 planted and forced upon it, without convulsion and danger. Each 
 generation is the parent of that which succeeds it, not less in the in- 
 stitutions which it bequeathes, than in the individuals to whom the 
 bequest is transmitted. 
 
 Hence it is that great men, in order to exert any extraordinary 
 power over the people whom they seek to control, must become the 
 representatives of the general will and inclination, or of the general 
 capacities and undeveloped energies of the mass of men, to whose 
 exertions and purposes they propose to impart any particular direc- 
 tion. Otherwise they can accomplish nothing. They will either 
 be in advance of the generation whom they wish to lead, and there- 
 fore premature in their attempts; or they will be utterly at war with 
 the spirit of the nation, which no individual or combination of indi- 
 viduals can change, and will therefore completely fail in their plans, 
 however wise and proper these may be in themselves, independently 
 of the peculiar circumstances characteristic of the people to whom 
 it is attempted to apply them. The instruments to be used to effect 
 
25 13^1 
 
 any proposed object, are the physical, moral, and intellectual ener- 
 gies of the people whom they operate upon, and of course their 
 policy must be shaped to conform to these, and the results to be ac- 
 complished, must be limited by them. So true is it in every sense, 
 in reference to the origin of political powers, as well as the sources 
 of its efficiency and strength — 
 
 " That mountains issue out of plains, and not 
 *' Plains out of mountains ; and so, likewise, kiigs 
 • .' ^4* Are of the people, not the people of kings." 
 
 The same is equally true of all commanding characters, whether 
 they wield the authority of the State, or whether they be onl;^. 
 men, 
 
 " Who shed great thoughts 
 «♦ As easily as an oak looseneth its golden leaves 
 '♦ In a kindly largess to the soil it grew on — 
 " Whose rich dark ivy thoughts, sunned o'er with love, 
 ** Flourish around ihe deathless stems of their names — 
 *' Whose names are ever on the world's broad tongue 
 *♦ Like sound upon the falling of a force — 
 " Whose words, if winged, are with angel's wings — ■ 
 " Who play upon the heart as on a harp, 
 "And make our eyes bright as we speak of them — 
 ** Whose hearts have a look southwards, and are open 
 '* To the whole noon of nature." 
 
 The oak draws the substance for its " golden leaves," from the 
 very air whose gentle breath loosens them for the fall, and from 
 the very soil upon which they drop their " kindly largess." So 
 these men 
 
 "Whose great thoughts possess us like a passion 
 
 " Through every limb and the whole heart ; whose words 
 
 " Haunt us, as eagles haunt the mountain air," 
 
 derive all their greatness and their power over men, from the gene- 
 ral soil of humanity, and from that universal sympathy and spirit 
 of intellect which pervade and envelope the society in which they 
 live, as the air envelopes the whole earth, as well as the oak which 
 it nourishes. Their work is not to create, but only to elaborate 
 and modify existing elements, so as to make them more tractable 
 
and generous — to gather the principles of fertility from the verj 
 rocks and stones, and from the depths of the soil, in order to spread 
 them on the surface and make them teem with flowers and fruits. 
 
 The destiny of every society, therefore, is dependent upon the 
 nature of the inherent forces which reside in it, or, in other words, 
 the character of the individuals who compose it. Among the in- 
 finite variety of these, all individual capacities will necessarily be 
 moulded somewhat in conformity to the general characteristics. The 
 aims of leading men will be directed towards those achievements 
 which lie most naturally in the path of the nation, and to which its 
 powers are most appropriate. Great men are gifted with the capa- 
 city, not to create, but to see more clearly, the general will and the 
 general power, to give them proper direction, and to stimulata them 
 to their highest exertions. But the primary impulse which controls 
 and fixes the ultimate destiny of any people, comes from that divine 
 power which laid the foundations of the earth and estabhshed the 
 elements of all human conditions, prescribing for men and nations a 
 certain path, which, by the operation of regular and unerring causes, 
 they must necessarily pursue. I do not presume to touch the great 
 question of the freedom of the human will. That is altogether unne- 
 cessary for the purpose I have in view, for that question is not invol- 
 ved in my argument. Evidently, the exertions of the will, so far as 
 they bear upon the interests of society, are subject to two limitations 
 or qualifications. They are themselves controlled by motives, and 
 they are limited by the capabilities of that society to which they are 
 applied. Volitions are not spontaneous and accidental ; they are de- 
 termined by desires which are the motive powers. Whether men 
 have liberty to choose between the conflicting force of opposite mo- 
 tives, or whether the one or the other must prevail by necessity, is 
 of no importance to my present purpose, however the question may 
 perplex the religious world and all metaphysical inquirers. It is 
 enough for my object to know that all possible motives which can 
 influence the will of man, in reference to social interests, necessarily 
 spring from the existing character and condition of the society in 
 which his lot is cast. And it is equally true, that those exertions 
 cannot, directly or indirectly, affect the social state to an extent 
 
37 
 
 greater than the sum of the individual capacities which constitute 
 the whole — in other words, it is not in the power of any man, how- 
 ever great and commanding may be his genius, to originate and to pu t 
 into operation causes which do not exist in the bosom of the society of 
 which he is a member. The literature, the laws, the institutions of 
 a people, and whatever else may affect their condition and progress, 
 are all but the necessary and inevitable result of the causes origi- 
 nally set in operation by the divine power— of that development 
 which constitutes the law of humanity, as it travels, generation after 
 generation, along the path of ages. 
 
 The contemplation of society in this particular point of view, be- 
 ginning at its foundation and considering its structure and organiza- 
 tion, as well as its law of development and progress, is eminently 
 curious and interesting. The analogy which it bears to the mate- 
 rial world and to the vital systems of living bodies, is perfect and 
 complete ; thus showing, in a remarkable manner, the concord and 
 unity which prevail throughout the whole creation. Even unor- 
 ganized bodies are built up of separate atoms, bound to each other 
 by mutual attractions which connect them with every other body in 
 the universe, and which thus make them a part of that grand organ- 
 ization which multiplies world upon world, and system upon sys- 
 tem, in infinite extension. Each particle is separate and distinct; 
 not in contact, but having the interstices filled with that subtle me- 
 dium, which is the agent of organization and which thus renders all 
 bodies kindred to each other, whether they be parts of the same in- 
 dividual mass, or separated at immense distances. So in the world 
 of life. Ail living bodies, animal or vegetable, commence with the 
 simple cell, and, by gradual development, which is nothing more 
 thun adding cell to cell and multiplying organization upon organi- 
 zation, gradually grow up to that complicated mass of organs, which 
 constitute the living being, whether it be the tree, the animal, or the 
 man. The ultimate atoms which make up the respective organs 
 of these bodies, corresponding to the individuals and institutions of 
 society, are not in contact, fused into a solid mass, any more than 
 the individuality of men is swallowed up in society. But to the 
 eyes of myriads of living creatures, these atoms are as far apart, as 
 
28 
 
 distinctly separate, moving and acting in their own spheres, as men 
 are, comparatively, to their own senses. Physical, chemical, and 
 vital laws conglomerate these atoms into organs, which again react 
 upon each other by still more complicated laws, binding themselves 
 together into the living, acting, thinking being, called man. Thus 
 also these atoms of humanity, acting upon each other by the moral 
 and social laws of nature, exhibit their vital force in the organic 
 form of institutions, which are themselves again bound together by 
 their mutual relations and dependencies, constituting by their union 
 the higher being, called society. 
 
 As the subtle ether, which is recognized as the cause of light 
 and heat and electricity, is the medium of connexion between distant 
 bodies, and doubtless performs an important part in the phenomena 
 of organization and life, so mind, a still subtler and more pene- 
 trating element, is that which constitutes the universal medium of 
 communication and connexion in society. I do not speak of mind 
 as the result of organization, or as being material in the sense in 
 which that word is usually understood. On the contrary, I hold it 
 to be a distinct creation — a substance clothed with its own wonder- 
 ful and immortal faculties, though exhibiting itself in this state of 
 being, only in connexion with an organization of a specific char- 
 acter. 
 
 It is to the sympathies of the minds of men — ^their common 
 thoughts, desires, and passions, operating mutually upon each other, 
 that are due all the relations and connexions of men in society. If 
 there were no attractions and repulsions — no polarities among the 
 particles of matter^ — there could be no organizations, no masses, no 
 systems— no light, no heat. So if there were no common sympa- 
 thies—loves, friendships, envies, and aversions, among men, there 
 could be no society. But the means of connexion, the agents of ne- 
 cessary and inevitable combination and union, as well as of force 
 and activity, exist in both — the one in that umntelligent, but won- 
 derful medium, denominated ether ; the other, in that intelligent, 
 self-luminous, and conscious substance, the human mind. 
 
 It is not merely in these general particulars that the analogy and 
 unity prevail. There is scarcely one of the great or interesting 
 
29 
 
 phenomena of physical nature, that has not its perfect analogue in 
 the social world. There is a singular chemical and vital law, 
 which causes bodies in a certain condition, or having a tendency to 
 certain changes of combination, to communicate that condition or 
 that tendency to other bodies with which they come in contact, just 
 as the magnet communicates its polarity to ferruginous bodies with- 
 in the sphere of its influence. Such, in physics, are the phenomena 
 of fermentation and decay, perpetually tendfng to extend themselves 
 to contiguous bodies ; and, in vital organizations, the communication 
 of contagious diseases, and even of conditions of weakness or health. 
 So among men, passion of any kind has a tendency to generate the 
 same feeling in all other minds. Through any large assemblage of 
 men, fright, or mirth, or anger will run like the waves of the sea, 
 swaying the vast multitude to and fro, as if it were moved by a com- 
 mon impulse. Vice is proverbially contagious ; and the example of 
 virtue never fails to exert a powerful influence. Revolutions in 
 neighboring nations are apt to spread from one to the other ; and in- 
 stitutions, good or bad, are not altogether confined in their influences 
 to the people who have established them. Even distant nations, in 
 the present age, begin to act upon each other with forces quite as dis- 
 tinct and powerful, as those which operate between the distant 
 heavenly bodies. Every day this mutual influence is becoming 
 more and more perceptible, and soon the statesmen of every land 
 will be forced to acknowledge the relations arising from them, and 
 to accept the obligations which they necessarily impose. 
 
 The great geological phenomena which have marked the history 
 of our globe, and by which it has been developed to its present con- 
 dition ; and the great changes, which, in the lapse of time, the power 
 of the elements is still effecting — the rise or subsidence of continents^ 
 the abrasion of mountains; the disintegration of rocks; the convey- 
 ance of material by rivers and ocean tides, depositing here a stratum 
 of gravel, there one of sand, and still farther on, one composed of the 
 lighter and finer particles of clay, all eventually hardened ar melted 
 into rocks ; and the coral islands built up in the sea by the labors of 
 countless millions of minute insects — all these mighty physical ope- 
 rations, together with those accompanying vital ones.efTected by the 
 
30 
 
 Vegetable kingdom, and by which the surfece of the earth is pre* 
 pared for cultivation — are but the counterparts of those social 
 changes which have been going on from the creation of man to the 
 present day, stratifying the social elements, crystalizing them into 
 institutions, fusing them into nations, and again breaking them up 
 by convulsions, preparatory to new organizations; but through 
 them all, and doubtless as the design and end of them all, bringing 
 out that resplendent glory of modern civilization, which now smiles 
 upon and blesses the world, like the verdure, and flowers, and fruits, 
 which spring from the teeming bosom of the earth. 
 
 Thus, gentlemen, have I cast a rapid glance over the field of 
 social science, entering, however, into none of its particular de- 
 partments, but attempting only to mark the general character of 
 the subject and to designate those universal laws, within which all 
 the phenomena of history and of human progress must be com- 
 prised. All that concerns the condition and destiny of man in this 
 iife, and all the agencies he can bring to bear in order to control 
 or modify them, (aside from religion and divine influences which I 
 have not attempted to discuss) must be natural agencies, or rather 
 natural laws. These again are the subjects of experiment and ob- 
 servation, of analytical investigation and synthetic combination, 
 precisely to the same extent, and with the prospect of producing the 
 same results, as, by similar processes in the physical world. As we 
 cannot alter the laws which control physical phenomena, neither 
 can we those which, with equal certainty and regularity, control 
 the moral and social. We may alter the conditions under which 
 the former operate, and by such means obtain'new and often happy re- 
 sults ; but these results are, nevertheless, still in exact conformity with 
 the unchanging laws of nature. So also, by the interposition of politi- 
 cal or municipal regulations, and of moral or social institutions, we 
 may vary the conditions upon which the fundamental laws of society 
 must proceed in their operation ; but we can no more change those 
 laws themselves, than we can annihilate the physical law of gravi- 
 tation. Then it is apparent, and this is the conclusion to which all 
 my argument tends, that the true subjects for the investigations of 
 educated men, are these natural and unalterable laws of society 
 
31 
 
 which are to be discovered and understood by the same means we 
 apply to the discovery of physical truth, viz : by patient observation 
 and study of all that has occurred among men, of the experience of 
 all nations and all societies, and the precise conditions under which 
 these phenomena have occurred. To this standard — to the test of 
 results obtained in this way — must be faithfully adjusted all litera- 
 ture, all science, all laws and institutions, designed for the benefit of 
 the human race. Otherwise, vain and mischievous theories will 
 usurp the place of established truth, and suffering and sorrow will 
 be the consequence of the error. Of course, I do not mean to ex- 
 clude from these investigations, those conjectural, or theoretical con° 
 elusions which must be adopted as the basis of experiment and ob- 
 servation ; for it is by such devices, and by such alone, that progress 
 can be made in any science. But such conjectures must never be 
 made the basis of established systems until they are fully tested and 
 demonstrated to be true. They are useful as instruments for mak- 
 ing our way along the dark and untried path of the future — as mir- 
 rors or lenses, by which we are enabled to throw the concentrated 
 light of former ages to some short distance before us, so that we can 
 tread confidently, though cautiously, upon the ground thus illu- 
 mined by the wisdom of the past, which constitutes the true fore- 
 sight of the present. There is a region somewhat undefined be- 
 tween the present and the future, over which glimmers a faint light 
 like that of the dawn, casting upon us the shadows of coming events 
 and revealing indistinctly the radiance of great discoveries. The 
 most important ideas that have ever been unfolded in the progress 
 civilization, have generally appeared in some obscure and indistinct 
 form to a whole generation ; sometimes they have been matured 
 and given to the world by separate and independent investigators, 
 nearly at the same moment of time; and frequently they appear dimly 
 shadowed forth in the writings of many upon whom the light of 
 truth may not have shone out fully and clearly, though some scat- 
 tered rays of it have evidently reached them, giving promise of the 
 speedy realization of its full glory. 
 
 Is there not something of this kind going on at the present time ? 
 Recent experiments and investigations, carried; in many instances, to 
 
32 
 
 foolish extremes, and sometimes discredited by attempts at deception, 
 render it more than probable that there is a mysterious connexion 
 between the minds of men, the nature and extent of which, now far 
 from being understood, will soon be fully revealed. I allude to those 
 singular phenomena which go under the name of animal magnetism. 
 Whatever tricks and impositions may occasionally have been played 
 off upon the credulity of men, the candid enquirer cannot doubt that 
 there is some great undiscovered natural law, at the bottom of those 
 facts which have been observed and sufficiently verified. At present 
 we can only say, that under certain circumstances, one man, by the 
 power of his will alone, exercises a strange influence over the mind 
 and body of another. Considered abstractly and apart from the 
 novelty of the fact, there is nothing in it at all incompatible with 
 the general laws of humanity. On the contrary, it seems to me 
 not a whit more strange that one man, by a simple volition, should 
 be able to render the muscles of another rigid and immoveable, than 
 that he should, by a look or a word, convulse him with laughter or 
 paralyze him with fear. The only difference in the two cases is, 
 that the one is familiar to our experience, while the other is rare 
 and unfamiliar. But I apprehend, that the ultimate cause of the 
 one is to be as easily understood as the other. 
 
 It is much to be regretted that the investigation of these singular 
 phenomena is mostly in the hands of charlatans and adventurers — 
 men whose object is gain, rather than the discovery of truth. Un» 
 doubtedly the very facts themselves are vague and uncertain, while 
 the law involved is utterly unknown. Such must continue to be 
 the case, until the subject shall be withdrawn from the hands of 
 those who now mostly monopolize it, and submitted to the true 
 process of philosophical investigation. That the truth will be ulti- 
 mately made plain, and that great secrets in the nature of life and 
 intellect will be developed, seems to me to be not only highly prob- 
 ble, but almost absolutely certain. What influence these discove- 
 ries, the light of which is already glimmering in the distance, will 
 have upon the interests of society, in elucidating the laws of progress 
 and explaining even the philosophy of the great events of history, 
 it is impossible to foresee. They may have such a bearing. Un- 
 
33 
 
 connected as these dissimilar subjects may at the first glance appear 
 to be, they may ultimately be found to have quite as direct a relation, 
 as the falling of an apple and the revolutions of the moon, or the 
 rising of the barometer and the great meterological changes of the 
 atmosphere. When, however, the principle is carried further, and 
 communications are supposed to be had with the inhabitants of the 
 spiritual world — when the embodied intellect of living men is as- 
 sumed to communicate directly with the disembodied spirits of the 
 dead — it seems to me to be going beyond the limits of the most libe- 
 ral credulity. Yet, a well balanced mind may well be staggered at 
 the question, whether the phenomenon of so v;ide a delusion among 
 intelligent and respectable men as that which is spreading on this 
 subject, is not of itself quite as remarkable and as incredible, as would 
 be even the truth of the spiritual communications, of which they 
 imagine themselves to be the recipients. There is something in 
 the whole matter indescribably strange. And whatever may be 
 the result — whether the supposed spiritual communications be 
 realities or mere delusions — they will form an important chapter 
 in the history of human nature. They will serve to elucidate the 
 power of imagination and the wanderings of the minds of living 
 men, if they do not give us information of the condition and occu- 
 pations of the dead. In either case, they are worthy of attention 
 and investigation. We may well treat the vain pretensions of ira- 
 posters with contempt; but even the delusions and errors of men, 
 who, in other respects, are wise and good, are entitled to our res- 
 pect. Perhaps we, ourselves, may be too incredulous and may thus 
 exclude from our minds the light of important truths. Let us wait 
 patiently, if not work diligently, in the confidence that we have not 
 yet reached the goal of human progress in any department of life, 
 and that nature will yet vouchsafe to us higher and nobler truths, 
 than have ever yet been revealed to our astonished vision. 
 
 Gentlemen, Alumni of the Columbian College, I have thus ful- 
 filled, according to my opportunity and feeble ability, the task 
 which your request has imposed upon me. I regret that I could 
 not do it more worthily, so a§ to have afforded you a better entertain- 
 ment upon this interesting occasion, as well as to have reflected 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRE 
 
 34 029 908 652 E 
 
 higher credit upon our Alma Mater. Yet, gentlemen, though I may- 
 through my own fault or misfortune, have profited less than any of you 
 by the teachings of this venerated institution, and may have been far 
 less entitled to the degree with which I was honored, I yield to none 
 of you, in the gratitude I feel for her fostering care, or in the ardor and 
 sincerity of my prayer for her prosperity. The political condition of 
 this District is by no means favorable to the development of institu- 
 tions of any kind. The activity, the enterprise, and the marvellous 
 progress of other portions of our happy Union, present themselves in 
 singular, but not unnatural contrast, with the stagnation which pre- 
 vails here. The example of my native town of Alexandria, now 
 rising so vigorously and manfully from the ashes of that long decay, 
 into which she had fallen almost of necessity, proves that political 
 liberty and self-reliance are the true foundations of all prosperity. 
 Far be it from me, under present circumstances, to broach any con- 
 troverted question. Though profoundly convinced of the truth of 
 my remark in reference to your political condition, I am not insen- 
 sible of the fact, that this condition cannot easily be changed, and 
 that it has many advantages which counteract the evils necessarily 
 arising out of it. Leaving all these considerations aside, however, 
 I am satisfied that proper measures, energetically pursued, will avail 
 to lift this institution to a prouder position than it has ever yet occu- 
 pied. There is no good reason why Columbian College should 
 be permitted to languish and to perish in the midst of the growing 
 population of this city — the political centre of a free and mighty 
 nation— where so many objects of high interest are to be found, 
 giving unusual advantages to an institution of the kind. It is the 
 duty of the people of the District to foster and cherish an institu- 
 tion of so much importance to them. Let them exhibit the warm 
 interest they ought to feel in its prosperity — let them first put their 
 own shoulders to the wheel — and there cannot be a doubt that all 
 necessary assistance will come, and that Columbia College will 
 survive long to be an ornament and a blessing to the Metropolis of 
 this glorious Republic. 
 
iiV,5Jl,^.^,y.,.9'' CONGRESS 
 
 029 908 652 *