ORATIONS 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE THE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CITY AND COUNTY OF PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 AT THEIR AXTNIVERSwaBXES IN 1837-8. 
 
 R.^HA 
 
 BY JOSEPH R. flHAKrDI.X:R AND MORTON M'BIICHAEI<, ES^S. 
 
 PHIIi ADEtPHIAi 
 
 J. PEHBT, pniNTEH, COR. OF SECOND iSD MAKKET »TS. 
 1839. 
 
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 0^ 
 
 /V\ 
 
 Lt/3 t)3 
 
A^ ©S^^2®S?i 
 
 BY JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, ESQ. 
 
 One of the most important acquisitions of man is a knowledge 
 of the human understanding, an acquaintance with the secret 
 springs of menial action — a comprehension of the great design 
 by which we were formed — and a proper apprehension of the 
 capacities of the mind and the means by which it may be direct- 
 ed, in individuals and in masses. It is this knowledge to direct 
 the energies of our kind, which has, from time to time, presented 
 to the world a successful warrior starting from obscurity, and 
 seizing at once on power and fame. 
 
 It is this that has given success to false teachers of other ages 
 and the present time — it is tiiis tliat raised Mohammed from the 
 rank of a servant to the eminence of a lawgiver and a prophet for 
 millions of human ijeings. It is tliis that s;nt Europe to toil 
 against the skill of the Saracen and whiten with human bones the 
 shores of Syria and the plains of Palestine. It is tiiis which, in 
 modern times, chained two thirds of Europe to the car of a single 
 conqueror — and, in turn, chained thnt conqueror to a solitary 
 rock of the stormy Atlantic. It is this which gives gratification 
 to the unhallowed ambition of political aspirants of every age and 
 every clime. But this knowledge so powerful for evil, is no less 
 potent for good. The energies of the human mind that have been 
 distorted to waste and devastate a continent — enslave and debase 
 a people, or vitiate and destroy a neighborhood, may be diiected 
 to promote the happiness of individuals, the peace of society, and 
 the glory of a nation. 
 
 It is only to direct all these energies to operat..i> upon ^'JitabIe 
 objects — to employ them in tasks worthy their character and to 
 supply them with instruments suited to the end to be attained. 
 
 It is to a knowledge of the powers of the human mind, and a 
 determination of giving to man, in his social relations the benefit 
 
of his own means of happiness, that society is at this time indebt- 
 ed for the establishment in various places of public Lyceums, 
 and that the association whose anniversary we now celebrate has 
 been called into existence. 
 
 How delightful the thought! How creditable to the better feel- 
 ings of our nature is it, that in this age, which the philanthropist 
 has sighed over, as the peculiar possession of selfishness — in 
 which the higherprinciples of our nature seem absorbed in schemes 
 of avarice and all ingulphing rage for speculation, in which those 
 faculties of the mind that ministered not to gain, were deemed 
 superfluous, and he that had amassed no wealth, or laid no plan 
 for power and profit would exclaim "I have lost a day." How 
 truly gratifying to find that the spring of philanthropy is gushing 
 forth, and its current pouring along with enriching power and 
 widening influence. Nay more — the victory of this principle of 
 goodness is heightened by the character of its conquest. It is not 
 alone the student that has yielded — it is not alone the professed 
 philanthropist that now joins this standard, and rallies to the call 
 of liberal thoughts and liberal deeds — but there are found in the 
 ranks, the very men whose thirst for lucie had been insatiable, 
 whose schemes of aggrandizement or devotion to abstruse science 
 seemed to have destroyed all social affections, — to have indurated 
 the heart. These have learned the lesson in time to give it prac- 
 tice, that whatever may be the solitary relish of acquiring wealth? 
 its enjoyment must depend upon the will and condition of others. 
 They have found that though the ascent of peculiar eminence may 
 be gratifying, yet its solitude when attained, is incompatible with 
 happiness. They have seen that only by intercourse with their 
 kind, can they cnjo}' life, and that that enjoyment must depend, 
 In no mean degree, upon some parity of possessions, some equal- 
 ity or similarity of attainments, by which communion sliall be 
 commenced and social delight perpetuated. They have listened 
 to the suggestions of wisdom, and paused, in their erratic career, 
 to identify themselves with society, and to institute a claim upon 
 common s^'mpathy, by ministering to common enjoyments. 
 
 For agi's the lenrned liave looked upon the multitude of their 
 race and felt that, however Providence had destined man for so- 
 cial enjoyments, and however much their own attainments may 
 have created in themselves a wish for a communion of their kind^ 
 yet these very attainments, by placing them above the enjoyments 
 
5 
 
 suited to the many, forbade that intercourse which they so much 
 desired. 
 
 Now the devotee of science, provides for his social relations, 
 by imparting to the many, that power which creates the equality 
 necessary to friendship. He no longer hugs himself in the pos- 
 session of science; — he no longer gloats in solitary complacency 
 upon acquisitions that separate him more and more from his fel- 
 low man, but he reaches down to those whose intercourse he seeks, 
 and embues them with a love, a passion for his knowledge, and 
 establishes a bond of affection, by creating a unity of tastes and 
 pursuits. This, it may be said is selfishness. The desire to grat- 
 ify personal appetitite for society, has alone induced the reason 
 for elevating the community to a state of well regulated social 
 intercourse. 
 
 In this view, undoubtedly the motive is selfish, but iheprinciple 
 is good. And instead of censuring the man, we should rather 
 admire the goodness of God, who in ordering the means of his 
 creatures' comforts, has made the happiness of the individual, 
 depend upon the aggregate of the happiness of society. The 
 blessings to be enjoyed must be diffused — it is like the lioarded 
 electricity of tlie Leyden jar, neither seen by others nor felt in 
 the container, until it is drawn forth into unsupplied receivers. 
 
 "There is nothing new under the sun," said the Hebrew king 
 — whose wisdom is his glory The sceptic points to the great 
 principle of universal good, operative and manifest in the Lyce- 
 ums which owe their origin to the present century, and will dis- 
 tinguish it in the history of mankind far more than all the conquests 
 which have been achieved in Europe. It is however, not the 
 principle — but the application of that principle which is new. 
 From the first, "Wisdom has cried aloud and understanding put 
 forth her voice." The great and the good have gathered to 
 themselves whatever of science or literature appertained to their 
 day; and many of them have attempted to impart to the multitude 
 a portion of the means of their own happiness. Even the afflicted 
 David, when lie would give utterance to the mournfully touching 
 elegy on Saul and Jonathan paused that he might first "teach the 
 children of Judah the use of the bow." And his wise successor 
 prepared volumes for the instruction of others in all the branches 
 of natural science thea in use. "He spake of trees from the Ce- 
 dar tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that issues out 
 of the wall. He spake of beasts and fowls and creeping things 
 
G 
 
 and fishes." But while he gave utterance to that wisdom whicii 
 immortalized his name, he provided no means for giving it a rel- 
 ish with those for whose benefit the utterance was designed. 
 
 History teems with brilliant examples of such unproductive 
 science. We see them start upon the sight with portentous gleam- 
 ings like the erratic comet, and lead the world to think that a new 
 era of science is dawning — but they pass away without fulfilling 
 the hopes they had excited — too distant from the mass of mankind 
 to instruct, too refined in their preceptions to admit of sympathy. 
 
 The principle I repeat has ever existed. Though hitherto learn- 
 ing has been like exotic plants, cultivated in elevated positions 
 for the gratification of a favored few, yet its seeds have only need- 
 ed a common soil to produce a common harvest; they have not 
 lost their germinating principle because shut off from germinating 
 means — as the grains of wheat gathered from the composition in 
 an Egyptian mummy, will, after thousands of years of dissication 
 bring forth, in a favorable soil, so will these lessons of wisdom 
 that embalm and preserve the memory of the giant minds of oth- 
 er centuries, produce mental aliment for the whole of our race, 
 if the soil upon which it is sown is duly prepared, and the culture 
 submitted to competent hands. 
 
 I have said we must look back for principle. We must look 
 hade to the long succession of efforts by good men of preceding 
 ages for the great principle of doing good to our fellow men . But 
 we must look forward for the means, because it is with the hu- 
 man mind under its new development as influenced by the ad- 
 vancement of science and the general acceptance and influence of 
 Christianity, that we have now to deal. Tlie solitary "voice of 
 one crying in the wilderness" will no longer avail; nor will 
 cold precept nor even salutary example effect the object. These 
 means have long since been proved unequal to the purpose of 
 general improvement. The benefits to young unmixed societies 
 from such means of moral reform wore felt and acknowledged in 
 their appropriate time; but it would be folly, gross folly to depend 
 upon thcni to sustain the moral fabric and supply the wants of our 
 extended population so curiously wrought in human mosaic. 
 They cannot subsist upon such an aliment. As well, to borrow 
 a figure, might the half weaned child turn back from the strength- 
 ening pabulum of the tabic suited to his new physical energies, 
 and seek nourishment from the niilkless breast of his long dead 
 mother. 
 
The means are to be new. Tliey must consist in a union of 
 effort, as well as in a union of purpose. Those who have a' pro- 
 per apprehension of the wants of society, and have caught a 
 glimpse of what may be done to satisfy those wants, must unite 
 their exertions and depend upon the attraction of their association, 
 for an increase of their number and consequent means of doing 
 good. And their object must be, not more to impart instruction, 
 than a love of instruction; not more to satisfy than to create a 
 thirst for learning, and to open up the path to those fountains 
 which have hitherto been sealed to the many, and have hence 
 rather intoxicated than refreshed the few. And this union, — 
 this co-operation, — this united exertion — is the Lyceum, differing 
 from the schools and academies not so much in the proposed end 
 as in its means and its great success. 
 
 To the schools we have looked to impart to youth a certain 
 amount of education, in certain prescribed hours, conscious, 
 however, that the very prescription of time makes attendance 
 irksome, and study a burthen. 
 
 The Lyceum presents itself to awaken in the young a love of 
 that learning which it is the business of childhood to acquire; to 
 divert youthful energies from profitless dissipation and frivolous 
 sports, to pursuits wherein healthful exercise and solid learning 
 are attained without a sense of present irksomeness or a reflection 
 upon pleasure lost. 
 
 Though the views of the Lyceum include the advancement of 
 all science, and the promotion of literature and the arts, yet I 
 cannot but regard it as specially beneficial, in its tendency to 
 create a love of nature and a consequent inquiry for Natural 
 Science. 
 
 To accident rather than to art or science do we owe the imper- 
 fect development of the mineral and vegetable treasures of the 
 nation — and a want of powers to appreciate the beauties of the 
 country, will prevent that constant search which alone can bring 
 forth the hidden wealth of our mountains and our forests, and give 
 our favored Commonwealth that degree of self-poised dignity, 
 which results from a consciousness of the means of independence 
 and the sources of public and individual wealth. 
 
 Hitherto the country has been regarded by the people of our 
 crowded cities only as the means of supplying some of the natural 
 wants of those devoted to commerce, science, the arts and lite- 
 rature. And even those who have lived in the pure air and clear 
 
sunshine of the tilled fields, have, as if considering themselves 
 separated from the means of rational enjoj'ment and of high mo- 
 ral culture, hastened their children away from an intercourse with 
 nature, and crowded them into cities for the acquisition of wealth, 
 which is too often obtained at the sacrifice of that health which is 
 the priceless blessing of a country pursuit. 
 
 The equalization of knowledge and a diffusion of a love of na- 
 ture, proposed by Lyceums will gradually check the evils of 
 which I complain, and lead forth the youth of our city to the in- 
 dulgence of their newly acquired tastes, and the enlargement of 
 their moral and physical powers. 
 
 Who, with one particle of sense of the truly sublime, or with 
 a single power of appreciating the beautj' and the grandeur of 
 nature, has not gazed upon the clear blue heavens, and all their 
 hosts going forth in their Maker's praise, or marked the enamelled 
 field teeming with vegetable wealth and sustaining animal beau- 
 ties — or felt his own mind enlarged and refined by such objects, 
 but has acknowledged the holiness of the influences that are upon 
 him, and confessed their power to lead him to a deeper love of 
 man and a higher reverence for God ? I speak of a spirit touched 
 with the finer qualities — of a mind, imbued with a knowledge, 
 and hence, a love of nature — with such a one the aspirations must 
 be in the language of the Season's Bard, — 
 
 Oh Nature, all sufficient over all, 
 
 Enrich me with a knowledge of thy works ! 
 
 Snatch me to heaven; thy rolling wonders there 
 
 World beyond world, in infinite extent 
 
 Profusely scattered o'er the blue immense. 
 
 Shower, their meteors, periods and their laws 
 
 Give me to scan ; through the disclosing deep 
 
 Light my blind way; the mineral strata then 
 
 Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; 
 
 O'er that the rising system more complex 
 
 Of animals; and higher still, the mind. 
 
 The varied scene of quick compounded thought 
 
 And where the mixing passions endless shift; 
 
 These ever open to my ravished eye ; 
 
 A search the flight of time can ne'er exhaust. 
 
 I speak with enthusiastic delight of a country residence, of the 
 means of happiness, of health and longevity which it affords — 
 and I assert that the tendency of the multiplication of Lyceums, 
 
is to promote a foiulness for rural residence, and tliiis to add to 
 rural population. 
 
 I know and acknowledge the importance of cities, I know the 
 advantages which constant intercourse, and frequent collision of 
 mind, must produce. The arts require such assemblages ; com- 
 merce will creatf. them, and many of the sciences seem to be de- 
 pendent upon tlie incidents of dense populations — and these cir- 
 cumstances have attracted from the country, and from rural pur- 
 suits, thousands who have pined away in cities, amassing wealth, 
 which they have subsequently vainly attempted to enjoy in the 
 quiet scenes of their infancy. 
 
 And too many of those who have continued their residence in 
 the country, have neglected to inqjrove their literature to any en- 
 largement of their minds — or affected to believe that tlieir attach- 
 ment to rural scenery and occupation never rose above the stolid 
 impulse of attachment from habit, the dignity of affection from 
 an improved understanding. To such the business of agriculture 
 is but the toilful ingatliering from the "sweat of their brow." 
 The labour expended is so devoid of skill, and the connexion of 
 means and ends so seldom understood, it is not strange that such 
 men grow weary of the routine of continued toil — that they 
 should envy the wealth of the citizen and wish to send their 
 children to the metropolis, where, they imagine, that riches are 
 to be obtained without labour — where the harvest is to be insured 
 without exposure to the summer's heat or \\ inter's storm. And 
 hence the influx that crowds the streets of our city, and swells 
 the list of applicants for situations in which the daily liread, is 
 earned at the sacrifice of heailli, and tlie tiiiie spent too frequently 
 in tiie contamination of those morals that had been acquired in 
 comparative solitude, without the test of society's temptation. 
 
 The tendency of all these humors to tlie head, has caused a 
 pletliora there, and paralysis at tjie extremities And this state of 
 moral disorder, I have already remarked, tlie creation and multi- 
 plication of Lyceums must correct. They will establish an equi- 
 librium in the humors, and pi-cserve a wholesome circulation, by 
 giving excitement to those portions -which had become torpid 
 from desertion. 
 
 It is a fact known to 3'ou all, that many who have distinguished 
 
 themselves in some branch of science or some mechanic art, have 
 
 been lead to their study or practice by accidents connected with 
 
 some other pursuits. They have seized upon the incident and 
 
 3 
 
10 
 
 follon-ed out Iho suiigcsiion until tliey renched eminence or ac- 
 quired wealtii. Tiie first principle of electricity was discovered 
 and taught iiy a printer; t!ie iicst telescopes made in our country, 
 are tile handy-work of a Massachusetts farmer, the <!;reat power 
 printing press is tiie invention of a 15ritish 0|)crative, and the 
 mineral and botanic treasures of our country owe their discovery 
 ratlicr to accident than to scientific research. 
 
 The objects and tendency of Lyceums, on the contiary are to 
 leave nothing to chance, to allow no pre-eminence of enjoyment, 
 without a superiority of labour mental or corporeal. But to 
 place wiihin the reach of all, the means and the instruments of 
 acquiring knowledge, and of applying that acquisition to tlie or- 
 dinary jiurposes of life. To waken in the breast of the child, as 
 he treads the field, a curiosity as to the diflcrcnce of soil which 
 he aids to cultivate — tiie properties of the flowers that blsoni 
 annually in his walk, ami the value of the minerals that are 
 turned up by the plough-share which he follows. This curiosity 
 gratified, the young chemist, botanist, and geologist is commen- 
 cing the business of the farmer at the proper alphabet of his trade, 
 and by the time he has attained the age of manhood, he will have 
 acquired that knowledge which will make him not only masler, 
 but a lover of his business — a knowledge which is to elevate the 
 ])rofession from a blind delving of the earth, to the scientific pre- 
 paration and uses of the ground, where each seed has its appro- 
 priate soil, and each crop its proper culture, till the instructed 
 farmer walks forth on his possessions with as much cause for self- 
 felicitations at his success, as has the most ingenious mechanic or 
 the most skilful artist. The same effect from the operations of 
 L3'ceums are to be experienced in all the valuable professions and 
 pursuits of life. The mind is to be seasonably directed to useful 
 occupations — the child is to be redeemed from early waste — a 
 true estimate is to be given of wealth — and a new appreciation of 
 what is ministrant to pleasure. The mechanic, the merchant, 
 mariner, and the professor are not to lose their standing by any 
 elevation of another class ; nor are they to be considered as out 
 of the influences of this new moral power. The effects upon them 
 will be to enlarge their views, and extend the sphere of their use- 
 fulness ; and, while they will be no less in their several pursuits, 
 than they now are, they will nevertheless no longer be mere 
 merchants, mere mechanics, mere mariners, mere professional 
 men. But they will find their pursuits connecled with those of 
 
II 
 
 oilier classes, aiul their means and drsires to do good, called into 
 constant exercise, to reciprocate t!ie favours which they receive 
 from others of a different occupation, but of like temper. 
 
 Tlie hopes of such a splendid result, are however, not to he 
 realized at once, nor should they be indulged without the ade- 
 quate means — What those means are, is the subject of enquiry — 
 ujjon their ]5roper selection and suitable use, must depend the 
 future benefits of Lyceums, and, as it is most solemnly believed, 
 many of the chances of social happiness. 
 
 It has already been remarked that insolated individual exer- 
 tions, though profitable to keep alive a science and secure fame 
 to the actor therein, are wholly inadequate to tlie purposes pro- 
 posed, -firs/ : because loo lew will be reached hv the voice of 
 instruction — and Secondly, because these only will hear whose 
 habits are confirmed, and whose o])inions arc fixed — who may 
 hear, believe and act — but who can never feel. The world, my 
 friends, is less infiuenceil by zeal, fouiuled on a conviction, than 
 by labours resulting from early acquired and deep seated feeling. 
 
 Not from the State Capitol must go forth the mission to effect 
 this purpose. The sacretiness of the pulpit is unequal to the ef- 
 fort — the potency of the press would fail — no voice from tlic 
 house-top can reach the object. Eut in the iiallowed quiet of the 
 domestic circle, must the great work be begun. There must be 
 sown tiie seed — there must germ the ) hint whose redolent blos- 
 som is to dispense its perfume througli the world. 
 
 JNlotliers, it is to you that God hath committed the great work 
 of commencing the moral re!ormation of man. 'l"o you we re- 
 sign the task — we feel that to you it justly belongs — and while we 
 acknowledge the superiority of 3'our position, we offer all the in- 
 struments and means that m ly tend to give a right direction to 
 j'our maternal feeling'^, and a proper exercise of your maternal 
 affections. 
 
 What is the proper |)ride of maternity ? — Whence springs the 
 joyful zvy that " a child is born ?" surely njt merely that a new 
 relationship is estr.blished ! A mother's ambition is not so low — 
 No; the rejoicing is, lh:it another mind is brought into existence; 
 that new affections aie extended over an object capalile of the 
 highest culture; and Ihat the means and capacity of blessing men 
 and honouring God, exist, inseparably, in the new object of her 
 maternal joy. 
 
 To you, then, female members of the L3'ceums, must we look 
 
12 
 
 for the right commencement of the work which we have under- 
 taken. I adjure you, then, in the name, not merely of the socie- 
 ty here assembled, but in the behalf of that great society of which 
 we all are members, 1 adjure you by your love of your offspring, 
 and by your fear of God, be constant, — be earnest in the work 
 of reformation. Mould the mind submitted to your disposal to 
 unfailing affection. Lead it, first to the love of God, then to the 
 love of its kind — enlarge its affections by giving them frequent 
 exercise; and instil into it a sense of its social relations, by fa- 
 miliarizing it with the nature of those objects upon which those 
 relations are formed. Keep constantly in view the proposed 
 perfection of the social edifice; and while you remember that the 
 beauty of the whole, must depend upon the fitness of the parts — 
 do not let the consideration that others are neglecting to mould 
 aright their share of the materials, keep you back from perfect- 
 ing the parts submitted to your construction. 
 
 Go hence, young mother, with new resolves — and while you, 
 this evening, bend over the cradle of your darling one — while 
 the gush of new affection is called up by the smile that is playing 
 on his parted lips, — while, with a mother's fondness you feel a 
 mother's gratitude — I charge you "stir not up, nor wake the be- 
 loved one," until, in the strength of heaven, you have resolved 
 — that the indulgence of a motlier's fondness, shall be the dis- 
 charge of a mother's duties. That the features before you — upon 
 which the whisperings of angels awaken smiles, shall be distort- 
 ed by no unhallowed passion — that the spark of celestial fire, yet 
 latent in his mind, shall be fanned by affection into a flame of 
 love; and that, even in infanc}', tlierc shall be set before his young 
 perceptions, a view of the higher destinies of his nature, so that 
 his eye may be inured to gaze upon the bright object of his aim, 
 and by constant exercise, his young pinions gather strengtli for 
 his upward flight. 
 
 Remember, that in becoming a parent, j'ou have relinquished 
 the right to many selfish pleasures. The honor of maternity is 
 not purchased without a sacrifice. Your pleasures, though not 
 less than those of earlier years — are nevertheless to be pursued in 
 different channels, and must be mingled with deep solicitude. 
 But is that sacrifice, or that solicitude without a reward? Is the 
 discharge of all these duties to which I now invite you, without 
 a commensurate return, even beyond the warm glow of delight 
 that plays around your heart as you hug the cherished one to 
 
13 
 
 your bosom? How priceless to a mother's soul is the conscious- 
 ness of cheerful obedience, in her growing boy! Who shall de- 
 scribe her plensure as she marks his youthful aspirations towards 
 the crown of virtuous years? And, when he assumes the port of 
 manhood, when the lessons which she gave his infancy are ripen- 
 ed to a glorious harvest, and the approval and honours of his fel- 
 low men cluster about his head, shall not the gratified mother be 
 rewarded for her patient toils and all her lessons of truth? Shall 
 not every tear which she shed for his welfare be paid by a world 
 of pleasure? (Think of this, young mothers, and let it be a 
 bright incentive to the fulfilment of your high duties.) Oh, she 
 shall be doubly blest, she shall feel a thousand fold her bright re- 
 ward, when the world shall turn from hi.i greatness, to her love, 
 as from a glorious effect to a hallowed cause, and, in homage to 
 her virtues, confess, that he is not more the " fruit of her womb," 
 than, in his most palmy greatness, he is the offspring of her 
 prayers and the child of her instruction. 
 
 To the domestic circle, then my friends, must we turn for the 
 commencement of the great work of directing the human mind. 
 To female excellence must we look for the first right impulse in 
 the child, that is to rise on the system we advocate. But the 
 nature of Lyceum instruction is to make all participate in the 
 work. Each bringing, if not a portion of knowledge to the com- 
 mon stock, at least a willing mind, that shall edifj'^ by its docility 
 until it begins to impart the lessons it has imbibed. 
 
 The influence of this systematic arrangement in families, will 
 be as salutary upon the habits and morals of its members as it is 
 operative in promoting learning. Vice is most frequently the 
 consequence of domestic irregularit)', and general idleness. In- 
 dustry is a natural consequence of that system of domestic arrange- 
 ment which the Lyceum proposes. And industry is not more 
 the parent of wealth, than of virtue and happiness. 
 
 The domestic circle thus organized and set in motion, meets in 
 its influence a neighboring ring. These combine and form a so- 
 cial compact, united, moved and enlarged by the desire of improve- 
 ment that distinguished the primary effort; and parent and child 
 unite, the ruler and the ruled become workers in the cause; teach- 
 ers by turns and always learners; the very degrees of aUainment, 
 instructive by their exposition of the character and capacity of 
 the pupil, and often the deficiency of success in science, compen- 
 sated by a development of moral excellence only to be drawn forth. 
 
14 
 
 —nay, perhaps only to be appreciated, by the operation of this 
 happy device for instruction. 
 
 I connect moral improvement with scientific attainments in tiie 
 progress of Lyceums, and consider the former as the principal 
 motive for exertions — without tliat, the latter would be of little 
 worth. Indeed, without virtue, science and literature, if they 
 could be cultivated, would be like that tree of your forests, which 
 sends forth, in Spring a beauteous flower, whose redolence is poi- 
 son, and whose taste is death. Sound morals form the basis of 
 all instruction — and religion is the foundation of morals. 
 
 The present has been stigmatized as peculiarly an age of facts — 
 one in which the demands of science are too imperative for ge- 
 nius, and too craving even for gratification. This estimate of the 
 character of the age is undoubtedly in some degree correct, tut the 
 consequences are mis-stated If the heart is made to warm in the 
 extension of science — if there are enthusiasm to urge, poetry to 
 celebrate, and fancy to decorate the schemes of utilty, as much 
 as they have adorned those of unproductive pleasuri, we shall 
 have all the advantages of the useful, enriched with all the charms 
 of fancy and hallowed with all the sanctity of truth. VVc hear 
 it occasionally objected to the studies pro]")Osed by the Lyceums, 
 that the pursuits of natural science tend to weaken religious im- 
 pressions, and to diminish belief in, and a reverence for, llie God 
 that foimed us. This is most incorrect—I grant, that in some 
 instances, scepticism has resulted from a devotion to certain phj's- 
 ical studies. But this has been in a transition from a negative to 
 a positive state. No previous instruction had prej^ared the mind, 
 no parental lesson enforced by parental example, had fixed a belief 
 in God, or presented an evidence of religion. And the pride of 
 attainments in the untaught [)hiloso])her has induced him to claim 
 credit to himself for d'lscorery, when he sliould have acknowled- 
 ged a God in the Creator. 
 
 No, my friends, the greatest discovery fi-om human research, 
 is but the finding out of tb.e hidings of the Makcr'.s power. The 
 philosopher, instructed aright, while he ilraws down the lightning 
 from heaven, bends in humble acknowledgment of the hand that 
 launched the bolt. Your mountains that teem with mineral wealth 
 — your forests mottled with the hundred hues of Autumn's frost, 
 -denote to the child of science the existence of a God, as emphat- 
 ically as does the sacred volume reveal to him the wi/l of ity Great 
 Inspirer. Natural Science is best studied by the lamp of truth, 
 
15 
 
 lit at the blaze of inspiration, and he who would proceed without 
 that safety liu;ht, is like the miner groping in darkness, far beneath 
 the surface of the earth, exposed to danger from t!ie niephitic or 
 explosive g:isses by wiiich he is surrounded — or liable to be crush- 
 ed benenlii the very object for whicii he toils. I have, I feel, 
 my res]5ccted auditors already cxiiausted the time usu illy occupied 
 by a public address, and I know of no right which I posses to 
 practice on your patience. Tlie explanations of the proposed be- 
 nefits from Lyceums, the means of operations, and the motives 
 for promoting their establishment have only been glanced al- 
 though I had purposed to make each the subject of a division of 
 my address. The truth is, when I approached this subject, the 
 pride of our age, I was so struck with its magnificient proportions, 
 its adaptation to the wants of society, and its claim to the admira- 
 tion and affection of the whole community, that I spent the time 
 in contemplating its elegant columns and corresponding dome, 
 which I should have devoted to the interior beauties. I have 
 lingered so long in the portico, without crossing the threshold, 
 that I must defer to another occasion, and relinquish to a more 
 fortunate successor, a completion of my extensive design. 
 
 I cannot doubt, however, that this occasion will prove to have 
 been promotive of kindly feelings towards the institution whose 
 anniversary we celebrate; of resolutions on the part of many to 
 aid by their countenance and means, the exertions of ils oflF.cers 
 and members, to extend the important benefits of their association, 
 to carry into every neigiibourhood tiie Lyceum spirit, that every 
 child, rich and poor, may grow up in its blessed influences. 
 
 It is not greatness that 1 promise from tiie prevalence of these 
 societies — greatness is a relative term, and seldom denotes happi- 
 ness — it is the attempt at goo(hiess which succeeds; few only at- 
 tain eminence, and tiiesc often by a tortuous path; but all may be 
 good, all respectable, all happy. It is the nature of true moral 
 instruction to beget contentment — the parent of peace. The 
 labors of the Lyceums, open up instruction and lead onward the 
 retiring and the humble. The rich may indeed attain the physi- 
 cal sciences without the extension of Lyceums, but they can 
 scarcely hope from any other means, the full benefit of moral 
 discipline, which shall give them a proper estimate of themselves, 
 and of others; which shall expand their views, supply labor to 
 vacant liours, and sweeten that labor with the delight of interest 
 and instruction, which shall teach them a true use of wealth, and 
 
16 
 
 place their claims to respect and consequence upon a high and 
 enduring basis — this for the rich. But the children of the poor 
 shall share the blessing; and hereafter the lonely mother who has 
 divided the crust with the child of her squalid poverty, shall 
 smile through her tears, as she learns that her boy may partici- 
 pate in the benefits of instruction, that the darling one baptized 
 in sorrow, and half confirmed in crime, may mingle in society, 
 with means to claim its respect, and powers to command its gra- 
 titude. 
 
 In what aspect soever the Lyceum cause is viewed; by which- 
 soever of its effects, its merits may be tested, a conclusion of its 
 extensive and eminent benefits is irresistible. We see it now, 
 scarcely in its bud, and yet its vicinage is redolent of its sweets. 
 When time shall have matured the plans for its general application, 
 and allowed scope for its diffusion — who shall define the limits 
 of its usefulness, or designate a period when all its fragrance shall 
 have exhaled ? 
 
 Mo one, my friends: the spirit of co-operation is the spirit of 
 love — it is practical Christianity, it is leaving the question of 
 creeds to man, in his accountability to God, while it gives exer- 
 cise to the social virtues; from which those creeds derive much 
 of their claim to respect — in which they exhibit most of their 
 efficacy. 
 
 The continued co-operation of the members of Lyceums, and 
 the inlinked connexion of all these institutions are most favorable 
 to the exercise and enlargement of the affections — those fountains 
 which God hath set in the human heart, but which are sealed by 
 the sordid selfishness of unsocial pursuits. And, herein, is this 
 institution the handmaid of religion, borrowing from heaven that 
 light and that heat, with which it illumines the path, and warms 
 the heart of man. 
 
 And shall hostility or neglect repay these services? The rock 
 and the vulture of Prometheus could alone be the prototype of 
 such ingratitude. Yet it is neither gratitude, nor thanks, that 
 I challenge in behalf of the members of the Lyceum — T ask of 
 you, affection. Not alTection to them, but to mankind, to those 
 around, and with you, to all with whom you associate, to all to 
 whom (he tokens of your aflfectionate regards can extend. In 
 their name I beseech you — in the emphatic language of the Sa- 
 viour, " that ye love one another.'' 
 
A^ ©!Si^f2©^B 
 
 BY M@SIT©H mCMSCS-I^^SI., BBQ. 
 
 By the Constitution of tlie " Nortliern Lyceum," it is provided 
 that on eacli anniversary of the association an address shall be de- 
 livered before its members, by some person chosen for the pur- 
 pose. The choice for the present occasion, has devolved upon me. 
 
 In fulfilling the duty thus assigned to me, it is my intention 
 briefly to consider the subject of Popular Education. 
 
 We live in an age of movement. All objects that may be 
 modified by human action are undergoing continual ch.anges. The 
 tendency of every thing is onward. The Sciences, reduced from 
 the inaccessible position they once occupied, are now applied fa- 
 miliarly to the ordinary business of life, and assist in the general 
 progression. The Arts, almost ceasing for the time to minister 
 to the demands of luxury, are devoted to the improvement of 
 things more immediately necessary, and, in consequence, the 
 useful precedes the merely ornamental. The shadowy has given 
 way to the substantial. The political revolutions of the last centu- 
 ry have, out of their own elements, produced moral revolutions, 
 corresponding in magnitude; and the whole s^^steni of society has 
 felt, and is acknowledging the influence. 
 
 In nothing has this spirit of change been more signally mani- 
 fested than in its effects on the culture of the human mind. In 
 this respect, our own age offers a fruitful contrast to all which 
 have gone before it. From every former period it differs widely. 
 The most favoured era in the past falls far short of the present. 
 There is no page of man's history which records a state of things 
 parallel to that which is in constant action around us. Tne com- 
 prehensive cause of our superiority may be as?igned ia a single 
 phrase — general education. 
 
 That we may fully realize the difference I have mentioned, it 
 3 
 
IS 
 
 will be necessary rapiJly to review the state of education as it 
 has existed in the various epochs of its history. For our present 
 purpose, these may be divided, first, into the age which preceded 
 the fruition of Grecian literature and art; next, the period of that 
 fruition; afterwards the limes in which the Romans gave laws to 
 the civilized world, and following these, the gloom which suc- 
 ceeded the overtiirow of the empire, the revival of letters, and 
 finally, the last century. In this review, within the limits of an 
 occasional addreis, it will, of course only be allowed to glance at 
 the epochs I have referred to, but that glance, it is hoped, will 
 be ample for the sake of illuslration. 
 
 Apart from the writings of Moses and the Prophets, the specu- 
 lations of later historians, and a few scanty fragments of doubtful 
 authenticity, the history of the first ages of the world, like the 
 confused regions through which the fallen angel passed on his up- 
 ward flight to Paradise, is 
 
 " a (lark, 
 
 Illimitable ocean, without bound, 
 
 Without dimension, where length, breadth and height. 
 
 And time and place are lost." 
 
 Exclusive of the facts furnished by the sacred Scriptures, and 
 these, unless in so far as thej' relate to the Jews, are incidental 
 and disconnected, every thing is lost in conjecture. We know 
 that in all parts of the teeming East immense empires rose and 
 flourished, and that they were marked by a barbaric splendour at 
 which modern credulity startles. The Egyptians and Assyrians 
 founded cities, compared to which the vaunted capitals of our own 
 time, vail their diminished pretensions, but not a stone remains 
 to designate the spot where stood the palace of the Pharaohs; and 
 in the prophetic language of the indignant Jeremiah we may for- 
 cibly exclaim, " How is Babylon become an astonishment among 
 the nations! Her cities are a desolation, a dry land and a wilder- 
 ness; a land wherein no man dvvelleth, neither doth any son of 
 man pass thereby!" Of the one people, during a tract of eight 
 centuries, supposed to be the period of their greatest glory, 
 scarcely a tradition survives; and if the other have left behind 
 them the eternal pyramids, we know not by whom these struc- 
 tures were founded, nor for what uses they were designed. 
 Enough — and just enough — of these once great nations has escaped 
 the common wreck to shew that while in works of Art they had 
 
19 
 
 vast conceptions, and wonderful resources of execution, and had 
 made considerai^le progress in Astronomy, and tlie kindred sci- 
 ences, they were, in that which constitutes the only real happiness 
 of a state — the moral cultivation of its suhjects — utterly deficient. 
 Whatever of learning they possessed, was confined to an impure 
 priesthood, or the followers of a licentious court, while the people, 
 degraded by the most loathsome superstitions, were sunk in the 
 abjectcst misery. Thci) had ?!0 coinrnon schuols. 
 
 In adverting to the state of education among tiie Greeks, who, 
 though sometimes confederated, always retained their distinctive 
 characteristics as separate states, we siiall select as the briglit ex- 
 emplar of them all, that "graceful and versatile people," as thej' 
 have been aptly described by a recent historian. " whose charac- 
 ter was as various j'et as individualized as their religion — who, 
 viewed in whatsoever aspect of their intellectual history, may 
 appear constantly diflfering, yet remain invariably Athenian. 
 Whether clamoring in the Agora — whetlier loitering in ihe 
 Academe — whether sacrificing to Hercules in the temple— 
 whether laughing at Hercules on the stage — whether with Mil- 
 tiades arming against the Mode — whether with Demosthenes de- 
 claiming against the Macedoniar. — still unmistakeable, unex- 
 ampled, original and alone — in their strength or their weakness, 
 their wisdom or their foibles— their turbulent action — their cul- 
 tivated repose." 
 
 It is not to be doubted that in the fine arts the Greeks were 
 superlatively excellent. The unanimous award of contemporary 
 historians, the undisputed judgment of all succeeding generations, 
 and the surviving monuments which yet remain in attestation of 
 tlieir genius, leave them, in this respect, without rivals. Even 
 the beautiful creations of lower Italy wliich tlirow such lustre on 
 the noble house of the Medici, and the splendid triumphs of Paris 
 under the kindling auspices of the great Louis, are, by the con- 
 curring opinions of critical observers, admitted to be inferior. In 
 Poetry also, they excelled; they first gave dignity to history; and 
 the jarring tenets of their controversial philosophy, still furnish 
 the materials of interminable disputes to the learned. Aiistotle 
 boasted that every citizen was profoundly skilled in music, and 
 such was the self-esteem of this proud people that the hum.blest 
 Athenian shrunk from an alliance with the loftiest foreigner, lest 
 he should contaminate the purity of his Attic blood. But when, 
 in the cool and passionless searchings of inquiry, we disregard 
 
20 
 
 the brilliant memories which the names of Themistocles and JRs- 
 chylus — of Pericles and Phidias — of Plato and Apelles, with all 
 their clustering associations recall, and look calmly into the social 
 condition of the Greeks, we find that in all the appliances which 
 contribute to comfort — a word unknown to the ancients — they 
 were far beneath us. In agriculture, commerce and the various 
 mechanic arts to which these give rise, they had made but slight 
 advancement. Elegance, rather than utility was the object they 
 strove to attain, and as their time was chiefly spent in public, 
 they sacrificed to ostentatious display the softer domestic virtues. 
 Their literature, moreover, in praise of which, eulogium has been 
 exhausted, admirable as it undoubtedly was, except upon particu- 
 lar occasions was confined to the privileged classes. The 
 
 " fair Lyceum's walk, the green retreats 
 
 Of Academus, and the thymy vale 
 Where oft, enchanted with Socratic strains, 
 Ilyssus pure devolved his tuneful stream 
 In gentler numbers,'' 
 
 were resorted to principally by the high-born and the wealthy; 
 and though, impelled by the peculiar susceptibility which with 
 them seemed instinct, the populace, within the walls of the theatre, 
 might madden into rage at the bold conceptions of Sophocles, or 
 melt into mirth at the lavish wit of Aristophanes, they had few 
 means of serviceable instruction. The schools of philosophy 
 founded by Thales — by Zeno — by Plato — by Socrates, and their 
 disciples, have shed imperishable renown on the name of Athens, 
 but that great city wanted, what we shall presently attempt to 
 show are worthy of far higher admiration, common schools Jbr I he 
 cotn7non people. 
 
 From Greece we naturally turn to that superior power by 
 which she was subdued, and to which in return she imparted the 
 refinements and diseases of her exquisite civilization. Gradually 
 rising from an infant colony, Rome had extended her conquests 
 until she became mistress of the world. Her armies overrun the 
 earth — her sails whitened every sea. Africa bowed before her 
 — Asia acknowledged her supremacy — Europe lay crouching at 
 her imperial feet. Her eagles ahvays led to victory, and in the 
 potency of her name her citizens found protection among the 
 wildest barbarians. Throned proudly on her seven hills, she 
 looked on nothing that was not her own. The far off horizon 
 
SI 
 
 was less distant than the border of her territory — the boundless 
 ocean seemed scarce more absolute than her dominion. Subjugated 
 nations poured their treasures into her lap — remote tribes labour- 
 ed only for her glory — and the careering winds as they swept by 
 proclaimed with their flattering voices that her greatness was alike 
 incapable of increase or overthrow. Co-extensive with her ad- 
 vancement in political strength was her progress in the march of 
 intellect. She founded libraries- she rewarded genius — she en- 
 couraged talent. Under her fostering protection learning ac- 
 quired new vigour, science was promoted, and discovery, prompt- 
 ed by unusual impulses, made valuable additions to the stock of 
 human knowledge. In elegant literature — in poetry and criti- 
 cism — the professors at Rome aimed at perfection; her historians 
 have never been surpassed for vigour, fidelity and auuteness; her 
 philosophy was an improvement on its Grecian prototype; and 
 her orators are even now the models of those who cultivate the 
 soul-charming art of eloquence. Yet, in her "most high and 
 palmy state," Rome was without a system of general instruction, 
 Plutarch in his parallel of Numa and Lycurgus reproaches the 
 former with having neglected this important subject, and observes, 
 with just severity, that the pile of flourishing institutions reared by 
 that eminent lawgiver, inevitably fell to pieces because it wanted 
 the cement of education. Even in the days of the commonwealth 
 the plebeians were not admitted to share the privileges enjoyed in 
 this respect by the patricians; and when the stern simplicity of 
 the republic yielded to the encroachments of luxury, it was the 
 policy of the rulers, instead of training the minds, to debauch the 
 manners of the people, by the cruel and corrupting sports of the are- 
 na. Sylla, during his prsetorship exhibited a combat in which one 
 hundred men fought with a hundred lions, and Julius Caesar, while 
 sedile, presented a magnificent spectacle in wiiich three hundred 
 couples of gladiators encountered hand to hand. The Roman states- 
 men, skilful as they believed themselves in tlie profoundest subtle- 
 ties of government, were ignorant of llie great truth, that it is only 
 by diflusing knowledge, and — tlirough the means of knowledge — 
 virtue, among the people, that political power can be maintained 
 in its integrity. Had Dioclesian, instead of erecting marble baths 
 capable of accommodating three thousand persons, adorned with 
 all of decoration that ingenuity could devise, or unlimited re- 
 sources bestow, endowed primary schools for the children of his 
 
22 
 
 subjects, he would have left to posterity a nobler memorial than 
 
 " all those fading- monuments. 
 
 Built witli the riches of a spoiled world." 
 
 The Romans had no common schools. 
 
 Nearly contemporaneous with the most brilliant period of Ro- 
 man literature, was tlie advent of our blessed Saviour. It is not 
 consonant to my present design to treat of the vast influence 
 which this concession of the divine meroy to the wickedness of 
 an unregenerate race lias exercised on the liappiness of mankind, 
 but the event, in its consequences, is so immedialel}' connected 
 with m)' theme, that it requires from me a passing notice. Our 
 holy religion, at first despised and rejected of men, after the lapse 
 of a few centuries became popular and prevalent. The blood of 
 the early martyrs crying from the ground awakened the attention 
 of the civilized nations, and when the rage, inspired by the sup- 
 posed dangers of the new creed, had passed away, they saw in 
 the precepts of its founder a morality so pure and perfect, and a 
 plan of salvation and immortality so simple yet comprehensive, 
 that they became converts to its tenets, and adopted its practices. 
 In that imperial city where the followers of the lowly Nazarene 
 had been proscribed as Atheists and slain like beasts, the Christian 
 saw his faith triumphant. The emblem of the cross surmounted 
 the palace of the Cffisars — the walls of the capitol echoed the praises 
 of the saints. But what religion gained in splendour it lost in 
 purity. The simplicity of the primitive church was overwhelmed 
 by the gorgeous appointments of the Romish hierarchy, whose 
 Emperors and Pontifls, unwilling to relinquish altogether the 
 pageants of the old mytholog}', superstructed many of its daz- 
 zling absurdities on the plain foundation of the Redeemer. In 
 the vain pursuit of glittering shadows they overlooked the 
 more important substance, and the visionary abstractions of falli- 
 ble man were substituted for the sterner realities of truth. The 
 apostolic see retained nothing of the apostolic fervour, and in the 
 pomp and ceremonial of an imposing ritual the essence of piety 
 was lost. Corresponding to this decay of vital religion — as must 
 be the case in all states vvhere men forget their duties to their 
 Maker — there was an increase of the elements of national destruc- 
 tion. Luxury attained to a height unparalleled — debauchery en- 
 feebled the frames and paralyzed the morals of the people — 
 senators degraded their stations by tlie most profligate venality, 
 and a mercenary soldiery, having, after the death of the Constan- 
 
23 
 
 tines, snatched from the imbecility, or secured from the policy of 
 their successors, immense accessions of strength, became formi- 
 dable rivals to the civil authority. While Rome was thus fritter- 
 ing away her energies at honve, one by one foreign tributaries re- 
 volted, and distant colonies fell oif from their allegiance, for the 
 licentiousness that prevailed in the capital was felt in the remo- 
 test possessions. The demi- savage but warlike inhabitants of the 
 North saw that the time was come when the flood of conquest 
 must roll back on the conquerors, and taking it at its height they 
 sailed on to fortune. Encouraged by her intestinal divisions, and 
 emboldened by the weak misrule which guided her councils, they 
 poured through the heart of the empire with the impetuosity of 
 their own mountain torrents, and swept before them the most 
 cherished trophies. The urns of the Scipios were broken and 
 their ashes scattered to the winds, the rude and clamorous re- 
 port of war disturbed the temple of peace, and the Pagan defiled 
 with his obscene idolatry the altars dedicated to Christ. Goths 
 and Huns swarmed upon the devoted city, and she, who had given 
 laws to a submissive world, stooped to the clemency of a rude 
 barbarian. Stripped of her dignities — drained of her resources — 
 insulted by her former slaves, she retained only the semblance of 
 power, and the sceptre which she grasped was as weak and un- 
 resisting as the incorporeal air. No longer dreading the invinci- 
 bility of her legions, her hardy invaders planted their standards 
 in her most fertile provinces, and while they made themselves 
 masters, became denizens of the soil. Bringing with them their 
 own laws, their own customs, their own superstitions, at first 
 they were mere hordes of warriors, distinct and uncommingled, 
 but the progress of time softened them into a doubtful civilization, 
 and from the scattered fragments of Rome's despotism they 
 erected the worse tyranny of the feudal system. 
 
 During these moral convulsions — these games in which nations 
 were the players and kingdoms tiie stakes — learning fled afi'righted 
 from her accustomed seats, and souglit a refuge in the distant 
 East. The vast accumulations of intellectual treasure which Home 
 had amassed, during many centuries of almost uninterrupted con- 
 quest, were dispersed or destroyed by her fierce spoilers, who saw 
 in the costly manuscripts belonging to her libraries only the 
 evidences of a weak degenerocy, and who hated all arts uncon- 
 nected with their business of war. For a long tract of time Eu- 
 rope was shrouded in the gloom of ignorance. Throughout her 
 
24 
 
 wide domain — from the Archipelago to the White sea, and from 
 the shores of the Caspian to the Grampian hills — a heavy cloud 
 brooded over her, tainting all things with its unwholesome exha- 
 lations. The people, crushed by a relentless and exacting tyran- 
 ny, had no opportunity to acquire knowledge, and their masters 
 despised it as an idle and effeminate toy fit only for peaceful 
 priests to play with. The little learning then extant was con- 
 fined to the cloister, the mightiest barons were uniustructed in 
 the simplest rudiments of education, and crowned kings, signed 
 with the mark of the cross, treaties involving the destinies of mil- 
 lions, to which thej^ had not the skill to subscribe their titles. 
 
 After a long night of moral darkness, about the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, a few, faint gleams appeared in the horizon, and it soon 
 became evident that the dawn of a brighter day was at hand. 
 Petrarch, whose name is now known to the general reader chiefly 
 as an amatory poet, but whose true merit was his unceasing efforts 
 to purify the tastes and improve the language of his countrymen, 
 rose like a star in Italy, and diffused the mild effulgence of his ge- 
 nius, while his contemporary Boccaccio, of whom nothing is pre- 
 served but the Decameron, introduced to the European student 
 the immortal poem of Homer. After the sack of Constantinople 
 by the Turks, the Greeks, who, if they had lost the martial spirit 
 which animated Leonidas, still cherished the language in which 
 Thuc3'dides wrote and Sappho sung, abandoned that city of their 
 love, and scattering themselves over Europe, every where im- 
 planted the seeds of their native literature. The northern tribes 
 had now grown into powerful kingdoms, and the Franks, the 
 Germans and the Britons, begun to cultivate the refined pursuits 
 of peace. Universities rose by the Seine, by the Danube and the 
 Isis, while farther south, under the munificent protection of a long 
 line of illustrious patrons, the arts reached a perfection only sur- 
 passed by the best productions of the Grecian chisel and pencil. 
 Following, and co-operating with the revival of letters came the 
 discovery of a new continent by the Genoese Columbus — the re- 
 formation of religion by the German Luther, and the application 
 of printing by his countryman, Guttenberg. These great events 
 changed the moral aspect of half the globe. They dissipated the 
 mists which for ages had obscured the truth. They gave a new 
 direction to thought. They imjjarted a new energy to action. 
 Rational science was introduced. New experiments produced 
 new results. Old theories were exploded — old opinions abandon- 
 
ed. Learning took a bolder flight. The deplhs of the fathom- 
 less sea were opened to her inquiries — the sublime mysteries of 
 the heavens were unfolded before her. To her ardent researches 
 
 " Mountains inaccessible were haunts, 
 
 And earth's and ocean's caves, familiar things;" 
 
 her book was nature: her study the universe. 
 
 Gladly would I here dwell on that glorious era which marks 
 the triumphs of English literature. The age of Elizabeth: the 
 age of Bacon — of Spenser — of Ben Jonson, and above all, of 
 Shakespeare, furnishes a theme on which the meanest tongue might 
 grow eloquent. But I must hasten onward, only naming as I 
 pass the profound I.ocke — the far-seeing Newton — the sublime 
 JVIilton — the wise Clarendon — the vigorous Dryden — the elegant 
 Shaftesbury, not venturing to pause even for a moment with Pope 
 at his villa, nor recalling by any allusion that numerous host by 
 whom he was surrounded and followed. Of the literature of the 
 continent it must also suffice to say that it pressed forward with 
 undiminished progress. The German students, roused from a 
 long lethargy, poured, from the secluded retreats of their Univer- 
 sities, streams, of the deepest research and their poets kindled in- 
 to strains of the noblest fervour. At the same time, the French 
 Encyclopedists, combining and simplifying their labours, pro- 
 duced incalculable advantages to science and the belles lettres, 
 while their speculative writers, by the boldest attacks on existing 
 institutions prepared the way for organic changes in the structure 
 of government. 
 
 Yet, amid all the magnificent trophies which mark the progress 
 of letters after the restoration of the Greek authors, from the 
 crowning of the poet of the Vaucluse to the induction of Napoleon 
 into the Academy: amid all the triumphs which the elegant arts 
 achieved over barbarism, whether in Florence, whose merchants 
 were princes, or in France, whose princes were merchants: amid 
 all the fame which clustered round the memories of Italian poets 
 and English dramatists: amid all the honours dispensed to the 
 learned, and the treasures lavished on their institutions, it nowhere 
 happened that schools were opened for the people. Education 
 was still reserved for a fortunate few, and if, as, thanks to the 
 levelling nature of genius, is the fact, among 
 
 " the bright, the immortal names, 
 
 That are not born tQ die," 
 
28 
 
 the greater number belong to persons of humble origin, these 
 must be regarded as proud exceptions to a rule wliich was almost 
 universal. It was their high fortune to overcome all opposing 
 barriers, and, sustained by that unflagging spirit which only su- 
 perior intellect can confer, to secure distinction; but, while they 
 thus excelled, rnillions of minds in which the soil was rich and 
 fertile, lay wholly untilled, and neglected. 
 
 Did I say that nowhere schools were opened for the people? 
 Let me retract the declaration. It is unjust to my country. Un- 
 doubtedly true in its application to the old world, it meels with 
 contradiction in the new. The band of pilgrims who left affluence 
 and all tlie enjoyments it bestows, to brave the perils of a stormy 
 ocean, and to endure the pri\-ations of a distant land, in order that 
 they might realize, as a late French writer strongly expresses it, 
 " the triumph of an idea," on the desert strand of Plymouth gave 
 proofs of a civilization beyond all that had been dreamed of amid 
 the splendour and literature of the European capitals. With an 
 elevation of thought worthy the great work in which they were 
 engaged — a practical foresight into the future, and a just appre- 
 ciation of tiieir social duties, their earliest laws provided for pub- 
 lic education. Schools were established in every township, and 
 the inhabitants were obliged, under heavy penalties, not only to 
 assist in maintaining them, but also to send their children, that 
 they might partake of the advantages they offered. Thus, as 
 early as the beginning of the seventeenth century, at the very 
 dawn of their settlement, we find these stern enthusiasts provid- 
 ing for the equal education of all the growing branches of the 
 community, while, in liberal and enlightened England, so late as the 
 commencement of the present century, a public clamor was raised 
 against Hannah More for attempting to instruct the children of 
 the poor in the plainest elements of knowledge. Indeed, that ex- 
 emplary woman was herself so far influenced by the then prevail- 
 ing prejudice, that, in an apologetic letter to the Hon. Mr. Ad- 
 dington, she writes: "My notions of instructing the poor are 
 very limited. I allow no loriting, nor any reading but the Bible, 
 catechism, and such little tracts as may enable them to understand 
 the church service." And this, her latest biographer, himself a 
 master of arts, and fellow of a college, in this very year, eighteen 
 hundred and thirty eight, gravely pronounces "a sober, and simple, 
 and truly useful course of knowledge!" If such rank intolerance 
 is found among the recipients of honorary degrees in our own 
 
27 
 
 times, we cannot wonder that Sir William Berkeley, (once a 
 fellow of Merlon College, Oxford University,) should have re- 
 plied to a petition presented to him while Governor of the colony 
 of Virginia, "I thank God there are no free schools and printing; 
 and I hope we shall not have these hundred years; for learning 
 has brought disobedience and heresy and sects into the world, and 
 printing has divulged them, and libels against the best govern- 
 ment." 
 
 Having thus hastily glanced at the slate of education in the past, 
 let us now examine briefly into its condition at the present. We 
 have seen that up to the close of the last century, England, the 
 furthest advanced of all the modern monarchies in her approaches 
 to the forms of popular government, had no provision for popular 
 •education. Charitable foundations, it is true, connected with some 
 of her colleges, did exist, but the number of pupils adinissible to 
 fliese was limited, and patronage was needed to insure successful 
 application. In some instances, the funds belonging to these, and 
 private endowments for similar purposes, were diverted into other 
 channels, and the investigations conducted by Lord Brougham, 
 — the great pioneer of English reform — wliile that eminent states- 
 man was -the leader of tbe House of Commons, exposed a series 
 of the most flagrant peculations. On the continent, until after the 
 American war, matters were even worse; and while, on every 
 side, literature was proclaiming her triumphs among the cultiva- 
 ted classes, the mass of the people was abandoned to the grossest 
 ignorance. About the period just referred to, the sovereigns of 
 Europe were taught a lesson, the consequences of wliicb have al- 
 ready been most momentous, and are in constant development. 
 France, borne down by the oppressions of her rulers, saw in our 
 revolution, in accomplishing which she had herself been instru- 
 mental, an example which she speedily followed. Her sai'tins, 
 seizing upon the impulse thus communicated, proclaimed therio-hts 
 of man even in the Tuilleries, and privilege after privilege was 
 stripped from those in authority, until, in the blood of the unhappy 
 Louis and his still more unhappy queen, the expiring ravs of the 
 ancient dynasty were finally qucnclicd. But between tbe revo- 
 lution of France and the revolution of America there were differ- 
 ences of the most radical character. Tbe French leaders, pam- 
 pered by t'.eir vain imaginations, found, in the impious philoso- 
 phy of Voltaire, a sympathetic creed, and, proclaiming iheir own 
 perfectibility, they derided the attributes, and even denied the ex- 
 
28 
 
 istence of the Creator. "Nature and reason," shouted Dupont, 
 while the sentiment was hailed with tumultuous applause hy the 
 Co:ivention, "Nature and reason — these ought to be the Gods of 
 men. These are my Gods. Formyself, I honestly avow to the Con- 
 vention, I am an Atheist!"^ Nor did they confine themselves to 
 declarations. Churches were converted into places of revelry — 
 altars were desecrated by the obscenest orgies, and a painted strum- 
 pet, glorying in the nakednessof her shame, was publicly worship- 
 ped as a type of Deit}'. How widely different the conduct of the 
 American leaders! In times of the sorest trial praise to the God 
 of battles was heard in the camps of the suffering army, and Wash- 
 ington, amid all the toils of his arduous position, did not cease 
 to pour out his soul in prayer for the preservation of his country. 
 Nor were the people engaged in the two cnterprizes less opposed 
 than those by whom they were marshalled. Here, the public 
 schools which had long flourished in New England, and, to a less 
 extent in others of the colonies, had exercised a humanizing in- 
 fluence, and the system of equality which had always prevailed in 
 them, prepared the way for political freedom. There, rude, igno- 
 rant and uncultivated; without education and with no definite idea 
 of religion, the populace became maddened by the intoxicating 
 draught they swallowed with feverish frenzy. Liberty with them 
 was licentiousness, for, passing from the extreme of servitude, they 
 knew not how, temperately, to enjoy its blessings. Instead of 
 modifying, they destroyed — instead of reforming, they annihi- 
 lated. The very foundations of society were overturned — crime 
 was no longer a reproach — massacre was legalized — the butchery 
 of helpless women and innocent children was applauded; and, in 
 the terrible scenes vvhicTi followed the confusion of moral and po- 
 litical elements, by a just retribution, they, who had invoked the 
 horrors of the storm, were sacrificed to its fury. The chiefs of 
 the party that prevailed yesterday were led to the guillotine to-day, 
 and the rulers who assumed their places, shared their fate on the 
 morrow. Fire and sword laid waste the provinces — the streets of 
 Lyons reeked with mangled bodies — the dark waters of the Rhone 
 reddened with the blood of tiiousaads of victims, and Paris, 
 "A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, 
 
 As one great furnace flam'd, yet from those flames, 
 
 No light, but ratlier darkness visible 
 
 Served only to discover sights of woe." 
 Neighbouring potentates looked on in stupified amazement, 
 
29 
 
 while their thrones shook as if smitten by a moral earthquake. 
 And when the lurid glare of this appalling explosion passed 
 away; when to the turmoil of agitation, succeeded the calm of 
 reflection, they saw that if they would avoid similar catastrophes 
 for the future, they must adopt new modes of discipline for the 
 people they governed. Had the French been properly prepared 
 by a well-diffused system of instruction, the brutal excesses of 
 their revolution might have been averted, and realizing the 
 truth so fearfully demonstrated, the nionarchs of Europe yielded 
 to the convictions of necessity, what had always been denied to 
 the pleadings of benevolence. 
 
 Pre-eminent in forwarding the beneficial change, stands the 
 present King of Prussia. Ascending the throne in the midst of 
 abuses, he applied himself zealously to their correction. He 
 discarded the favourites who had disgraced the latter years of the 
 previous reign; re-modelled the civil code; abolished many 
 odious distinctions, and introduced general toleration of religious 
 opinions. Addicted to the study of humane letters, he delighted 
 more in the tranquilizing intercourse of books, than the rough 
 encounters of war; and of a liberal disposition, he was not un- 
 willing that his people should be admitted to partake of the 
 pleasures be so much enjoyed. Thus his own wishes co-operated 
 with the requirements of the times; and to the boon which policy 
 seemed to demand, he added the grace of a voluntary bestowal. 
 Having arranged the outlines of his plans, he called to his as- 
 sistance men of the highest order of intellect, and by commit- 
 ting to these the completion of the details with unlimited con- 
 trol over all that his resources could command, he has succeeded in 
 accomplishing a system of instruction, which in reference to the 
 peculiar character of his power, may be regarded as among the 
 greatest achievements of beneficent wisdom. So perfect is it in 
 all its parts, that the poorest child in the most remote corner of 
 his kingdom, is brought within its sphere of operation; while to 
 those whose abilities give warrant for their success, it opens the 
 way to the most recondite pursuits of learning. Frederick 
 William is of the Protestant faith, but his kinsman, Louis of 
 Bavaria, who is a Roman Catholic, has emulated his example, 
 and with so much zeal, that already the Bavarian schools begin 
 to rival the Prussian. Even the despotic Nicholas — the most 
 absolute of Christian princes, but at the same time one of the 
 wisest — has entered upon a similar career; and bj' recent reports 
 
30 
 
 of his minister of instruction, it appears that throughout his ex' 
 tensive dominions, from Poland to Siberia, and from tlie White 
 Sea to the regions beyond the Caucasus, there are the beginnings 
 of a system of common school instruction. 
 
 " Thus," says Professor Stowe, commenting on these facts, 
 in his able report to the Legislature of Ohio, "three sovereigns, 
 representing the three great divisions of Christendom, the Pro- 
 testant, the Romish and the Greek, are now zealously engaged 
 in doing what despotic sovereigns have seldom done before^ en- 
 lightening and educating their people, and that too with better 
 plans of instruction, and a more efficient accomplishment in 
 practice, than the world has ever before witnessed. Nor is the 
 spirit of education confined to these nations. The Kingdom of 
 Wurtemburg, and the Grand Duchy of Baden, are not behind 
 Prussia or Bavaria. The smaller states of Germany, and even 
 old Austria, arc pushing forward in the same career. France is 
 all awake; Spain and Italy are beginning to open their eyes; the 
 government of England which has hitherto neglected the edu- 
 cation of the common people more than any other Protestant 
 country of Europe, is beginning to bestir itself; and even the Sul- 
 tan of Turkey, and the Pacha of Egypt, are looking round for 
 qualified teachers." These results exhibit a new era in civiliza- 
 tion; and in contemplating their further consequences, we can- 
 not permit ourselves to doubt that they will ultimately lead to 
 the general diflusion of political freedom. 
 
 If, as philanthropists, we must feel gratified at these cheering 
 evidences of man's improvement across the Atlantic; as pa- 
 triots we may rejoice that our own land has not been wanting 
 in her efforts. I have already mentioned that the first settlers 
 of Massachusetts, among their earliest acts, provided for the 
 education of the people. This wise example was generally imi- 
 tated by the adjacent colonies, and, long before the separation 
 from the mother country, in all the eastern section there was a 
 Strict attention bestowed on elementary instruction. Growing 
 with the growth of the several states, the S3'stem has kept even 
 pace with their improvements; and now, besides the tuition of 
 all their children, it is computed that sixty thousand Ncw- 
 Englanders are annually cngnged in various parts of the Uxiion 
 in the business of teacliing. In Pennsylvania education re- 
 ceived the attention of the venerable founder, and afterwards of 
 the convention Ihat framed the constitution of 1 ^90, licing re- 
 
31 
 
 cognized by both as part -of the fundamental law. In Philadel- 
 phia we have long possessed admirable public schools, in which 
 large numbers of pupils are constantly receiving instruction, and 
 from personal observation, I can bear witness to the zeal, in- 
 dustry, and success with which the teachers generally fulfil their 
 important functions. With the improvements recently en- 
 grafted on our system, and aided by the High School, just com- 
 menced under the most flattering auspices, it is not unreasonable 
 to expect that in a little while we shall approach as near to per- 
 fection as circumstances will permit. In the country parts of 
 the state, though more than two hundred statutes attest that 
 legislative attention has been constantly directed to it, general 
 education has not, until within a few years, been properly en- 
 couraged. Times, however, have changed, for by the latest 
 report made to the General Assembly by Mr. Burrowes, the su- 
 perintendant, it appears that over four thousand schools had 
 been established, with an attendance of nearly two hundred 
 thousand children. When it is remembered that in 1833 only 
 about seventeen thousand children, exclusive of Philadelphia, 
 were educated by the state, we perceive there is now abundant 
 reason for congratulation. In the state of New York a general 
 system was adopted as early as 1816, and so deep is the interest 
 felt upon this subject, by the people of that flourishing common- 
 wealth that more than half a million of pupils are taught in the 
 diflerent districts. In New Jersey, in Delaware, in Maryland, 
 and in most of the states south of the Potomac, provision is 
 made for public education, and in some with marked success. 
 In the great West the people have made their public schools 
 objects of the most cherished care; and they are diffusing 
 throughout that fertile region immense advantages. In the new 
 states which border the Mississippi they are also gradually rising ' 
 into importance; and it needs but little prescience to foretell 
 that the day is not distant when from Maine to the Gulf of 
 Mexico, every child may enjoy the untold blessings of primary 
 schools. Let It be our care that to the extent of our abilities 
 this great, consummation shall not be i-etarded. 
 
 From the facts presented in regard to trans-atlantic countries, 
 we learn that the most absolute monarch?, warned by the start- 
 ling events which the last century has brought forth, and 
 taking more enlarged views of political science than their pre- 
 decessors, have arrived at the conclusion that to diffuse know- 
 
32 
 
 ledge among the people is their own best security. That they 
 
 are right is shown in the improved condition of their subjects 
 
 in the moral strength they have, themselves, gained by changing 
 the reluctant submission to force, into the cheerful compliance 
 of duty — in the spread of order, temperance and frugality — in 
 the extended cultivation of the household affections— in the de- 
 velopment of the charities that knit together human hearts, 
 and the courtesies that soften human intercourse — in the promo- 
 tion of peace on earth and good will towards men. The great 
 Frederick with iiis iron soldiery — machines that knew no im- 
 pulse but his will — could accomplish in these days nothing com- 
 pared to the influence which his successor exercises through his 
 public instruction; and Prussia is not the only instance which 
 might be cited to prove that the schoolmaster is a more efficient 
 auxiliary than the bayonet. 
 
 If then knowledge improves and elevates the condition of the 
 people in those states where they are allowed no participation in 
 the government, is it not obvious that it is of much more impor- 
 tance with us? The fact is undeniable that it was principally 
 because we had been prepared for the change, that our revolution 
 — both in its progress and consummation — was unstained by any 
 violence; and it is equally certain, that the continuance of our 
 free institutions will, in a great measure, depend on the care be- 
 stowed on the cultivation of our minds and morals. "That," 
 says William Penn, in his 'Preface to the Frame of Govern- 
 ment,' " that which makes a good constitution must keep it: 
 viz. men of wisdom and virtue, qualities that because they de- 
 scend not with worldly inheritance, must be carefully propagated 
 by a virtuous education of youth." The arterial blood is not 
 more essential to the vitality of the physical frame, than educa- 
 tion is to the existence of a sound republic. Where every man, 
 no matter how humble in station, or limited in fortune, is a 
 member — not merely a nominal, but a stirring, striving, active 
 member — of the body politic, the safety of that body is neces- 
 sarily affected by the intelligence of every such member. An 
 ignorant, uninformed community cannot appreciate, and will not 
 long preserve the blessings of sober freedom. In such a com- 
 munity the rudeness of turbulent zeal outweighs the calm devo- 
 tion of duty; and, incapable of a just discernme it, the people 
 applaud and follow the counsels of time-serving flatterers, while 
 they indignantly turn from the sterner admonitions of the pa- 
 
33 
 
 triot. In such a community, the violence of passion usurps the 
 place of reason; personal prejudice and partizan favour are made 
 the tests of public merit; and he, who would gain political dis- 
 tinction, must resort to means, to which the good man cannot, 
 and the wise man will not stoop It is only, therefore, by dis- 
 seminating through every available source, the seeds of a whole- 
 some instruction; by pouring into every nook and corner of the 
 land the undimmed light of truth, and thus inviting men to the 
 contemplation and practice of virtue, that we can hope to secure, 
 unimpaired, our present political blessings. " Knowledge and 
 goodness,'' as has been eloquently remarked by Miss Sedgwick, 
 " these make degrees in heaven, and they are the graduating 
 scale of a true democracy." 
 
 But beyond the ordinary inducements to freemen to maintain 
 their birthright, there is devolved upon the people of this coun- 
 try a serious responsibility. Not only are we accountable for 
 the destinies of the present, but to us is committed the solemn 
 duty of moulding the character of the future — a future that will 
 influence the civilized world. Extravagant as it may seem, I 
 do firmly believe that the United States are at this time, no less 
 the chosen instruments by which a gracious God purposes to 
 work out signal results in his Providence, than were the children 
 of Israel when, urged by divine promptings, they went from 
 the land of Canaan down into Egypt. As, from the little band 
 of disconsolate brethren, who, spent with famine, and foot-sore 
 with travel, gladly partook of the bounties thrown from Pha- 
 raoh's table, he reared up a mighty people to do his will, and 
 observe his law, giving to them power over the nations; so, 
 from the scattered exiles, who first chaunted the glories of a Re- 
 deemer on the rock-bound coast of the Atlantic, he has reared a 
 yet mightier people, to accomplish in time to come, greater won- 
 ders than it has entered into the imagination of man to conceive. 
 But little more than two centuries have passed since the first 
 white settlers landed in North America; and thousands still live 
 who remember us as the dependants of a distant empire. Now 
 what are we? Like a young giant, full of unwasted strength, our 
 country has developed resources at which the old world gazes 
 in envying admiration. The increase of our population almost 
 outstrips belief ; villages and towns and cities liave sprung up 
 among us as if by miracle; our oak-crowned woods resound the 
 strokes of sturdy labour; our granaries bend beneath the gath- 
 5 
 
34 
 
 ered harvests; our vallies echo the joyful song of plenty. Moun- 
 tains have disappeared under the levelling liand of improvement; 
 from the ocean to the lakes extend grind, continuous and un- 
 broken chains of public works, the proud achievements of a 
 mighty entcrprize; and from tlie bosom of forests, lately deemed 
 impenetrable, now rises the smoke of numerous hearths, kindled 
 by the hardy and contented pioneers of our unceasing progress. 
 Manufactories flourish by every stream. Wealth fills our coffers. 
 Peace siis within our borders; and Commerce, stretching her 
 sails to unvisited shores, has carried the fame of our greatness 
 where tiie boldest European has not ventured. Yet what we 
 are is but a dim type — a faint perception — an imperfect shadow- 
 ing forth of what we sliall be. On the irresistible tide of events, 
 we shall be carried forward, until the Rocky Mountains lie be- 
 hind us, and the Pacific acknowledges our dominion. Possess- 
 ing over sixteen hundred miles of coast even now, with the 
 safest and deepest harbouj-s, inexhaustible supplies of timber, 
 and a race of men, singularly adapted to maritime pursuits, we 
 shall become masters of the seas; while our immense extent of 
 territory, the wonderful fertility of our soil, and the migratory 
 habits of our people, will swell the sum of our population be- 
 yond all former parallel. Stately cities will rise on all our wa- 
 ters; palaces will crown the farthest ridge of the Alleghany; 
 and in 
 
 the continuous woods, 
 
 Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 
 Save his own dashings," 
 
 will be seen the subduing traces of a Christian civilization. 
 And when our own borders, wide as they may be, shall no lon- 
 ger be sufficient to clip in the roving spirit of our descendants, 
 it is not an improbable conjecture, that after conquering the isles 
 of the Indian Ocean, they may penetrate the eastern settlements 
 of Asia, and plant our national standard in the capital of the ce- 
 lestial empire. Nor let it be thought that this is an idle revery. 
 The most enlightened minds of the eighteenth century could not 
 foresee the vast changes which have been wrought since the date 
 of our revolution. The once despised colonies of Great Britain 
 now furnish sixteen millions of freemen, competitors with their 
 ancient mistress in all the useful arts, and in many her superiors. 
 The "striped bit of bunting" is honoured in every port; the 
 
35 
 
 name of American is respected in every city. And what shall 
 restrain the wonder-working influences of our position? The 
 foundations of our social existence are laid so broad and deep, 
 that let the superstructure of government totter, and, if needs 
 must be, fall, they cannot be uprooted; and while our mountains, 
 with their unexplored wealth of mineral riches; our illimitable 
 prairies, and our broad rivers remain to us, we must go forward 
 and prosper. A continent must be destroyed before we can be 
 checked. It is true that internal dissensions may, for a time, de- 
 lay in particular sections the general progress, but these inter- 
 ruptions, like the rocks that chafe the Niagara, and for a mo- 
 ment disturb its rushings, must ultimately give accelerated 
 strength, and renewed majesty to our career. "The time will 
 come," says a profound and philosophic inquirer, " when one 
 hundred and fifty millions of men will be living in North Ame- 
 rica; equal in condition, the progeny of one race, owing their 
 origin to the same cause, and preserving the same language, the. 
 same habits, the same manners, and imbued with the same 
 opinions propagated under the same forms. The rest is uncer- 
 tain, but this is certain; and it is a fact new to the world — a 
 fact fraught with such portentous consequences as to batHe the 
 efforts even of the imagination." Of this great people we are 
 the forerunners — upon such a future the present generation 
 must make its impression. It is as clear as any coming event 
 can be, that our country is destined to pre-eminent greatness; 
 and it must be the fervent aspiration of every honest heart that 
 it may be equally pre-eminent in goodness. That we. at least, 
 may contribute to the accomplishment of this desirable consum- 
 mation — that we may be just to ourselves, and true to our poste- 
 rity, let us endeavour to promote the general diffusion of know- 
 ledge. 
 
 In the present condition of our literature — which is at once a 
 cause and consequence of our popular education — we find ample en- 
 couragement to further and higher efforts. Tiie allotted period of 
 man's life — his three score years and ten — has not flown by since 
 the recognition of our national independence. Previous to that 
 time we had few authors, and we made no pretensions to a dis- 
 tinct literature. Our books were either reprints, or importations 
 from the English, and the prices of these, placed them out of the 
 reach of all but the afiluent. After the revolution, the great 
 minds of the country were too wholly occupied in devising and 
 
36 
 
 watching plans of government, to turn aside for other purposes. 
 We had no history, for we had just sprung into a separate exist- 
 ence. There was for us no past to ransack for legendary lore; 
 no ruins inviting research into their dim decay; no consecrated 
 spots hallowed by time-honoured associations. We were too 
 much engrossed by the bustle of action to bestow leisure on the 
 cultivation that belongs to repose. We were in a state of transi- 
 tion; passing from the forms of by-gone things, into the substance 
 of an untried condition. But In despite of all the obstacles that 
 lay in the way, our course has still been onward. Native authors 
 have increased and multiplied; our poetry, though scanty, contains 
 much that is excellent; accounts of voyages and travels are nu- 
 merous; we are rich \n history, and biographies of our own emi- 
 nent citizens; and our statesmen and divines have written wisely 
 and well on our social, political and religious duties. Books, 
 through the agency of steam presses hive become "thick as au- 
 tumnal leaves." and readers have increased with the means of 
 ■ reading. The sales of five bookselling establishments in 1S36, 
 amounted to nearly a million and a half of dollars, and, notwith- 
 standing the outcry that native talent is not encouraged, it appears 
 that in five j^ears, a single pulilishcr paid for copy rights, one hun 
 dred and thirtj'-five thousand dollars. Superficial observers are 
 apt to believe that tiie chief productions of American pens arc 
 works of imagination, but directly the reverse of this, is the truth. 
 In our home productions the scientific and practically useful pre- 
 dominate, and to subjects connected witii education, especial atten- 
 tion has been directed. 1 bus, of two hundred and fifty-one origi- 
 nal works published in ISo-tjOnl}' twenty-seven were novels and 
 poetry, and all of the remainder related to education, divinitj-, his- 
 tory and biography, jurisprudence, travels, the sciences and arts. 
 Nor has the increase of scliools been disproportinncd. Wc liavc 
 already seen that in almost every sl.'ite of tlie Union legislative ef- 
 forts have been directeil to the establishment of general systems of 
 elementary instruction, and it is gratifying to know that in the 
 higher departments of learning we have made torresj)onding advan- 
 ces. Prior to the revolution, there were but two colleges in all 
 the colonies, and now, in the United States, there are ninety-two. 
 We have, also, twenty-eight medical schools, thirty-seven theologi- 
 cal schools, and eight law schools, most of which, are liberall}- en- 
 dowed, and in a flourishing condition. In aid of the regular semi- 
 
37 
 
 naries, the diffusion of knowledge in this country has been greatly 
 accelerated by voluntary associations. To the patriot and christian , 
 it is a sublime spectacle to contemplate the youth of the land, united 
 with their elders in a common effort, desisting from degrading 
 amusements, and devoting their leisure to the cultivation of their 
 nobler faculties. The Institutes and Lyceums which are now to 
 be found in all parts of our Union, as well in the secluded vil- 
 lage as the crowded city — by the gliding brook and the rushing 
 river^near the broad savannah and the surging ocean — have ac- 
 complished the happiest results. By bringing mind into contact 
 jiviih mind — by opposing intellect to intellect — they enlarge the 
 /boundaries of research, and deepen the impressions of learning. 
 / They awaken trains of thought, which, but for their quickening 
 / impulses might forever have slumbered, and reduce to practical 
 ' application that wliich before was abstract and intangible. 
 
 Nor have the efforts of our countrj^men been circumscribed by 
 our country. Amid the inhospitable snows of Polar regions— 
 among the spicy isles that fling their sweetness on the Southern 
 ocean — away at the remote boundary of the Eastern continent, 
 and, beneath the burning sun of desert Africa, the American 
 Missionary — fearless of danger, prodigal of liealth, patient in suf- 
 fering, unmurmuring in distress — inspired by a noble philanthro- 
 phy has scattered the seeds of a moral revolution, and over the 
 thick darkness of long-benighted nations diffu'sed the light of a re- 
 deeming knowledge. And not to the heathen, only, lias he limit- 
 ed his visitation. It is a fact pregnant with the most solemn mo- . 
 nitions, that at this moment — on the very spot where, more than 
 two thousand years ago, the Stagyrite taught his profound but 
 finite philosopliy— surrounded by tlie decaying grandeur of the 
 once magnificent and still renowned Athens, a native American, 
 a pilgrim from a far-off land, whose very existence was unknown 
 to the Greeks in the day of their greatness, is now employed in 
 imparting to their descendants profitable Christian instruction. 
 
 But while, in view of what has been already accomplished, we 
 may entertain a just pride in the present, we must renew and re- 
 double our exertions lor the future. It is not enough that we 
 have founded schools^ — it is not enough that we have accumulated 
 libraries — it is not enough that we have established Lyceums — it 
 is not enough that we have sent teachers into the four corners of 
 the earth: all these require to be continually guarded, sustained 
 
38 
 
 and encouraged. The times allow of no repose to such efforts. 
 If they do not advance they must fall back: they must increase 
 or perish. We must admit of no pause in our labours. Eacli 
 one of us owes, in this respect, to himself — to his children — to 
 his country, a serious obligation: let us all be careful that it is 
 faithfully discharged. He, who, having the means, contributes 
 nothing to promote the interests of education, is a canker to so- 
 ciety; he, who would interpose an obstacle to its progress, is a 
 traitor to humanity. And while we strive, let us endeavour, 
 also, that our zeal may be well directed. It has been my object 
 this evening, rather to furnish a rapid sketch of the history of 
 popular education, past and present, than to discuss the principles 
 upon which the various systems that prevail in its application are 
 founded, or to point out their relative merits. But in an assem- 
 bly, in which, like that before me, are many to whom is com- 
 mitted the noble cliarge of training the mental faculties of youth, 
 I cannot forbear to repeat the trite remark that ours is the age of 
 the sciences. In everjf^ department of our wide -spread industry, 
 these are of daily utility. Chemistry has lightened the burden 
 of toil even while it has increased the demand for labour: Geolo- 
 gy has opened, and is constantly opening, new sources of mineral 
 wealth; and the exact sciences are in hourly requisition. It has 
 been said that to an American the Matliematics are intuitive, and 
 the remark is not without reason. Certainly the sun has never 
 shone upon a land in which they were of more practical value. 
 In these indications there is much tliat must not be overlooked. 
 They warn us that we must prefer the substantial to the frivolous: 
 that the speculative must j^ield to tlie real. Tlie grand require- 
 ment of the times is useful knowledge. For 
 
 "Not to know, at large, of things remote 
 From use, obscure or subtlej but to know 
 That which before us lies in daily life, 
 Is the prime wisdom." 
 
 It is, I believe, peculiar to literary institutions such as that I 
 am now addressing, that tlie members are of both sexes, and this 
 leads me to a topic, with a brief comment on which, I shall con- 
 clude. Among the highest temporal blessings, dispensed by 
 Christianity, is the just station it assigns to woman. Chosen by 
 the Saviour as his attendant during his earthly probation, she 
 clung to him in suffering and disgrace, and by her faitliful devoted- 
 
39 
 
 ness in watching the sacred sepulchre, became the herald of his 
 glorious resurrection. Since that moment, wherever his religion 
 has penetrated, she has enjoyed the hope of a blessed immortality, 
 and just in proportion to the purity of the prevalent faith is the 
 estimation in which she is held. To man this has been of un- 
 speakable advantage. As, by the law of his being, she is his first 
 instructor, and the impressions of early years are generally the 
 most lasting, his meliorated moral condition is principally to be 
 ascribed to her influence. Regarding education in its comprehen- 
 sive and justest sense, it is a subject in wliich woman has not 
 only a deep and abiding interest, but over which she exercises a 
 wide controul. She lays the foundations of man's character — she 
 gives the first impulse to his career. The lessons taught at the 
 mother's knee are not of less importance than the future teachings 
 of the schools, and the prayerful admonitions bestowed on his 
 boyhood, if properly treasured, are worth to the man more than 
 all the lore that books can furnish. Of how much importance 
 then that she to whom the moulding of man's mind, is in the first 
 instance committed, and who in his after life is his helpmate and 
 counsellor, should herself be properly trained for the important 
 duties she is called on to perform. 
 
 The subject of female education is too fruitful to be entered 
 upon here, but it may be remarked that not the least honourable 
 testimonial in favour of our own times is that it has received high 
 consideration. The Salique law of intellect has been abrogated, 
 and woman may now reach the loftiest station, and enjoy the am- 
 plest honours of the realm of letters. Illustrious instances of our 
 own age, and some of our own land, might be cited who have 
 earned the most elevated reputation; and there are, no doubt, 
 thousands, equally capable, who fear to encounter the glare of 
 public attention. Whatever may have been thought in more bar- 
 barous periods, few now venture to doubt the intellectual ca- 
 pacity of woman. Madame de Stael, Hannah More, and Mrs. 
 Somerville, are instances of profound political sagacity — enlarged 
 views of society — and extensive scientific knowledge, such as the 
 other sex may parallel, but cannot hope to surpass. But while 
 I cheerfully proclaim the entire equality of woman's natural pow- 
 ers of mind, I am not of those who would forcibly draw her from 
 the delicacy of her social position. In the language of one of the 
 brightest ornaments of her sex, " they little understand the true 
 
40 
 
 interests of woman, who would lift her from the important duties 
 of her allotted station to fill with fantastic dignity, a loftier but 
 less appropriate niche. Nor do they understand her true happi- 
 ness, who seek to annihilate distinctions from which she derives 
 advantages, and to attempt innovations which would depreciate 
 her real value." In the arts of government — in the contention of 
 arms — in the strife of polemics — woman finds nothing appropriate 
 to her gentler nature. But for the true duties which devolve 
 on her, she requires all the cultivation of understanding which 
 she can obtain. They, therefore, who joining with man in the 
 pursuit of knowledge, seek to improve the good gifts with which 
 they have been endowed, deserve the highest praise. They thus 
 fit themselves to give to the age its proper impulse by training 
 their children in the way they should go: and by the holiness 
 and charm of their lives, the purity of their counsels, and the ten- 
 derness of their zeal, they direct man to his immortal destinies, 
 
 " Allure to brighter worlds, and lead the way." 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS % 
 
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