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MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS:
ADDRESSES, LECTURES,
AND REVIEWS.
BY
JOSEPH G. HOYT, LL. D.
BOSTON:
CROSBY AND NICHOLS,
117 WASHINGTON STREET.
1863.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
CROSBY AND NICHOLS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
UNIVERSITY P-RES S:
WELCH,  BIGELOWV, AND COMPANY,
C A MBRI D GE.




PREFACE
BY REV. A. P. PEABODY, D. D.
IEFORE it was possible to commit the contents of this
volume to the press, the author had passed away.
The book certainly needs for those who knew him no other
Preface than his own, with its sweet solemnity and sad
beauty, written as the death-shadow was fast closing over a
life than which few can have been more vigorous, sanguine,
and happy. But there may be readers who will be glad to
know how dearly he was loved and prized, how sincerely
respected and honored, and why. We first became acquainted with him, when he commenced his duties as one of
the instructors of the Phillips Exeter Academy. It is impossible to overestimate his worth as a teacher. It was not
that he was more assiduous or successful than many others,
as a mere taskmaster in the mechanical drill or in the finer
analysis of the school-room. We doubt whether the term
examinations of his classes would have fully justified to a
stranger the warmly eulogistic way in which his character
as an instructor was uniformly spoken of by the friends,
patrons, and alumni of the Academy. But one who sat by
him during an ordinary recitation-hour could discern the
secret of his success in the complete vivifying of the lesson in
his own and to his pupils' consciousness. He brought the
minds under his discipline into intensely vigorous action,
and on a wide range of subjects collateral with or suggested
by the main subject of the hour. Large reading, an ex



iv                    PREFACE.
haustless memory, and a fertile fancy, were all brought into
liberal use, now to supply analogies from an entirely different realm of knowledge for some mathematical proposition,
now to pour a flood of transfiguring light on some passage
in a classic which had before seemed clear enough, but as
trite as clear, and now to trace a Greek word back to phonetic elements closely akin in sound to its meaning, and on
to its remotest derivatives in our vernacular tongue. Thus
trained, his pupils carried with them much more than a
mere technical preparation for college. They acquired
habits of investigation and reflection, which were often
more distinctly recognized in the later years and in the
philosophical portions of the college course, than in the
routine study of the mathematics and the ancient languages.
But he was much more than a good teacher. His pupils
were indebted to him for the highest moral impulse and
example. He made himself their friend, and they were
uniformly his friends. He had a strong sympathy with
boyhood, and with every festive, sportive aspect of life;
and while there could not have been a hardier style of
manliness than his, he retained his love of mirth, fun, and
frolic unimpaired. Thus brought by community of taste
and enjoyment in this one particular into the most intimate
intercourse with the young persons about him, he used this
leverage to raise them toward his own elevated plane of
upright purpose, loyal endeavor, and conscientious fidelity,
Godward and manward. His broad, generous, hospitable
nature invited confidence, and suffered no official distance
of age and station to intervene between himself and his
pupils; so that he stood to them in the relation of an elder
brother, whom they profoundly respected indeed, but from
whom they would keep back nothing of which they were
not ashamed, while they were heartily ashamed of whatever
they could not communicate freely to him. This influence,




PREFACE.                     v
so justly and worthily obtained, he regarded as too precious
to be wasted or imperilled, and he husbanded it so wisely,
and adopted such timely methods of exerting it, as to
bestow its whole weight and might in behalf of a high
and ever higher standard of moral excellence.
At the same time he never forgot in his official cares and
labors his obligations as a man and a citizen. No one can
have been a kinder neighbor, a more loving and: assiduous
friend, than he, and none can have felt zmore sacredly the
obligations imposed by the larger public, and by every
cause of human emancipation, progress, and well-being.
Whatever the community really needed, he was among the
foremost in devising and furthering. Not content with the
educational duties which belonged to his office, he devoted
much time, labor, and talent for a long series of years to
the improvement of the public schools in the town of his
residence, and of the school system for the State at large;
and, aside from his general services, there are numerous
specific benefits in this department for which his fellowcitizens are indebted to his sole agency.
It need hardly be added, that Mr. Hoyt was pre-eminently a religious man, and that his friends could trace the
beauty, wealth, and strength of his character to Christian
faith, trust, and hope. Though with an intelligent, definite,
and decided belief as to subjects of religious controversy, he
had too large a sympathy and too comprehensive a fellowship to be a sectarian, and he was always glad to recognize
the Divine Master's image in the disciple of whatever
name or form.  His piety only deepened the fountain of
his charity, and rendered dogmatism and intolerance as
utterly impossible for him as indolence or selfishness seemed
to be.
One word as to the papers in this volume. Some of
them failed of the last feeble touch by which the writer, in
his wearisome and painful decline, sought to revise a part
at




vi                    PREFACE.
of them. They were none of them written with reference
to publication in a permanent form, and most of them were
prepared in haste, and under a heavy pressure of duty, to
meet special occasions. They represent the affluence of
the author's learning, the copiousness of his thought, and
the wide range of his fancy; while they must needs appear
at the disadvantage which always attends the posthumous
publications of an able and gifted writer. They are all of
them rich in thoughts peculiarly his own, and some will,
we know, be regarded as masterpieces of their kind. The
Inaugural Address, especially, will vindicate Mr. Hoyt's
distinguished reputation as an educator, and must awaken
in every intelligent reader profound regret that one who
understood his work so thoroughly, and had the energy
requisite to embody his plans and actualize his conceptions,
has been so early withdrawn from a service in which he
had few equals, hardly a superior. Our consolation is, that
he has only been removed to a higher sphere of service,
where the powers which wrought so vigorously under the
burden of growing infirmity have no longer clog or hinderance. He leaves in the hearts of all who knew him, and
most with those who knew him best, profound regrets, and
dear, honored, hallowed memories.




PREFA CE.
OF the miscellaneous articles which constitute this little
volume, some are reprints and others appear in type
for the first time. I have been induced to gather them up
and throw them into their present form, partly because
those to whose judgment I have been accustomed to defer
advised it; * and partly because I hoped, perhaps vainly,
that a book containing some of my best thoughts and most
earnest convictions upon subjects of permanent interest,
lying on the table of my friends, might, when this sensible
warm  motion has becomre a kneaded clod, help me to survive for a time in the memory and kindly regard of those
I love. I shrink from the cold obstruction, — the oblivion
of the grave.  Like a timid child, I dread to go out alone
into the darkness.  The fire-light on the hearthstone of
home is more attractive to me than the brightest star in the
far-off heavens.'tH  fvy?' Fohvov vrpov /iohvov,-  "the flight
of a lone soul to a lone God,"- is a fearful thing to poor
*" ST. Louis, November 1, 1862.
"DEAR SIR:"Believing that the publication of your Essays and Addresses would not
only afford deep gratification to your friends, but would promote the interests of education and sound learning in the land, we respectfully invite you
to publish a volume of your writings.
"S. WATERHOUSE,
W. G. ELIOT,
W. CHAUVENET,
GEORGE PARTRIDGE,
JOHN How, and others.
"CHANCELLOR J. G. HOYT."




Viii                     PREFACE.
human  nature.  In its immediate prospect, though impatient of delay,
"I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That slope through darkness up to God,
"I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope."
If, as the western "shadows fall longer " upon our earthly
pathway, they were not met and dispersed by the auroral
light of an immortal life, - a life made radiant and beautiful by the prospect of reunited human friendships, - then
should we be " of all men most miserable."
But a brief Preface is not, perhaps, the place for the
expression of one's personal feelings. It only remains for
me to say, that, if otherwise able, I am too far away from
the printing-office to read the proof. Of course there will
be mistakes, and therefore the more urgent necessity for
the "charitable speeches" of my pupils and friends, to
whom the volume is affectionately dedicated.
J. G. HOYT.
ST. Louis, November 5, 1862.




MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS.








AN INAUGURAL ADDRESS.*
THE RELATION OF CULTURE AND KNOWLEDGE IN A
UNIVERSITY  EDUCATION.
IT is the tendency of human nature to adapt itself to the
circumstances of its position. Society is the complex
resultant, not only of antagonistic forces within itself, but
also of a variety of influences constantly exerted from
without.  Let a civilized community be begirt with savage
tribes, and its standard is gradually lowered, the line of
demarcation  grows fainter and  fainter, until at  length
nearly all traces of high social and religious culture have
disappeared.
The Dutch Boers, intelligent Protestant Calvinists, who
began a settlement in Cape Town, South Africa, about
the middle of the seventeenth century, have become,
within the period of our own history, nomadic, lawless,
sanguinary barbarians, hardly less wild andsgross than their
Hottentot neighbors.  If during the last few  years they
* The Inauguration of Joseph G. Hoyt, LL. D. as Chancellor of Washington University, in the city of St. Louis, took place in the Hall of the
Mercantile Library, on Tuesday evening, October 4, 1859. A prayer, offered
by the Rev. Truman M. Post, D. D., commenced the services, after which
the Rev. William G. Eliot, D. D., President of the Board of Directors, made
a statement explanatory of the progress and present condition of the University, and, in behalf of his associates, committed to the Chancellor elect
the insignia of his office. The following Inaugural Address was then delivered, and ordered to be printed by the Directors.
1




2                 INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
have exhibited indications of improvement, it is because
newly established commercial relations with the enlightened
countries of Europe are producing the legitimate effect of
a national regeneration. But so late as 1820 there was
not within their borders a school-house, or a bookstore, or
a newspaper. The women, descendants of the fair-haired
daughters of German princes, were menial slaves, beasts
of burden, whose characters were as low as the degrading
services which they performed; and the whole' colony,
though still nominally Christian, under the Synod of Dort,
had descended to the level of brutal savages, a living
illustration of the fact, that it takes only two centuries to
change the high civilization of our boasted Anglo-Saxon
race into unmitigated heathenism.*
Our New England colonies suffered a similar, though
less striking, retrogression. The first settlers at Plymouth
were, to a large extent, men of fine scholarship and polished
manners, graduates of the English Universities, skilled as
civilians and courtiers, compatriots with Milton, Hampden,
and Cromwell. But they came into the wilderness, and,
in accordance with the inexorable laws of our nature, were
tempted of the Devil. The restraints of civilized life, the
thousand nameless influences of cultivated society, did not
follow them. Their dress, manners, homes, soon began to
partake of the coarseness of their rude exemplars. Refinement, sentiment, education, all languished in the shadows
of the overhanging forests. In two or three generations,
though the spirit of political and religious freedom was not
extinguished, yet the whole aspect of the colony was
changed.  Instead of the scholarly culture which had
come, only a few years before, from Cambridge and Oxford, we find in the civil and ecclesiastical records a
crudeness of style and an absurd capriciousness of orthography characteristic of a degenerating race.  The enlight* Horace Bushnell, D. D., " Barbarism the First Danger."




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                     3
ened religion of Owen and Robertson had caught from the
woods the taint of a worse than savage superstition, and
the whole community, ministers and people, rulers and
subjects, were alike trembling in terror at the wrath and
diabolical enchantments of infernal spirits.* But the constant influx of an intelligent immigration from the mother
country, together with the early establishment of public
schools, and especially of Harvard College, saved New
England from the barbarism toward which in her early
conflicts with savage life she had steadily approximated.
But the end is not yet. In every young State springing up on our shifting western frontier, the great problem
of American society must be solved anew. We are solving it to-day in Missouri; not, however, for Missouri
alone, but for this whole Mississippi Valley.  St. Louis
can hardly fail to be the metropolitan city of the largest
and richest and most populous territory which the sun
ever shone on. If the Moors, in their exultant pride of
country, could believe that the Paradise of the Prophet
was situated exactly in that part of heaven which overhung the kingdom of Granada, we may be excused for
recognizing the commanding nature of our position in the
world, especially if this knowledge awaken in us a vivid
sense of our responsibilities. The great. valley watered
by the Mississippi and its tributaries, containing, as it does,
an area of one million and a fourth of square miles,t is
equal in extent to the whole European continent, with the
exception of Russia, and could be carved up into a dozen
kingdoms as large as Great Britain and Ireland combined.
Within this valley are ocean-like prairies of exhaustless
fertility, immeasurable strata of lead and zinc and copper
* See Cotton Mather's " Observations, as well Historical as Theological,
upon the Nature, Number, and the Operations of the Devils." Published by
the special command of his Excellency, William Stoughton, the Governor
of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, 1693.
t United States Census, 1850, p. 29.




4                INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
and coal, hills of solid iron, mighty forests of timber, and,
on its western boundary, mountain streams, whose sands
are richer in gold than the fabled Lydian Pactolus. These
multiform products of a teeming soil come by steamboat or
rail-car to this central point of navigation and travel,
where they are transformed by our manufacturing and
mechanical skill, or are exchanged for the various commodities of civilized life. Besides this, when the railroad,
whose achievement is but a question of time, shall have
connected New York and San Francisco, the Atlantic and
the Pacific, deep answering.unto deep, the riches of India
and of China, the commerce of the world, will pass by our
doors, and St. Louis will become the half-way caravansary
on this continent for the nations of the earth. Now it will
not be denied that this city, thus situated, thus related to
the world's affairs, rests upon the broad foundation which,
as Adam Smith affirms, underlies every great city,agriculture, commerce, and manufactures; nor can it
be doubted that she must exert a mighty influence on
the intellectual and moral character, as well as on the
material interests of the thronging millions who will
gather around her in this immense valley, and who, by
their suffrages, will erelong determine the destiny of a
republic before whose colossal proportions and political
power the empire of the Caesars dwindles into insignificance. How shall she be prepared to accomplish the high
mission which Providence has assigned her? Manifestly
there can be but one answer to this question: she must
first educate herself, in the most comprehensive sense of
the term, and then let her light shine until the humblest
dwellers in the shadows of mountain and forest shall rejoice
in its warm radiance.
In a monarchy or arbitrary government, it is, comparatively speaking, a matter of small consequence whether the
people are educated or not; their first and highest duty




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                  5
is unquestioning obedience.  But with us, so far at least as
our civil relations are concerned, every individual is a
ruler, and must exert an influence upon every other individual in the republic. It is a proposition in natural philosophy, susceptible of demonstration, that every foot-fall of
every child jars the earth, and not the earth only, but the
whole universe of God. It is a proposition which needs no
demonstration, that every member of a free government
affects for good or ill every other member. The boy now
flying his kite on Washington Common, or blowing soapbubbles under the eye of his mother, may attain to the highest office of the nation; for, as a distinguished statesman
has intimated, every man in these days is liable to become
President of the United States. But if he should reach no
official dignity, yet he is a voter, and as such holds up the
hand that sways the sceptre of power, or strikes it down at
his pleasure. It has been well said, that " to know how to
cast a ballot in a free country is of far more importance
than to know how to cast a spear."  A nation may recover
from a defeat in battle, or even from the disastrous consequences of an unsuccessful, or, what perhaps is worse, a
successful war; but from the effects of popular ignorance,
or rather of misdirected education, there is no recovery.
It is an abiding consumption at the vitals of the body politic. Ignorance among the people' in a democratic commonwealth reaches, in its leprous influence, to every fibre and
function of the state. It stagnates the currents of health,
palsies the right arm of labor, debases a cheerful and intelligent worship to a fear-stricken superstition, pollutes the
fountains of justice, renders contemptible the decisions of
the jury, degrades and brutifies our social intercourse, exchanges the discussions of freemen met in council for the
yells of a mob or for voices of command from  military despots. The sovereignty of intellectual power is supplanted
by unreasoning force.  The pen gives place to the sword,
1 *




6                 INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
the book to the bayonet, the majesty and authority of law
to the reign of " chaos and old night."
A perfect system of popular instruction involves the
necessity of institutions for common, intermediate, and
higher education. The first already exist in our primary
and grammar schools; the second, in our high schools and
academies; the third, not yet adequately provided, must
be found, if found at all, in well-endowed, well-appointed
colleges and universities. The public schools of St. Louis,
with their present able and efficient corps of teachers, and
under their present admirable supervision, are securing to
all our children the rudiments of a good English education,
and, to those who desire it, a thorough discipline also in
those classical and mathematical studies which are preparatory to a still more liberal culture in higher seats of
learning. It is of this, latter class of institutions - our
Universities — that I wish to say somewhat on this occasion.
The University, in its original scope and meaning, was
Universitas doctorum et scholarium, — a community of
learned men, pursuing their studies under a municipal
organization of their own, amidst the parchment rolls and
black-letter volumes of the earlier and middle ages.  The
subjects and objects of study had no reference to the outward world.  Scholarship was sought for its own sake,
and was its own exceeding great reward.  But this is
changed.  The University now is rather Universitas Literarum et Scientiarum, - a repository of the highest learning in every department of human knowledge,* represented
to the public eye, not merely in its scholarly Professors,
but also in its Libraries, Laboratories, Observatories, Philosophical Apparatus, Cabinets of Minerals, Museums of
Natural History, Botanical Gardens, and Galleries of
Painting and Sculpture. It is a place where the student
* "Omnis doctrinae ac scientie thesaurus altissimus."




INAUGURAL -ADDRESS.                  7
is furnished with every possible facility for pursuing his
studies to the highest range of thought, in any direction,
throughout the whole domain of science and letters. Of
course, the University is altogether more comprehensive
in its character than the College.  Its instruction is ordinarily divided into four faculties, having charge respectively
of Law, Medicine, Theology, and the Arts or Philosophy.
The first three of these belong to professional schools, the
last to the college proper. In addition to these, the recent
rapid development of the physical sciences has rendered
eminently appropriate the establishment of special departments of Natural History, of Mathematics applied to
engineering and mechanics, and of Chemistry in its relations to manufactures and agriculture.
The English University at Cambridge is a union of
seventeen colleges or corporate bodies,* each of which,
like the several States of our own confederacy, is represented in a congress, consisting of a senate and council.
It is exclusively in this federal capacity that degrees are
granted, and then only after the most searching and severe
examinations. In this way, a diploma is, what it always
should be, the seal of profound scholarship.
We have, strictly speaking, no University in this country.  Harvard and Yale, perhaps, approximate the nearest
to it; but there is a wide distance between them and Berlin, with its 175 professors and its library of 7,000 manuscripts and 500,000 volumes. With us, the College, which
was originally a mere eleemosynary hall for the accommodation of poor students, has usurped the functions and
prerogatives of the University, essaying to teach, in four
years, the whole circle of liberal arts and sciences, and
lavishing its honors upon men of whom it knows as little
as the favored recipients of its cabalistic letters-patent
know of sound learning.
* Cambridge University Calendar.




8                INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
As a people we are yet in our childhood, exuberant with
untamed life. The sutures of our national cranium are
closing slowly and with difficulty over the wildly throbbing
brain.  It is just here in this fact of our youth, that we,
especially at the West, encounter the greatest difficulty in
building up an educational institution which shall be commensurate with our intellectual necessities and conservative
of our vast material interests.  We may as well look this
difficulty full in the face. We are young, and it is because
we are young that our life, like an oration of Demosthenes,
is full of thrice-repeated "action."  We are content to
leave all meditation to our ministers and maiden aunts.
An ague-fit is preferred to a fit of reflection. The crash
of falling trees, the clang of machinery, the buzzing of
spindles, the shriek of fire-winged locomotives, are pleasanter far to our ears than the quiet hum of academic halls,
or the swelling organ peal of ivy-crowned cathedrals. He
only is supposed to live who finds something in the outward
world to do, and does it, - something, too, which is palpable, visible, striking.  We pay more honor to the strong
arm than to the thinking brain. We call the men we
employ our hired hands, not our hired heads. We are
never easy, always possessed of a spirit of unrest. If we
sit, unlike the rest of the world, we must rock. Indeed,
a rocking-chair under full swing would be no inappropriate
heraldic national emblem. If we pretend to sleep, we talk,
like Lady Macbeth, to our "deaf pillows."  If we stop to
think, we whittle a stick, or masticate with increased vigor
" the weed." It is true, as a German paper says of us,
that we chew more tobacco and burst more steam-engines
than any other nation on the earth. We are eminently a
fast people. We charge upon our daily business with as
much elan as the French cavalry exhibit in charging upon
the serried ranks of a hostile army. The veteran missionary, Dr. Goodell, recently visiting his native country, after




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 9
an absence in Syria of some thirty years, was struck, on
landing in Boston, as he tells us, with the extraordinary
hurry in which everybody - men, women, and childrenseemed to be, and he could hardly be persuaded that there
was not, somewhere in the city, a fire, which the jostling
multitude was hastening to extinguish. Even our letters
of friendship are scrawled with the most business-like despatch, and the boarding-school maiden subscribes her first
perfumed epistle to her adorable lover, -" Thine, dearest,
in haste!" The student, catching the spirit of the street
and the exchange, grows impatient over his books in his
classic retreat, and pants for an intenser life on the levee,
or a freer one among the placers of Pike's Peak. He does
not believe in the necessity of spending seven or eight
years, the best part of his valuable existence, in poring
ingloriously over " dead languages" and abstruse mathematics. He is sure the world is waiting and anxious for
him, and so he will not tarry in our academic Jerichos
until his beard be grown, but goes forth with his bow and
arrow to the " world's broad field of battle," to see if he,
like the smooth-faced Paris, may not hit some great Achilles in the heel. Or if, made of finer mould, he should covet
the reputation and badge of scholarship, still he must be
allowed to attain his object with the least outlay of labor
and in the briefest possible time. If ostriches hatch their
young, as the Arabs believe, by merely looking at their
eggs, why may not scholars be hatched in quite as summary a way? Educators, so called, have not been wanting,
who have taken this oviparous view of the subject, and
who, with a zeal for the cause of learning as disinterested
as that of the goldsmith, who fell in love witl the diamond
eyes of the idol of Jaghernaut, have furnished the kind of
institutions demanded. They are scattered all over the
country, though, like "the course of empire," their tendency is decidedly "westward."  A young man in six




10               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
months may fit himself, in one of these temples of Minerva, to enter college a year in advance, with a wide
margin of Hebrew and Geology besides. If not favored
with a premature degree, he sallies forth, in due time,
against the Philistines, a Bachelor of Arts, and achieves
wonders with the same famous weapon which Samson
once wielded at Ramath-lehi!
"Non tali auxilio, nee defensoribus istis
Tempus eget."
It takes the cypress-tree a thousand years to accomplish
its full size. The education which the exigencies of our
country and the times demand cannot be the work of a
day. It must be a process, not a spasm; a healthy growth,
not a sudden "swell"; a development of trunk and limb,
not a whitewashing of the bark.  "The gods," says an
old Greek, "sell all good things at the price of labor," *
not for money. The rich man who bought the study-lamp
of Epictetus for three thousand drachmas, in the hope that
it would light him into the very adyta of Philosophy,
awoke the morrow morn a sadder, but not a wiser man.
No nation since the world began has required a tithe of
the disciplined talent which is now absolutely indispensable to us. Look at the democratic character of our institutions; at the great experiment of a free government, cut
loose from the precedents and prescriptions of antiquity;
at the heterogeneousness of a population speaking in all
the " cloven tongues " of the ancient Pentecost, and bound
together by no common bond of historic associations; at
the undeveloped resources of a territory outstripping in
the rapidity of its expansion the speed of the pioneer, and
putting to shame the unreliable charts of the chorographer;.....   7rV VCo)V
IlXo~oflv 1]z f avrarda ayaO' ol OEOl.
Epicharmus.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 11
at the restless activity of the masses, heaving and tossing
with the irrepressible energy of a storm-driven sea;look at these things, startling in their present reality and
more startling in their prophecies of the future, and tell
me if there is not need, here and now, of a keener intelligence, of more thoroughly furnished faculties, of a loftier
virtue, of a profounder and more comprehensive culture,
than any of the civilizations of the Old World ever knew?
The very difficulties which, as we have seen, lie in the way
of a great University, are the strongest arguments for its
necessity.  The terrible activity of our physical life must
be guided and elevated, or it will waste itself in aimless
exertion, if not in suicidal violence.  The nation, not less
than the individual, should be educated in youth. It is
then, if ever, that we may "wield at will the fierce democratie" of untamed passions, and open through green
meadows channels for undisciplined affections. It is then,
when gross materialism is the preordained law of our being,
that we should stir our grovelling nature with thoughts of
a higher life, and quicken its sight with visions of spiritual
beauty.
The highest institutions of learning are not of necessity,
as some suppose, the slow growth of centuries. The University of Berlin is foremost among the Universities of Europe, and yet it is not so old as our own Harvard by a
hundred and seventy-two years.  It was but sixteen years
of age when it contained one thousand six hundred and
forty-two matriculated students. It is true, Prussia is a
densely-peopled country, while in our Western States the
camp-fires of the Indians have hardly yet gone out. But
the population of this Mississippi Valley, according to the
census returns for the last two decennial periods, is doubling in a little more than thirteen years, so that, at the
same rate, in 1900, a point doubtless within the lifetime of
many of my hearers, we shall have become a hundred and




12               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
sixteen millions! St. Louis, the geographical centre, not
only of this valley, but of the whole country, will be to a
fearful extent responsible for the intellectual and moral
character which shall be impressed upon the American
people. It was in view of considerations like these, that
a few far-sighted and large-hearted men, of whom the
famous verse of Terence
Homo sum; humani nihil a me alienum puto * -
was written, laid the foundation of WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY. It has grown to its present dimensions through the
fostering care, not of the State, but of unostentatious private individuals, whose pathway in society we discover
by the.fruits of their generous munificence, just as the
Eastern traveller can trace from afar the course of a river
in the desert by the trees and verdure that spring up along
its banks,- a waving line of green in a waste of sand.
Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth in this country, and the
Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and Paris in Europe,
were, in their inception, the result of private liberality;
but when, in process of time, they had given proof of their
public utility, they were, in their further development,
materially assisted by the state. It has been for a long
time' well understood by the profoundest statesmen, that
learning, art, faith, have an economic value,,- are worth
money; that education not only elevates the intellect, but
economizes also the public purse; that it costs less to support a boy at the school, than it does to support a man in
the penitentiary; that high moral culture is the cheapest
police; that society, if thoroughly interpenetrated with the
spirit of the New Testament, would have no need of jails
and gibbets, and the sheriff's occupation would be gone;
in a word, that a high-toned, well-appointed institution of
learning pays good dividends to the community, and the
* Heauton Timorumenos, Act I. Scene 1.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                13
stock taken in it by the state is well invested. In saying
this, however, we have no fell intentions upon the Treasury in Jefferson City.
WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY is not yet " finished," - only
begun. It is the order of nature to grow. The shell-fish,
when he feels himself " cabined, cribbed, confined," crawls
forth from his stony incasement, and slowly builds for himself another and a larger house. We expect to conform to
this universal law of growth. We have now in the University five departments,- a Preparatory or Academic, a
Collegiate, a Scientific, a Polytechnic, and, under the same
charter and general supervision, though in separate buildings and grounds, a Seminary for female instruction. In
the Academic department, the course of study has been so
arranged that pupils of eleven years of age and of good natural ability may, in four years, fit themselves to enter upon
either of the two higher courses,- the Collegiate or Scientific. The College, corresponding, like those of New England, very nearly to the German Gymnasium, furnishes
facilities for a good English and Classical education. The
studies in the Scientific department are special and practical
in their character, — looking, on the one hand, to the
higher and subtler investigations of science in Mechanics,
Astronomy, and Chemistry, and, on the other hand, to the
every-day employments, in the shop or field, of the industrial classes, for whom the liberal provisions of the Polytechnic Institute are particularly intended. Such, in brief,
is the outline and framework of our University.  But it
is Carlyle, I think, who says, "The house that is a-building
looketh not like the house that is built." If it be objected,
that, without the present reality and fulness of a University, we have no business with so august a title, we answer,
that parents do not wait until their children have become
full-grown men before they name them. The great American statesman, the expositor and defender of the Constitu2




14               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
tion, - who, whether in the cabinet or senate-chamber,
always stood
" With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies, whose look
Drew audience and attention, still as night
Or summer's noontide air,"was once a mere child, chasing butterflies in the cloverfields, or catching minnows with a pin-hook from the silver
streamlets of New Hampshire, and the name which the
world will pronounce with reverence and pride " to the last
syllable of recorded time " was that which his mother gave
him when he lay an infant on her knee.
It may not be inappropriate, in this connection, to indicate briefly my idea of a University, - not what it might
be in some far-off imaginary Republic, like Plato's, but
what it should be in this section of this country at this
time. The Academic, or preparatory studies, prescribed
for admission to the best Colleges in New England, do not,
in my judgment, demand any serious modification at our
hands. The common evil of careless and inadequate preparation we can remedy by a more rigid and pitiless examination. The ground already occupied is broad enough, -
it only needs a deeper and more thorough tillage.  Of the
constituent elements of a true University, the first and
most important is the College. Its faculty of instruction
and government should consist of a corps of Professors,
having charge respectively of the English, the Latin, and
the Greek Language and Literature, of pure and mixed
Mathematics, of Chemistry, of Rhetoric and Oratory, of
Ancient and Modern History, of Metaphysics and Political
Economy, of Modern Languages and Literature, and of
the Natural Sciences. This last topic could be taught only
in'outline, as preparatory to an ampler discussion in the
post-graduate course. A College thus constituted and furnished would be the grand foundation.  The superstruc



INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                    15
ture built upon it would be naturally divided into various
apartments of different dimensions, each of which would be
devoted to a special pursuit, and presided over by a special
Faculty. In one, we should have a Faculty of Science in
its application to Mechanical, Agricultural, and Commercial
industry; in another, a Faculty of Natural History, embracing the whole range of Physical Sciences; in another,
a Faculty of the Arts, both useful and ornamental, including Painting, Sculpture, Design, and whatever in civilized
life may be connected with beauty, form, color, or sound;
in another, a Faculty of Philology; in another, a Faculty
of Law; in another, a Faculty of Medicine.  As Scientific
Theology is necessarily sectarian in its character, it belongs
exclusively to denominational schools. In our own case, it
is wisely prohibited by our charter. Upon the honorable
completion of the college course of four years, the graduate should receive the degree of Bachelor of Arts. Two
years more spent upon the studies of either one of the special or professional departments of the University, according to his option, would entitle him, on examination, to the
degree of Master of Arts.* In the ideal University which
I have been portraying, and which is nothing more nor less
than Washington University, rounded out into symmetry
and fulness of proportion, there might be arranged for those
students who, like the members of the intermediate classes
of Oxford and Cambridge, cannot afford the time and
means necessary for a thorough education, a three years'
scientific course, running parallel with the first three years
of the college course, and securing to those who complete
it the degree of Bachelor of Science.f It is obvious that
* Columbia College, New York City, under its recent re-organization, proposes to confer the degree of Bachelor of Arts at the end of three years'
study; and that of Master of Arts, after two years additional.
t In the re-arrangement of the system of instruction at Brown University,
in 1850, provision was made for a three years' Scientific course, terminating
with the degree of Bachelor of Philosophy.




16                INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
in the constitution of a University there must be, in additiou to the several faculties which have been specified,
books in every field of research; apparatus, chemical, mechanical, and astronomical; cabinet -specimens from the
whole realm of Nature, animal, mineral, and vegetable;
models of implements invented for the use of man; and
galleries of art, appealing to his sense of beauty.
The different branches of study indicated in the foregoing enumeration of professorial faculties are distributed
between the College proper and the various departments of
the University, not at random, but in accordance with the
universally recognized nature of man, as a subjective and
objective being, requiring on the one hand, for his perfect
development, the discipline of his own original powers, and
on the other, an intimate acquaintance with the phenomena,
properties, and laws of the outward world.
In the highest institutions of learning, then, we aim at
two results,- CULTURE first, and KNOWLEDGE afterwards.
These are the two grand essentials to intellectual power,
to an imperial manhood. Neither is sufficient of itself, nor
can their order be inverted. Strength of muscle is a prerequisite to success in the harvest-field. The bending
wheat is not for the puny arm; the wonderful facts in
science are useless to the undisciplined mind.   Those
modern reformers in our educational systems, with whom
the "be-all and end-all" of life is the practical and real,
are striving to gather fruit from  a tree which has neither
stem nor roots. Far be it from me to undervalue utility,
in this'" working-day world," as a leading object in the
University. I believe, with Bacon, that it is the mission
of sound learning " to work effectively for the purpose of
lightening the inconveniences of human life." * I only
object to the unphilosophical, and  therefore inefficient,
* "Efficaciter operari ad sublevanda vitse humanm incommoda." —De
Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarium, Lib. VII. c. 1.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                17
method of accomplishing so beneficent an end. The first
question, then, which presents itself to us is, - How shall
we, within the prescribed college olympiad, secure to our
students, not the maximum " knowledge," but the highest
possible " culture "? To this question the scholars of all
ages and in all places have given this one uniform and
emphatic answer: The best human culture is attainable
only through the earnest and indefatigable study of the
mathematics, and of the Greek and Latin languages.
Homer and Xenophon, Virgil and Cicero, Euclid and
Archimedes, have been for ages past, and must be for ages
to come, the great educators of our race.
But it is not to be denied, that the " dead languages,"
so called, and the higher mathematics, are denounced at
the present day by some intelligent men as serious obstacles in the pathway of all rational progress. It is fitting, therefore, that something should be said in their vindication. Their relation to each other and to the human
mind is such, that they must either stand or fall side by
side. They may both be abandoned with impunity, or else
to neglect either one is to abdicate the functions of a wellbalanced education altogether. In defending their common
cause, I shall maintain their importance in the University
curriculum, both as a means of " culture " and as a source of
" practical knowledge." Though many of the arguments
which might be urged in behalf of the classics are equally
pertinent in a defence of the mathematics, yet, as a matter
of convenience, I shall separate them in this discussion.
In the first place, then, let us consider whether the languages of Greece and Rome, which have hithertooccupied
so conspicuous a place in the highest institutions of learning throughout the world, should, in the clearer light of
these modern days and under the severer pressure of the
progressive sciences, be condemned and banished from the
recitation-room.
2*




18                INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
It is certainly something in their favor, that they have,
by common consent, constituted a principal part of sound
learning in every civilized nation of the earth ever since
the medieval darkness, which they did more than all
things else to dissipate; something, that the profoundest
scholars of past centuries have gratefully acknowledged
their indebtedness to them, while the profoundest scholars
of the present day plead, in all the various tongues of
Christendom, against
" The deep damnation of their taking off."
The enlightened public sentiment of the world, or even of
a single community, upon other questions, whether educational, social, civil, or religious, is considered of some value;
but we will not insist upon it in this case.
It is argued, that, when the classics are tried in the crucible of utility, they cannot stand the fire, but vanish into
thin air, -in tenues auras. The popular mind is not a
little befogged in its conception of the meaning of this
eternally recurring word, "utility."  It is forgotten that
it is not an absolute term;- a thing is useful or useless
just according to its fitness or unfitness to produce some
required result. Uselessness will not be predicated of a
plough because it cannot reap wheat, nor of the sickle becauseit cannot till the ground. It does not follow, as a
logical sequitur, that, because a knowledge of international
law cannot be turned to any practical account by the
chemist, Vattel therefore will not be a useful text-book to
diplomates and statesmen; nor can we fairly infer, that, because the retort and blow-pipe are not the best armor for
the forum and deliberative assembly, they are not, for. that
reason, indispensable to the laboratory. It is quite possible
that the Greek Slave of Powers, though it can neither pick
cotton nor tend a sugar-mill, may not be altogether destitute of utility. Ask Miss Hosmer whether that drooping




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                  19
figure, with its face of wondrous beauty, in whose expression the lofty spirit of a Pythian priestess and the wounded delicacy of shrinking womnanhood are so mingled and
blended as to vitalize the chiselled marble, has no value in
her "heart's just estimation"?  She might not know its
relation to the often-rerpeated questions, " What shall I eat,
what shall I drink, and wherewithal shall I be clothed?"
but she would answer you, in the language of the poet,
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever!"
The Psalms of the great Hebrew Prophet are of very little
material worth,- a few dollars could buy enough of them
to supply the whole heathen world; but yet, who that has
drunk at these sweet springs in the desert of life, when
travel-stained and way-worn, and been refreshed by them
to pursue his journey onward and upward to the end,
would think of counting up their value on his " anxious
fingers," * like a speculator in the waters of a Blue Lick
fountain or sulphureous Artesian well?
There are two lights in which a man may be regarded:
in one, he is a means to an end; in the other, he is an end
himself. The training adapted to render him a dexterous
instrument amidst the actualities of life is not the same as
that which is suited to develop in harmonious proportion
all his original faculties, whether of thought or feeling, to
their highest power and perfection.  The two, however,
differ more in degree than in kind. The former is absolutely necessary; the latter is always desirable. We must
eat to live; we need not live to eat.t Of the utility of
those branches of knowledge which are fitted to prepare
us for industrial conquests in the shop or on the prairie,
enabling us by the fruits of our toil to satisfy the crav* ".... sibi quid sit
Utile, solicitis supputat articulis." - Ovid.
t " Edere oportet ut vivas, non vivere ut edas." - Ad Herelnium.




20               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
ings'of our animal nature, and which have been called
by the Germans Brodwissenschiaften, the Bread-and-Butter
sciences, nobody entertains an unbelieving doubt.  The
controversy is restricted to those studies, on the other
hand, which look primarily to the elevation and expansion of our intellectual and moral powers for their own
sake, and because of their exalted nature and destiny, and
which are known among scholars under the generic appellation of the " Liberal Arts and Sciences." The utility of
these, including as they do the classic languages of antiquity, are questioned not only by those who believe that
it is the sole mission of humanity "to draw existence,
propagate, and rot," but also by sharp-minded, practical
men, who, not to be imposed upon by visionary enthusiasts, weigh every article of alleged value in the scales
of the money-changer, and proclaim to the world its exact
worth in the Arabic characters of our federal currency.
Woe to the unfortunate commodity, whatever it may be,
which cannot be coined into drachmas; —it is good for
nothing but to be cast out and trodden under foot of men.
The Greek language, with its artistic beauty, its sinewy
strength, its exhaustless capabilities, its adaptation to every
variety of scene and subject and manifestation of genius,
speaking to us in the sounding line of Homer, in the commanding eloquence of Demosthenes, in the subtile and
shadowy philosophy of Plato, in the grace and touching
pathos of Sophocles, in the gossiping freedom of storytelling Herodotus, in the conciseness and fiery energy of
Thucydides, in the elegiac sweetness of Moschus, in the
pastoral simplicity of Theocritus and Bion, in the delicate
characterization and two-edged satire of Aristophanes, —
the Greek language, I say, the instrument of thought to a
people who have drawn deeper lines on the rind of this
old world than any other nation of the earth, must not be
studied, forsooth, because in this busy country it will not




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 21
" pay "! "Malebranche," says Mirabeau, "saw all things
in God; M. Necker saw all things in Necker."  There
are those who see all things in money, and look only for
money in all things.  The most beautiful landscape in the
world to them is a corner city lot; the most graceful tree,
that which will make the biggest pile of cord-wood; the
most accomplished lady, she who is heir-apparent to the
largest fortune.  The sun shines to save the expense of
gas or coal-oil; the " books that are books " are the ledger
and the bank-book, and the eloquence which stirs their
blood like the sound of a trumpet is that which offers two
per cent a month with good security. Their Lydian Stone
-the sole criterion of the quality of things, material and
immaterial -is the market value.  It is of one of these
that Wordsworth wrote,
" The primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose is to him,
And it is nothing more."
The divine effluence which is shed from Corinthian column
and blossoming tree, from emerald lawn and blushing fruit,
the matin song of birds among the leaves, the fragrant
breath of summer flowers, the ethereal essence of nature,
her beauty and her glory, are, in the dialect of trade, "of
no account," because they cannot be sold by " samples "
in the exchange on short credit, or, what would be a better
" operation," " realized " at once. Now all this material
philosophy is based upon the assumption that we are mere
creatures of sense, and that the late Lord Orford, as a fair
type of our race, was not far out of the way in expecting
that his stomach would survive the rest of his person. But
it is not all of life to live. There is a bitter irony in the
words of the poet:
"We eat, and drink, and sleep; what then?
We eat, and drink, and sleep again."
There are other and nobler functions of the human organ



22               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
ismn than the digestion of quails and oysters. The gastric
juice is not the universal solvent, vainly sought, amidst
smoke and toil, in the laboratories of the old alchemists.
We have hearts as well as a digestive apparatus; heads as
well as hands. It is in this realm of our higher nature the
liberal arts and sciences find their place and mission. It is
here the ancient languages vindicate their claims to utility.
1. In examining them, therefore, in the clear atmosphere
of this high table-land, we observe, in the first place, that
they are admirably adapted to the purpose of severe mental
discipline. However philosophers may differ in their distribution of our cognitive faculties, they all agree in asserting
the fundamental importance of a habit of intellectual attention. Now in the Greek and Latin languages syntactical
relations are not expressed, as in English, by any law of
juxtaposition, but by the terminational endings of the principal parts of speech. The eloquent periods of Cicero are
each an organic whole, whose force and significance cannot
be apprehended little by little; but the definitions of the
separate words, one after another, must be held in the memory by a special intellectual effort, until the last one, the
final verb, having been reached and conquered, the glowing
thought or sentiment flashes like an electric spark from the
conclusion to the commencement. There is no room here
for drowsiness or indifference.  Let the mind relax its grasp
for a -moment, and the meaning of some captured word will
escape and return to its hiding-place in the lexicon. It is
easy to see, therefore, that, in the version of a Latin or
Greek sentence, the mental faculties must be awake and at
home, intensely occupied with the work before them, and
that, as we acquire habits by acts and strengthen them by
exercise, it is only necessary for the student to pursue this
translating process to the proper extent in order to secure
for himself the power of a patient and prolonged attention, -
an achievement of more value to him than all the knowl



INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                23
edge contained in all the books of the Mercantile Library.
No man, without the ability to concentrate all his energies
upon any given subject for any reasonable length of time,
has ever accomplished or ever will accomplish anything
extraordinary in human affairs. No man with this power
of abstracting himself from the invasion of surrounding objects, and of devoting himself for the time being to some
one overmastering purpose, lacks the golden key which
may open to him the temple of science or fame. " Genius,"
says Helvetius, " is nothing but a continued attention," -
une attention suivie. Not unlike this is the saying of Buffon:
" Genius is only a protracted patience," - une longue patience. The difference between a Newton and a common
man is found chiefly in the fact, that the former is able to
apply himself to any subject of inquiry for an indefinite
period, with all his powers under his entire control, connecting conclusions with premises in one continuous chain of
reasoning, until a determinate end be reached and the far-off
truth brought within the circle of positive knowledge; while.the latter, the undisciplined man, cannot command his intellectual forces at all, much less lead them in battle array, by
long and painful marches, to conflict and victory. In a
striking passage in his Traite' de Morale, Malebranche, as
quoted by Sir William Hamilton, has beautifully said: " The
attention of the intellect is a natural prayer by which we
obtain the enlightenment of the reason." It was the opinion of Condorcet, indorsed by Dugald Stewart and Professor Playfair, that any ordinary student may, under competent teachers, acquire all that Newton or La Place knew in
two years. But it need not be said, that to acquire their
regal power of intellect, asserting its empire over more worlds
than would have satisfied the wildest ambition of Alexander, were quite a different thing.  This comes only as the
fruit of long years of persistent, self-imposed discipline. A
habit of attention, such as the school-boy may form over his




24               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
Caesar and Virgil, was strengthened in them by repeated
exercise, until, as its culminating result, we have those starcrowned monuments of sleepless labor, the Principia and
Meicanique Celeste.
In the act of translating from the classics, the necessity
of constantly discriminating between the several meanings
of every word, and determining their rival claims to a place
in the English version, not only cultivates in the student
the utmost precision and exactness of language, but it
serves also to give him that dispassionate and judicial habit
of mind which distinguishes a man of sound judgment
from a person of mere impulse and caprice. It does not
require much observation to see that speaking accurately
always implies thinking clearly. Whatever facilitates the
former cannot fail to promote the latter. It was not a
matter of accident, that reason and speech are both denoted
in Greek by one word, Xoryo?.  Words have a soul as well
as a body, and the study of them in connected discourse is
the study of the high themes of which they treat. It is
not strange, therefore, that a prolonged and critical examination of the classical productions of antiquity, the most
faultless models of thought and speech, should, by a beneficent law of our being, produce in the youthful devotee a
purity and correctness of taste, an elevation of sentiment, a
warmth and truth of feeling, a beauty and splendor of imagery, a wealth of allusion and illustration, - in a word,
all those various qualities and accomplishments of mind
and heart which are fitted to give a man, and always do
give him, a sovereignty over his fellow-men.  The ennobling influence of such writings as the dialogues of Plato
and Tully upon the moral nature of the student, is not to
be overlooked. It is impossible for him to listen, in the
stillness of his night-watches, to the pure and persuasive
teachings of Socrates in the Phcedo and Memorabilia, and of
Cicero in his De Senectute and Tusculan Questions, without




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.              25
feeling the divinity stirring within him and kindling aspirations after immortality. We cannot wander through Sabean groves of bloom without catching the perfume in our
dress; we cannot " sit down to a symposium with the gods,
and rise from the banquet wholly mortal."
2. A familiar acquaintance with Greek and Latin is indispensably necessary to any exact knowledge of the modern languages, our own included. It is a rule of masonry,
I believe, that in building a structure we should always
begin at the bottom. The Latin is the foundation of the
E]rench, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. The latter are
mere dialects of the former; and the only philosophical and
practicable way of learning thoroughly the Romanic languages of Europe is first to learn thoroughly the old Roman language which underlies them.  It is possible, I
know, by force of iteration and reiteration, after the nursery or Ollendorff method, to acquire the power of speaking intelligibly in any modern tongue. But such an acquisition, based on no knowledge of the fundamental laws of
universal grammar is merely empty sound, - vox et preterea nihil. To a person ignorant of the Latin, the Southern
European languages must appear a set of unmeaning jargons, with no resemblance between any two and no consistency in any one, but all alike rioting in wanton, incoherent lawlessness. Whatever may be said of the origin
of the Teutonic languages of Germany and the North of
Europe, it is certain that, in their capability of continued
development from their own substance, in their pliability of
construction, in their flexibility and scientific precision, and
in the picturesque beauty of their words, they bear a striking resemblance to the more perfect Greek; and it is safe
to say at least, that a knowledge of the language of Plato
and Aristotle cannot be otherwise than an admirable preparation to the student who aspires to comprehend the
teachings of Kant and Hegel.
3




26              INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
It may seem to some of my audience a hard saying, but
I have no hesitation in affirming that it is impossible to be
an accomplished scholar in our own native tongue without
an intimate acquaintance with the classic tongues of antiquity.  The English is a composite language, and its
principal factors are the Latin, Greek, and Anglo-Saxon.
To understand the former without a knowledge of the latter would be as impracticable as to apprehend the aggregate value of a numerical expression without knowing the
individual value of the figures which constitute it. The
Anglo-Saxon furnishes us, to a large extent, with the little
monosyllabic, bullet-like words, which we shoot back and
forth in the common " will and won't" dialect and dialectics of every-day life. But all those words which win the
ear in the eloquent harangues of the orator, or lend music
to the rhythmic cadences of the poet, or give precision to
the definitions of science as well as to the discussions of the
metaphysician, came to us from Greece and Rome. Before
they were ours they had been pronounced in that " assembly of kings" on the Capitoline Hill, or had passed the
searching ordeal of the polished and hypercritical Attic
Demos, whose delicate and scrupulous ear tolerated no barbaric utterance from the stage or,i/ua.  The English language, thus constituted, is an instrument of thought and
speech worthy of the two great nations of modern times;
and it is no wild anticipation, that he who learns to wield
this instrument with skill and power may yet, in the progress of events, command the listening attention of the
world. But this skill and power does not come by inspiration; is not inherited like money and beauty; cannot be
bought like blood stock and patriotic politicians. He who,
by a wide-reaching comparative philology, and, above all,
by a patient and laborious analysis of the two scientific languages whose harmonies and concise energy so greatly
enrich our own forms of speech, -he who has thus studied




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 27
universal grammar, and he alone, "knows the structure,
the laws, the liberties, the powers of his mother tongue.
He is the master, not the slave, of language. He can mould
its forms at pleasure. He can sweep every cord of the
many-stringed harp, and draw from it the unfailing echo of
his own thought and sentiment." *
Our whole literature is interfused, in every part and
parcel of it, with'the writings and spirit of antiquity. I do
not refer merely to the numerous quotations from  Greek
and Latin authors, which are found in almost every standard
English work, whether of prose or poetry; but rather to
the multitudinous allusions to the facts and fictions of ancient history and mythology, an acquaintance with which
is as much presupposed in our literature as a knowledge of
the alphabet; and, more than all, to that indefinable something, that nescio quid preclarum ac singulare of Cicero,
which we may call the classic style. To the mere English
scholar, Milton's Paradise Lost, and even Sir William
Hamilton's Lectures on Metaphysics, are almost as unintelligible as the Iliad of Homer and the Ethics of the Stagirite. If we come down from the airy realm of poetry and
speculation to the solid ground of fact, we encounter the
same difficulties, enhanced and multiplied.  Every page of
our text-books on the exact and progressive sciences is dark
or light, according to our scholarship, with words of classic
origin.  It is an unnatural effort, which some are making,+
to array the Physics against the Humanities; —it is an attempt to strike down the eagle with an arrow feathered from
his own plumage. The nomenclature, the terminology, of
all the physical sciences is wholly borrowed from the Greek
and Latin, and a knowledge of these languages is not more
absolutely necessary to any exactness of classification on the
* A. P. Peabody, D. D., Address before the United Literary Societies of
Dartmouth College, 1843.
t " Damnant quod non intelligunt." - Cicero.




28                   INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
part of the writer, than it is to the comfort and edification of
the reader. If any one, whose studies have been confined
to his mother tongue, is sceptical on this point, let him undertake to read intelligently or intelligibly some scientific
treatise on botany or zoology, for example, and  he will
discover, before he reaches the end, if I mistake not, that
there are a great many deader things in this world than the
"dead languages."
In speaking of the importance of the classics to a right
understanding of our own tongue, it would be improper to
omit all allusion to the fact, that a knowledge of revealed
religion is communicated to us in the Greek Testament.
We would not undervalue the English version.  It is worthy of the patient scholars who made it, and of the lofty
themes with which it has to do. But still it is a fact, not
without significance, that God chose to make his revelations
of mercy to a fallen world in the Greek language. In this
language Christ preached his Sermon on the Mount,* and
Paul harangued the Athenians from Mars' Hill, and wrote
his letter to the Corinthians developing the great doctrine
of the Resurrection.  If, therefore, we would understand
the Christian Scriptures, in all their exactness and intensity
of meaning, we must avoid the diluted mixtures of the
commentators, and go back to their original sources. We
cannot judge of the flavor of the Rocky Mountain springs
by drinking the soil-stained waters of the Mississippi.
* The proposition that Christ spoke Greek is not, we are aware, universally
admitted. Those who deny it rely upon the statements of the Greek Fathers;
those who maintain it, not only impugn the authority of the Fathers, but
appeal to the internal evidence of the Gospels themselves. Three things on
this point are, we think, especially worthy of notice: - 1st. Papias, whose testimony in the negative is the fullest and most positive, was, as Eusebius
affirms, co'ArSpa 0tLKppS- ryv vovy, a man of imbecile intellect; while Jerome,
as he himself acknowledges, and Epiphanius, as his writings show, mistook
the spurious Gospel to the Hebrews for the genuine " Gospel according to Matthew." 2d. Christ, in his frequent citations from the Old Testament Scriptures, almost uniformly quotes, not from the Hebrew text, but from the Septua



INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                       29
3. The careful study of the Greek and Latin is the only
thing which can save our own language from impurity and
disintegration.  The elaborate beauty and lofty diction of
Athenian eloquence are a perpetual rebuke to the Congressional and forensic orators, who are polluting good old
Chaucer's " well of English undefyled" with the foul expectorations of Parisian poissardes and bar-room politicians.
The barbarous idioms, the base-born provincialisms, the
grotesque anomalies, which are constantly creeping up into
the language from the lower strata of society, or pressing
into it from beyond the outer rim of civilization, can be
prevented only by a more thorough training of our youth
after such models of exquisite taste and chastened elegance
as are furnished in the simple narratives and moral discussions of Xenophon.  In the same culture, too, must be
found the cure for those extravagances of speech, which are
not unfrequently heard in our withdrawing-rooms, and
which are eminently characteristic of sensational young
ladies.  It would be difficult to find anything in the Attic
tongue  corresponding  to  such  high-sounding  phrases as
" gorgeous sponge-cake " and " splendid mince-pie "!  The
Greeks, in their severe simplicity, did not think it necessary
to break on a wheel the butterfly which might be crushed
under a sandal, nor to carry their kittens to the Hypergint Greek version, - an absurdity if his disciples did not understand Greek,
and an impossibility if he did not himself understand it. 3d. That the
Greek language prevailed among the people with whom our Lord mingled
in daily intercourse may be inferred, without violence, from two facts: first,
Syria, including Palestine, had been under Greek rule from its subjection by
Alexander the Great, A. M. 3681, until it was conquered by Pompey, a few
years before the advent of Christ; and, second, the Evangelists were always
careful to translate into Greek every Hebrew word which they employed in their
own narrations, — a precaution they certainly would not have taken if they
had been writing for Hebrew or Aramaic readers. (Matt. i. 23; xxvii. 33, 46;
Mark xv. 34; John xix. 13, &c., &c.) See Prolegomena, pp. 25 - 29, to
3d ed. of Greek Testament, by Henry Alford, B. D., Minister of Quebec
Chapel, London.
3x




30               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
borean Ocean when they could be drowned at home in a
puddle just as well. The Latin, with its terse and nervous
vigor, spurning all circumlocution and unmeaning expletives, impatient alike of the rose-colored verbiage and diluted twaddling of the modern novellette and of the outrageous solecisms and loose-jointed compounds in which
Thomas Carlyle plays off his radical conservatism, a
"Disguised Apollo changed to Harlequin,"
is the strong manilla cable on which we rely to hold our
language to its moorings. Sunder this, and-we float out to
sea, - a sea, too, like that amidst the Arctic wastes, without
harbor or headland, and whose only beacon-lights are the
wild flashings of the Aurora Borealis or the dim phosporescence of its own tumultuous billows.
It is not unfrequently asked why the salutary influence
exerted, as we have maintained, by the classics, may not
be secured through the translations which now abound.
This question, of course, leaves out of view their disciplinary effect upon the student, as well as their fundamental and living relation to the modern languages. But,
aside from this, there is another important consideration,
which meets us at the threshold of the subject: works of
art and taste cannot be translated.  The best versions which
we have seen, whether they have appeared under the
guise of Professor Anthon's voluminous annotations or in
the literal interlineations of Hart and Clarke, are as inferior to the original as the daubing of a journeyman signpainter is inferior to the touches of Raphael or Michel
Angelo. They are the Apollo Belvidere and Venus de
Medici imitated in plaster of Paris; they are oaks of
Dodona, " high-haired" and wide-branching, vocal with
the utterances of the gods, hewn down and lying trimmed
and inglorious in the ship-yards of Naupactum. There
are no articulate words in English, nothing but the most




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.               31
delicate intonations of voice, which correspond at all to
those correlative particles, /pv and e', which play so important a part in all Greek writings, and whose force is so
finely illustrated in that perfect model of elaborate eloquence, the Funeral Oration of Lysias. No translation
can give to us the faintest idea of the contemptuous emphasis with which Demosthenes hissed that MaKe8Ov acvap
through his teeth in his Philippics, or of that mingled
horror and indignation with which Cicero, in his fierce
denunciation of the blood-thirsty Prsetor of Sicily, portrayed- the crucifixion of a Roman citizen. We may undoubtedly learn some facts in ancient history and science
from our common English versions; but even here we miss
that primeval grace and beauty, which made dry details a
living reality. We feel that, though the body remains, the
soul is gone. Instead of the full-robed kings and priests,
who walked the streets of hundred-gated Thebes in all the
pride of power, we have the shrivelled, eviscerated, brainless mummies of the Upper Nile.
4. The study of Greek and Latin literature brings us
into immediate and sensible contact with the life of antiquity, from which our own is an outgrowth. Lord Bacon
has said, " Antiquitas seculi, juventus mundi "; which has
been rendered by Jeremy Bentham, " We are the ancients." We have no objection to this epigrammatic statement of fact, though we do object to the inference which
its author has drawn from it. The classic nations of the
past are not to be blamed for their youth. They might
have been wiser, perhaps, if they could have read the
Novum  Organum; but there was no a priori method of
doing it. There is a profound truth in the simple line
of Wordsworth, -
"The child is father of the man."
It is as applicable to nations, in their lineal descent, as to




32               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
individuals. The roots of our intellectual life are deep
in the soil of Attica and Latium. We are what we are,
because Greece and Rome were what they were. We
can no more assert our independence of them, than the
child, who has within himself the tendency to certain
forms of physical development or the germs of certain
peculiarities of character, transmitted to him from generation to generation, can assert his independence of his
ancestry. The present age is connected with all the ages.
We are heirs to the riches of them  all.  Their great
thoughts and great deeds, their treasures of art and of
learning, are ours by inheritance, and may be ours by individual possession, if we choose to make them so. Hitherto,
we, in common with the countries of lettered Europe, have
been wise enough to avail ourselves of this accumulated
wealth of centuries.  The key to this repository of the
past is a knowledge, not of Bohn's translations, as we have
intimated, but of the Greek and Latin languages. These,
as taught in the schools throughout the civilized world,
have been the fountains of modern civilization. Whether
Plato lighted his lamp at the altar of Moses or not, it is
certain that he found favor with Justin Martyr, Clemens
Alexandrinus, and other Christian Fathers; while it is not
less certain, that his speculations and sentiments still affect,
in no inconsiderable degree, the discussions and theoretic
faith of our modern schools of theology. Macaulay is not
extravagant in asserting of early Christianity, that "the
rites of the Pantheon had passed into her worship, and
the subtilties of the Academy into her creed."
In that department of the science of morals which regards man, not in his subjective nature, but as an active
being, having duties to fulfil and evils to shun, the classics
are full, teaching us in every form, by dialogue, by allegory, by positive precept, "to hate the cowardice of doing
wrong," and to love the beauty and goodness (To KaXl\v ica;




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.               833
ra7yaOdv) of a true and manly life. The allegory of Prodicus and the picture of Cebes are familiar illustrations of
this kind of writing; and not a few of the best books in
our Sunday-school libraries are indebted to them, to a
greater or less extent, for their efficiency in winning the
young to virtue.  The argument of Paley and of most
modern a posteriori writers in moral philosophy, proving
from the evidences of design in nature the existence and
benevolent providence of a Supreme Being, is only a
dilution of the famous conversation between Socrates and
his devoted, though sceptical disciple, Aristodemus.*
It is not much to say in respect to the laws of modern
times, that Roman jurisprudence still bears sway in all the
courts of Christendom. When the shadows of the Middle
Ages began to rise from the nations of Continental Europe,
the Pandects of Justinian, a compilation of the legal lore of
thirteen hundred years, all revised and purged of what was
arbitrary and technical by Cujacius and the civilians, so as
to be equally well adapted to all ages and peoples, were
hailed with joy and gratitude as a collection of written
reason, a revelation of the holiest mysteries of justice.
Chancellor Kent, who was himself a brilliant illustration of
the use which may be made of the enlightened equity of
the Roman jurisconsults, traces the great improvements in
our jurisprudence to " the study and influence of the civil
law." Such a result could hardly fail to follow from such a
cause. For, unlike some of the pettifogging pragmatici of
the present day, who, in Dr. Arnold's opinion, are not fit for
heaven, the Roman lawyers looked upon law as a branch of
ethics, whose foundations lay in right reason and the unalterable feelings of human nature.t They believed that it
was, as Cicero has portrayed it, not a thing thought out by
the ingenuity of man, not a decree of the people, but an
*Memorabilia, Lib. II. c. 4.
t " Neque opinione, sed natura constitutum est jus." - Cicero.




34                 INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
eternal entity,* coeval in its origin and harmonizing in its
operations with the Divine Mind; that it was the recorded
morality of a nation, a rule of social duty not less than of
civil conduct; that it was the sacred embodiment of the
public will and understanding, the unanimous assent of a
great people to the principles of a refined equity and enlarged benevolence, reduced to practice in the daily concerns of life with the precision, the consistency and uniformity of an exact science. It is not strange, therefore,
that the jurisprudence of the old Romans, drawn thus from
the very depths'of philosophy, -penitus ex intima philosophia, - should outlast the changing polities of nations and
look down through the ages with serene contempt upon the
unjust, and therefore perishable, legislation of unprincipled
men.
But without pursuing this topic further, it is obvious
that the Pres-ent is only an outgrowth of the Past, and that
he who would see our life and civilization in its germinant
state and early developing, must go back to the prolific soil
of Greece and Latium; — to a period when the world was
new, and wondering eyes were taking their first earnest
look at the beautiful objects of outward nature, or, filmed
and dreamy, were watching with philosophic ecstasy the
workings of the human soul; to races of men who left no
field of thought unexplored, but who, whether "up-looking" or " earth-gazing," t whether creating works of art
or elaborating an ethical science, always saw clearly, felt
intensely, reasoned profoundly, and wrought each in his
own sphere with the hand of a master. It may well be to
us a matter of self-gratulation, that in literature at least we
are their legitimate heirs, -
* "Hanc, igitur, video sapientissimorum fuisse sententiam, legem neque
hominum ingeniis excogitatum, nec scitura aliquod esse populorum, sed
Eternum Quiddam." —Cic. Leg. II. 8.
t The generic word for man in Latin is homo (akin to humus), the earthborn; in Greek, avYpconros (d(vai and prob. 6pco), the up-looker.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                  35
KaaFov TroO 7raXkaL via -podrp;
that the study of their poetry, art, eloquence, and philosophy brings us near to their great, beating hearts, and not
only unites us to them in more vital bonds of sympathy,
but also introduces us into the goodly fellowship of scholarly minds all over the world.
The moral efficacy of the classics in uniting cultivated
men of every age and nation in one communion and commonwealth of letters, leads me to suggest that philological
facts are of more consequence in discussing the question of
the physical unity or plurality of our race, than all the
speculations of geology or anthropology, however subtile
and ingenious they may be. If forms of speech the most
diverse have numerous common roots, as they undoubtedly
have, it follows as an inevitable inference that they are
only dialects of one primeval tongue. The unity of the
race is a mere corollary to a demonstration of the original
unity of language.
5. The Greek and Latin languages are worthy of study
not merely for their own artistic excellence, but also because of their connection with the highest works of art.*
There is no man so entirely material, so utterly destitute of
imagination, as to be altogether content with the mere utilities
of life. There is inherent in our very being a longing after
something higher and better than that which ministers only
to our physical wants and appetites. The eye turns away
from the dusty thoroughfares of business, from the uncouth
objects which lie along our daily path, to find repose and
pleasure in symmetry and proportion, in comeliness of shape
and beauty of blended colors. If, in the most hapless conditions of humanity, as in the hovel of the Russian serf, or
the snow-built hut of the Esquimaux, or the sightless cabin
* "Nec levis, ingenuas pectus coluisse per artes,
Cura sit; et linguas edidicisse duas." - Ovid.




36               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
of the Southern slave, life shrunk within itself asks only for
food and shelter, it is because the heaven-enkindled aspirations for what may grace this earthly existence have been
extinguished in the souls of men. There is a use of Beauty
as well as a beauty of Use. The two are mutual helpers,
and should never be separated. They have their prototype
in the famous Persian bird, the Juftak, which has but one
wing, on the opposite side to which the male has a hook
and the female a ring, so that they can fly only when fastened together. Just so, it is only when Art and Utility
are united that a national civilization reaches its highest
development and perfection. The old Roman built the
Pantheon and Coliseum when he was the busiest in constructing legal systems and in carrying his conquering
eagles to the remotest boundaries of universal empire.
The modern Italian, despising stern labor in his devotion to
cameos, mosaics, hand-organs, and poor copies of the old
masters, has lost the glow and inspiration of genius as well
as the fruits of industrial conquest. Of his country, from
which the last "bright dream of commonwealths " has just
faded, the poet has written truly:
"There tiny pleasures occupy the place
Of glories and of duties; as the feet
Of fabled fairies, when the sun goes down,
Trip o'er the grass where wrestlers strove by day." *
In our own country, hitherto, we have furnished an illustration of indomitable energy consecrated chiefly to utility.
We have been too much engrossed in the present to paint
or build or write for the future. The bayonet of necessity
has been at our back.  The sunlight must be let into the
gloom of untraversed forests. Savage beasts and savage
men must be driven before the advancing line of a new
civilization. Gold, gleaming through the crevices of distant mountains, has caught the eye and quickened the
* Walter Savage Landor, Hellenics.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                    37
pulse. Everybody has been in too great a -hurry to stand
still long enough to admire the beautiful in nature or to
create the beautiful in art. It is said * that the dogs in
Egypt never stop to lap the waters of the Nile, but always
run while they drink, afraid lest the crocodiles should seize
them. So with us, the eagerness to achieve some present
good, or the fear of some impending evil, has kept us in a
perpetual " dog-trot." From the tanning of a calf's skin
to the development of a child's brain, all has been haste.
But we are now approaching another era. Accumulated
wealth has brought with it ampler leisure, and Art is beginning to lend her embellishments to the monuments of our
industry. It is at this point, and in this relation, the classics assert their claims with special emphasis to our attention. I do not mean to say, that a good linguist must of
necessity be a good painter or sculptor, but simply that a
careful study of those languages, whose very words are
pictures, whose sentences in their construction are models
of artistic skill, and whose subjects are borrowed from all
that is attractive and thrilling in human observation and
experience, — from outward nature with its visible shapes
and images of things, from the soul dark with passion or
warm with affection, from the boundless world of fable,cannot fail to quicken our sensibilities to the power of
beauty, and to prepare us for a higher appreciation of every
form of art.
Simonides has defined a picture to be a silent poem, and
a poem a speaking picture.t We are impressed with the
propriety of this definition in reading the Iliad, - an epic
which is not so much a portrait-gallery of heroes as it is a
pictorial representation of heroic life. The characters of
* By Phmedrus. " Ut canis e Nilo," is an old proverb, applied to anything done in haste.
t " Si poema loquens pictura est, pictura taciturn poema debet esse." — Ad
Herennium.
4




38               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
Homer never sit in attitude till he has sketched them off,
but all are up and in motion, full of lusty, sinewy vigor.
Councils gathered on Olympus, gods and goddesses. in
high debate, tents dotting the plain in the moonlight, the
son of Thetis sitting gloomy apart, war-cars dashing over
the battle-field, heroes stalking in their strength over the
slain, wounded divinities flying from the carnage,back to
heaven, Trojan maidens moving in sad procession to the
temple of " the fair-haired terrible goddess," the smoke of
burning victims curling round the tomb of Patroclus, the
" white-armed Andromache " plying her loom in silence or
bewailing on the city walls the " god-like Hector," - all
pass hurriedly, but clearly, before the eye, like the shifting
scenes of a panorama. It was not without reason, that
Lucian declared Homer to be the greatest of painters, and
Pliny bestowed no slight compliment upon Apelles, when
he expressed the opinion, that his chief work, the painting
of the sacrifice of Diana, surpassed even the description of
the great poet. Historic Painting and Epic Poetry, in
their imitations of nature, both alike study its most perfect
forms, and abstract from them an idea of absolute beauty
and virtue; both, too, exhibit with similar skill the passions
and interior life of man.* Strength and energy distinguish
the characters of Homer and Michael Angelo; grace and
propriety, those of Virgil and Raphael.  Landscape Painting and Pastoral Poetry present an analogy hardly less
striking. Titian and Claude Lorraine are in the one what
Theocritus and the author of the Bucolics are in the other.
But it is not fitting for one who cannot speak of the
great works of the artist ex cathedra, to pursue this topic
further in this direction. We are happy to know, that the
Directors of Washington University are not unmindful of
this branch of an accomplished education, but that provision
* "Pictoribus atque poetis
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit vqua potestas." - Horace.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                  39
is making for a department of the Fine Arts,* so organized
that, while it may subserve the important interests of Architecture and of Design in its infinite applications in manufactures and mechanics, it may also afford alike to youth and
age, to refined leisure and to toiling industry, the means of
gratifying that love of the Beautiful, which not only dwells
in each human heart, but is manifested also in all the
graceful and gorgeous drapery of external nature as one of
the attributes of the all-creating, all-pervading Spirit. It
has been said, that a man should enter his house every day
between rows of magnificent statues to make him magnanimous.  That our characters are modified by whatever
surrounds us, whether animate or inanimate, does not admit
of a question. We are all chameleons in this respect, and
our thoughts take their coloring from the objects on which
they rest. The legislators of ancient times, in the light of
this law, studied to render the arts subservient to public
virtue and morality.  The statutes of Harmodius and
Aristogeiton were placed in the Forum, where they stood
as the perpetual champions of Athens, and for ages kept
alive the holy flame of liberty. In the courts of justice,
the marble forms of Solon and Lycurgus overlooked the
judges on their bench, and watched with stern regard and
scrutinizing eye the administration of law. Every portico
and public walk presented some memorial of departed
merit, fitted to kindle the enthusiasm of the young and
urge them on to glorious deeds and a similar immortality.
The history of Greece might be studied in the streets of
her capital by its sculptured heroes, statesmen, and poets,
almost as well as in the closet with Herodotus and Thucydides.
The great work on this American continent, which now
lies first and nearest to us, is the blending of the grace and
* The School of Fine Arts in Paris has twenty Professors; and the School
of the Industrial Arts, fourteen Professors.




40                INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
refinement of: Greek cultivation with our own Roman energy and religious faith. Let this be done, and then shall
there arise upon the eye of the world the lineaments of a
republic far transcending the loftiest conceptions of Plato, —
a republic of which poets have dreamed and prophets
spoken, the flowerage of centuries, the bloom and perfume
of a Christian civilization.
I have thus presented a few of the many considerations
which justify an institution of learning in insisting upon the
ancient classics as one of the two great means of that intellectual culture which, constituting the principal work of the
college, must precede and underlie the various branches of
knowledge taught in the special departments of the University. It remains for me to speak briefly of the Mathematics
as the other means of this intellectual culture.
It must be remembered, that, notwithstanding the innumerable applications of mathematical science to the practical
use of man, yet the primary object, in the order of time, is
not so much to store the mind with facts and- principles, as
it is to give it skill and power; not so much to surfeit the
student with the stale thoughts of others, as it is to teach
him to think himself; not so much to deck the garden of
the mind with flowers, or even to fill it with fruits, as it is
to enrich the soil and render it capable of indefinite growth
and luxuriance.  It is not enough that the classics furnish
us with a refined and elevated taste, a nice and accurate
discrimination, a ready flow and copiousness of language,
and a bold and fertile imagination, teeming with the beautiful creations of the poet and orator. Graceful acquisitions
in literature as well as the facts and data of science, though
in themselves good, do not reach their highest efficiency
without the ability to arrange and classify and employ them
by well-directed means to some determinate result. The
power which can reduce these elements to order, and give
to them an harmonious and effective energy, must be sought




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 41
in a strong and highly cultivated reason. That the mathematics are eminently adapted to the accomplishment of this
end, will become apparent from a brief examination of their
nature and effects.
1. We observe, in the first place, that there is a regular
gradation from the plainest and easiest process of reasoning
to the most complicated and abstruse. From the intuitive
axiom or the child's simplest proposition up to the startling
conclusions of a Kepler or Newton or Le Verrier, there is
a natural and easy succession of steps, — a sort of ladder
reaching from earth to heaven as in patriarchal vision. At
each step, the student, so far from being fatigued, is invigorated to take the next and the next with greater facility,
and the more sublime the height attained, the firmer his
foot and the clearer his vision. If it be objected, as it sometimes is, that some persons are so constituted as to be incapable of success in mathematical studies, we answer, that,
if a mind can deduce consequences from general principles
on any other subject, there is no conceivable reason why it
may not do the same thing in mathematics, where, from the
definiteness of the relatibns and the clearness of the language, reasoning must be far easier than amidst the obscurities and equivocations attendant upon most other subjects
of investigation. It is safe to say, that a man who is not
suited by nature for mathematical reasoning is not suited to
reason at all.
2. There is, again, another advantage belonging especially to the study of mathematics: not a particle of the real
acquisitions which the student may make can be lost; for
it is incorporated into the very constitution of the mind
itself, and becomes a part of its substance. He may,
indeed, so soon as he is free from college regulations and
out of hearing of the college bell, shut up the hated volume
of Curves and Functions, and follow in funeral procession
old Euclid to his burial; but yet their influence will be
4*




42               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
manifest through life, in every manly act he performs, in
every page he writes, in every speech he makes. He may
forget all their rules and formulae and captions, but still the
intellectual power which the rigid demonstration of their
correctness has given him is not a thing of memory. The
giant may not be able to recollect the household receipts for
preparing the food which matured his strength and turned
his gristle into bone; but, in spite of forgotten receipts
and lost cook-books, he is a giant still. History and the
natural sciences are, to a large extent, useful only as we
remember the facts which they reveal; but in case of mathematics the highest virtue is not in the information, but
in the discipline; not in the answers obtained, but in the
obtaining of the answers; not in the truth demonstrated,
but in the demonstration of the truth. Whether the student shall succeed at last in solving a knotty problem, which
has been haunting him for days, is a matter of small consequence, if it was only fitted to fasten his attention and produce in him the power of abstraction and the habit of persevering, courageous thought.
3. It is to be observed, in the third place, that the mathematics present a field for mental exertion, where there is
nothing to affect the free and unbiassed exercise of the reasoning powers and the judgment. We learn to swim in
still waters, - not in the rapids. On a vast majority of the
subjects presented to the mind for investigation, prejudice,
passion, and interest become powerful disturbing forces, and
thus give a wrong direction to our researches, and lead us
by a way we know not to barren results or to conclusions
widely at variance with the truth. Many a fierce contest
on the field of ethical polemics, which a mathematical exactness in the statement of the question at issue might have
prevented, has accomplished nothing more definite and satisfactory, than to demonstrate to the world that controversialists, especially in metaphysics and speculative theology,




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.               43
fight most readily about those doctrines of which they know
the least, and fight with most acrimony when neither party
understands his opponent or himself. Who expects, in our
political assemblies, that the discussion of great questions
of interest and duty will be conducted to their legitimate
results with a logical regard to truth and an honest desire
to promote the right? Who does not know that party ties
are too often stronger than principle, and that party zeal
cannot listen to argument? No one can reason fairly, or
reason at all, when under the influence of any overpowering passion. To persons in such a state, as Burke once
said of the French Jacobins, " a whole generation of men
is of no more consequence than a frog in an air-pump."
But in subjects of a mathematical nature, the mind may
pursue its inquiries unimpeded and undisturbed.  The
clamors of party strife, the caprices of fancy, and the conflictings of interest have no power here.
It is alleged, I know, that the mathematician is, by his
very training, unfitted to reason on moral or probable questions, because in these the perfect precision of thought and
expression to which he has been accustomed are impossible. The fallacy of this assumption is obvious from the
fact, that the mind pursues the same process and calls into
play the same intellectual powers, whatever may be the subject of logical investigation. We see no plausibility in the
pretence, that a man who has been weighing evidence or
anything else all his life by a perfect standard should be
thereby incapacitated from making any estimate upon what
could not, for want of a just balance, be exactly weighed.
If we had no instruments with which to measure a field,
we should rather trust the eye of a practised surveyor to
determine for us its probable area, than the eye of a man
who had never seen a gunter's chain and did not know
whether six square miles or six miles square would make
the larger township. It is absurd to suppose that he who




44               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
has been conversant with perfect proof should be less likely
to estimate the approximate value of that which is imperfect, than he who has no just conception of what perfect
proof is. Dr. Samuel Clarke, next to Newton, his great
master, was perhaps, in his day, the foremost mathematician in England; but in his argumentative writings on
moral subjects, the fatalists and philosophic infidels of that
age found him, to their discomfiture, "a reasoning machine," as Voltaire expressed it. Pascal was a mathematician of the highest order, and yet the productions of his pen
on religions themes show a subtilty and power of which the
acutest metaphysician might be proud. How highly Plato
esteemed mathematical studies, and how necessary a preparation he thought them for philosophical speculations, may
be inferred from the inscription which he placed over the
door of his school: oV3els  a7yeO/tLErpJ7OI detTo, - Let no
one unacquainted with geometry enter here. MaOcrtaTa,
from which our word mathematics is derived, implies that,
in Greek estimation, they contain the sum of all essential
learning.
4. But the crowning excellency of the study of mathematics is its eminent fitness to induce the habit of concentrated, continuous, and patient thought. The highest object
in all systems of education is, or should be, nothing more
nor less than this, - to teach the pupil to think.  The art of
thinking is a mystery, into which, as into the Eleusinian
mysteries, the many have never been initiated. What
passes for thinking among men resembles it about as much
as a column of words in a spelling-book resembles a demonstration in geometry. The continuity in it is a matter of
collocation, regulated by accident or whim, and not a rigid,
truth-developing process, controlled by immutable laws.
The thoughts of most men lead on in no one pathway to
any definite conclusion; they ascend from day to day to
no higher heaven of invention; but merely go forth in the




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                45
morning, without method or aim, just as domestic fowls
leave their roosts with the sunrise and scatter over the
fields, with no guide but appetite, to return again to the
same old roost at sunset. Very few of those who are
reckoned wise in the world's esteem could say, with the
questionable logic of Des Cartes: Cogito, ergo sum,-I
think, therefore I am. If the correctness of the philosopher's conclusion depended on the truth of his hypothesis,
how little conscious existence there would be in our crowded
streets and thronging thoroughfares! It is, however, undoubtedly true, that there is less vicarious thinking -fides
carbonaria - now than in any former period of history, and
yet there are not a few who are willing to surrender the
prerogative of free, earnest thought to any self-constituted
leader; not a few who are content to stand in the shadow
of a great name, and to " crook the pregnant hinges of the
knee " at the bidding of any great man; not a few who are
always prompt to cough, as the phrase is, whenever some
favorite hero happens to take cold.* The old Romans had
a way of stitching up the eyes of their poultry and then
stuffing them with dough in the dark. Some men are
happy to be treated in the same way. But, thanks to the
discipline of the schools, the number of these men is grow-.
ing " fine by degrees and beautifully less." In a process
of mathematical reasoning, there is a continual series of
propositions, each immediately connected with the one that
preceded it and each requiring a distinct intellectual effort.
To trace out, therefore, this chain of simple propositions,
the mind must be constantly active, or, in other words,
must keep thinking.  In this way is formed that habit of
long-continued and intense thought, which underlies every
splendid achievement in art or science, and which constitutes the genius of investigation, and invention.
It is true, that some of our text-books in mathematics
* "Si dixeris, 2Estuo, sudat." - Juvenal.




46               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
have been ruined by the keys, which compassionate authors
and publishers have " printed for the use of teachers only."
It is true too, perhaps, that some teachers, so called, may
need them, and equally true, that all their pupils get them.
This evil will be easily remedied, when our instructors, in
the exercise of a proper self-respect, shall look with unmitigated contempt upon the efforts of benevolent book-makers
to chew their food for them, or to substitute for the invigorating meat of mathematics a sort of sweetened milk for
babies. As it is, the mischief is restricted to certain elementary branches. The comforting assertion, " There is no
royal road to Geometry," is as true to-day as it was in the
time of King Ptolemy. The calculus and higher mathematics must, from the nature of the subject, escape the desecration of the spoilers. The sordid avarice for money
cannot destroy them as efficient agents of intellectual culture.  No Midas will bend over them with pendent ears, or
turn them by his touch into miserable gold.
But mathematics have an objective relation to society, as
well as a subjective relation to the human mind. Up to
this point in our discussion, we have considered them only
as a means of mental discipline,- as constituting with the
ancient classics the two great sources of college culture.
But nobody, whose eyes are in his forehead, can have failed
to observe, that the grand characteristic of the present
age —that which especially marks the progress of the
race - is the application of mathematical science, either by
itself or in connection with the laboratory, to the every-day,
material use of man. Its principles, whether simple or
recondite, are not locked up in mystical formulae, to be deciphered two thousand years hence by some enterprising
Champollion; but they are organized and stand forth in
tangible shape, and we see them reaping our harvest fields;
or whirling, with terrific speed, strange carriages from far
city to far city; or sailing up our rivers and across the




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                  47
ocean in spite of wind and current; or writing down the
words of a friend the moment he utters them a thousand
miles away; * or searching for lost treasures in the depths
of the sea with a success which would have astonished the
pearl-divers of Delos; or revealing to our enlarged vision,
in the midnight sky, new worlds of light, and thus giving
us clearer conceptions of the greatness and glory of Him
whose " Spirit hath garnished the heavens."
Mathematics, then, are mixed as well as pure, and it is
their thousand-fold application to the useful arts and sciences in practical life, which renders necessary the special
departments of the University and gives peculiar importance to the Polytechnic Institute. It will not be forgotten,
that, in an accomplished education, there must be knowledge
as well as culture.  The former should be to the latter what
the fruit is to the tree, or rather what the whitening harvest
is to the teeming soil. It is not possible to teach even the
well-prepared student everything within the four years of
the college course. This experiment has already been tried
in our country again and again, but always with the most
unsatisfactory result. When Cambridge and Oxford were
first established, a liberal education might be obtained in
this brief period. But since that time the field of knowledge and research has been rapidly growing broader: the
exact sciences have made wonderful advances, and numerous natural sciences, then unknown, have been either entirely developed, or, like
" The tawny lion pawing to get free
His hinder parts,"
are struggling, half formed, into shape and being. If, therefore, we are not willing to impair the culture to be obtained
For connection between the telegraph and higher mathematics, see "Address to the Alumni of the University of the City of New York," by Prof.
J. W. Draper, M. D. 1853.




48               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
from the disciplinary studies of the college, nor yet to forego
the advantages which would accrue to the community from
enlarged scientific knowledge, we must, as the only remaining alternative, organize a post-graduate course; - in other
words, we must make provision, as I have already said, for
at least two years' special or professional study in whatever
direction individual taste or genius may lead. It is not by
any means necessary, that every college in the country
should thus become a University, but it is greatly important that a few should furnish the amplest facilities, to the
graduates of other institutions as well as to their own, for
the highest attainments in any department of letters and
science.  Such a University carefully organized and adequately endowed, the grand repository and dispenser of
knowledge, cannot be otherwise than of incalculable advantage to any people. Such it is intended WASHINGTON
UNIVERSITY shall become, - aiming especially, in addition
to the general culture secured to its Baccalaureate graduates, to promote, through its special departments, scientific
and scholarly investigations in every field of industry and
art. The principles to which these investigations may
lead will not be permitted to remain idle in the class-room
of the Professor, mere embellishments to the dreamy abstractions of the student, but will be brought, by means of
the Polytechnic Institute, into immediate and vital connection with the material interests of society. In this way,
the scholar with his theory and the artisan with his practical experience will come together face to face, and both
will be benefited by the friendly contact. The former will
learn to adapt his researches to human use; the latter will
find a reason for rules which before were arbitrary, and be
able to walk with' assured step in the light of science, instead of groping his way falteringly in the penumbra of
conflicting traditions, or stumbling hopelessly in the darkness of ignorance. One of our own citizens, whose leisure,




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                49
wrung from a laborious profession, is sedulously devoted to
the best interests of productive industry in St. Louis, has
forcibly asked: "If all workmen, from the proprietor and
foreman to the youngest apprentice, combined with his
manual skill and dexterity a thorough, knowledge of the
mechanical laws and of the properties, both mechanical and
chemical, of the various substances on which he works,knew how to avail himself, to the greatest advantage, of
every principle, property, and agency in nature, - in short,
if science and art should unite and work together, and
through the same person, who could place a limit to the
progress of either, to their expansion and growth, under
such never ceasing action and reaction on each other?
And what as yet unimagined and wonderful discoveries in
science and productions of inventive genius might not flow
therefrom?"  These questions, it is hoped and believed,
will find their solution in the Polytechnic Institute.
There is no subject about which the community has not
more rational notions than those which it entertains in
respect to the economic value of a scientific truth. How
many persons ever dreamed that there was even the slightest connection between Malus's discovery of the polarization
of light and the remunerative manufacture of beet-sugar?
Who ever associates in his mind Priestley's decomposition
of the oxide of mercury with the metallurgic success of the
miner? or Scheele's hydrochloric-acid experiments with the
immense productions of the paper-mill? or Eli Whitney's
invention with the cheapness of the cotton fabrics which
clothe the world? or the simple pile. of Volta in his laboratory at Pavia with the electric wires which now stretch in
every direction across the continent, and thrill with thought
and feeling like the living nerves? We do not render unto
Caesar the things which are Casar's. The world not unfrequently lets its best institutions of learning and its profoundest scholars beg or starve, while it waxes fat and kicks,
5




50                 INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
like Jeshurun of old, over the fruits of their labor. Yale
College is made to depend largely upon the tuition of its
students, and, as a necessary consequence, the salaries of
its eminent Professors are not so well suited to these fleshalid-blood times as to that ideal age, predicted by the great
Persian philosopher, when men should neither need food
nor cast a shadow!  How  intensely significant to President Woolsey and his compeers must be the etymological
relationship between our word salary and the Latin word
salt!    Every thorough scholar is a public benefactor.
Every profound thought lifts a shadow from the earth and
casts out a demon of fear or superstition. Every repository of science, whether it be a laboratory, library, or
observatory, is a dispenser of wealth as well as light to the
community.  The able and eloquent President of the Mississippi University is far from extravagant, when, in speaking of the vast commercial importance of determining a
ship's place at sea, he says of the Observatory at Greenwich: "That single institution has done more for the increase of the world's wealth, than would have sufficed to
support at their ease all the astronomers and physicists
that ever lived since the days.of Hipparchus; to build and
furnish all the observatories the world ever saw; to establish and endow all the universities, colleges, and schools, of
every grade from highest to lowest, throughout the globe;
to erect and provide for all the hospitals, almshouses, and
eleemosynary institutions of every kind, in all civilized
lands; and to build all the churches and parsonages, as
well as defray all the other expenses attendant on the support of religion, in every Christian country, from the advent of our blessed Saviour down to the present hour." i
I have thus spoken, "not as I wished, but as I was
* The Professors receive less than $ 1,150 per annum. President Woolsey's Historical Discourse, 1850, p. 123.
t Letter of F. A. Barnard, LL D., to the Board of Trustees, 1858, p. 63.




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                 51
able," upon the University, in its origin, constitution, and
various relations to wealth, civilization, and refinement,
of the culture which it-secures to the intellectual and moral
powers, and of the knowledge which it sows with liberal
hand in every field of human toil. There are peculiar circumstances, I apprehend, which render this general discussion applicable, at every point, to WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY.
If nothing has been said in respect to physical education,
the omission is not the result of an inadequate appreciation
of the importance of the subject, but because, in its intimate
relations to health and life, and the harmonious and efficient
action of the mental faculties, it is deemed altogether too
important to be made subsidiary to the other topics which
necessarily engross the present hour. It demands an occasion of its own.
It must not be forgotten, that, without ample endowment,
an institution of learning cannot command the highest educational talent, and stand firm amidst the fluctuations- of
popular favor; that, without a rigid classification, consulting
the best interests of the pupils and permitting no ill-advised
interference, it cannot change the heterogeneous materials
which come to it, shapeless'and confused, from chaos to a
cosmos; that, without a patient persistence in study, in spite
of the attractions of a money-making city, its students, at
the end of their course, cannot go forth- from it every one
a chieftain, as Cicero says the disciples of Isocrates went
forth from  his school, — tanquam  ex equo Trojano, meri
principes exierunt.
It is a most fortunate circumstance, indicating the wisdom as well as catholic spirit of its founders, that our University is elevated, by the explicit and imperative language
of its charter, above the narrowness of sectarianism in
every shape and guise, now and forever; still we may devoutly hope that the light which glows in the Divine
philosophy of the New Testament may permeate every




52               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
science and give new lustre to every classic page; and
that teachers and pupils alike may not only unseal the
springs of Helicon and Parnassus, but drink also at
" Siloa's brook that flows
Fast by the oracle of God."
It would hardly be excusable in me, on this Inaugural
occasion, so far to forget the amenities of social life, the
consideration due to the " better half" of my audience, as
to make no further allusion to the MARY INSTITUTE, which,
though it has an individual organization and life of its own,
is nevertheless a Department of the University, subject to
the exclusive supervision of its Directors, and entitled to
the immunities of its charter and to the instruction of
its learned Professors.  "Should women be taught the
alphabet?" was the subject of a recent article in one of
our most popular monthlies.   The question proposed
received from the author an answer quite different from
what would have been given to it several centuries ago.
" The happiest mother of daughters is she who has only
sons," was an old proverb not without significance. In
the most cultivated as well as the barbarous nations of
antiquity, woman was trampled on by the lords of creation
as an inferior being. The followers of Mohammed to this
day look upon her as a mere temporary convenience,
suited well enough to the present world, but poorly fitted
to grace the Elysium of their future life. In one of the
earlier Christian councils, it was proposed as a serious
question, " whether woman was a human creature or
not."  It should be added, that, after long and grave
debate, it was decided in the affirmative. Still she was
everywhere made to feel that there was an impassable
distance between her position and the lofty elevation from
which man affected to look down upon her. We do not
forget the Sapphos and Aspasias and Zenobias and Hypatias, who shed a light upon the darkness of the past;




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.               53
but we remember, too, that they were," bright particular
stars," high above the horizon of their sex, and all the
brighter because there were no other luminaries around
them. Considered of small consequence in the machinery
of society, or regarded at best as a sort of necessary evil,
woman was tolerated rather than courted in the most
prominent nations of antiquity. The Jews married without affection and divorced their wives without compunction. Josephus observes on one occasion, with the utmost
coolness, "' About this time I put away my wife, not being
pleased with her manners."  Aulus Gellius assures us
that Metellus Numidicus, the Censor, declared to the
Roman people, in a public oration, that, " had kind Nature
allowed us to exist without the help of woman, we should
have been delivered from a very troublesome companion;
and he could recommend matrimony only as the sacrifice
of private pleasure to pubklic duty." It is not to be denied,
however, that the history of the Roman nation furnishes
numerous instances of female virtue and nobleness, and
that wives and mothers were nowhere treated with greater
regard than among the Romans; but this regard, it must
be remembered, was paid to them, not as women, but as
the wives and mothers of brave and patriotic men. So
far as intellectual culture was concerned, woman was, by
common consent all over the world, either shut out entirely
from the commonwealth of letters, or merely allowed, in
rare instances, as an especial favor, to stand in the harvest
fields of knowledge, like Ruth among the alien corn, a
gleaner where others had reaped and bound up the sheaves.
Dr. Milne quotes from a Chinese writer, who, in exhorting
husbands to instruct their wives, encourages them in
the arduous task by reminding them, that " monkeys may
be taught to play antics, cats to run round a cylinder, dogs
to tread in a mill, and parrots to recite verses"; and
therefore he infers that woman may be taught something!
5*




54               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
A school for the higher education of girls was never heard
of even in the most polished of the ancient nations. The
popular sentiment of the world was well expressed in the
old aphorism: "To cultivate virtue is the science of men;
to renounce science is Ithe virtue of women."
But a change has come over the spirit of this dream.
The world has awaked to a consciousness that woman
does play an important part in its affairs; that she is an
element, not to be overlooked, in human civilization; that
she really has a soul, and should be educated in the light of
this interesting psychological fact. This impression, which
is becoming popular, is deepened and quickened by Christianity.  In the Catholic worship, the Virgin and the
Child, Mary and Jesus, are inseparably connected. The
deified image of female purity and virtue, which graces
the walls of gorgeous churches and dwells as an object
of reverence in the minds and hearts of men, invests the
sex with a peculiar sacredness. Everywhere in Christendom, whatever may be the form of religious faith, a
willing homage is accorded to virtuous and intelligent
womanhood. Out of these chivalrous sentiments of respect have grown the various means and appliances for
the education of girls which distinguish the present age.
Sources of improvement which were once sealed are now
open to them, both in the public and the private school.
The same studies which give strength and acumen and
light to the minds of our sons are now pursued by our
daughters.  While the former are allowed to drink with a
pitcher at the fountain, it is not thought necessary to
compel the latter to absorb weak dilutions through a straw.
It is not forgotten that Apollo and Diana were twins
of one heavenly birth. It has been found, that even the
higher mathematics, from which girls used to be excluded
as carefully as farmers exclude their young cattle from
black-cherry leaves, have nothing in them poisonous or




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                55
hurtful to the most delicate female constitution. M/Iary
Somerville in England and Miss Mitchell in Massachusetts are living illustrations of the healthfulness as well
as safety of a mathematical regimen.  The facts in
physiology and the laws of health, of which a large majority of the community, a few years ago, were as ignorant
as they were of the anatomy of Job's Leviathan, are
now taught to both sexes alike. The saying of Coleridge,
that "' the largest part of mankind are nowhere greater
strangers than at home," is gradually ceasing to be a
truth, at least so far as our material being is concerned.
The bony architecture of these houses we live in, and the
furniture of the rooms which the spirit occupies, are
painted for our school-children by Cutter and Hooker with
as much precision as an architect would draw the plan of
a ship. The physical sciences and the languages are now
deemed eminently appropriate in the course of studies
prescribed  in  every well-appointed Female Seminary;
and young ladies are no longer reckoned "blues," even
though they may have extended their researches into natural history somewhat beyond what is implied in the
constant care and admiration of a pet cat and poodle dog.
Their education is not now regarded as "finished," when
they can work a fire-screen, and dance a polka, and drum
a sentimental tune upon an unhappy piano, and paint a
pastoral scene in some imagined Arcadia, and write a loveditty on gilt-edged, perfumed note-paper to some giltedged, perfumed dandy. To sit up for show, like mantel
ornaments or rare birds or exotic flowers, is not thought to
be "the chief end" of their being, nor is their mission
considered fulfilled when they have, like the heroines of
our popular novels, got married. John Wilkes has said,
that "hanging is the worst use a man can be put to."
We think, with all deference, that marriage is the worst
use an ignorant woman can be put to. A law, making it




5 6               INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
a penal offence for any one, man or woman, to perpetrate
matrimony, until he or she can pass a strict examination
in certain specified branches of study, before the superintending committee of the town in which the parties
reside, might be of some service to the state. Napoleon
never uttered a graver truth than when he said, "The
fate of the child is always the work of its mother." It is
true in every sense, physical, intellectual, and moral,true in respect to the laws of natural descent and true in
respect to the influence of early education.  Similia similibus gignuntur- like' produces like - is a law as fixed
and inexorable in the rational as in the vegetable world.
A perverse habit of mind, as well as a vice or weakness
of body, may be transmitted to posterity and wreak its
vengeance upon children's children "'to the third and
fourth generation." Ignorance is not a mere negative state
of being, inefficient alike for good or evil. An ignorant
person, as a late Chief Justice of New Hampshire used to
express it, " is full of all manner of emptiness."  Suspicion, jealousy, low cunning, bigotry, intolerance, superstition, and deceit are the seven spirits which always
hold possession of the empty, swept, and garnished apartments. The influence of an individual thus " possessed " is
bad enough anywhere; but when exerted by a woman,
whether as a mother or a teacher, upon the unsuspecting
and susceptible nature of the child, it is evil and only evil,
and that continually.
" A pebble in the streamlet scant
Has turned the course of many a river;
A dew-drop on the infant plant
Has warped the giant oak forever."
If the influence of an ignorant woman is thus potent for
evil, it is manifest that the influence of an intelligent,
thoroughly educated woman, working with augmented
power and a well-directed energy'upon the same plastic




INAUGURAL ADDRESS.                57
materials, is wellnigh omnipotent for good. But to reach
this high position of usefulness, either in society or in the
family, there must be not only facilities for the utmost
development and expansion of every faculty of mind and
heart, but there must be unremitting, self-reliant, individual exertion. Our daughters should be taught at home,
as well as in the school-room, that a genuine woman cannot be made wholly of cotton and crinoline; that the small
head which surmounts her vast circumference * should
be radiant with thought, - the dome of a pure and broadvisioned soul; that her heart, striving, perhaps vainly, to
beat beneath her encircling zone, was intended for something more than to flutter with hope under the smiling
glance of a glistening exquisite, or to tremble with fear at
sight of a spider or a cow.
In the MARY INSTITUTE we shall endeavor to secure
to the young ladies the mental discipline, and to impart to
them the knowledge, which shall render them, in the
highest and best sense, intelligent and womanly women.
We do not desire to enkindle the intellect to such a consuming flame as to dry up the fountains of affection. We
shall not aim to make Deborahs, whose wild chants shall
wake the echoes of our temple-worship; nor Jaels, whose
massive logical hammers shall nail to the floor, like
sleeping Siseras, the stupid dogmas of an oppressive conservatism; but we shall strive rather to train up those
committed to us to be MARYS, who, in this street-sweeping
age, shall "sit still in the house," bright exemplars of the
domestic virtues, the light and joy of every home which
their presence shall purify and bless.
And now having discoursed, at such length as the
occasion seemed to demand, upon the various topics connected with the great educational enterprise in which we
are engaged, I close, - thanking you for the courtesy of
* " Pars minima est ipsa puella sui." - Ovid.




58                 INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
your patient attention, and commending  WASHINGTON
UNIVERSITY, with all its interests, immediate and prospective, first to the liberal regard of the citizens of St.
Louis, and, next and highest, to the beneficent guardianship of the Infinite Father.
"For He doth sway the tides of thought,
And hold the issues in his hand
Of all that human toil hath wrought,
And all that human skill hath planned."




POPULAR FALLACIES.*
[North American Review, January, 1863.]
PORSON, a close observer of men as well as a sound
Greek critic, once jestingly remarked, that he would
some time write the history of human folly in five hundred
volumes. Our author has given us but two volumes on
this prolific subject, commencing with the "Mississippi
Scheme" of John Law, which turned the head of all
France, and ending with a chapter on the insane admirers
of relics,- "men who have made fools of themselves for
the jaw-bone of a saint, the toe-nail of an apostle, the
handkerchief a king blew his nose in, or the rope that
hanged a criminal." We shall not follow Mr. Mackay in
his interesting discussion of the extraordinary delusions of
the race in earlier times; but we propose rather to speak
of the popular fallacies which, notwithstanding our vaunted
progress, still bewilder the mind and conscience of the
people. Out of the many which readily occur, we shall
touch upon five; selecting them not because they are the
most striking' which could be introduced to notice, but
because they are severally connected with the five grand
departments of our general education, and correspond to
the intellectual, industrial, civil, social, and religious elemental forces in our national life.
* Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of
Crowds. By Charles Mackay, LL. D. London: G. Routledge & Co.
1856.




60                POPULAR FALLACIES.
The first popular fallacy to which we shall advert relates
to the intellectual element in our national education.  It
is the confounding of profound learning with practical uselessness.
Physical activity, in this country, is considered by the
many the chief end of man.  The study-lamp of the student, in the general apprehension, shines upon an idle
dreamer, a drone in the great hive.
As a question preliminary to a fair discussion of this topic,
it is important to ask, Who are laborers in this world?
Certainly not those only who till the soil, or make music
with saws and hammers, or toil in subterranean mines, or
do business upon the great deep; but all who contribute,
in any way, to the physical, intellectual, moral, or political
well-being of their race. If we do not greatly mistake, it
will be found, even on a slight examination, that there is
no interest of society, however material, which is not intimately and inseparably connected with the researches of the
scholar. Behind and beneath the activities of the outward
world, the motive power lies out of sight, and is therefore
unappreciated. The furnace-fires, which work the piston,
and keep the wheels revolving, and vitalize the whole
vessel, are down in the darkness of the hold.  What is it
but the thought of dreamy scholars which now guides the
rich freights of the merchant over pathless seas, drives
the mysterious shuttles of the manufacturer, reveals to the
farmer the hidden resources of his wasted acres, points the
miner to the metallic treasures of the sunless earth, and
flashes instant intelligence, whether pertaining to business
or pleasure, across a continent? Look at the steam-engine,
with its Titanic sinews, its Briarean arms, "breathing
softly as a sleeping child," and yet endued with a force
as mighty as the swelling of the sea. It is but the outward garb of thought. Villages, Thebes-like, spring up
at the sound of its Amphion music, and around it gather




POPULAR FALLACIES.              61
troops of laughing girls, each of whom is " a living story
of love, and hope, and courage," more beautiful than any
which Scott or Dickens has ever told.
"It would not be difficult," says one of the profoundest
philosophers that England ever produced, " it would not be
difficult, by an unbroken chain of historic facts, to demonstrate that the most important changes in the commercial
relations of the world commenced in the closets or lonely
walks of uninterested theorists; that the most important of
those discoveries and improvements in the mechanic arts,
which have numerically increased our population beyond
what the wisest men of a preceding age deemed possible,
had their origin, not in the cabinets of statesmen or in the
practical insight of men of business, but in the visions of
recluse genius."  A  less close observer, than Coleridge
could hardly fail to see that the mere inventions of Watt,
Whitney, and Morse have not only changed the world in
its outward seeming, but have modified the intellectual and
social condition of entire races. In truth, there is not an
implement of husbandry, not a tool of the artisan, not a
piece of machinery, not a human habitation, which has not
felt the transforming touch of genius.
It is the glory of this nineteenth century, and especially
of this country, that every department of human industry
is luminous with thought, - thought which becomes at once
the property of the Present and the heritage of the Future.
It is not engraved in mystical hieroglyphics upon stone,
but it is multiplied by the press, and scattered like winged
seed on every wind. It is caught up by school-boy and
proletaire, and discussed in reference to its use with an
earnestness which would have shocked and disgusted the
refined idlers of the Porch and the Academy. Time was
when greatness among men was determined by the pound,
just as we settle the weight and value of beef and pork.
The strongest man was the king among his fellows. Red
6




62               POPULAR FALLACIES.
brawn was the badge of royalty. The suitors of Penelope
despised and insulted her long-lost husband when he first,
as a disguised mendicant, ventured in among them in their
revels; they trembled and grew weak in their knees when
they found he could bend the bow of Ulysses. But the
reverence and terror which brute force once inspired have
become a matter of history.  Samson would make poor
headway with his jaw-bone against the smallest Zouave
with a Minie rifle on his shoulder. The great Pyramid
of Cheops, which required in its erection a hundred thousand workmen, relieved every three months, for twenty
years, could now be built in half the time by a dozen Manchester engines, managed by a hundred skilful engineers.
It is getting to be understood that he succeeds best in his
undertaking, whatever it be, who brings to it, not the greatest physical power, but the keenest intellect. The strength
which could toss the mountain crag far out into the sea was
of little use to Polyphemus after the wily Greek had bored
out his eye. There never was a great act which had not,
nearer or more remote, a great thought for its ancestor.
The old rhymester believed this when he wrote: —
H" He that good thinketh good may do,
And God will help him thereunto;
For was never good work wrought
Without beginning of good thought."
The sneering assertion is too often made without rebuke,
that high themes of state are by no means fitted to the closet
of the student; that the mighty interests of confederate and
yet conflicting sovereignties cannot be subjected to the canons of scholastic rhetoricians or to the crucibles of experimenting chemists; that the wheels of government are too
wide-sweeping in their revolutions and too complicated in
their adjustments to be controlled or regulated by the feeble
strength of white-handed theorizers; in a word, that practi



POPULAR FALLACIES.                63
cal affairs, moral and political as well as mechanical and
agricultural, are not suited to men
"Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."
The world is too apt to associate power with the noise
and pomp which attend its exercise. Because the cackling
of geese once saved the Capitol of Rome, it is thought to
follow as a logical sequitur, that the senseless gabbling of
featherless bipeds is always of more efficiency and value to a
people than the counsels of a Cicero or the philosophy of a
Seneca. Wisdom is sought in the camp and in the agora;
seldom in the halls of learning. Warriors show the wounds
which the happy accident of a Mexican copper bullet may
have inflicted, and they are forthwith inducted without the
laying on of hands into the sanctuary of our national
government.
Far be it from  us in this "working-day world" to
disparage the achievements of the doers in any field of
honorable enterprise.  But after all, where but in the
brain of the thinker are forged all constitutions and polities
and laws? Who but he adjusts the mechanism of society,
and knows where to touch the invisible springs of human
action? The garret in which the scholar sits among his
books, is higher than the saloons of wealth or fashion.
The mists which rest upon the lowlands do not rise so as
to shut out or refract the clear white light of the noontide. His narrow room is radiant with a brightness not
of the sun, and he looks forth as from a mount of vision.
His eye scans the wide and teeming Present. The Past,
with all its treasures of wisdom and experience, are his.
The goodly fellowship of sages, poets, orators, and philosophers inspire him in his prophecies for the Future.
The proud exclamation of the great leader of modern
science, " We are the ancients," is eminently true of the
scholar. For him Virgil told the adventures of AEneas,




64               POPULAR FALLACIES.
the fall of Ilium and the rise of Rome; for him Demosthenes declaimed on the sea-shore, and from the sounding
Bema
" fulmined over Greece
To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne";
for him Socrates discoursed of life and death and immortality; for him Plato and More created ideal republics;
for him  Cicero hurled his anathemas at Catiline, and
talked as no one had ever talked before, of patriotism,
justice, and law; for him Bacon laid deep and broad the
foundations of experimental philosophy; for him Hampden
and. Sidney, Washington and Lafayette, fought the battles
of freedom; for him  Burke and Chatham, Marshall and
Story, expounded the principles of constitutional liberty;
for him artists, famous or unknown, touched withl magic
power the stones of Rome, of Greece, of Egypt, and of
half-fabulous Assyria, so that they speak to him an intelligible language from  far-off centuries.  There has not
been a poet, who has not burned and sung for him; not
a philosopher, who has hidden from him his profoundest
and most subtile thoughts; not an orator, whose eloquence
has not stirred, like the angel of Bethesda, the fountain of
his being; not an earnest student, whose midnight lamp has
not shone for him; not a champion of human rights, whose
valor he has not witnessed on the red field of battle; not
a martyr to truth, whose blood does not cry to him from
the ground. The brilliant intellects and brave hearts of
remote ages have sent their great thoughts and great deeds
down to him, as the fountains of the Apennines sent their
pure waters, through far-reaching aqueducts, into the city
of Rome. All that is valuable in liberty, in science, in
philosophy, in religion, in law, the past has'poured at his
feet. How preposterous, then, to maintain, that the profound scholar, thus situated in the light of other days,
rich in the wealth of buried centuries, should be regarded




POPULAR FALLACIES.                 65
as incapable of good or ill in the exigencies of society,
while the great interests which belong to the well-being
and existence even of nations are committed to the hands
of trading politicians, impudent pretenders to patriotism,
eel-fishers in the Copais Palus,* brazen demagogues whose
reverberating sciolism is as empty as their heads!
The unobtrusive thinker, then, is not a cipher at the left
hand of society.  He has a power for good far transcending the conception of those who look upon the student's
life as one long holiday. To the service of his country he
brings a sterner culture than can be found in a listless
wandering amid Sabean odors, -a higher consecration
than a baptism in rose-water can give, - a larger experience than those who live only within the horizon of the
passing hour can know, — a clearer prescience than the
leaves of the Sibyl or the utterances of the rapt Pythoness
can impart. He stands a daysman between the Past and
the Future, and can lay his hand upon them both.  Without him history would have no lessons for the Present,
but would be a "' dreamy, aimless procession of lost spirits
descending into the pit." Without him the ship of state
would drift in darkness on a perilous sea, with no charts of
hidden rocks and lee-shores, and with no beacons on the
headlands. Without him to feed and guard the lamp of
thought, the light would grow dim, and the flapping of a
conqueror's banner would extinguish it forever. Without
him to discover and invent, the hum of industry would be
hushed in our work-shops, and the music of machinery
would cease to mingle with that of our mountain streams.
In estimating the value of men, and determining their rela* oIrep yap o7Lo r    eYX7Xet OpOevYOL rT7rovas.
6rav LEv  1 XtvIq Karacr7T XaftaaJdovLv ov;ev
ecv 8' avo 7T Kal KaTl Trov f3'pl3opov KVKoilV
alpovoL'v.
Knights, v. 864- 867.
6*




66               POPULAR FALLACIES.
tive importance in society, we must look beneath the surface
of things, and remember that one great principle, either in
science, morals, or political economy, distinctly enunciated
and clothed with organic life, outweighs the armies and
navies of the world, is more decisive of the destiny of the
human race than all the great battles which have ever
been fought, from Marathon to Magenta.
The next popular fallacy to which we shall refer relates
to the industrial element in our national life. It is the confounding of wealth with material riches.
The distinction here is not a subtile one, as might at first
glance seem; but it is broad and radical.  The word
wealth belongs to a numerous family. Its nearest relatives
are the English words weal, well, heal, hale, and the Latin
valeo. The primary idea in it, therefore, is soundness,soundness of mind and body, a symmetrical wholeness; and
wholeness, we know, is etymologically, if not theologically,
synonymous with holiness. Riches, on the other hand, is
allied to rex, rego, regnum, and to our English substantives
reach, region, and implies, therefore, extent of possessions
and power. Wealth we see, then, is a subjective term,
relating primarily to the quality of the man; while riches
is an objective term, and refers exclusively to the external
world, to farms and flocks, ships and merchandise. The
man who does not own a rood of land, nor even a single
share of fancy stock, may have a wealth of affection, of
intellectual culture, of moral sentiment, which all the
"barbaric pearl and gold" of the East could not buy.
Most men look upon the earth only as a great farm, suitably divided into mowing, tillage, and pasture-land, with
numerous water-privileges and orchards.  They see no
footprints in the old red sandstone, but they are sharper
than Lynceus to detect infinitesimal gold or platinum specks
in quartz rock. "Put money in thy purse," was the precept of Iago, and it is obeyed with more relish than the
Decalogue in every profession and rank of life.




POPULAR FALLACIES.                  67
"Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
The Douglass in red herrings;
And noble name and cultured land,
Palace and park and vassal band,
Are powerless to the notes of hand
Of Rothschild or the Barings."
But while too many make the acquisition of money the
overmastering passion of life, we would not be understood
as decrying its value. That it is a good thing for the individual and for the state, does not admit of a question.
The constituent elements of our civilization — our manufactures, commerce, and agriculture, our educational and
religious institutions — require, one and all, a capital, immense beyond the conception of those who flippantly talk
of the utilitarianism  of the age.  If the material riches
necessary to a high state of civilization could be more equally diffused, it would undoubtedly be a blessing to rich and
poor alike. It is an unhappy fact, that nine tenths of the
property of this country is owned by one tenth of the people. But this is the result of our individuality, and our
individuality is the result of our civil and social liberty.
It is, like sin, the consequence of the freedom of the will.
But it is a consolation to those of us who are fellow-citizens in poverty, —who look forward to affluence as the
Hebrew, faint with watching in a strange land, looks forward to the coming Messiah, with a hope fringed and
shadowed with despair, -to know that riches are not the
true wealth, that money is not all of property.  Your
neighbors across the street live perchance in magnificent
houses, and occupy large estates. They point to certain
dingy scrolls in the Register's office, and call these buildings and grounds their own. But it is your fault if they
are not essentially yours as well as theirs. They may, it
is true, range at will through drawing-room and boudoir,
as you may not, and consume the fruits which spring up




68               POPULAR FALLACIES.
along the garden paths; but the divine effluence which
comes from marble colonnades and "speaking oaks," the
incense shed from the thousand swinging censers of blossoming trees, the morning music of singing birds and
lowing kine, - these cannot be held by title-deeds, or shut
in by high walls and triple-thorned acacia. It is only the
grosser products of the dull earth which can be appropriated to individuals; — the ethereal essence of nature, its
beauty and its glory, are free as the chainless air. They
were meant for all who have the seeing eye, the hearing
ear, and the understanding heart. It is quite possible that
the rich man may reap a smaller harvest from his broad
acres than the gardener who trains his vines and trims his
trees. The greatest loser by the destructive fire in New
York city, in the summer of 1842, was not the millionnaire
whose massive structures sunk to ashes in an hour; but it
was the poor negro woman who only lost the two trees and
the little bed of flowers which glorified her tiny garden, and upon which she had expended the strength saved
from incessant toil, and the watchful care which the full
heart must lavish upon the sole objects of its yearning
affections.
It is a significant question which Mrs. Child asks in one
of her letters, "Which would a mother value most, the
price of the most elegant pair of Parisian slippers, or a
little worn-out shoe, once filled with a precious infant foot
now walking with the angels?" There are a thousand
things which make up the sum of our real wealth, over
which money has no power, - with which it has nothing
to do. Who would cut down for the market the tree
which sheltered his childhood, or sell the portrait of a
friend in heaven? These things, and such as these, have
an intrinsic and permanent worth, irrespective of the rise
and fall of stocks, independent of the fluctuations of society
and the progress of the race. But material riches have no




POPULAR FALLACIES.                 69
absolute value; they are only relative, and therefore always
changing. What is a luxury in one age becomes a want,
or even a necessity, in a succeeding age.  Our aristocratic
ancestors in the fifteenth century sat on wooden benches,
drank their beer in wooden bowls, and ate their salt-fish or
joint of beef on pewter plates. Now the Catawba of their
descendants sparkles in cut-glass or gold, and the richest
meats exhale their fragrance from Sevres China. Chimneys and window-glass were wonderful domestic rarities,
and bleached shirts and cotton umbrellas were personal
extravagances, at periods not very remote from this. An
Irish shanty by a railroad-cut is a palace compared with
the human lair which a troglodyte of the Upper Nile calls
his home.
It was a characteristic remark of Lord Falkland, "I
pity unlearned gentlemen on a rainy day." The educated
man is never alone. He may not be admitted to the first
circles, or to " our set "; but Plato never sends his servant
to the door to say "' Not at home " to him, and Shakespeare
never " cuts" him in the streets.  In nature, too, there is
no "Fifth Avenue," no favoritism, no exclusiveness, no
costly pews along the cathedral aisles of her grand old
woods. When Michael took Adam up into the highest
hill of Paradise,'" To show him all earth's kingdoms and their glory,"
he not only "purged with euphrasy and rue the visual
nerve," but he also
" from the well of Life three drops instilled,
E'en to the inmost seat of mental sight."
It is here where we find the grand distinction between
men, -a distinction deeper and broader than that which
lies between poverty and riches. Money, at best, is but
the complement of the senses. It can, like the angel, introduce us into new fields of vision, spread out before us




70                POPULAR FALLACIES.
the colossal grandeur and pr'ofuse luxuriance of a tropical
clime, or fling open the doors to galleries of painting and
sculpture in Rome or Corinth; but, unlike the angel, it
cannot give us the intellectual power of appreciating either
nature or art, or the delicate taste which can relish and
enjoy them.
" We may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life whose fountains are within.
O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does nature live."
Our own poet-philosopher, whose scholarly pen has rendered classic the fields and river which the first blood of
the Revolution made sacred, has brought to this subject,
as to many others, the discrimination of a clear-seeing intellect. " The moral sensibility, which makes Edens and
Tempes so easily, may not be always found, but the material landscape is never far off.  We can find these
enchantments without visiting the Como Lake or the
Madeira Islands.  The stars at night stoop down over the
brownest, homeliest common, with all the spiritual magnificence which they shed on the Campagna or on the
marble deserts of Egypt.  The uprolled clouds and the
colors of morning and evening will transfigure maples and
alders. The difference between landscape and landscape is
small, but there is a great difference in the beholders."
The distinction between wealth and material riches is
as clearly marked in the state as in the individual. The
immense territory of our own country, washed by oceans
three thousand miles apart and stretching wellnigh through
a zone; our inland seas and majestic rivers, bearing on
their bosom the products of a teeming soil; our interminable coasts, scalloped with bays and "broad-armed ports";
the white wings of our commerce, beating, like the albatross, the air of every clime; our panting engines, running
on their iron tracks across the continent, or raging in the




POP.ULAR FALLACIES.              71
streets of our cities, like the fiery chariots of Nahum;
our mountain streams, weaving and grinding for a naked
and hungry world, - these are not to be overlooked or forgotten.  But it should be remembered that a state has
other and better property than that which serves its material uses. The great thoughts which have illuminated it,
the great words which have been spoken in it, the great
deeds which have been done in it, the great works of art
which have been wrought in it, the heroic self-sacrifice
which has sanctified it, — these are a nation's chief and
choicest possessions.
Another wide-spread popular fallacy relates to the state,
-to the  a voxroLTLC  of Aristotle.  It is the confounding
of Law with legislative enactments.
We do not mean to say that these are never accordant,
but we do mean to say that they may be, and often are, in
direct and open antagonism.  In discussing this point we
shall of course leave out of view all those regulations of
public conduct which have no moral quality, but are merely prudential.  There is no inherent right in catching
alewives in Taunton River on Fridays; no inherent wrong
in catching them on Saturdays. Whether a young man
shall pay a poll-tax at the age of sixteen or twenty-one, is
not a question of morals, but of political economy. There
is in the world, especially in despotic governments, not a
little solemn quackery about the inviolability:of human
legislation, the awful and unapproachable majesty of mean
and wicked enactments promulgated by mean and wicked
men.
Law in its highest and proper sense is either the mode in
which God acts, or the property which, in the constitution
of things, he has impressed alike upon mind and matter.
Unlike human statutes, it is uniform, universal, immutable.
This distinction, too little recognized in modern times, did
not escape the acutest mind of antiquity.  "Law," says




7 2              POPULAR FALLACIES.
Cicero,'" in accordance with the opinion of the wisest men,
is not a thing thought out by the ingenuity of man, nor is it
a decree of the people, but it is an eternal entity, coeval in
its origin and harmonizing in its action with the Divine
Mind." Few truths of more vital importance in their relations to man have ever been uttered by uninspired lips.
The great mass of the people have yet to learn, that far
above the conflicting opinions of men, far above the clashing statutes of deliberative bodies, Law has " its seat in the
bosom of God," unchanged and unchangeable, the same
yesterday, to-day, and forever. We desecrate the name of
law, whenever we apply it, as men are woft to do, to the
capricious decrees of despots, or to the fiats of a fickle populace. The greatest enormities that have ever darkened
and disfigured the history of the world have been perpetrated in strict accordance with the forms and spirit of legislative enactments, or in the common but false and deceptive
phrase, " according to law."
Hancock and Adams rebelled against British rule, and
trampled under foot stamp-acts and writs of assistance, and,
because they succeeded in the struggle which followed,
they are held in grateful remembrance by worshipping
millions. But had they been defeated, they would have
been hanged with their compatriots on the highest tree -
"according to law."
Algernon Sidney was suspected of opposition to tyranny
and a love for constitutional freedom, and because he failed
in his efforts to overturn the one and secure the other, he
was convicted of treason before the infamous Jeffries, and
beheaded on Tower Hill-" according to law."
A slave of Pedanius Secundus, Prefect of Rome, had,
as Tacitus tells us, bought his liberty, and because the
boon for which he had toiled and paid was unjustly withheld, he in his desperation murdered his master. For this
act, the guilt of which, whatever it might be, attached to




POPULAR FALLACIES.                73
him alone, all his fellow-slaves, four hundred in number, of
every age, from helpless infancy to the decrepitude of years,
of every shade of complexion, from the fair-haired daughters of German princes to the captive soldiers of Indian
kings, were tried for their lives. It mattered not that they
were innocent; it mattered not that the people were inclined to mercy; the Senate was inexorable, and they were
all executed in cold blood, without pity and without exception, but the butchery was done -" according to law."
Socrates, the brightest genius in the dark past, whose
" low-roofed house " had been made radiant by the light of
philosophy, if not of love, was arraigned before the popular tribunal of the Heliea, by a majority of three voices
was condemned to death, and, therefore, drank the hemlock -" according to law."
It is fitting that we, as constituent elements of a free
government, as men who cannot delegate our duties and
responsibilities to priest or judge, should discriminate between the true and the false, —between that legislation
which is but the re-enactment of the Divine law, and
therefore a " terror to evil-doers," and that legislation
which is but the expression of human prejudice and passion, and sets his heel upon the sanctities of Eternal Justice. The one demands our reverent obedience; the other
deserves our indignant maledictions. We need not raise
the bloody flag of revolution. That is the prerogative of
the down-trodden victims of despotism; in this country
it would be an atrocious crime. In a republic we may
appeal to the people, with a confidence proportioned to
their intelligence, and await the remedy of the ballot-box.
Meanwhile it should be remembered, that when citizens,
through loyalty to the government, attempt to obey a
statute which is in contravention of all right, they set their
nature at strife with itself. They are compelled to annihilate in themselves conscience, instinct, principles, all those
7




74                POPULAR FALLACIES.
qualities and attributes of character on which alone law can
rest. It is as if the great goddess Diana, as Coleridge
somewhere expresses it, had commanded her priests to dig
up the charcoal foundations of the mighty temple of Ephesus in order to furnish fuel for the burnt-offerings on its
altar!  "That which is not just," said Algernon Sidney,
in his epigrammatic way, "is not law, and that which is
not law ought not to be obeyed."   We cannot, like the
Samaritans of old, "fear the Lord" and at the same time
"serve graven images."
No wise prince, much less an enlightened deliberative
assembly, will ever promulgate an ordinance which a patriotic people can obey only by sacrificing their self-respect,
and trampling under foot the immutable principles of right.
The " Antigone," foremost among Greek dramas, forcibly
exhibits, in the impassioned dialogue between Creon and
the heroine of the play, the conflict between the divine law
and human decrees. We know of nothing grander than
the reply of the condemned though fearless maiden to the
tyrant's question, "Hast thou dared to transgress these
edicts of mine?"
" I had it not from Jove, nor the just gods
Who rule below; nor could I ever think
A mortal's law of power or strength sufficient
To abrogate the unwritten law divine,
Immutable, eternal, not like these
Of yesterday, but made ere time began."
It is not enough that judges lend to the obnoxious statute the sanction of their approval. However honest and
hearty may be our reverence for the judicial dicta of the
Woolsack, it is not to be forgotten that William Scroggs
and George Jeffries once wore the ermine, and that the
intuitions of our own moral sense are sometimes clearer
than the vision of Lord Mansfield and Sir Matthew Hale.
There have been, and still are, not a few judges whose faces




POPULAR FALLACIES.                  75
are always turned towards the pyramids, - men in. whose
estimation  dead "authorities" are of more consequence
than living justice. An extensive knowledge of books is
valuable in the highest degree to him who has the faculty
of making the great thoughts of other men enkindle his
own intellect to a whiter heat; but not unfrequently the
fuel is green and puts out the fire. A case adjudicated by
some trembling minion of tyranny, anxious to retain his judicial robes and fearing to displease his master, in the reign,
it may be, of Henry VIII., or of some despot still nearer
the flood, is' not necessarily of more weight and value in
determining questions of right, than the unbiassed opinion
of an intelligent man who happened to be born in the nineteenth century.  Robbers in the East, as we are told, formerly used a certain kind of lantern, the candle for which
was made of the fat of a dead malefactor.* The mouldier
the fat and the greater the scoundrel from whom it was
taken, the surer the light which it furnished and the richer
the spoils to which it led. Black-letter judges, slaves to
musty " precedents," are the dupes of a similar superstition.
Men are slow to learn that the highest " authority " is that
of enlightened reason, and that the only irreversible " decisions " are the decisions of common sense. When these
are violated, either by the enactment or by the interpretation of a statute, it is not less the duty than the right of
every law-abiding citizen to utter his earnest protest. Nothing can be infallible or final which is not just. The people
are a higher tribunal than Star-Chambers or Inquisitions.
The bench and the throne cannot feel the ground-swell of
* It is in allusion to this custom, that Moore, in his Lalla Rookh, stigmatizes the judges of his day:"Ye wise, ye learn'd, who grope your dull way on
By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone,
Like superstitious thieves, who think the light
From dead men's marrow guides them best. at night."




76               POPULAR FALLACIES.
the heaving millions, without toppling to their fall. We
have not forgotten that Chief Justice Hutchinson decided
that writs of assistance might be lawfully issued; but the
people thought differently, and the world knows the result.
We remember that the twelve English judges in the case
of Hampden decided unanimously that ship-money might
be levied, in accordance with law, by the crown, without the intervention of Parliament. But the hard-headed
Anglo-Saxons, so far fiom submitting in cheerful acquiescence, "agitated" until these same ermined functionaries
reversed their decision in every particular.
The next popular fallacy which claims our notice relates
to the social element in our national life, - to our manners.
It is the confounding of reverence with servility.
The confusion of terms here indicated is perhaps peculiar
to this country. It naturally grows out of the freedom of
our institutions,- out of the levelling tendencies of our
democratic ideas. We do not, in the intensity of our independence, discriminate between reverence and its counterfeit presentment. The dread of appearing servile has led
us to be irreverent alike to age, to station, and to things
sacred.
We read in relation to the entertainment given by Joseph to his brethren, that " they sat before him, the firstborn according to his birthright, and the youngest according
to his youth." Herodotus tells us that the young men of
his country and time yielded the road to age, and rose from
their seats before the hoary head. It is a noticeable fact,
that Demosthenes, the foremost man in the Athenian Senate of Five Hundred, was compelled to apologize, in his
first Philippic, for rising to speak before all the older members had delivered their sentiments. The liberty and national existence of Greece were at stake, every heart was
glowing, every ear was erect to hear the burning words of
the greatest orator in the world, and yet Attic patriotism




POPULAR FALLACIES.                77
was subsidiary to Attic politeness. Xenophon, in his Memorabilia, says: " The older citizens were in the habit of
inquiring of the youths whom they met in the streets of
Sparta the place of their destination and the purport of
their errand, and reprove those who refused to answer their
interrogatories and those who attempted to give an indirect
reply." It may be proper in this connection to say, that
there was one single exception to this rule. That class of
the community which they called ol yaTuaob, and which we
call " old bachelors," were not considered by the Greeks
as entitled to the ordinary courtesies and amenities of social
life, and to them, therefore, boys and girls alike might be
as saucy as they pleased, without fear of punishment.
Cicero, in his "De Senectute," declares, that " the respect which is paid to "age forms an infallible criterion by
which to determine the moral advancement of a people."
We are.not disposed to question the truth of this assertion.
It is a significant fact, that the connection between the
demeanor and the character was deemed so intimate and:inseparable by the two most deep-seeing and philosophic
nations of antiquity, that in the Greek and Latin languages
good manners and good morals are the same thing. There
is but one word in each for both. The most careless observer of the present day cannot have failed to notice, that
the boundary line between them, like some of the lines in
geography, is only an imaginary one. We cannot gather
grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles. The soul imparts its
own hue and quality to the external life. Or, as Spenser
has said in his own quaint way,"'T is of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form and doth the body make."
Dr. Johnson was a bear in social intercourse, because he
was a bear in spirit and feeling. Good manners are the
blossom and fragrance of good morals.
7*




78               POPULAR FALLACIES.
The fear which many parents feel, lest their children may
not be sufficiently independent in character, coupled with
the anxiety of babes and sucklings to grow up and be
brought out, has created a feud between nature and fashion,
and introduced into society between childhood and mature
life a new order of beings, a sort of third estate. We have
now in many communities no boys and girls, but a nondescript class of bipeds, waiting to be classified and named.
It is certain that our great naturalist, should he undertake
the task, will not find in all of them the modest reserve,
the respectful demeanor, and the reverent spirit, which were
once the characteristics and the glory of the young.
The spirit which animates men is naturally reproduced
in boys, and re-enacted in the nursery and at the public
schools. In the increasing activity of our people, in the
intensity of our haste to be rich, we cannot wait to be respectful. Parents once brought up their children; -children
now bring down their parents. Formerly, the traveller in
passing the school play-ground was saluted by deferential
bows and courtesies from its party-colored columns of light
infantry; now, the hat adheres to the head as firmly as the
scalp, the "' pregnant hinges of the knee " have forgotten
how to crook except where " thrift may follow fawning,"
and the traveller is happy if he can dodge between the
snow-balls which fly around him like bomb-shells from a
Malakoff. There is no station high enough, no place of
power dazzling enough, to inspire Young America with awe,
or to call forth any show of reverence.
We have read of an honest Hibernian who plunged into
the water when George IV. was landing at Kingston, to
shake hands with his Majesty, and who was ever afterward
so proud of the circumstance, that no earthly inducement
could prevail upon him to wash the hand his Majesty had
pressed. It is difficult for us to understand and appreciate
the spirit of loyalty which animates the subjects of Euro



POPULAR FALLACIES.               79
pean monarchies. We do not associate the government
with any substantive reality. It is an idea, not a person;
a majority of votes, not a crowned head; the result of a
popular election, not one of God's anointed. The humblest
man among us is a Warwick, and can make and unmake
kings as easily as the Duke of Northumberland. We are
living in the enjoyment of the largest liberty. We look up
with reverence to no titled nobility. We despise the obsequious fawning of little men. We practise no genuflections
before lazy dignitaries. We train our backs to bend and
our eyes to droop in presence of no earthly potentate. It
is not true of us, as Juvenal expresses it,* that " death alone
divulges how little are the bodies of men." We measure
with unquailing, curious look the tallest and the proudest,
long before we dig their graves. The terms of deferential
address, which are always demanded from the lower classes
in a country whose government recognizes a distinction of
rank among its subjects, are all barbaric jargon to us, and
he who should use them here would be regarded as a grotesque caricature of manhood. In the thoroughness of our
contempt for the servile homage paid to blood and birth
and place, we have gone so far in the other direction as to
emancipate ourselves from the restraints of good breeding,
and to maintain our independence of the beautiful amenities of life.
But perhaps the most unsatisfactory aspect in which our
want of reverence can be viewed, is in its relations to
things sacred. There is in our temples no veil through
which the high-priest alone may enter.  The foot-fall of
the curious inquirer may be heard in the innermost penetralia. We do not often take off our shoes because the
ground whereon we stand is holy. The Urim and Thummim are only bright buttons on a flashy vest, and the halo
* "Mors sola fatetur
Quantula sint hominum corpuscula."




80               POPULAR FALLACIES.
around the priestly head is moonshine to us, and nothing
more.  We do not see anything wrong in laying hands on
the ark, and we wonder that the anger of the Lord was
kindled against Uzzah at Nachon's threshing-floor. The
Mahometans will not tread on the smallest piece of paper
in their way; "for," say they, "the name of God may be
written upon it." We are troubled with no such scruples.
The sacred pages which contain the glowing words of
Isaiah and David would be deemed quite as appropriate to
light our cigars as to kindle our devotions. The old Hebrew had such a veneration for the name of Jehovah, that
he would not pronounce it, even in holiest forms of speech,
but used instead of it Adonai or Elohim.  There are
among us not a few who feel that a simple assertion or
plain statement of obvious facts will pass for nothing, unless they swear to its truth by all the names of the Deity,
and blister their lips with every variety of hot and sulphurous oath. If we observe such persons closely, we shall
generally find that the fierceness of their profanity is in
inverse ratio to the affluence of their ideas.  We know
not but that this may be regarded as a general formula.
Byron seems to recognize it when he says of Jack Buntin,
" He knew not what to say, and so he swore."
At any rate, we venture to affirm that the profanest men
within the circle of your knowledge are afflicted with a
chronic weakness of intellect, and that their half-dozen
thoughts rattle in vacant heads like the brazen pebbles we
read of. The utterance of an oath, though it may prevent
a vacuum in sound, is no indication of sense. It requires
no genius to swear, - to " swear terribly like our armyi in
Flanders." The reckless taking of sacred names in vain
is as little characteristic of true independence of thought,
as it is of high moral culture. In this beautiful and breathing world, filled as it is with the presence of the Deity and




POPULAR FALLACIES.                81
fragrant with incense from its thousand altars of praise, it
would be no servility should we catch the spirit of reverent
worshippers, and illustrate in ourselves the sentiment that
the Christian is the highest style of man.
The last popular fallacy to which we shall allude relates
to the moral element in our national culture. It is the confounding of a religious life with a theological creed.
The Protestant traveller, who for the first time visits
Milan and joins the thousands who, at the vesper hour,
throng the avenues and courts of its magnificent cathedral,
may amid the gathering gloom of twilight bow with the
Catholic devotee at the shrine of the Holy Mother, and
yet not assent to the Biblical interpretations of Papal Ecumenic Councils, nor forsake for a moment the faith of his
fathers. As he gazes upward upon the immense dome, and
around upon colossal statues and long-drawn aisles, the one
sentiment of stupendous grandeur, of vastness that dilates
rather than humbles the beholder, overpowers alike his
prejudice and his pride, and his full soul must flow forth in
devotion. The massive columns, the gorgeous paintings,
the music chanted by unseen choirs, the tapers faintly burning, dark-eyed maidens kneeling at ancient altars, -all
appeal to him with an eloquence which cannot be resisted.
They do not ask him to believe in the infallibility of the
Pope, nor in the intercessory power of the Virgin Mary,
but they ask him to lift his heart in adoration.
A man may be a good man with a very poor creed, or
even with no well-defined creed at all. " In unnumbered
cases," as Professor Park well says, "the real faith of
Christians has been purer than their written statements of
it. Men, women, and children have often decided when
doctors disagreed, and doctors themselves have often felt
aright when, they reasoned amiss." It would be difficult,
notto say impossible, to frame any written document, however short and simple, which should receive from its readers




82               POPULAR FALLACIES.
the same mental interpretation. Words take their meaning, not from their component letters, but from our own
natures and associations.
As Ino two persons ever saw the same rainbow, so no
two persons, Christians though they may have been, ever
worshipped the same conception of the Deity. We are
differently constituted. Our physical temperaments, our
intellectual habits, our moral susceptibilities, our hereditary
proclivities, separate us. Each has an ideal of the Supreme
Good, peculiar to himself. The strong, severe man, who
regards human weakness with contempt and sin with indignation, naturally endows the object of his worship with the
qualities of his own mind, only in their highest degree.
The Infinite One is to him, therefore, an impersonation of
inflexible Justice, and his reverence for him is enhanced by
the assurance, that he " will by no means clear the guilty."
On the other hand, the man of gentle character, who would
not " needlessly set foot upon a worm," does not appreciate
the sterner attributes of the Godhead, but looks up only to
a loving Father whose "tender mercies are over all his
works." John Foster in his boyhood "abhorred spiders
for killing flies, and abominated butchers." We are not
surprised, that, in his manhood, this same John Foster, in
all the ripeness of a beautiful Christian character, with his
great heart still more tremulously tender than a woman's or
a child's, could not accept the doctrine of eternal punishment.  On the contrary, Calvin, equally honest, equally
earnest, equally profound, could contemplate with composure the burning lake as the necessary and chosen abode of
the incorrigibly depraved. He, like Dante, believed that in
the future world, as in the present, there must be mingled
with an infinite pity an infinite rigor of law. He saw,
that here sunny skies are darkened with lowering clouds,
from  whose depths "leaps the live thunder"; that the
spiced and favoring wind, wafting the white sail over the




POPULAR FALLACIES.               83
tranquil sea, is changed into the fearful tornado, whose
wild wail mingles with the " bubbling cry of some strong
swimmer in his agony"; that flowery lawns and June
blossoms are charred and wasted by the burning lava of
volcanic wrath; that faces, mantled with the smiles of
birthday and of bridal, are stained with tears and overshadowed with hopeless pain; that Olivet had not only rung
with the songs of vintage and the glad voices of children,
but had also in the gray of the morning echoed to the tread
of a brutal soldiery and witnessed the crucifixion. His
quick eye had marked the misery which had been permitted in this world, and he had no doubt that a similar economy would prevail in the next. John Calvin and John
Foster were both Christians, nominally of the same school;
but, so far as the Divine character and government are
concerned, they could hardly have subscribed to the same
creed.
We do not mean to intimate that it is of no consequence
what we believe, but simply that a difference of opinion on
subjects beyond the range of knowledge may not only be
honest, but even a constitutional necessity.  Charles V.
was right when he inferred that, if he could not make two
clocks keep time together, it were folly in him to attempt
to constrain his subjects - thirty millions of thinking men
-to a cordial adoption of the same prescribed formula of
faith.
So intimate is the relation between soul and body, that
our theology almost always tastes of the cask from which
it is drawn.  Disease, especially if it disturb the normal
action of the brain, is likely to modify essentially our creed.
To say that Coleridge varied from the most liberal latitudinarianism to the strictest adherence to the " Thirty-nine
Articles," somewhat according to the quality and quantity
of the opium which he consumed, would not be an extravagant assertion.




84                POPULAR FALLACIES.
But not only is the conception of the Supreme Being
different in different persons; the future blessedness to
which we aspire varies in character according to our views
of the highest good. The poor washerwoman in Hyperion,
weary and toil-worn, longed to die and go to heaven, that
she might sit in a clean white apron and sing psalms all day
long. Plato, when asked what would be the employment
of heaven, immediately answered, " The study of geometry." To the one, heaven was a place of quiet rest; to
the other, a field for thought and for unending progress.
Not only can no two persons, though of equally high
religious character, adopt precisely the same creed; it is
obvious, also, that no one person can be expected. to entertain through a life of ordinary length the same views on
any moral subject, especially on one so eminently speculative as that which concerns his spiritual being, its essence
and its relations. It is the order of nature to grow. " I
could never," says Sir Thomas Browne, "divide myself
from any man upon the difference of an opinion, or be
angry with his judgment for not agreeing in that from
which within a few days I might dissent myself." The
thinking man outgrows his beliefs as he does his clothes.
The swaddling-bands of infancy cannot encompass the
stalwart loins of manhood.
", Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea.'*
We know that there are numerous exceptions to this law
of growth. There is a large class in society whom Sydney
Smith calls the " sheep-walkers," - men who never deviate from the beaten track, who think as their fathers have




POPULAR FALLACIES.                85
thought since the flood, who recoil from a new idea as they
would from guilt. These persons never disturb society
and are never disturbed by it. Only those who have the
intellectual vigor necessary to independent thought and fearless expression "turn the world upside down," and, like
Paul and Silas, " trouble the people and the rulers of the
city."  It is among these alone, whose loyalty to truth
and duty is stronger than their devotion to sect, that the
dungeon, the rack, and the stake have, in all ages, found
their victims. The humanizing influence of popular education and a more liberal intellectual culture have softened
the asperities of religious persecution; yet even now any
departure from the established belief may subject the venturesome wanderer to social discomfort and disabilities.
Not a few good men have so identified religion with their
own creed, that they look upon every dubious question,
every uncanonical conviction, as an alarming approach to
unpardonable heresy. The first buddings of thought they
regard as incipient excrescences on the body of Christian
faith, and woe betide the luckless wight whose spiritual
growth should be found to exceed the knot on their measuring-line!
" Here," said a student to Casaubon, as they entered the
old hall of the Sorbonne, "is a building in which men have
disputed for more than four hundred years."  "And,"
asked Casaubon, "what has been settled?"  There is a
mournful significance in the question'of the old Genevan
Professor. Four things, however, amid the chaos of conflicting opinions, we think are in a fair way to be settled.
First, men fight most readily and with the most bitterness
about those doctrines whose influence upon the life is the
least. Secondly, persecution for opinion's sake is not only
a crime, but'a folly. When the Aurora Borealis can be
put out by a fire-engine, then, and not till then, can a
religious principle be extinguished by blood. Thirdly, the
8




86                POPULAR FALLACIES.
right claimed by Protestants of interpreting the Sacred
Scriptures each one for himself, involving, as it does, not
only the possibility, but the necessity of an honest difference of opinion, demands of us, as reasonable men, that
we be intolerant of nothing so much as of intolerance.
Fourthly, the religion of the heart is higher and better
than the scientific creeds of the head, and he is not the
best Christian who is the best reciter of formulas, but he
whose life is most like that of our Great Exemplar. In
aspiring to reach the lofty height of his virtue we shall
resemble pilgrims climbing up different sides of the same
mountain, who draw nearer at every step, not only to the
sunlit summit, but also to one another. Fallen men are
to be saved now as eighteen hundred years ago, and here
as in Palestine, not so much by the sharp subtilty of their
logic as by the earnest beneficence of their lives.




THE THINKER IN SOME OF HIS RELATIONS
TO THE COMMUNITY.*
"IITE  cannot conceive," says an eminent physiologist,
Y' " even in the remotest manner, in what way the
brain -a compound of water, albumen, fat, and phosphate
salts - operates in the generating of thought."  Of the
house we live in, its various apartments and wonderful
architecture, and more especially of its mysterious occupant, we know comparatively nothing.  We are nowhere
strangers so much as at home. We have only learned, by
watching our neighbors, that the connection between the
physical organization and the intellectual operations is most
intimate, and that in their reciprocal action they seriously
and constantly modify each other. The great difference in
human countenances is a difference, not in features, but in
expression, - an expression which is the outward exponent
of the spiritual life. No face can attain the highest degree
of manly or womanly beauty of which it is capable, until
it is informed and interpenetrated with thought and feeling.
It was not of a passive, waxen doll, but of an intellectual,
thinking woman, that the poet said:
" Her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wroughlt,
That one might almost say her body thought."
The influence of the mind upon the body is seen, not only
* A Lecture delivered before the Lyceums of Springfield and Woburn,
Mass., Concord and Portsmoutli, N..H., and in other places. 1854 - 55.




88             THE THINKER IN SOME OF
in the prompt obedience of the muscles to its will, not only
in the flashing eye of indignation, the quivering lip of some
strong agony, the mantling blush of ingenuous shame, but
also in the power which the rapt spirit has of triumphing
over physical torture. The exultant song of the martyr
has often risen above the flames which were consuming him.
We are by no means to infer from this, that the material
organs are of slight importance in the development and
exercise of the mental powers.  The mind cannot act
perfectly through a diseased and dilapidated body. The
literature and theology of the world always indicate, with
more or less of distinctness, the character and condition of
the brain which produced them.  Byron tastes of gin;
Bulwer smells of tobacco; every gland in Dr. Johnson is
distended with scrofula; the mighty thoughts of Coleridge
and the capricious imagination of De Quincey are alike
obscured and distorted by the fumes of opium; many of
the sombre speculations and repulsive dogmas of the great
Christian Reformer are easily traceable to the abnormal
action of a diseased physical system.
But it is not of the mutual relations of mind and body
that we propose to speak. We wish rather to say somewhat upon the Thinker in some of his Relations to the
Community.
The most obvious fact in respect to the thinker of the
present age, and especially of this country, is the efficient
influence which he exerts in quickening and elevating the
intellectual character of the common people.
In those nations of antiquity which occupy the proudest
position in the history of the world, the persons who thought
sat apart, or at most allowed access to a chosen few. Plato
and Zeno and Aristotle gathered around themselves a few
favored disciples, and sought to elevate their minds to a
communion with their own, but for the improvement of the
great body of the people they felt no concern. They had




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.           89
no sympathy with the unwashed, vulgar herd. The feelings of the refined philosopher towards the unlettered tradesman or laborer are well expressed in the motto of the
Rosemary in old Herbals: Sus, apage, hand tibi spiro!"Be off, brute! my fragrance is not for thee."  Hence it
happened, that, while the mind in some instances received
its last finish of elegance, the nAasses grovelled in ignorance
and superstition.  Airs from  heaven floated around the
top of leafy Olympus, but death-bringing miasmata exhaled
from the marshes at its base. Light illumined the domes
of gorgeous temples, but the people knelt at the altar below
in darkness. If in the observations of the astrologist any
fact in astronomy was discovered, it was not thought worth
recording, unless it might have some influence on the destiny-revealing horoscope. If in the experiments of the
alchemists any great truth in chemistry * revealed itself, it
was looked upon as a matter of no interest, and so was
either lost or locked up in mystical formularies.  Men
searching for the philosopher's stone, and the universal solvent, and the elixir of life, cared little for scientific principles, which could only be made subservient to the common
people in the physical interests of material life.  The student lived in rapt reverie, or dreamed of imagined perfection in some Utopian state or far-off Islands of the Blest.
A man of intellectual vigor and acumen valued himself
according to his skill in discussing those questions which
were most remote from the wants and necessities of "this
working-day world." His constant employment was an
interminable logomachy, - a battle not of swords, but of
words, -a fierce dispute, not on strictly metaphysical subjects, not in respect to the soul and its faculties, but about
"airy nothings and impalpable inanities."  The dialectics
in which the time of whole schools of philosophy was con* Becker and Boyle were the first to give anything like plausibility of
system to chemical science.
8*




90             THE THINKER IN SOME OF
sumed were mere eristic syllogisms, which went by different names according to their individual peculiarities.
One of them, called, from the example which illustrated it,
" The Lying," was perhaps as famous as any. 16 If, when
you speak the truth, you say you lie, you lie; but you say
you lie when you speak the truth; therefore, in speaking
the truth, you lie." In discussing the momentous interests
involved in this ridiculous quibble, Chrysippus wrote six
ponderous volumes! Diodorus of Caria, a great adept in
this kind of verbal combat, invented the extraordinary argument against motion, which was afterwards employed by
Sextus Empiricus in his controversy with the mathematicians. " If any body be moved, it is either moved in the
place where it is, or in a place where it is not; but it is not
moved in the place where it is, for where it is, it is; nor is
it moved in a place where it is not, for nothing can either
act or be acted upon where it is not; therefore, there is no
such thing as motion." How entirely absorbed men became in this strife of words may be inferred from the fact
that this same Diodorus, in the height of his fame, actually
died of vexation, because he could not answer one of these
dialectic questions proposed by a rival philosopher. The
respect which we entertain for such a man is second only
to that which we feel for the royal French cook, who, because a chowder, a favorite dish with the king, was spoiled
in preparing, took the accident so much to heart that he
went to bed and died a martyr to fish.
The whole Megaric sect- a sect which sprung directly
from the school of Socrates - deemed it the highest aim of
philosophy, the chief end of man, to be able to construct
a syllogism or disentangle a logical puzzle. Its disciples,
therefore, could " cavil upon the ninth part of a hair," but
in relation to those principles which underlie human society,
and contribute to the happiness and well-being of the struggling multitude, they knew as little as they cared. There




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.          91
was not a word nor a sentiment in all their teachings
which was meant for the masses, or which spoke, however
faintly, of a human brotherhood. While Plato, therefore,
was speculating sublimely in the groves of the Academy,
and building the airy fabric of his ideal Republic, infant
children, whose feebleness or deformity of limbs gave no
promise of brawny strength in future martial conflicts, were
cast out by their parents to the wolves of the mountains or
left to starve in baskets by the wayside.  While Pericles
was adorning Athens with magnificent works of art, whose
ruins even are the wonder of the world, thousands of slaves
were fleeing from tyrannical masters to the Temple of Theseus, or cowering in terror amid the shadows of the Parthenon. While Hippocrates was discoursing on the principle
of life and the nature of disease, there was not throughout
all Attica, nor in fact in the known world, a single hospital
for the sick, not one retreat for the deaf and dumb, not
an asylum for the insane. While Gorgias and his fellowsophists were paid enormous amounts to train the sons of
the rich in all the sharp subtilties of logic and the graceful
refinements of a splendid rhetoric, not a drachma was ever
raised by individuals or by the state for the purpose of educating the children of the poor. While poets and orators
and historians were constructing a literature richer in its
natural simplicity, and more varied and brilliant in its beautiful creations, than any the world had ever seen, the people,
who thronged the busy streets, or toiled in the vineyards
and olive-grounds, or fought at Marathon and Mantinea,
knew  as little of letters as they did of the mysteries of
Eleusis or of the secret rites of the Cabiri. The common
school, whose instruction and supervision command the
warmest interest and highest talent of this country, is an
element of strength and perpetuity in the state never
dreamed of by the philosophers and statesmen of the ancient republic. Had district school-houses dotted the hill



92              THE THINKER IN SOME OF
sides of Attica and the Peloponnesus, the poet never would
have been compelled to sing:
"The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung,Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all except their sun is set! "
When Athens was the eye of Greece, and Greece the
intellectual head of the world, the physical sciences, with
all their manifold applications to practical life and human
happiness, had hardly the rudiments of an embryo existence. - Her scholastic philosophy frowned upon all attempts
to investigate the works and laws of nature; her learned
men could not descend from  their lofty speculations to this
foot-worn world of sense. One of them used to say, that
" those who studied particular sciences and neglected philosophy were like Penelope's wooers, who made love to her
servant-women." The few allusions which we find in their
writings to these great departments of knowledge serve
only to render visible the darkness which rested upon
them.  The earth,* in their geographical systems, was a
great, flat, circular body, floating upon unfathomable waters,
and surrounded by an ever-flowing, all-embracing river,
in whose wide stream, under the setting sun, the poets had
planted beautiful islands, where Achilles and brave Diomed
dwelt with heroes and demigods, and where, as Pindar
expresses it, " the ocean breezes breathe around the abode
of the happy, and golden flowers are blazing."   Their
knowledge of geology was confined to the belief that the
caves of Sicily and Campania were frightful entrances to
Hades, -a dark realm in the hollow earth, peopled, in its
* The Sanson family published a very imperfect map of the world in
1651. De Lisle, the real founder of geographical science, published his
map in 1699, guided by the directions of Cassini, and by observations for
determining longitude by the immersions of Jupiter's satellites.




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.               93
two grand divisions of Elysium and Tartarus, with the
spirits of brave men and cowards. In respect to botany,*
they tell us little more than that Proserpina once gathered
flowers in the meadows of Enna, and,
", Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gathered."
Many of the elements of zoilogy t are so obvious to the
most careless eye, that an acquaintance with the subject in
some of its branches could hardly be avoided. Herodotus,
therefore, one of the most patient and accurate observers,
speaks, with characteristic exaggeration, of a certain kind
of sheep in Arabia of the usual bodily size, but endowed
with caudal appendages five feet long, - so long, indeed,
that they always trailed on the ground, and were consequently liable to be damaged by rude contact with the
rough earth.  To obviate this inconvenience, he assures us
that the shepherds were accustomed to fasten little wagons
to the latter end of the unfortunate animals for the special
support and conveyance of their tails. j  The observations
of the ancient ornithologists led them to suppose that the
bird of paradise was destitute of legs, and therefore always on the wing. Where she made her nest, and how she
hatched her young, we are not informed. Upon how minute and careful an examination the naturalists of Rome
had constructed the science of ichthyology may be inferred
from the fact that Pliny gravely tells us of a fish whose
various members were so widely extended in the Mediterranean that it could not pass the Straits of Gibralter. A
superstitious reverence for the bodies of the dead left the
* Tournefort first established a uniform and consistent system of classification of plants. Grew discovered the sexual system in plants, and, together
with Malpighi, founded the science of vegetable physiology.
t John Ray first gave to zoology the name of a science, by a natural
classification of animals, and by using the aid of comparative anatomy.: VIide Koran, Chap. VI., note, p. 114, Sale's translation.




94             TIlE THINKER IN SOME OF
disciples of IEsculapius in the grossest ignorance of the
plainest facts and most important principles of physiology.
The difference between the heart and liver was not recognized, and the same functions were, by different writers,
ascribed to both. The arteries, so far from being suspected
of having any connection with the circulation of the blood,
were thought to contain, as their name implies, only air.
Mathematics, the foundation and superstructure of all
modern science, was pursued by Euclid and Thales, not
for the purpose of applying it to mechanics and natural
philosophy, but merely to withdraw the mind from the
concrete to the abstract, and enable it to luxuriate in the
beauty of truth. Plato,* in enumerating the branches of
study which should occupy the young in his imaginary
Republic, specifies in particular arithmetic and geometry;
but he is careful to say that they should not be studied, as
he expresses it, with a view to operation and practice, not
to acquire a facility in buying and selling as anxious merchants and retailers, not to degrade them to a vulgar utility
by turning their principles to account in building machines
of wonderful power, like those of Archytas, but to compel
the soul to use pure intelligence in the search after pure
truth, and thus to enable it to rise above the sensible and
evanescent to a contemplation of the To ov, the true and
absolute being, the eternal essence of things, in distinction
from their changing substance. When we read the discussions of Plato, clothed though they be in all the splendors
of a glorious language, yet always impatient of contact with
human affairs, and therefore ever hurrying from the beaten
paths of common life, until they baffle all pursuit by their
own complication, or are lost in the thin upper air, we are
not disposed to quarrel with the author of Hyperion, when
he tells us that " speculations in philosophy, literature, and
religion resemble those roads in our Western forests, which,
* Republic, Book VII. chap. 9.




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.         95
though broad and pleasant at first, and lying beneath the
shadow of green branches, finally dwindle to a squirrelpath and run up a tree." If this be true of Plato, the
favorite pupil of Socrates, and the most brilliant genius in
the whole history of the past, we need not be disappointed
overmuch at the barrenness and poverty of the hundred
other philosophers, Roman and medieval as well as Greek,
whose teachings and systems have been transmitted to us.
Aside from the eloquent and wellnigh Christian teachings
of Socrates and Cicero, of whom the old world was not
worthy, and certain mathematical principles clearly demonstrated, but never applied by themselves and never intended
to be applied by anybody else, a sterile exuberance of
words * constitutes the sole fruit of all the toil of all the
wise men of sixty generations. Their philosophy, we are
forced to say, with Bacon,t- "was neither a vineyard nor an
olive-ground, but an intricate wood of briers and thistles,
from which those who lost themselves in it brought back
many scratches and no food."  The great minds which
illumined the centuries immediately preceding and following the commencement of the Christian era were employed,
not in enlightening the ignorant, not in healing the wounds
of a bruised humanity, not in multiplying the conveniences
of humble life, but in unavailing endeavors to answer the
ever-recurring questions, What is the highest good?  Is
pain an evil? Can a wise man be unhappy? Are all things
fated? Can we be certain of anything? Can we be certain
that we are certain of nothing?  However antagonistic
the' schools of rival sects might be, the combatants all
agreed in despising everything which was so vulgar as to
be useful.
It was not until the Reformation that the sceptre of
Aristotle was broken, and the dominions of a dreamy specu* " Sunt voces praetereaque nihil." - Ovid.
t Novum Organum, Aph. 73.




96              THE THINKER IN SOME OF
lation were invaded by the heavy-armed cohorts of a living
faith.  The controversy in which Luther engaged was not
about words, but about things.  He despised the schoolmen and all their verbal subtilties.  With the same feelings he looked upon the discussions of the Church and
priesthood of the Middle Ages. The disputes of Duns
Scotus and Thomas Aquinas, the queries about the immaculate conception, the theories of the real presence, the
question whether an angel could go from one point to
another without passing through the intermediate space,these were all alike, to his practical mind, puerile and contemptible. The subjects which he treated took hold of the
popular heart and lay within the range of the popular
thought.  The discovery of Faust and Gutenberg had
scattered the best thoughts of the best thinkers among the
people.  The manuscripts of the Gospels, which it had
taken the German monks long years to copy and illuminate,
were now reproduced in days, so that the credulous multitude believed that the second edition of the Bible was the
work of magic or of the Devil. Books were no longer
chained to the shelves of monasteries, or enclosed in gold
and jewelled cases in the palaces of princes, but were
read and pondered around the cottage hearth-stone.  The
warnings of the great Apostle against "philosophy" had
influenced a thousand communities besides that of the Colossians. Christianity, though, as Macaulay asserts, " the
rights of the Pantheon had passed into her worship and the
subtilties of the Academy into her creed," * was nevertheless ir her spirit favorable to independent thought, and her
champions, Zuingle, Bucer, Peter Martyr, and Calvin,'were
tireless and fearless in their hostility to the overshadowing
* The Pagan mysteries were commenced with a proclamation, " Procul
este profani"; and, according to Bishop Warburton (Divine Legation, II.
258), it was at one time customary to begin the celebration of the Eucharist
with the similar proclamation, " Omnes catechumeni foras discredite, omnes
possessi, omnes non initiati."




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.'97
system  of the Stagirite. Men began to think for themselves; great names had lost the spell of their power;
reverence for authority was growing weak; there was no
terror in the prescriptions of a hoary antiquity.  In a word,
the proud fabric of the ancient scholastic philosophy was
tottering on its shattered foundations.
But it was left for BACON, the great English Chancellor,
to complete the overthrow of a dynasty which had reigned
for ages.  He was fortunately endowed with all those
various qualities and attributes which fitted him to be the
interpreter of nature, and the founder of a new system
upon the ruins of the old. His temperament was delicately susceptible to every outward influence; his imagination
bore fruit as well as flowers; his understanding has been
compared to the' tent which the fairy Paribanon gave
to Prince Ahmed: fold it, and it seemed a toy for a
lady's hand; spread it, and the armies of powerful sultans
might repose beneath its shade." There was nothing too
minute for'his scrutiny; nothing too high for his telescopic
vision; nothing too broad and diversified for the grasp of
his comprehensive intellect. Whether stuffing a hen with
snow,* — in which experiment he lost his life, - or giving
counsel to a capricious sovereign, or reforming the civil law
of the realm, or describing the riches of Solomon's House in
the New Atlantis, or investigating the abstrusest problems in
nature, he was always the same patient, earnest, luminous
inquirer after truth.  "' Discover" and "' Improve " were
the two watchwords of his philosophy. He was a thinker;
but he thought not for the sake of the exercise, but for the
accomplishment of an end. He performed his experiments,
not for his own amusement, but to establish principles and
obtain useful results. He had no respect for an intellectual
cultivation which yielded no harvest. His researches all
tended to some practical good. He had no time to revel
* Montague's Life of Bacon, p. 112.
9




98               THE THINKER IN SOME OF
amid the beatitudes of the gods, or to gloat over the
golden visions of an imaginary state; but he mingled with
men, -  imperfect and erring men, -  and he strove to subserve their human interests.*   In  his belief, " nothing
could be too insignificant for the wisest, which was not too
insignificant to give pleasure or pain to the meanest."  He
did not attempt to elevate mere mortals above common
wants, but he studied to supply these wants. He did not
teach them how to bear pain with indifference, but how to
remedy or prevent it. Man, in his view, was not made
for philosophy, but philosophy for man. Metaphysics and
moral science were useful only as they could be made serviceable in modifying the character and curing the diseases
and  perturbations  of the mind.  To enrich human life
with new discoveries and possessions t was, as he affirmed,
the real and legitimate goal of all knowledge.  He began,
therefore, with observing phenomena, and ended with the
arts. Locke, Newton, Paley, Kepler, La Place, and Franklin, with their numerous disciples, all followed the inductive
methods of their illustrious predecessor, and each, in his
own sphere, enlarged beyond all precedent the boundaries
of human knowledge and human happiness.t
It is said by sneering essayists, that this is an age of
utilitarian materialism. If this charge were true, in its
literal sense and widest scope, it would undoubtedly be a
truth to be deplored. But that is a material age in which
gross matter is sovereign, overshadowing and hindering
in its development the intellectual life. In such an age the
sea is an untraversed and fearful expanse, separating the
* "Commodis humanis inservire." - De Aug., Lib. VII. c. 1.
t "Dotare vitam humanam novis inventis et copiis." - Novum Organum,
Aph. 81.
t Upon the noble foundation of Bacon's experimental philosophy three
institutions were established, the last two of which still continue the perennial
fountains of science, — the Academy del Cimento at Florence, the Royal
Society of London, and the Academy of Sciences at Paris.




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.            99
nations, and reigning alone in its own unsubdued majesty.
Mountains and rivers form the impassable barriers between
tribes and peoples. The stubborn earth yields scanty sustenance to toiling men. The mere wants of the physical
being engross the time, and absorb and degrade all the
faculties of the soul.
But the reverse of this picture is true of the present age.
We use rather the empire of the mind, the service of the
body.* The giant tossing hopelessly beneath the mountain
no longer symbolizes the overlaid and crushed spirit. Matter, in all its multitudinous forms, is not a burden to
oppress, but an instrument for use. Mind pervades and
moves the mass.t The slender wires, stretching like a network over continents, thrill with thought and feeling like
the living nerves. Fire, air, and water are our ministers,
and hasten to execute our commands. The energies inherent in the fossil earth serve us with an efficiency which
puts to the blush our vaunted strength. A good Cornish
engine evolves as much power, during the combustion of
five tons of coal, as would be equal to the continued labor
of an able-bodied Helot or Saxon for twenty years, atthe
rate of eight hours per day.t A material age, forsooth,
when a ton of Lehigh or Anthracite, which may be bought
for ten dollars, and burnt in as many hours, may be substituted for four years of unremitting human toil!
But this subjection of matter to the dominion of an intelligent will, this rendering of latent forces subservient to
the comfort and convenience of man, is seen only in those
countries where the governments do not interrupt the connection between the thought of the thinker and the activities of the out-door world.  We do not find it, of course,
* " Animi imperio, corporis servitio magis utimur." - Sallustii Bellum
Catilinarium, Sec. 1.
t " Mens agitat molem." - -neid.
t Prof. Henry's experiment.




100            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
among any people whose enterprise is quenched and spirit
broken by a civil or ecclesiastical despotism. A contrast
of the sluggish imbecility, the uncontriving helplessness of
many of the countries of the Old World, with the mental
activity manifest in every relation of our material life,
might lead us to a higher appreciation of the influence of
free thought when quickened' and electrified by free institutions.
If we were to designate the grand characteristic of the
present age, - a characteristic impressed upon it by its
thinkers, - we should say at once, and in a single word,
analysis.  We analyze everything, from  the soil of our
onion-beds up to the Copernican system of the universe.
If we find a strange flower in our summer walks, we analyze it, and assign it to a place among the hard names of
Wood and Gray. If a person dies with mysterious suddenness, we analyze the contents of his stomach, and detect
the presence of the slightest trace of arsenic or strychnine.
If we stumble over a long word or complicated sentence
in Greek or German, we analyze it, and determine its nicest
shade of meaning by its component parts. If we find in
spherics or the calculus a knotty problem, we subject it to
the rack of an unpitying analysis, and torture it, as the old
Romans did their slaves, until it consents to disclose the
secret which it was attempting to conceal from us. We
analyze the atmosphere; and we do not breathe air, like our
fathers, but a gaseous mixture of nitrogen and oxygen in
exact proportions, with more or less of carbonic acid. We
analyze our fountains; and we drink no longer water, but
the oxide of hydrogen.  We analyze our fruits; and we do
not eat apples, as of old, but a scientific compound, made up
of potash, soda, phosphoric acid, sulphuric acid, lime, magnesia, chlorine, silica, phosphate of iron, malic acid, sugar,
and other organic materials. There is nothing too high,
nothing too low, nothing too grand, nothing too minute,




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.        101
nothing too beautiful, nothing too sacred, for this all-pervading spirit of analysis.  It is equally at home in the laboratory, at the bar, in the pulpit, and in the study.  Its
method is an " obstinate questioning," its law is progress.
It is a singular fact, that an Encyclopmedia, embracing a
compendium of the "' seven liberal arts," - grammar, logic,
rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, -
written by Marcianus Capella, an African, and appearing
at Rome in 470, actually remained for more than one thousand years the common text-book throughout the schools of
Europe. The human mind, during all this period, pursued
the same dull round, like a horse in a bark-mill, leaving off
in the end, jaded and dispirited, at the same point where it
began.  Our school-books, on the other hand, under the
influence of the analytic propensity of the times, have been
rapidly changing in their character, until they, together
with the modes of teaching from them, have become not
merely reformed, but entirely transformed. The student
cannot longer be imposed upon by a formidable array of
names and authorities. He is not satisfied when told, as
Aristotle told his disciples, that the stone falls and vapor
rises because " it is natural," but he must go back to the
universal law of gravitation, and see how, in its equal operations, it causes both alike.  He looks for reasons, not for,
methods. It is not enough for him to solve the problem by
the rule, but the rule itself must be solved. He asks not
what the answer is, but why it is as it is. The caption is
deemed of little worth, unless followed by its demonstration.
He feeds his mind, not with arbitrary prescriptions, but with
unchanging principles, and therefore it is that
" Now good digestion waits on appetite,
And health on both."
The smallest and most unpretending specimen of Young
America feels that the fee-simple of his personal being is
vested in himself, and he is ready to say of his head, as
9*




102            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
Touchstone said of Audrey, his wife, "An  ill-favored
thing, sir, but mine own."  There is coming to be more
individuality and less gregariousness in the community.
Men do not care to know what the scribes and Pharisees
believe, but what is in itself worthy of belief. Religious
sects and political parties, which have nothing to recommend.them but their gray hairs and respectable ancestry,
are left to lean totteringly on their staves, or are warned to
"look out for the engine when the bell rings."   New
theories in science, as well as old dogmas in theology,
supernatural revelations, miraculous interpositions, ghostly
visitants, are all alike subjected to the crucible, and they
must stand the fire or vanish into thin air.
It is easy to see, that the thinker, by exciting this spirit
of careful and earnest inquiry among all classes of society,
has done much, and is destined to do still more, towards
freeing the world from the dominion of a debasing and
tyrannical superstition.
The twofold nature of man, soul and body, and his consequent relation, according to almost all systems of faith,
to a future existence as well as to the present, have rendered
him, in all ages and conditions, liable to superstitions, more
or less absurd, in respect to the agency of spirits, angels,
and demons in the affairs of this world. Of these superstitions there are some which do not strike their roots
down into the intellectual being, but merely float, like
phantoms, in the airy realms of a speculative faith or poetic
imagination. With these the thinker wages no war. They
do not necessarily dwarf and degrade the mind, nor interpose any obstacles to the progress of science. We meet
them, without a sense of humiliation, in our every-day
walks in the living world, or find allusions to them in the
records of our literature; and, in our severest moods, we
can only smile at their harmless folly, or wonder, perchance,
at the comfort which their victims gather from them. By



HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.            103
ron, in describing the Turks who had fallen in the siege of
Corinth, says of them:
" Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear,
And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair."
The Mussulmnan, as we know, when he shaves his head, is
always careful to save one tuft or long lock, that Mahomet
may draw him into Paradise by it.  Milton tells us of " airy
tongues that syllable men's names."  The belief to which
the poet here refers, that the souls of the dead inhabit the
forms of birds, has not been an uncommon one. The
Duchess of Kendall had no doubt that George the First,
who had died some time before, flew into her window in
the shape of a crow.  A wealthy lady of Worcester, England, believing her daughter, long since buried, to exist in
the form  of a canary, literally furnished her pew  in the
cathedral with cages full of these little unpaid singers. A
bird of dark plumage and soft note bears to the Brazilian a
message from a departed friend, and, as its wild, mournful
strain is borne on the night-air, he welcomes the invisible
messenger, and asks for news from the loved and lost.
" Thou art come from the spirit-land, thou bird!
Thou art come from the spirit-land;
Let thy voice through the dark pine-grove be heard,
And tell of the shadowy band."
One of our own most gifted poets, whose genius
" Flamed in the forehead of our morning sky,"
but was extinguished long before its noontide, avails himself of this superstition in his famous lyric, " The Raven."
He recognizes, in the ungainly bird perched upon the bust
of Pallas over his chamber-door, a visitant firom the Plutonian realm, and he therefore adjures it,
"By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if within the distant Aden
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore!"




104            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
But birds are not the only or necessary media of communication between this world and the " dark unknown."
The Irish mother sees, in the smile upon the lips of her
sleeping infant, the token of an angel's presence, and, in
her joy at the thought, she sings in exultant voice,
"I know that the angels are whispering with thee!"
The followers of Swedenborg, in the belief that their
deceased friends still retain an affectionate interest in their
earthly associations and companionships, keep their chair at
the fireside and the table unoccupied, and, in the midst of
the employments of daily life, welcome the familiar rustle
of their wings, and listen to the low words which they
speak. The Greeks knew no solitude in nature. Their
groves were haunted with Dryads; their fountains were
filled from the pure urns of the Naiads; the coralline chambers of their ocean echoed to the soft tread of dancing
Nereids; their heavens were lighted up with the smiles of
departed heroes.
But in more modern times, and under a Christian civilization, it is not an unusual thing to meet with intelligent
men whose writings, as well as personal character, are
tainted with superstition. Marvellous stories, told on winter evenings, by ignorant nurses, in the ear of listening
childhood, cast their shadows down the whole lengthening
pathway of life. We see this truth illustrated in the productions of Walter Scott, Hugh Miller, and others of not
less note.  Des Cartes, though the method of his philosophical inquiries was undermining the whole edifice of the
national religion, was all the while obsequious in his devotions to the Holy Mother and the True Cross.  Luther,
although the bellowings of Papal Bulls had no more terrors
for him than the plaintive lowings of hungry calves outside
their paddock, yet was sorely exercised, while translating
the Bible, by assaults from infernal spirits, and the black




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.        105
spot is still shown, on the wall of his room at the Wartburg,
where the inkstand hit which he flung at the head of the
Devil. Dr. Johnson, though despising the scruples of the
Puritans, and ridiculing, as it deserved, their horror of
mince-pies and dancing bears, has, nevertheless, gravely
recorded in his diary, with tears in his eyes, that he once
committed the grievous sin of drinking coffee on Good
Friday.  Talking with fanatical sectaries as if he were'imbued with the divine philosophy of the New Testament,
he at the same time showed by his conduct that he firmly
believed his salvation would have been imperilled, if he had
celebrated the close of Lent with sugar in his tea or butter
on his bunns.  Possessing a keen insight into human
nature, at least that of London, and less liable than almost
any other man to be imposed upon by a parade of outward
forms, yet he did not always assign the profoundest reasons
for the estimate which he made of the religious character
of his friends.  " Campbell," says he, " is a good man, a
pious man. I am afraid, however, that he has not been
inside of a church for many years; but he never passes a
church without pulling off his hat: this shows that he has
good principles." But while the mind of the great lexicographer was disfigured, to some extent, by these blemishes,
still it had too much native vigor and disciplined strength
to become the passive victim of supernatural delusions and
superstitious follies. The influence of early impressions
and a diseased physical system could only refract the rays
of his enlightened reason; they could not disperse them.
On the other hand, let superstition once take root in the
soil of an imaginative, but uneducated mind, and it will
grow  until it overshadows the whole being.  Thoughts,
opinions, feelings, are all absorbed by it, and become a part
of its substance. It holds its place and thrives by what it
feeds on. It is like the watchman's wife in the tower of
Warblingen, of whom Longfellow tells us, who grew to




106            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
such a size that she could not get down the narrow staircase; and when her husband died, his successor was forced
to marry the fat widow in the tower.
The proposition, that ignorance is the prolific mother of
superstition, is demonstrated by the facts of to-day as well
as by the history of the race.
The fourth Council of Carthage, in 395, prohibited the
Bishops from reading secular books. Jerome, one of the
most distinguished of the Latin Fathers, condemns the
study of them, except for pious ends. All physical science,
especially, was held in avowed contempt, as inconsistent
with revealed truth. As a natural consequence, a large
proportion of the clerical members of the subsequent Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon could not write their names.
With the best scholars among the highest dignitaries of the
Church, a knowledge of sacred music passed for literature;
an ability to sing a psalm-tune was an extraordinary attainment in the fine arts.  Of the laymen, from Gurth,
the swineherd, born thrall of Cedric the Saxon, who tended pigs in the woods and got on holidays some parings
of the pork, all the -way up to Philip, the mighty king
of France, not one, except some rare prodigyv of genius,
could either read or write. Deeds and charters, until the
use of seals became common, were subscribed with the
mark of the cross. It is asserted by the highest authority,
that there was, in the last of the tenth century, scarcely a
single person to be found in Rome, once the home of poets
and orators and philosophers, who knew the first elements
of letters. The whole race of thinkers had died out, and
all the learning of-the world was tied up in a few hundred
parchment rolls, most of which, fortunately, was guarded
with watchful care by obscure but reverent monks. In the
midst of this universal ignorance, a thousand superstitions,
like foul animals of night, were propagated and nourished.
The footprints of the odious brood, whether Scandinavian




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.        107
or Etrurian, Celtic or Saxon, were visible alike on the
fairest and the most forbidding fields of Europe.  The
opinion now entertained by the disciples of Miller and Dr.
Cummings was everywhere the prevalent religious belief.
" As the world is now drawing to its close," was the introductory clause to all their legal instruments. The present
talk about the midnight cry, the signs of the stars, the four
great kingdoms, the serpent, the beast, the cleansing of
the sanctuary at the end of the 2300 days, and the final
consummation on the tenth day of the seventh month, is all
a mere rehash,- a warming over of the cold victuals left
by the ignorant fanatics of the darkest period in the Dark
Ages.'Judicial combats supplanted all the forms of legal
trial, and left the question at issue between the parties to
the decision of the sword and the justice of Heaven. Ordeals, which required the accused to prove his innocence
by travelling barefoot and blindfolded over red-hot ploughshares, or by plunging his naked arm into boiling water, or
by swallowing a piece of consecrated bread, which a perfidious priest might have poisoned, left the victim at the
mercy of the ministers of church and state.  Haggard
religious enthusiasts, clothed in white, passed, like sheeted
ghosts, from province to province and from city to city,
crying out " Misericordia," or singing in solemn strains the
" Stabat Mater Dolorosa." Eloquent hermits, wrought to
madness by the outrages which they had witnessed in
their pilgrimages to the Holy City, harangued excited
multitudes, until millions, in successive crusades, rushed
to rescue from the hands of the infidels the sacred sepulchre, and left their bones to bleach on the plains of the
Levant or before the walls of Acre.
Superstition has attained its highest power in those
countries and periods of the past in which a few men of
genius and learning, like the priests of Egypt, did all the
thinking and monopolized all knowledge for their private




108            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
ends, while the servile, wondering masses grovelled in
utter darkness.  The people of Rome were not more
affected by the admixture of a Tuscan blood, than was their
civilization by the pervading influence of Tuscan superstition. The city of Romulus, by its original inauguration,
was also a temple: its walls and gates were holy; its
soil was consecrated by the aruspices; its government was
a ritual, borrowed from the dark and mysterious priests of
Etruria.  The sacredness of property in the land was
shadowed forth in the reverence paid to the god Terminus,
and the inviolability of contracts was secured by an apotheosis of Faith. The religion of the old Roman followed his
conquering eagles, and its gorgeous pomps and mummeries
became systematized and prevalent in all the tribes and
states of Italy. The fact that the word "ceremony " is derived from Core, one of its principal cities, sufficiently attests
the formal and punctilious stateliness of its worship. The
appearance of the heavens, the lightning's flash, the glare
of meteors, the mutterings of the thunder, the monstrous
prodigies of the volcanic nature about them, were all narrowly watched as intimations from the gods, and permitted
to control the weightiest matters of the government and
the people. In the bowels of animals, and in the flight;
the feeding, and the voices of birds, they found signs for
the future, whose hidden meaning the mystic priest could
easily interpret to them. A ship might be manned for some
important and pressing enterprise, its anchors weighed, its
sails set, its stern crowned with garlands, the trumpet
might have sounded the signal for its departure, and yet
the alighting of a swallow on the rigging, or an unfortunate
sneeze of a sailor "-over the left," would stop the whole
proceedings. Let the sacred chickens show an appetite
less vigorous than usual, and a gloom settled at once upon
all the seven hills of the Eternal City; but let them, on
the contrary, eat their dough with an alderman-like relish,




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.          109
and joy pervaded and illumined all ranks and conditions
of men, from the humblest plebeian up to the haughtiest
consul.
In a community where the sickly imagination sits an
incubus on the prostrate judgment, and visions of insanity
are reckoned as realities, it is easy for a few master-spirits
to subdue the million by working on their fancies and their
fears.  Those who know nothing of natural causes are
always ready to attribute all startling phenomena to the
agency of the imaginary beings with whom they people the
elements, and whose wrath they are anxious to turn aside.
In this fact lies the origin of all forms of Demonolatry.
But as it is difficult for the untrained mind to retain its
conception of a spiritual essence, some visible representation
is attempted, and Idolatry, in all its grotesque and multiform hideousness, from the Moloch of Gehenna down to
the Brahma of the Hindoos, is the natural product.  Idols
are fashioned so as to correspond with the evils which they
are supposed able to inflict, or with the emotions which
they are designed to excite. Horrible shapes, whose hybrid
features are borrowed from all that is terrible in the world
of imagination as well as that of sense, are called into existence. Dragons, centaurs, furies, gorgons, griffins, harpies, hydras, hippogriffs, minotaurs, satyrs, sphinxes, and
other unearthly combinations of the human body with that
of beasts, birds, fishes, reptiles, and demons,   all, in their
uncouth ugliness, attest the ingenuity of their sacred inventors. But to give the highest efficiency to these fiendish
creations, active qualities must be communicated to them.
Some of them, therefore, in the earlier or middle ages, were
made to move their heads and arms; others, like the picture of the Virgin, of which Cardinal Bedini wrote a few
years ago, winked with one eye or both; and others still,
spoke, groaned, smiled, or perspired, just as they happened
to feel.  The hierophantic magicians who accomplished
10




110            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
these results were men of intelligence, far in advance of
their times, adepts in mechanical philosophy and chemistry,
as well as master-players on the human passions. Claiming
kindred with heaven, and living apart in the secret recesses
of the temples, they rendered their superior knowledge
available in maintaining their ascendency over the multitude. They knew how to move gods to compassion by
wires, or rouse them to anger by explosive compounds.
The experiments in their subterranean laboratories were
performed, not, as now, to elucidate principles of science
and promote human comfort, but for the purpose of crushing out from men their manhood, and reducing them to
trembling and imbecile slaves.
The highest achievement of these sacerdotal mechanics
was the ZEolipile, or Fire-Blower,- a hollow god of semihuman form, in whose capacious abdomen inflammable
liquids and chemical preparations were concealed, and from
whose mouth and nose and eyes streams and jets of manycolored flames issued forth, to the consternation of the astonished beholders. Sometimes these gods, or steam idols,
of immense size, carefully charged with fiery mixtures ready
to be ignited at the. right moment, were mounted upon
wheels and followed by their favorite priests to the battlefields. With what horror and dismay the troops of a superstitious enemy would flee before beings of supernatural
form, rushing upon them in chariots of smoke and a whirlwind of fire, may be easily conceived. Ewbank, I have no
doubt, is right in affirming that the Old Testament writers
repeatedly allude to these A;Eolipiles, the silence of the
commentators to the contrary notwithstanding. Eliphaz,
the Temanite, has one of them in his eye, when he says
of the wicked: "By the blast of God they perish, and
by the breath of his nostrils are they consumed."  If
David had never seen one of them on its war-car in the
full tide of successful experiment, we never should have




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.        11t
had the splendid, though terrible imagery of the eighteenth
Psalm: " There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, and
fire out of his mouth devoured; coals were kindled by it...... And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; yea, he
did fly upon the wings of the wind...... At the brightness that was before him his thick clouds passed, hail-stones
and coals of fire...... Yea, he sent out his arrows, and
scattered them; and he shot out lightnings, and discomfited
them." The visible properties of these. Eolipilic Deities
of the heathen were naturally enough ascribed by the Hebrew Prophets, with some modifications and embellishments,
to their own Elohim. If a familiarity with the expressions
had not blunted their force, we should hardly recognize, in
the God of a more enlightened age, the Being who, in the
Oriental imagery of the Jewish sacred writers, sent fire
from his mouth and smoke from his nostrils, whose anger
waxed hot and burned, and whose breath like a stream of
brimstone kindled the wood of the valley of Hinnom.
But 2Eolipiles, with their kindred prodigies, the Typhons, Chimeras, and Cerberi of a mythological age, have
passed away forever. Monsters are well represented in the
fable as the children of Night. It is certain that they retire as civilization advances, and it may be said of them,
as of spectres, that they flutter with the dawn and vanish
with the sunrise.
There is nothing for which our country, in particular, is
more distinguished, than for the rapid progress it has made
in popular education. Our thinkers, whether teachers or
preachers, have vied with each other in their efforts to
elevate the common people above the murky fogs of ignorance to the clear atmosphere of positive knowledge. The
superstitions which the first settlers of this continent brought
with them from the Old World find, among the books and
school-houses and newspapers which are now sending their
benign light down to the lowest valleys of life, no resting



112             THE THINKER IN SOME OF
place for the " sole of their unblest feet."  It is true, there
are among us yet men born out of due time. They belong
to a past age, - an age of signs and wonders.  They listen
with patient anxiety to the oracular responses of Pythian
girls and inspired tables; or run wild in reading the mathematical prophecies of William Miller, and in staring with
fear-stricken awe at the painted menagerie of those remarkable beasts which John saw in the Revelation of Patmos.
There still exist in some of our rural neighborhoods elderly
matrons, who can tell any young lady, just budding into
her teens, whether the matrimonial visions which begin to
flit before her imagination shall become splendid realities,
or fade like an " insubstantial pageant."  It is only necessary to look at the lines which traverse the palms of the
hand, or to scrutinize the grains of an exhausted tea-cup.
It is worthy of notice, that the destiny revealed by the
modern sorceress, like that of the threadbare fortune-teller
of the deceitful Circus Maximus, is brilliant just in proportion to the ability of the inquirer to pay.
But these follies are noticeable, because they are exceptional. They are not common to whole communities; they
do not enter into the constitution of society, intruding into
the school-room, ascending the pulpit-stairs, modifying the
faith and moulding the character of the great masses. In
this fact lies the evidence of our progress.  With our
fathers, less than two centuries ago, superstitious credulity,
more especially in relation to every department of our
spiritual nature, was the order of the day. Those extraordinary trials for witchcraft in a New England city, only
one hundred and sixty-five years ago, seem to us like the
grotesque myths of a remote antiquity; but to Governor
Stoughton and the people of Massachusetts, as well as to
Cotton Mather and his immediate followers, they were stern
and grim realities.  To them  there was more truth than
poetry in Milton's couplet:




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.          113
"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep."
If we may believe Cotton Mather, the most famous clergyman of his day in New England, one of these " spiritual
creatures," in particular, was a source of no small inconvenience to our Puritan ancestors and the rest of mankind.
"The Divil," says he,* "even like a dragon keeping guard
upon such fruits as would refresh a languishing world, has
hindered mankind, for many ages, from hitting upon those
useful inventions, which yet were so obvious and facile, that
it is everybody's wonder they were no sooner hit upon.
The bemisted world must jog on for thousands of years
without the knowledge of the lodestone, till a Neapolitan
stumbled upon it about three hundred years ago.  Nor
must the world be blest with such a matchless engine of
learning and virtue as that of printing, till about the middle
of the fifteenth century. Nor could one old man all over
the face of the whole earth have the benefit of such a little,
though most needful thing, as a pair of spectacles, till a
Dutchman a little while ago accommodated us."
-But it would seem, from the same learned divine, that his
cloven-footed majesty not only stood in the way of all
useful inventions, but he managed also, from his familiar
knowledge of chemistry and natural philosophy, to exert a
more positive and mischievous influence upon men. "'T is
the Destroyer, or Divil," says our author, " that scatters
plagues about the world; pestilential and contagious diseases,'t is he who does oftentimes invade us with them.'T is no uneasy thing for him to impregnate the air about us
with such malignant salts, as, uniting with the salt of our
microcosm, shall immediately cast us into that state of fermentation and putrefaction which shall utterly dissolve all
* "Observations upon the Nature, the Number, and Operations of the
Devils."
10 




114            THE THINKER IN SOME OF
the vital ties within us; even as an aqua-fortis, made with
a conjunction of nitre and vitriol, corrodes what it seizes
upon.  And when the Divil has raised those arsenical
fumes, which become venomous quivers full of terrible
arrows, how easily can he shoot the deleterious miasms into
those juices or bowels of men's bodies, which will soon
inflame them with a mortal fire! "
" Once more," continues our learned doctor, 1" why may
not storms be reckoned among those woes with which the
Divil does disturb us? It is not improbable that natural
storms on the world are often of his raising. We are told
in Job, that the Divil made a storm, which hurricanoed the
house of Job upon the heads of them that were feasting in
it. Paracelsus could have informed the Divil, if he had not
been informed, as be sure he was before, that if much aluminous matter, with saltpetre not thoroughly prepared, be
mixed, they will send up a cloud of smoke, which will-come
down in rain."
But amidst the multiplicity of his out-door employments,
the Devil seems to have found time to inaugurate in New
England an order of witches, whose diabolical practices
were as much his own delight as they were the terror and
confusion of all good people.
The Pilgrims, it should be remembered, had gone forth
from their homes in the mother country to " wrestle against
principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against wicked spirits in high places."
They brought with them to these shores the opinions and
sentiments of the communities in which they had dwelt;
for it was as true then as when Horace wrote his Epistle to
Bullatius, that " they who cross the sea change the climate,
not the mind." Their only text-book in philosophy was the
English Bible, and their rules of exegesis required the most
literal interpretation.  The injunction, "He that hath a
familiar spirit must die," was full of significance to them.




HIS RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.           115
The eminent divine*-who drew  the first abstract of the
civil and criminal code which afterwards formed the basis
of the statute law of Massachusetts, was careful to copy
that provision of Moses which made death the penalty of
witchcraft. Besides, the wild and solitary scenes of nature,
which surrounded the Puritans, wrought upon their imagination, and- quickened their faith into an unquestioning
credulity. Behind them was the sea, rendered more awful
to them by their recent experience of its dangers. Before
them frowned the dark and mysterious woods, whose primeval silence had never been broken by the voice of civilized man, and whose grand old cathedral aisles had been
trodden only by prowling beasts and painted savages. The
great idea of free schools had been conceived, but their elevating influence had hardly begun to be felt. Their rudimental text-books were ordinarily worse than none, and
their " schoole-masters " were, in most instances, inferior to
their text-books. Not a single newspaper,t the great educator of modern times, had been published on the continent.
Their life was one fierce struggle with the reluctant soil and
hostile Indians, and, more than all, with imaginary demons.
But a change has come over the scene, transcending the
magic of the most wondrous fairy tales. The Aladdin's
lamp which has wrought it is free thought, - free thought
in its multitudinous applications to every department of
human industry, as well as to the nature and wants of the
soul. There is nothing, from a brimstone match up to
hoary theological creeds, which has not felt its transforming power.  It determines the revolutions of the most
erratic comet, and, with the same mathematical exactness,
traces the curve of a ship's keel and gives shape to the
mould-board of a plough.  It not only guides the rich ar* John Cotton.
t The first newspaper published in this country was the "Boston NewsLetter." Its first number was issued on a half-sheet, in 1704.




116  THE THINKER'S RELATIONS TO THE COMMUNITY.
gosies of the merchant over pathless seas, wings the flying
shuttles of the manufacturer, reveals to the farmer the
hidden resources of his wasted acres, and, in the twinkling
of an eye, girdles the earth with the flash of intelligence,
but it is also, in the exercise of that reformatory benevolence which is always the attribute of profound thought,
striving to free society from every debasing superstition,
and to purify governments and laws from their follies and
oppressions. The energy of the Anglo-Saxon mind, under
the genial influence of our political system, is asserting its
dominion over the land and over the sea. The ports of
trade on our Pacific coast, and the railroads which shall
erelong unite our distant oceans, will bring the commerce
of the nations under the control of our race. " The empire of our language will follow that of our commerce; the
empire of our institutions that of our language."  It has
been truly said, therefore, that " the man who writes successfully for America will yet speak to all the world."
It is the glory of this country, that its thinkers are doers,
and its doers men of thought. The toil-worn and weary,
quickened into a higher life, are beginning to be able to
appreciate the productions of genius, to understand the
dark responses of the priests of science, and to catch that
strain of upper music which floats on the song of the poet.
Truth, in relation- to whatever subject, is not now, as of
old, a mere torch-flame, casting a partial splendor over the
sparry incrustations of a cavern, but it is a holy and universal sunlight, gladdening and making beautiful all the
wild and varied workings of external nature.  The humblest dwellers in the shadows of the mountains rejoice in
its warm radiance, while the powers of evil, which once
haunted the imagination, have fled with the darkness,
leaving their broken sceptre at the feet of Redeemer and
redeemed.




EDUCATED LABOR.*
[North American Review, October, 1859.]
IT was the king of Brobdignag who avowed the opinion,
"that whoever could make two ears of corn or two
blades of grass to grow upon a spot of ground where only
one grew before, would deserve better of mankind and do
more essential service to his country than the whole race of
politicians put together." Whatever may be said of politicians, there can be no doubt that the scientific farmer is a
public benefactor.  Government-tinkers and place-hunters
may be, like Cardinal Wolsey, men of " unbounded stomach "; but, aside from  the." home market" which they furnish in their own persons, they are of very small account in
"this working-day world." They are mere consumers. The
agriculturist, on the other hand, is the chief, if not theonly,
food-producer, or, more properly, food-manufacturer for the
* Farm Drainage. The Principles, Processes, and Effects of draining
Land with Stones, Wood, Ploughs, and open Ditches, and especially with
Tiles; including Tables of Rain-Fall, Evaporation, Filtration, Excavation,
Capacity of Pipes, Cost and Number to the Acre of Tiles, &c., &c., and
more than One Hundred Illustrations. By Henry F. French. New York:
A. O. Moore & Co. 1859.. pp. 384.
Elementary Treatise on the Drainage of Districts and Lands. By G. D.
Dempsey, C. E. With Illustrations. London: John Weale.
Practical Landscape Gardening, with Reference to the Improvement of
Rural Residences, giving the General Principles of the Art; with full Directions for planting Shade-Trees, Shrubbery, and Flowers, and laying out
Grounds. By G. M. Kern. Second edition. Cincinnati: Moore, Wilstach,
Keys, & Co. 1855.




118                EDUCATED LAROR.
nation. He it is who turns Peruvian guano and superphosphate of lime into wheat, bones fromri the Pampas into esculent roots, Russian oil-cake and Syrian locust-pods into beef
and mutton. But to do all this he must be intelligent, -
acquainted with something more than the manipulations of
the spade and the wheelbarrow, with something higher
than the vulgar traditions of an ignorant ancestry. It is
only under the hand of such men as Robert Bakewell,
Jonas Webb,'and Josiah Parkes, that long-legged, slabsided, ill-bred oxen are metamorphosed into small-boned,
quick-fattening Devons and elephantine Durhams; that
lean, hurdle-backed Norfolk rams become beautiful " firkinbodied" South Downs; that drifting sand-plains are converted into corn-fields, and shaking fens, from which benighted travellers were once warned by beacon-lights, are
transformed into English gardens and apple-orchards.
Every book, therefore, which sheds new light upon the
principles and processes of agriculture in any of its departments, we welcome as a contribution to the public welfare.
Such is the work whose title we have placed first at the
head of this article. Elaborate in its explanation of methods, and lucid in its philosophical statements, it leaves little
to be said by others on altogether the most important branch
of American husbandry. It is tastefully printed and illustrated; and, if read at every farmer's fireside morning and
evening, "with judicious care," it would soon renovate the
face of the country, clothing the exhausted fields, at the
East with fresh verdure, and turning the ocean-like prairies
of the West, now to a large extent too wet for tillage or
for health, into the very garden of the world. The author
is one of those versatile, open-eyed men, whose constant
and careful observation of minute and disconnected facts
is happily accompanied by a rare power of analysis and
generalization.  He presents a pleasant combination of
scholarly culture and practical energy, and is equally at




EDUCATED  LABOR.                  119
home at the forum and in the field, discharging with singular tact the twofold function of an accomplished jurist and
a skilful tiller of the soil. He seems to receive from frequent contact with the earth fresh vigor for wrestling with
hard questions of law. For many years associate editor of
the New England Farmer, and special contributor to other
similar journals, he has devoted the leisure wrung from a
laborious profession to the study and practice of agriculture.
His articles and addresses are not the mere speculations of
a white-handed theorist, but they all have the flavor of
fresh-ploughed fields and new-mown hay.  As a racy and
instructive writer upon the various topics connected with
the garden, the orchard, and the farm, he has no superior
and few equals in this country. He has the faculty of
making all his resources, of whatever nature, contribute to
the illustration of the particular subject in hand, no matter
what that subject may be.  The necessity of "gratings at
the outlet of drains," in order to keep out all sorts of vermin, is not a very promising topic for pleasant rhetoric, and
yet the pages occupied by him in its discussion sparkle with
flashes from Virgil and Shakespeare, Coleridge and Matthew Prior.
" There are," he says, " many species of vermin, both creeping
things and'slimy things that crawl with legs,' which seem to
imagine that drains are constructed for their especial accommodation. In dry times it is a favorite amusement of moles and
mice and snakes, to explore the devious passages thus fitted up
for them; and entering at the capacious, open front-door, they
never suspect that the spacious corridors lead to no apartments,
that their accommodations, as they progress, grow'fine by degrees and beautifully less,' and that these are houses with no
back-doors, or even convenient places for turning about for a
retreat. Unlike the road to Hades, the descent to which is easy,
here the ascent is inviting; though, alike in both cases,' Revocare
gradum, hoc opus, hie labor est.' They persevere upward and
onward, till they come, in more senses than one, to an'untimely




120                 EDUCATED LABOR.
end.' Perhaps, stuck fast in a small pipe tile, they die a nightmare death; or perhaps, overtaken by a shower, of the effect of
which, in their ignorance of the scientific principles of drainage,
they had no conception, they are drowned before they have time
for deliverance from the strait in which they find themselves, and
so are left, as the poet strikingly expresses it,'to lie in cold
obstruction, and to rot.' In cold weather, water from the drains is
warmer than the open ditch, and the poor frogs, reluctant to submit to the law of nature, which requires them to seek refuge in
mud and oblivious sleep in winter, gather round the outfalls, as
they do about springs, to bask in the warmth of the running
water. If the flow is small, they leap up into the pipe, and follow its course upward. In summer, the drains furnish for them
a cool and shady retreat from the midday sun, and they may be
seen in single file by scores, at the approach of an intruding footstep, scrambling up the pipe. Dying in this way affects these
creatures as'sighing and grief' did Falstaff, - it'blows them
up like a bladder."'
In the summer of 1857, Judge French visited Europe
for the purpose,of acquainting himself with the superior
modes of husbandry in the Old World.  The few months
spent among the intelligent farmers of England confirmed
him in his previous impression, that the first duty in American agriculture is systematic and thorough drainage; and
the value of the volume before us, treating of " the principles, processes, and effects of draining land," is not a
little enhanced by the writer's careful attention to the
working, in the mother country, of the various systems of
Elkington, Smith of Deanston, Josiah Parkes, and Lord
Wharncliffe.
The sixty million acres of swamp lands, given away as
worthless by our general government to the new States in
which they lie, constitute but a very small portion of the
territory in these United States which might, by judicious
drainage, be transformed from unsightly, pestilential " bogholes" into waving grass and grain fields of exhaustless




EDUCATED LABOR.                 121
fertility. If Great Britain, a country of less area than our
youngest State, is justified in loaning $ 40,000,000 to companies engaged in the drainage and improvement of her
highlands, certainly the subject so ably discussed by our
author cannot be unworthy of the earnest consideration of
the American public. It is to be remembered that the
agricultural districts of this country are lower and flatter
than those of England, and that they receive double the
amount of rain-fall per annum. We have no doubt that
the value of the prairie lands in Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, and
Missouri might be at least trebled by a proper distribution
of drain-tiles, four feet under ground. The face of the
country might in this way be entirely changed. Corn, instead of being dropped into sub-aqueous drills from a raft,
in June, with poor prospect of a harvest, might be planted
on dry ground, early in May, with an assurance of reaping
a hundred-fold. Wheat, no longer frozen out of the clayey
soil every winter, might yield, not twelve, but, like John
Hudson's on his Castle Acre farm, "forty-eight bushels to
the acre." The farmers themselves, now shaking with intermittent chills amidst the noxious miasmata that rest like
a pall upon coarse sedge and miry pools, might riot in
fragrant clover and luxuriant health.
The present great need in this country is, first, a more
thorough investigation of the principles of agriculture by
scientific men, and, secondly, a more ready application of
these principles to the processes of agriculture by workingmen. A better understanding between these two classes
would be an advantage to both. It is a pleasant indication
of progress in the right direction, that professional men are
beginning to take a more active interest in the material affairs
of the field and the workshop; that the toil-hardened hand
and weather-stained face are now regarded by none, except
patent-leather, tape-selling cockneys, as marks of dishonor,
but rather as the heraldic emblems, the armorial insignia of
11




122                EDUCATED LABOR.
Nature's noblemen. Emerson is right when he says: " The
first farmer was the first man, and all nobility rests on the
possession and use of land." If, as Hebrew scholars tell
us, Adam, the parent of all living men, means, etymologically speaking, " dark loam," then are the bonds of relationship between us and this teeming earth fixed in nature, and
strong as the ties of blood. We are fed literally from the
same maternal bosom, and the theory of a human brotherhood is something more than a dream of philanthropy. It
was the boast of the Athenians that they were av'TX0ov6e,
- children of the soil; that, in the olden time, they, like
their olive-trees, sprang out of the ground. Attica, with
its vine-clad hills and fertile valleys, was to them, therefore,
not merely a territorial possession, but it was, as Thucydides
expresses it, "a father and mother land."  Every rood of
it was consecrated in their affections; and the foreign foe
who ventured within its borders was sternly encountered,
as an invader of the privacy and sanctity of home; while
the citizen who should raise his hand against it was treated,
not as a traitor only, but as a parricide. The old Roman,
though contemning the subtilties of the poetic Greek, yet,
like him, recognized his relationship to the soil. It is a
noteworthy fact, that the words ground and man have, in
the Latin language, a common root.
But, leaving to scholars the niceties of philological discussion, one thing we may affirm as certain: A nation is
strong only when, like the fabled Libyan giant, it rests its
feet upon the solid earth. Land is the basis of our power;
the everlasting hills are the pillars of our imperial sovereignty. Men in successive generations may give themselves up in mad frenzy to slaughter and extermination;
dynasties may follow dynasties in lengthening cycles of misrule and oppression; the refluent wave of barbarism may
dash against -the broken arches of a former civilization;
palaces, temples, capitols, all the trophies of art, may pass




EDUCATED LABOR.                123
away in the ages like the ephemera of a summer morning;
but Nature is eternal, and the husbandman is her minister,
and should be her interpreter. In dealing with her mysteries he is dealing with the principles and laws which
regulate the growth and determine the destiny of a people.
The stewardship of our nationality is vested in the men
who till the soil; for it depends on them whether our fields
shall be yellow with corn, and a wide-spread commerce relieve our bursting granaries, or whether we shall return to
the want and savagism of a past age, and worship again
the " sacred oak," — sacred because it feeds us with acorns.
It becomes a question, therefore, of the highest moment,
how these men shall be awakened to a consciousness of
their position, and furnished thoroughly for the discharge
of their weighty responsibilities. How shall agricultural
and mechanical labor, tasking as it does the energies of
three fourths of the working male population of these
United States, be elevated to its highest dignity and efficiency? The answer is as obvious as it is emphatic: By
making the man of action a man of thought.  Muscle
must not be divorced from mind. It was said of Lord
Bacon, that he never used one of the hundred hands of
Briareus until he had opened all of the hundred eyes of
Argus.  There never was a great act, whose pedigree
might not be traced back to some great thought as its
ancestor.
We propose, in the further consideration of Judge
French's book, to expatiate a little upon the subject of
Educated Labor, incidentally treated by him; and if our
readers do not discover a tile-drain running through our
article, it will be either because our tiles are laid so deep
as to be invisible, or because our discussion, as we proceed,
may seem to us so dry as not to need draining.
There are counties in England in which, not long since,
according to governmental statistics, only one person in




124               EDUCATED LABOR.
ten could read; and at a little earlier period, if we may
believe pleasant Arthur Young, "not one farmer in five
thousand did read anything at all." In these same districts
the old Roman plough and harrow still belabored the patient soil, and the cattle were cured or killed by enchantment. The peasants wore charms for the ague; nailed
horseshoes on the threshold to keep out the witches; carried around in their pockets pieces of a coffin to ward off
the cramp; and tied red strings around the tails of their
new-milch cows to prevent the fairies from stealing the
butter. In Italy, as we are told in some recent reminiscences of travel, the farmer breaks up his land, not with a
double-eagle plough, but with the root of a tree, attached
by a grape-vine to his two cows. This remarkable style
of tillage, however, is altogether outdone in Egypt, where
Stephens assures us that the insulted ground is vexed by a
grotesque thing, ycleped a plough, constructed in some preAdamitic era, and actually drawn in the furrow by an old
woman and a jackass harnessed together. We shrewdly
suspect that the modern traveller had been reading Pliny,
who made the same extraordinary statement some eighteen
hundred years ago.
There are among ourselves not a few whose brawny
strength is turned to weakness by their ignorance, and
whose stalwart manliness is dwarfed by the hereditary
taint of a thousand shrivelling superstitions. They tremble and turn pale at the breaking of a looking-glass, or at
the upsetting of a salt-cellar, or at the ticking of a little
harmless insect which they have named the death-watch.
They would no sooner engage in any important enterprise
on Friday, than an old Roman general would go into battle when the sacred chickens refused to eat their dough
with the proper relish. They never look at the new moon.
"over the left" without an indefinable apprehension of
evil; nor pass in the evening a retired churchyard without




EDUCATED LABOR.                 1.25
encountering some unhappy ghost, or haunting devil.
They will not wean their calves when the sign is in the
stomach, for fear the poor animals may pine away over
their meal and clover; and the pig whose tail unluckily
curls to the left is, they are sure, scarcely worth the raising.  They could not be persuaded to plant their potatoes
on the increase of the moon, lest they all run to tops; nor
to kill their swine on the decrease of the moon, lest the
pork boil away in the pot. If an ill-fed or sick ox have
nothing in his second stomach to be pumped up for rumination, they are certain he has " lost his cud," and will die,
of course, unless they can manufacture a new one for him.
If an unfortunate cow, from exposure to storm or cold,
should, in the first flow of her milk, have a swollen bag,
they thrust a butcher-knife through her dewlap, and insert
a garget-root, or else saw off one of her horns.
It is a matter of congratulation that the common school
and the agricultural journal are fast driving this whole
brood of party-colored superstitions and follies, like spectres
of night, to the mountain-caverns and forests on the outer
rim of civilization. Let scientific men do their duty to
the community, and the time is not fkr distant when no
place shall be found among us for the " sole of their unblest feet." Every profound thought lifts a shadow from
the earth.  Every gobd book, whether it treat of "Farm
Drainage" or "Celestial Mechanics," helps forward the
millennium.
The advantages of intellectual culture are as obvious in
those pursuits involving manual labor, as in the learned
professions, so called. A good education is of some consequence to the lawyer and the physician; it is of not less
consequence to the mechanic and the farmer. We have
known professional men who could make a little learning
go a great way with the wondering multitude; but such
poor tricks cannot be played off upon the hidden forces of
11 _#




126               EDUCATED LABOR.
nature. It is the finger of Intelligence alone which can
touch the secret springs that set the mountain streams to
the music of machinery, and clothe the naked fields with
waving grain. It is a maxim in New England factories,
where a fluctuating and often hostile tariff has taught a
wise economy, that they cannot afford to hire cheap, ignorant labor. Not many years ago a factory in Lowell imported a large number of workmen from England. But it
turned out that these persons, though paid but half the
wages of better-educated operatives at home, were nevertheless an expensive luxury to their employers.  They
could not earn their living, and, in a few weeks, they were
all, with three or four exceptions, dismissed. A partner in
one of the most respectable mercantile houses in Boston,
having the principal direction of extensve cotton-mills,
stated, a few years ago, in reply to the interrogatories of a
Congressional Committee, that, of the twelve hundred operatives annually employed by him, forty-five only were
unable to write their names; and that the difference between the average wages of these forty-five and of the remaining eleven hundred and fifty-five was just twenty-seven
per cent in favor of the latter.  There were also in the
same mills a hundred and fifty girls, who had been engaged
in teaching school. The wages of these school-mistresses
was seventeen and three fourths per cent above the general
average, and more than forty per cent above the wages of
those who were obliged to make their mark. It is safe to
affirm, that there is not a cotton-mill in the country, with
operatives, whether native or foreign, too ignorant to read
and write, which could be made to yield a profit in the best
times.  The fabrics would be inferior in quality and in
quantity; the machinery would be misused and prematurely worn out; and the stockholders would be soon
brought to a realizing sense of the difference between dividends and assessments.




EDUCATED LABOR.                 127
We are not of those who entertain a prejudice against
foreigners as such. We care not what may be a person's
origin, name, or complexion.
"Tros, Tyriusque mihi nullo discrimine agetur ";
a verse unconsciously, though happily, rendered by Robert
Burns in his democratic song:
" A man's a man for a' that."
But still, though revering as we do the splendid names in
Irish history, we cannot conceal from ourselves the obvious
fact that the introduction of uneducated Irish " help " in
the field is working the same mischief to our sons which its
introduction in the kitchen has already wrought to our
daughters. It is making labor dishonorable by associating
it with ignorance, and is therefore driving our young men
away from the old homesteads, - some into mercantile
pursuits, some into the over-crowded professions, some into
the wild hazards of stock-speculation, or into the still wilder
hazards of gold-digging at some far-off Pike's Peak or
Fraser River. In this way our farms in the older states,
instead of being divided and subdivided, as they ought to
be, are growing larger and more unmanageable. The tendency of the times is unquestionably towards immense
estates, like those in England, each with a manorial mansion in the centre, and a dependent tenantry crouching in
its shadow.  We need not say that this is not "a consummation devoutly to be wished."  If there is anything
which we as patriots should deprecate and struggle against
with sternest resolution, it is the gradual division of our
people into the two classes of landholders and tenants,- an
educated nobility and an ignorant peasantry,- the wealthy
few and the poverty-stricken, grovelling many. The immigration into this country of intelligent foreigners, who,
like very many of the Germans and a very few of the
Irish, appreciate and admire the freedom of our republican




128                EDUCATED LABOR.
government as intensely as they hate the tyrannies, civil or
ecclesiastical, of the Old World, is a matter, not of anxious
solicitude, but of national felicitation. But the extraordinary influx of men, bringing with them little wealth and
less intelligence, trained to unthinking, servile toil, and
accustomed to look with helpless awe upon the glittering
pageantry of monarchical institutions, is threatening, as its
legitimate result, the gradual transformation of American
society. The change, of course, is noiseless in its progress,
but, unless arrested, it will be palpable enough in its effects.
The laws of social chemistry are as fixed and inexorable as
those which regulate the combinations of the laboratory.
Athens, though her natural position and unequalled harbor, as well as the character of her native-born citizens,
seemed to indicate that she was preordained to be the mistress of the world, yet was not able to withstand the deteriorating influence of vast hordes of unlettered " barbarians,"
pouring continuously into her streets from petty despotisms
or conquered provinces, supplying the Bema and the Academy with the gross amusements and empty shows of the
amphitheatre, and degrading a cheerful industry to the reluctant toil of enslaved Helots. If we allow labor on the
soil, north or south, to be surrounded with menial associations, we should not be surprised that the Anglo-Saxon,
rather than stoop to it, chooses to live by his wits, or to die
like a fool in some ill-omened expedition of piratical filibusters.
We can remember, young as we are, when the farmer's
daughter deemed it no disgrace to her to " work out " as
i" help " for any respectable man, whose son, perchance, in
process of time, deemed it no disgrace to him to take her
as his wedded wife, if he could get her. But now he would
be a bold man who should venture within any farm-house
in New England, and attempt to secure, at any price, the
services, as cook or chamber-maid, of either one of the half



EDUCATED LABOR.                129
dozen young ladies working worsted at the front windows,
or reading the last orange-tinted novel on the tear-besprinkled sofa. In all probability Bridget would be called
from the kitchen, and the rash and unromantic intruder unceremoniously and ignominiously swept out like a muddy
boot-track, or mopped up like an unlucky slop. These
things ought not to be. Far be it from us to say aught in
disparagement of the highest personal accomplishments and
the amplest literary leisure. But these, so far from being
inconsistent with the industrial pursuits of life, are its most
appropriate embellishments.  The kitchen and the field
alike should be, in fact and in public estimation, laboratories
of science, in which the speculations of theorists are daily
tested and authoritatively pronounced either wise or worthless, as the result may prove them to be. Labor, to be respected, must be respectable; to be lucrative, it must be
intelligent.
Cotton cloth was first made in  Hindostan, centuries ago,
and its manufacture is still continued there in all its original
simplicity. But to-day one Yankee in Lowell or Manchester can spin with the mule as much cotton as three thousand Hindoos can spin with any machinery of their contrivance. In the sleepy sunshine of that Southern clime,
the red brawn of the people lacks the electrifying influence
of genius. The inert organism, called a body, is interpenetrated with barely thought enough to " save the expense
of salt." The truth is, in every department of human
labor, he succeeds best who brings to his work, not the
greatest physical strength, but the keenest intellect.
The agriculturist, dealing not merely with inanimate
matter, but with the vital forces of nature, needs, most of
all things and most of all men, intellectual culture in the
broadest and deepest significance of the term. We shall
have, however, space only to indicate, in a general way,
two departments of knowledge, to which every farmer




130                EDUCATED LABOR.
should give especial attention; -'first, he should know how
to make his fields in the highest degree productive; and,
secondly, how to render his home beautiful.  In other
words, he should be familiar with the conditions of vegetable growth, and with the principles of good taste in their
application to rural embellishments. Let us briefly consider
each of these desiderata.
All vegetables, whether grain or grass, trees or turnips,
corn or cotton, require, as absolutely indispensable to their
growth and maturity, at least six things; namely, heat, air,
moisture, food, light, and protection from destructive insects.
Of these, we shall see as we proceed, that the first and most
important four can be made available to a majority of the
farmers in this country only by subjecting their lands to a
system of thorough drainage.
No plant can germinate without a certain degree of heat.
Each plant, however, has its own peculiar range of temperature. Wheat will not germinate when the soil is below
45~ Fahrenheit, or above 95~.  Corn requires 10~ more
heat than wheat. Should it be planted, therefore, when the
soil does not indicate 55~ at least, its starchy portions, if the
weather continue wet and cold for a week or two, will be
decomposed and diffused, wholly or in part, through the
soil, so that when the warmth becomes sufficient to quicken
the germ into activity, the plumule, failing to find the proper nourishment at its root, does not appear at all, or comes
up a puny starveling, and, after living a few weeks "at a
poor dying rate," expires, like the wretched Cardinal, and
" makes no sign." This principle is universal in its application to the germinating processes of the vegetable kingdom.  The man, therefore, who puts his seed into the
ground without any reference to its temperature, is liable
both to lose his time and to " beg in harvest."
But heat is quite as important to the growth of the plant
as to its germination. It is a very remarkable mathematical




EDUCATED LABOR.                 131
law, recently ascertained in M. Quetelet's researches upon
the climate of Belgium, that the increase of growth is as the
square of the increase of the temperature of the soil. If a
corn-plant, when the earth in which it grows is 20~ above
the freezing point, adds to its weight three grains in one
day, it will in the same period add twelve grains, or four
times as much, when the thermometer is twice as high, or
at 400 above freezing. It is obviously, then, of some consequence, in our higher latitudes, to supply by our skill any
natural deficiency of heat in the soil. There are three
methods of doing this, - two partial, and one general. We
may, in accordance with a well-known political principle,
select for our premium crop a piece of land, which, like a
candidate for some high office in the nation, has a southern
exposure, and which will, therefore, receive a greater number of solar rays on a given area than a northern slope or
a horizontal level; we may blacken the surface of our soil
with charcoal-dust and meadow-muck, and thus increase indefinitely its power of absorbing heat; or we may gain at
least a fortnight every spring, and secure a warmer soil
through the season, (maturing our potatoes and corn before
the rot and frost strike them,) by thorough under-draining,
drawing off the superabundant waters, which, by their
evaporation, chill the ground, until its "sensible warm
motion becomes a kneaded clod," and the root-fibres in
their paralysis are unable to supply the plant with its currents of life. It has been found by accurate experiment,
that the vaporization of water requires one thousand times
as much heat as would be sufficient to raise its temperature
a single degree. We should not be surprised, therefore,
that the evaporation of one pound of water from one hundred pounds of saturated earth causes a loss of ten degrees
of heat; or, as Judge French enunciates the principle, that
" the evaporation of every gallon of water requires as much
heat as would raise five and a half gallons from the freezing




132               EDUCATED LABOR.
to the boiling point." We say nothing of the familiar fact,
that heat cannot be propagated downward in liquids. Every
one knows that a cord of the best hickory would not be sufficient to make one small tea-kettle boil, if the wood should
be burned above the kettle rather than below it. The surface of a "water-logged bog " may be burned and "shrivelled like a parched scroll," while the saturated sub-soil is
as cold as in mid-winter.\ The warm spring rains run off
from the surface of a soil saturated with snow-water, but
penetrate a well-drained soil, imparting to it a portion of
their own warmth, and enriching it with various elements
of fertility.  This point, in connection with the laws of
heat-propagation in fluids, is thoroughly discussed and happily illustrated by our author in his fifteenth chapter, to
which we commend our philosophic readers.
But stagnant surface water, in addition to its chilling
effects, hardens and packs the soil so closely as to render it
impervious to the air, thus preventing the second condition
of vegetable growth. If the air be exhausted from a bellglass, in which any common house-plant has been placed,
the plant will die in a few minutes beyond the reach of
recovery. If the air be shut out from the roots of the
thriftiest fruit-tree in our garden by overspreading the
ground for some ten feet from its trunk with a puddling of
impermeable clay, the tree will sicken and eventually die
for want of breath. On the same principle, cattle, standing
in considerable numbers during the hot season under some
favorite shade-tree in the pasture, not unfrequently cause
its death. Its roots are suffocated under the hard earthen
crust which covers them.
The fertility of a field is wonderfully increased by the
oxidation or decay of the organic matter existing in the soil.
But oxygen is indispensable to oxidation, and the process,
therefore, can be carried on only by the presence and frequent renewal of the air. Our success in preserving fruits




EDUCATED LABOR.                 133
in glass jars or tin cans, is measured by our success in exclhding the oxygen of the air. Without such exclusion,
our tomatoes and berries undergo the very process to which
we should like to subject them in the ground, but which
does not heighten their excellence for the table, - they oxidate, or, in familiar language, they, rot.  We see, in the
light of these and kindred facts, the philosophy of thorough
tillage. Draining, by relieving the soil of its excessive
moisture, secures its proper aeration, and thus, while facilitating important putrefactive processes, which are checked
by the presence of cold water, it furnishes also to the plantroots the carbonic acid and ammonia always indispensable
in " intensive culture."'' The destruction of weeds among
our corn and potatoes is not the highest use of the hoe and
cultivator, - their chief function is to render the soil porous
and permeable to the air.
The third condition of vegetable growth is a sufficiency
of moisture.  In many countries this can be effected only
by artificial irrigation.  In Scripture phrase, "the rivers of
water are turned " into the fields, or the same thing is accomplished by means of " pots," suspended from a sort of
yoke across the shoulders of slaves. This last Inethod is
referred to by the writer of the eighty-first Psalm, and a
picture of it was made the significant emblem of Aquarius,
the eleventh sign of the zodiac. The definition of Oriental
agriculture is'" valuable machinery for raising water." This
definition will answer for New England to-day as well as
for Egypt three thousand years ago. But with us the only
machinery necessary is, first, an Irish spade, with an Irishman thrown in as a " dative of accompaniment," and,
secondly, a Michigan plough, with a good team of horses or
oxen at one end, and a skilful ploughman at the other. Let
there be a deep and thorough pulverization of the soil and
sub-soil, and, except in extraordinary cases, capillary attraction will raise an adequate amount of moisture. Be12




134                EDUCATED LABOR.
sides this, when the rain fails to come in its season, the
warm air, saturated with vapor, will permeate the well-tilled,
porous soil, and, coming in contact with the cooler plantroots, will depositwith them its dewy treasures, just as it
does with the cabbage-leaf in the garden, or with the outer
surface of a pitcher of iced water on a hot day, or with
a frosty axe when held near the fire. The principle is perfectly simple. The capacity of air for moisture is diminished
by cooling it; and whenever, therefore, in a state of saturation, it meets a colder body, whether above ground or
below, the water is squeezed out of it just as we squeeze
with the hand a juicy lemon or a wet sponge.  The amount
of dew deposited in the soil or on it has been estimated by
Dr. Dalton to be equal, in England, to five inches' depth of
water in a year. In this country, where the nights are
clearer, there must be more, - as much at least as would
be equivalent to " one quarter of our rain-fall during the
six summer months."
Under-drains are not merely useful in carrying off the
floods in a rainy season; they also greatly mitigate the severity of our scorching droughts.  They do this in three
ways.  First, a deep-drained, thoroughly pulverized soil is
in just the right condition, as we have seen, to absorb moisture from the air; secondly, it has a greater power both of
drawing up water from the lower strata, through its countless capillary tubules, and of holding it when thus drawn
up; and, thirdly, it invites the plants to extend their researches to unexplored depths. Wheat, which, like Mr.
Denton's, has roots nine feet long; parsnips, which, like
Sheriff Mechi's, run down " thirteen feet and six inches ";
and lucern, which, like Mr. Cobbett's, "sends its roots
thirty feet into a dry bottom," - certainly need have no
apprehensions, though a " hot and copper sky" distil no
rain upon the earth for a few months.
The fourth and most important condition of vegetable




EDUCATED LABOR.                 135
growth is an abundant supply of suitable food. It is a fundamental proposition in agriculture, that all plants live by
eating, - grow by what they feed on. From the delicate
moss, which clings to the hard rock, up to the " high-haired
oak," of which Homer sings, every green thing, if it does
not, like some human vegetables, live to eat, must eat to
live.
The whole outward fabric of nature, whether vegetable,
animal, or mineral, is built up of some sixty elements, of
which not more than one fourth enter into the composition of our ordinary edible plants.  From these dozen or
fifteen articles of diet, each particular plant, whether rose
or ruta-baga, chooses those adapted to its constitution as
carefully as an epicure at a table d'h6te makes his selection
from a bill of fare. Unlike the epicure, however, the plant
seeks no variety, but is satisfied with its one course of soup,
morning, noon, and night, from infancy to old age, only
varying the relative proportion of the ingredients in different periods of its growth. Its food, aside from certain
invisible gases absorbed by its leaves, is always liquid, and
is sucked up by its rootlets or spongioles, not exactly as a
"fast" youth sucks mint-juleps through a straw, but by a
law of osmotic diffusion, classically defined endosmose and
exosmose.
What we call manure is known in the Ionic dialect of
science as food for growing crops. There are two general
divisions of manure, organic and inorganic; — the former
consisting of decayed matter, or humus, which had once
been organized into some form of vegetable or animal life;
and the latter being the dust or detritus worn off from
rocks, partly by friction, but chiefly by frost, heat, and the
play of chemical affinities.   Of these elements the most
important are four gases, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and
chlorine; five metals, potassium, sodium, calcium, magnesium, and aluminum; and four metalloids, carbon, silicon,




136                EDUCATED LABOR.
phosphorus, and sulphur. These are seldom found simple,
but in various combinations among themselves, and with
other substances, such as iron and manganese. Water is a
union of oxygen and hydrogen; air, of oxygen and nitrogen; ammonia, of hydrogen and nitrogen; carbonic acid,
(of oxygen and carbon; sulphate of lime (gypsum), of oxygen, sulphur, and calcium; carbonate of potassa (potash),
of oxygen, carbon, and potassium; and so of all the rest.
These unions of acids and bases constitute the various
neutral salts, which Nature, like an enthusiastic chemist, is
constantly forming, decomposing, and re-forming, for her
own amusement, in her two laboratories, the soil and the
plant. The combinations of greatest interest to the agriculturist are potassa, lime, soda, magnesia, alumina, silica,
-carbonic, sulphuric, phosphoric, and hydrochloric acids,
and the oxides of iron. Of these, potash is supplied in
great abundance by recent ashes and by the disintegration
of granite, about fifteen per cent of whose felspar, when
orthose, is potash. Soda, magnesia, and chlorine abound in
common salt, and exist also, together with lime, the silicates,
and sesquioxide of iron, in ashes, leached or unleashed.
Alumina is the basis of all the clays, and though no trace
of it has yet been detected in any plant, its mechanical
value, as a retainer of moisture and of useful gases in the
soil, can hardly be over-estimated. Silica is extracted from
rock-crystal and the quartz of our granite, by the action of
the weather and the more effective action of the plough
and harrow. Sulphuric acid is furnished in gypsum and in
all the sulphates. Phosphoric acid constitutes nearly one
fourth of the bones of Mammalia and of birds, and is found
largely in, guano. Carbonic acid, as well as ammonia, is
the universal product of the putrefactive processes of vegetables and animals.  It is the result, too, of combustion
both of burning wood and of burning food. Whether discharged from the chimney-top or from breathing lungs, it




EDUCATED LABOR.                 137
is brought back from the atmosphere down to the earth
in every fall of rain and snow. To intelligent farmers, the
application of facts like the foregoing is obvious. If the
ashes of potatoes consist chiefly, as in fact they do, of potash, sulphuric acid, phosphoric acid, lime, magnesia, silex,
and iron, it is perfectly plain that these ingredients must be
in the soil, or there will be no potatoes. A brick house cannot be made without bricks. It was an axiom with the
old philosophers, as enunciated by Lucretius, "De nihilo
niil,"- that is, we cannot create something out of nothing,
whether that something be a potato or a planet.
There is one noteworthy peculiarity in plants, as distinguished from animals. They require absolutely and unconditionally certain kinds of food, which cannot be replaced
by any substitute. The amount of any one specific kind
may be extremely small, - discernible in its infinitesimal
minuteness only to the eye of the chemist; but unless that
is supplied, the functions of life and growth will not be
carried on. The kernel of wheat cannot be developed
without phosphoric acid and ammonia; the stalk, in common with that of all kinds of grains, must have silex, or the
rapidly ascending sap will burst the feeble tissues, and the
promising harvest, in popular phrase, will be " struck with
the rust." An eminent lawyer of Maryland, by a liberal
application of phosphate of lime to his worn-out lands,
under the advice of a book farmer, increased his yield
of wheat from one peck to twenty-nine bushels per acre.
Clover, peas, and beans, as well as tobacco, that
"Indian weed,
Which from the Devil did proceed,"
are all fond of lime, and should, therefore, be fed with
gypsum. Raspberries and blackberries have a hungry appetency for potash, and so they cling to crumbling stone
walls, and spring up, as by enchantment, on burnt ground.
12*




138                EDUCATED LABOR.
But we need not pursue this topic further. If our young
farmers would spend their rainy days and winter evenings
in the careful reading and study of books on chemistry,
instead of hunting in the mud for the patten-tracks of their
great-grandfathers, the knowledge easily acquired, in spite
of the hard names, would shed upon their daily work a
light more cheerful than that of the sun. They might not
become Liebigs or Boussingaults, but they could learn
enough to protect themselves from the imposition of scientific mountebanks, and to conduct properly to their legitimate issue experiments on their,. farms, whose results might
be of incalculable advantage to the agricultural community.
Bacon lost his life in stuffing a hen with snow, in order to
ascertain the effect of cold in the preservation of meat;
but upon the foundation of his experimental philosophy
two institutions were established, which still continue perennial fountains of knowledge,  the Royal Society of
London, and the Academy of Sciences of Paris.
The relation of "' Farm Drainage " to this topic of plantfood is patent enough when we consider that, in much the
larger portion of our arable territory, draining is an indispensable prerequisite to an increased depth of soil; and the
deeper the soil, the richer and more extensive the feedingground for the plant-roots. A horse fastened to a post in
a clover-field, by a rope a hundred feet long, would be
more likely to "' wax fat and kick," than if tied to the same
post by a rope of half that length. Just so, a hill of corn,
whose roots can expatiate in a soil four feet deep, ranging
at will among " fat things full of marrow," will, in the autumn, bristle on all sides with full-grown ears; while one
whose roots are compelled, by " hard pan" or stagnant
water, to spread like spiders' legs over the exhausted surface of the ground, will wear a "lean and hungry look"
through the summer, and finally will yield to the granary
a puny handful of cobs.




EDUCATED LABOR.                 139
Another condition of vegetable growth is light.  All
plants are, in the strict Greek sense of the word, heliotroyes; they turn to the sun.  The potato-vine in the cellar crawls like a serpent towards a crevice in the wall,
through which the light streams in once a day, and the
blossoming tree inclines its thousand tinted corols to catch
the first ray from the sun in his rising.  One of the most
important functions in the vegetable economy —the absorption of carbonic acid from the atmosphere, and the
exhalation of its oxygen, by means of the leaves -is performed only in the daylight. Dumas, the French chemist,
says, that plants absorb carbonic acid with so much avidity,
that the air blown with a bellows over a branch of fresh foliage placed in a glass globe loses, in its rapid passage over
the leaves, every particle of its carbonic acid, provided the
sun shine on the process.  In darkness this action does not
take place. Flowering plants in our houses are, of course,
healthful in the day-time, but do no good in the night. If
a jar be filled, half with chlorine and half with oxygen,
there is no union so long as they are kept in a dark place;
but when exposed to the direct rays of the sun, they instantaneously unite, with a violent detonation, and a probable shivering of the glass to atoms. It is the solar ray
alone which decomposes the watery sap in the upper surface of the leaf. Without its chemical power, there would
be no carbon to form, by various affinities, the starch,
sugar, gum, and woody fibre necessary to the development
of the plant. The intelligent farmer, therefore, whether
cultivating corn-fields or apple-orchards, will do well to
remember that he always "stands in his own light," when,
from any carelessness of arrangement or any unwise economy of space, he fails to secure to his growing crops an
abundance of the blessed sunshine. Never inappropriate
for him is Milton's august invocation:" Hail, holy Light! offspring of Heaven first-born,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate!"




140                 EDUCATED LABOR.
The sixth and last condition of success in vegetable cultivation, to which, though, like the preceding condition, it
has no relation to drainage, allusion should be made in this
discussion, is the protection of our growing crops from destructive insects. Every farmer should know, that in the
insect world he has his friends as well as his foes; he
should know, too, how to discriminate between them.
Without stopping to speak of the familiar fact, that insects,
besides their chrysalid or intermediate state, have two forms
of active existence, the larva and the winged form, we will
specify briefly two or three classes whose services deserve
our kindly regard.
The Carabidae are ugly-looking, dark-colored, fast-running bugs, of different sizes, having wings concealed under
stiff, horny cases, and living under loose stones or pieces
of board. They are hatched from eggs deposited in the
ground, and both in the larva and in the perfect state they
are fierce destroyers of cut-worms and of the slate-colored
grubs, which sometimes lay waste our gardens.
The Cicindaladae, or tiger-beetles, which we see, in sunny
summer days, running and flying before us in the trodden
paths, embellished with handsome spotted and striped wingcases, are as carnivorous as the Fejee-Islanders. Not an
insect, which once comes within the reach of their mandibles, ever has another opportunity to eat leaf of tree or stalk
of corn.
The mason-wasps are pitiless insect murderers. They
lay their eggs at the bottom of little clay cells, which they
plaster to our attic ceilings, or fashion in the ground, and
then fill them with immense quantities of spiders, caterpillars, or canker-worms, that their young, when hatched,
may eat their way up through successive layers of fresh
meat until their wings are ready for the upper air. Levi
W. Leonard, D. D., who contributed to the late Dr. Harris,
his classmate, not a few of the most important facts in his




EDUCATED LABOR.                141
published works, and who is undoubtedly at this time the
best entomologist in his State, recently told us, that he once
found, in the six or eight cells belonging to one of these
wasps, seventy-nine spiders, not really killed, but so stung
and benumbed as to lie still and wait to be eaten, with the
glorious indifference of stoics or martyrs.
The Aphides, or plant-lice, which exhaust the juices
from the tender growth of apple-trees and the young leaves
of peach-trees, are swallowed by the larvae of the beautiful
lady-bug in as great numbers, and with as much relish, as
succulent oysters are gulped down by hungry aldermenwhen the city pays the bill.
The dragon-flies, or darning-needles, are a predaceous
race; and, besides other small insects, they consume such
clouds of those summer-evening pests, the mosquitos, as to
have won for themselves the significant title of mosquitohawks.
Certain flies, bearing some resemblance to the common
wasp, and called ichneumon-flies, from their practice of destroying insects in the egg, just as their namesake, on the
banks of the Nile, destroys the eggs of the crocodile, are
most terrible enemies to the maggot of the weevil and the
wheat-fly, and especially to the apple-tree caterpillar, in
whose back  they lay their eggs.  "When  these are
hatched," says Dr. Leonard, who has carefully watched
their operations, "the young ichneumons feed upon the fat
of their living victims till fully grown, touching in the mean
time no vital part, but finally causing their unlamented
death."
But without proceeding further in this specification, and
without enlarging upon the manifold virtues of the slandered mole and toad, it is pertinent to say, that by far the
most efficient allies to the farmer, in his war against destructive insects, are the birds — the beautiful singing-birds.
It has been proved by actual count, that two sparrows, dur



142               EDUCATED LABOR.
ing a single hour, have carried to their nest forty caterpillars. The number of apple-moths, and millers prolific in
hurtful larvae, consumed in a season, by a swallow on the
wing, is beyond the reach of computation. The grubs of
various kinds slaughtered by a common robin, in the months
of May and June, while tending her young, would far outnumber all the Philistines slain by David in his whole life.
Even the much-abused crow, about which the wise Solons
of our State Legislatures waste their harmless ammunition
every year, digests at least five hundred grubs to one kernel of corn. The lordly raven does not condescend to a
vegetable diet when there is any fresh meat to be had. In
a word, there is not one of the singing-birds of our fields,
woods, and gardens, whether thrush or jay, cat-bird or
black-bird, king-bird or blue-bird, wren or pewit, martin
or bobolink,- not one in the whole range, from the humble ground-sparrow up to that " feathered lyric," the aspiring skylark, which does not deserve the profoundest gratitude and most painstaking protection of the husbandman.
And yet, though rendering us valiant and voluntary service
in our insect warfare, though gladdening our eyes in this
dusty, sin-blighted world with forms and hues of beauty,
though making our trees as divinely vocal as the oaks of
Dodona, and flooding the air with their joyous music, like a
vernal shower, they are stupidly, meanly, wickedly shot and
robbed of their young by idle boys and empty-headed men.
We said, in the early part of this article, that the farmer
should be a proficient in two grand departments of agricultural knowledge; that he should know how to impart to
his fields a maximum fertility, and, how to clothe his home
with beauty. We have occupied so much space in the discussion of the first topic, that we have little left for the second, and, in this country, even more important one. We
join, therefore, in Carlyle's prayer: "' O for the power of
condensation! "




EDUCATED LABOR.                  143
How shall we render our homes more pleasant and attractive? Some one has said that the three most beautiful
words in the English language are Mother, Home, and
Heaven. They naturally go together, either of them implying the other two. The great error in Plato's Republic
is his subversion of the family.  No mere "community,"
whether foreshadowed by a Grecian philosopher or organized by a French Socialist, can develop in men the deepest
sympathies and highest energies of their nature.  Sunder
the ties which unite them in family groups, and the incentive to labor is gone. The distinguished traveller, De Laborde, attributes the utter hopelessness of all attempts to
elevate the character of the Bedouin Arabs, and to bring
back to the land of Mohammed the social cultivation and
national glory of its earlier history, to their indifference to
their household gods. The sweet charities and beautiful
amenities which spring up and flourish in the magic circle
of home, cannot take root by the wayside of a nomadic
life. They require " a local habitation." Family and property are correlative terms; the love of the one creates a
desire for the other. The incentives which impel men to
the drudgery of the shop or field lie in the fact that they
"have given hostages to fortune "; that they can in reality, or in prospect, enjoy the fruits of their industry around
some warm domestic hearth-stone.  The poet appreciated,
if he never experienced, the reward of daily toil, as well as
the motive to it, when he says:
"'T is sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home;'T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come."
There are many homesteads which are not homes. Philosophically speaking, a true home has an attractive outward
seeming and a luminous inward life. To secure the former, there must be some architectural fitness about the




144               EDUCATED LABOR.
buildings, and an exhibition of good taste in the grounds.
To secure the latter, there must be/ books, social and intellectual culture, and the hallowing influence of every Christian virtue. Human beings may exist in a habitation whose
uncouth ugliness, concealed by no overshadowing tree or
climbing vine, is a pain to the eye. They may accustom
themselves to its shapeless deformity; to the rude inconveniences, which fruitlessly exhaust their time and strength;
to the " ear-piercing fife" of half-starved squealing brutes,
looking wistfully from hollow eyes, like animated "anatomies of melancholy," or wallowing in impassable mud before the kitchen door; to the stercoraceous stenches, which,
exhaled from contiguous manure-heaps, do not " waste their
sweetness on the desert air," but pour through the broken
windows, checked by no intervention of " shocking bad
hats," and neutralized by no fragrant breath of flowers.
Such a place is not a home, but rather a lair for wild
beasts; and the children who come forth from it will carry
its taint and its barbarism to the grave.
A fine-looking house, on the other hand, like a fine-looking woman, cannot but exert a cheerful and elevating influence upon the community. There is a renovating power
in every object of beauty and of worth on which the eye
of man can rest. Steele was not extravagant when he
said of a certain lady, whom the poet Congreve had admired and celebrated, that "to have loved her was a liberal
education." We always grow into the likeness and catch
the spirit of our surroundings. Our characters, like chameleons, take their hue from the objects with which they
come in contact. But while we are thus material beings,
in a material world which is sure to affect us for good or
evil, we must not forget that the subtile spiritual nature
with which we are endowed was not meant to be simply a
passive recipient of accidental influences. It is a positive
entity, and aspires to feed on, ambrosia and drink nectar




EDUCATED LABOR.                 145
with the gods. It is not all of life to live. There are
other and higher functions of the human organism than the
digestion of beef and bread. The gastric juice is not the
universal solvent, vainly sought amid smoke and toil in the
laboratories of the old alchemists.  We have hearts as
well as a digestive apparatus; heads as well as hands.
If the stomach of the last Lord Orford did survive the rest
of his person, it was a phenomenon not likely to be repeated. For ourselves and our children, the primal duty is intellectual and moral culture. Our sons should be thoroughly trained to some business or profession, so that they may
be intelligent and useful members of the community, and
not, in the grand epic of life, mere parentheses, which, in
the language of the spelling-books, might be omitted without injuring the sense or construction of society.  Our
daughters should be taught that a genuine woman cannot
be made wholly of cotton and crinoline; that the small
head, which surmounts her vast circumference, should be
radiant with thought, - the dome of a pure and broadvisioned soul; that her heart, striving, perhaps vainly, to
beat beneath her encircling zone, was intended for something more than to flutter with hope under the smiling
glance of a city exquisite, or to tremble with fear at sight
of a spider or a cow; that it is her divine right, not only
" to sing, to dance,
To dress and troll the tongue and roll the eye,"
but to develop every faculty of the mental and moral nature, to such an extent and completeness that she may
always be a sunshine in the shady places of life, the light
and joy of home; that it is her sphere " to study household good," to keep the vestal fires undimmed, to elevate
the tone of social intercourse, and purify the currents of
life at their fountain; that it is her mission, not to be fondled like a passive, painted doll, but to think and act like a
13




146               EDUCATED LABOR.
living intelligence, conscious of its power and its responsibility.
When each member of the family is thus educated, our
homes will glow with a new lustre, because we shall see in
them, not merely the embellishments of a cultivated taste,
but also the reflection of a beauty first radiated from our
own spirits. "W Ve need not then visit the Colno Lake or
the Madeira Islands." The alluring cry of the gold-hunter
and the rifle-crack of the adventurous pioneer will have no
power in that "good time coming"; but, laboring with
quickened energies and a higher intelligence, we shall illustrate, on the wasted acres where our fathers toiled, the
prophecy of the inspired seer, " There shall be a handful
of corn in the tops of the mountains, and the fruit thereof
shall shake like Lebanon," and, at the same time, we shall
make the spot, which our " young barbarians all at play"
call their home, attractive for its artistic beauty, and, in its
moral influence, the nursery of every manly excellence and
womanly virtue.




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.*
THE Bollandists, a society of Jesuits at Antwerp, in
I   their " Acta Sanctorum," have related, among other
veracious legends, the story of seven Ephesian youths,
whom, in the bloody persecution of the Christians, the
Emperor Decius barbarously shut up in a cave, into which
they had fled for refuge.  The persecuted youths, we are
told, immediately fell into a profound sleep, from which they
did not awake until the reign of Theodosius the Younger,
one hundred and eighty-seven years after.  Under the
impression that they had been aroused from all ordinary
night's slumber, they were, like Geoffrey Crayon's famous
Dutchman, not a little puzzled and surprised at the strange
appearance of things in their native city.  The events
which had taken place in the Roman Empire, during the
two centuries in which they had slept, though not startling
in themselves, as they occurred one by one, had nevertheless gradually changed the whole face of society. The seat
of government had been removed from Rome to Byzantium; the ensigns of imperial splendor and power had
been transferred from the banks of the Tiber to the shores
of the Thracian Bosphorus; the throne of the persecuting
pagan was filled by a Christian prince; the altars of Diana
* An Address delivered before the Rockingham Teachers' Institute, Exeter, N. H., the Massachusetts Teachers' State Association, New Bedford,
Mass., the American Institute, Bath, Me., and in other places. 1852 - 55.




148       PROGRESS IN P.OPULAR EDUCATION.
and the shouts of a heathen multitude had been exchanged
for the chantings of devout worshippers in lofty cathedrals;
the Roman Empire, dissevered and belligerent, had lost its
power, and the golden eagles, which had looked down upon
a thousand victorious battle-fields, were trailing their wings
in the dust; the genius which had embellished the court
of Augustus was shining with a dim and uncertain light
amid gathering darkness; Scythian hordes, pouring from
the frozen North, had crushed the invincible legions of the
Caesars, and, now in the undisturbed possession of the
fairest provinces of Europe, were gazing with a strange
wonder upon the pictures and statues which embalmed the
beauty of divine women and the valor of brave men, or
were prying with excited curiosity into the parchment rolls
which contained the breathing words and burning thoughts
of Cicero and Horace and Livy. Here were, undoubtedly, changes striking enough when taken in the aggregate;
and that these changes, however adverse to human improvement some of them might at first glance appear, were
yet really reformatory in their character, is sufficiently
obvious to the thoughtful student in history. Into the
bloated and heated life of Rome was infused the colder and
purer blood of the hardy tribes of the North. On the one
hand, luxurious, effeminate beauty was wedded to brawning strength; on the other, the feeble sons of the old Romans were allied to the energetic daughters of their rude
conquerors. In this intermarriage, there was a reciprocal
advantage, and a new race sprung into being, combining
to some extent the culture of Italy and Greece with the
strength of the Huns and Visigoths.
Numerous periods in the history of the world might be
selected, of much briefer duration than two centuries, in
which the progress of society has been far more rapid than
that which astonished the Seven Sleepers. We are not to
forget, however, that no one age can be taken as a type




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.         149
of all the ages.  There are lulls in the ocean of human
thought and being, and then again the face of the great
deep is lashed into fury by the storms of excited passion.
There are times when the current of human events seems
to eddy in narrow circles, and times when it rolls on in an
ever-widening, ever-deepening, faster-flowing stream.  In
discussing the question of human progress, therefore, in
any of its relations, we must not limit our view to any one
people or to any one epoch. In determining the direction
and rapidity of the Gulf Stream, the navigator does not
confine his observations to a single point, but makes them
in all latitudes, in storm as well as sunshine.
It is not to be denied, that some things were done, in the
centuries gone by, which surpass the highest power of modern art, when employing similar instruments in a similar
direction. No combination of the five mechanical powers
known to us could raise the massive stones of the pyramids; no skill of modern labor could, with copper tools,
polish the faces of these stones so that the keenest eye can
scarcely detect their joints; no ingenuity of modern artist
can fix in stucco or on stone colors which shall last for
ages, or stain glass so that the dye shall strike with uniform
and permanent clearness through the entire mass, formed
as a species of mosaic and fused so as to defy detection.
A beautiful lecture has been written by one of the most
eloquent speakers of the present day, on " The Lost Arts."
But there is not, in my apprehension, much reason to suppose that a single invention in the arts, of any importance
to man, has ever been lost.  There is but little evidence
that any scientific truth, which was fitted to benefit the
race, has ever been obliterated from the human mind and
forgotten.  Of what profit to the world, in any point of
view, were it now to spend centuries and exhaust the labor
of a nation in piling up vast and unsightly pyramids, or
obelisks, or sphinxes? A modern steam-engine, managed
13*




150        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
by a skilful engineer, carries with it an efficiency which
would have astonished the one hundred thousand workmen of Cheops.  What advantage to the living or the
dead to people our mountain caverns, like the catacombs
of the Upper Nile, with medicated mummies? One ounce
of chloric ether, disarming the surgeon's knife of its terror,
is worth more to the race than all the saline compounds
which, in successive generations, pickled for immortality
the whole line of disembowelled Ptolemies and Cleopatras.
What use in knowing the composition of the famous Greek
Fire, when we do know the composition of gunpowder,a far more efficient and terrific agent for good or evil?
The arts which were lost, were lost because they were not
worth preserving, and they have never been found because
they were not worth finding. Much as we may regret the
wanton acts of barbaric ignorance and superstitious fanaticismn, it is by no means certain that much which was really
valuable or practically useful in literature, any more than
in science, has perished from the world.  It is true, that
Omar, the Saracen Caliph, consigned to the flames the
Alexandrian library. It is true, that the baths of the city
were heated for the space of six months with the burning
manuscripts and rolls, which it had taken centuries to accumulate. It is true, too, that the monks of the Middle
Ages, having discovered a way of erasing the ancient writings from parchment, may have substituted the legend of a
saint for a book of Livy. But so far as the researches of
modern labor afford any means of judging of the character
of those old tomes, they were not deserving of the lamentations which have been made by scholars and antiquaries
over their destruction. According to Lyell,* of four hundred
volumes of papyrus recovered from Herculaneum, all are
" unimportant works, chiefly relating to music, rhetoric, and
cookery." This last topic seems to have been prominent in
* Lyell's Geology, new edition, p. 393.




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.        151
the discussions of the learned men of that day.  Carving
was an art regularly taught in institutions of the Greeks
and Romans, established especially for that. purpose. The
carvers were applauded for their skill, and, at large entertainments, they cut the meat to the sound of music; keeping time with their knives, as dancers with their feet. Two
young Athenians were deemed worthy of the honor of
knighthood on account of the excellent salt-fish sold by
their father.  A household receipt, published as late as
1660, shows that the subject of good eating still commended itself to the business and bosoms of men. "Take,"
says the receipt, "a goose, or duck, or some such lively
creature; pull off all her feathers, only sparing her head
and neck; make a fire round about her so that the smoke
may not choke her too soon; when she roasteth and consumeth inwardly, moisten her head with a wet sponge, and
when you see her giddy with running and begin to stumble, she is roasted enough. Then take her up and set her
before guests; and she will cry as you cut any part off
from her, and will be almost eaten up before she be dead,a sight mighty pleasant to behold." If the books of the
Alexandrian library were fraught with information as
vitally important as this specimen, we may, without a
smile of contempt, assent to the logic of the bigoted old
Arab who burnt them:' "If these books accord with the
Koran, they are unnecessary; if not, they ought to be
burned."
But the grand difference between the past and the present is not between the writings or the great men of the two
periods; but it is between the masses of the people. It
may, perhaps, admit of some doubt, whether Egyptian
priests and Grecian philosophers have been excelled in their
several departments, so far as abstract knowledge is concerned, by any men of modern times. But while Plato
and Aristotle shed a light and a glory upon the high places




152        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
of antiquity, still there is more practical wisdom in a single
New England school-house than there ever was in the
whole valley of the Nile, or peninsula of the Peloponnesus.
It is in the universality of our systems of education, as well
as in the subjects and objects of study, that we are most
unlike the nations which have flourished and fallen. It is
in this direction that we shall find the most satisfactory evidences of human progress. With our common schools and
churches, the ancient republics might have continued to
this day; without them, they lacked the only elements of
stability, and therefore perished. In arbitrary governments
the education of the people is deemed a matter of small
importance. Unreasoning obedience is their first duty and
highest virtue. The laws of the statute-book, as well as
the prescriptions of society, are on this point not unlike
the directions of the great English Admiral to his midshipmen. " There are three things," says Lord Nelson, " that
you are to bear constantly in mind. First, you must always obey orders implicitly, without attempting to form any
opinion of your own respecting their propriety. Secondly,
you must consider every man your enemy who speaks ill
of the king. Thirdly, you must hate a Frenchman as you
do the Devil."  But in this land of universal suffrage the
people are sovereign, and every beardless boy is a prince of
royal blood, and liable to reach the Presidential throne.
The government is but the organic expression of the popular virtue and intelligence. Whether it shall be beneficent
or oppressive, permanent or tottering to its fall, depends
entirely upon the character of the multitudinous individuals
who constitute it.
Such being the importance of mental and moral discipline to the masses in a country like our own,- the permanence of free institutions and the consequent elevation
of the race being so obviously and intimately connected
with the success of our common-school system, -it seems




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.            153
not inappropriate to an occasion like this to find if we can
our latitude and departure, and to determine, with what
accuracy we may, whether the cause of popular education
has, in spite of the adverse influences of avarice and parsimony and pride, borne up against the stream, or whether
its friends have rested on their oars, and left it, like Virgil's
boat,* to drift down with the current and the tide.
Believing, as I do, not only that progress has been made
in every department of learning, but that our free schools
have been the pioneers of improvement in all the relations
of life, the advanced guard in the march of civilization, it
will be my purpose, in the further continuance of this discussion, to try to encourage our hopes, and to strengthen
our faith in the certainty of the "' good time coming," by
suggesting two or three of the indications of progress in
popular education.
In the first place, then, progress is indicated by the higher appreciation of the utility of the mathematical, or exact
sciences.  It has —come to be understood that the mathematics have an' objective relation to society, as well as a subjective relation to the human mind. The distinguishing characteristic of the present age is the practical application of
mathematical science to the business and comfort of life. Men,
before the time of Bacon and Galileo, never attempted to
deduce general principles of action from the facts in science
which had been amassed.  Books were studied in the most
enlightened periods of the ancient world, not for the purpose of benefiting society in any of its common, every-day
interests, but merely for the sake of embellishing the dreamy
abstractions of the student. Euclid had no regard to the
practical utility of his investigations, but only made them
* "Non aliter quam qui adverso vix flumine lembum
Remigiis subigit; si brachia forte remisit,
Atque illum in prieceps prono rapit alveus amni."
Georgics, Lib. I. v. 201 - 203.




154        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
to discover the beauty of truth. Plato, when asked what
would be the employment of heaven, immediately answered, "The study of geormetry."  It was with this conception of the ethereal nature and mission of mathematical
study, that he inveighed with great indignation against
Archytas and Eudoxus for having debased geometry by
suggesting its application to mechanical pursuits, and thus,
as he maintained, " bringing it down from incorporeal and
intellectual to sensible things, and disgracing it by contact
with matter, which requires manual labor, and is the object
of servile trades." Seneca, in his ninetieth Epistle, vehemently declaims against Posidonius, a distinguished writer
contemporary with Cicero, because he had ventured to enumerate among the humbler blessings which mankind owed
to science, the, discovery of the arch and the introduction
of the use of metals. Science, he says, has nothing to do
with material substances or mechanical contrivances. It is
not her office to teach men how to use their hands.  The
purpose of her lessons is to form the soul.  It seems to
have been a leading object with the ancient philosophers,
of whatever sect, to elevate their contemplations above the
world of sense to the world of ideas; to conceal from the
vulgar herd all the results of their researches by wrapping
them in mystical figures; to teach men, not the means of
increasing their physical comfort, but the duty of bearing
physical pain with indifference or equanimity.  It is true,
therefore, as has been said, that "'the ancient philosophy
was a tread-mill, not a path. It was a contrivance for having much exertion and no progress. The mind, accordingly, instead of marching, marked time." Entertaining these
opinions as to the ultimate objects of science, it is easy tounderstand why so few scientific improvements are found
in the most polished nations'of antiquity. There is not
among all the huge, grotesque piles of Egypt, the mother of
learning and civilization, a single structure which required




PROGRESS IN'POPULAR;EDUCATION.       155
in its erection the solution of complicated problems in art,
or the exercise of high scientific powers. Strabo, in speaking of one of the grand hypostyle halls of Memphis, says:
Ove'8Ev eL Xplev ove  pao        aXa   ETLO
Etalvet, /taXXov. In Greece, during the whole period of its
national existence, the employment of water to turn a mill
was never attempted at all, nor, indeed, at Rome until near
the Christian era. Grinding was accomplished by animal
strength. Hence it is that the same word, o'0op, in the Greek
language, means both an ass and an upper millstone, so inseparably connected were the two. The boards and lumber
which were used in the construction of the Parthenon and
the Temple of Jupiter were all sawed with the human hand.
The coarse cloth which covered the Spartan soldier, and
the delicate fabric which lent a grace to Athenian beauty,
were alike the product of unaided female skill and industry.
The aqueducts of Rome and other ancient cities, while
they are wonderful exhibitions of unlimited wealth and
power, do not indicate a very profound knowledge of the
laws of hydrostatics. There is more science in one modern hydraulic ram, than in all the magnificent water-works
of antiquity. In the science of medicine, intimately connected as it is with human health and life, little was done
by the physicians of the Old World, except what is involved in a few irregular, unsystematic attempts to ward
off disease by the herbs of the sorceress or the incantations
of the priest.  There was no knowledge of the laws of
health, and no intelligent effort made to restore the sick.
Indeed Plato, in the third book of his Republic, expressly
declares that " a life protracted by medical skill is a lingering death; that the best thing which can happen to men
with bad constitutions is to die at once, - the sooner the
better." The dissection of the human system was a thing
never attempted prior to the fourteenth century.  The
bodies of the dead were considered sacred, and any efforts




156        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
to learn of their internal structure and mechanism, by means
of the scalpel of the anatomist, would have been deemed
sacrilegious.  But at the present day, the community, so
far from being satisfied with superficial examinations, expect the medical student to explore the most hidden mysteries of our physical being. The study of anatomy has now
become a passion, and the place of every muscle and nerve
and bloodvessel, as well as the functions which they severally perform in the animal economy, is distinctly understood. The enthusiastic naturalist, Buffon, could be reconciled to the loss of a wife, to whom he was devotedly attached, only by the pleasure which he anticipated in dissecting her.
Many of our most indispensable articles of household
furniture, as well as our most useful implements of husbandry, were entirely unknown to the ancients. Neither
knives nor forks were used at the tables of the Egyptians.
The refined and cultivated Greeks and Romans took their
food in their fingers. Hence the advice of the poet, Ovid:
"Your meat genteelly with your fingers raise;
And, as in eating there's a certain grace,
Beware, with greasy hands, lest you besmear your face."
There were four utensils, however, which were known
to the most remote nations of antiquity. The origin of the
plough, the yoke, the axe, and the distaff could never be discovered, and so they were supposed to have fallen bodily
from heaven.  But a comparison of one of these heavendescended ploughs, as described by Virgil, with one of
Ruggles, Nourse, & Mason's, as we have seen it, would not
greatly redound to the credit of celestial science or workmanship. A distinct impression of the progress of the human race could be obtained, perhaps, in no better way than
by contrasting the rude inconvenience of the agricultural
tools of past ages with the mathematical adaptedness and
scientific beauty of the implements with which the farmers




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.         157
of the present day cultivate the earth. We are now, in
every department of human labor, availing ourselves of the
results of human thought. Every principle in science becomes at once a rule of art. Every invention of genius is
deemed valuable only as it may be made serviceable in the
material affairs of life.  Cui bono? - for good to whom? -
is the one grand question of the practical Present, - a question which the dreamy Past would have scorned to answer.
Abstract speculation has given place to intelligent action;
the vagaries of the poet, to the demonstrations of the mathematician; brute force and servile toil, to labor-saving,
or rather labor-doing machinery.  The Commissioner of
Patents reveals some facts on this subject which are not
unworthy of notice. The free-school system, it should be
premised, is peculiar to the Free States. Common schools,
from the nature of the case, cannot exist amid the magnificent distances which intervene between the plantations of
the Slave States.  Now the fact which deserves our attention is this: of the 16,685 patents issued to the several
States of the Union from 1790 to January 1, 1850, 14,359,
or more than six sevenths of the whole, were issued to the
Free States, and only 2,326, or less than one seventh, to the
Slave States. New York received patents for 5,245 inventions, while Virginia, the self-gratulating mother of states
and of statesmen, received 568.  The number issued to
old Massachusetts alone is 2,171, or only 155 less than the
number issued to all the Slave States put together.
These very remarkable facts are not of course the result
of any natural superiority on the part of the citizens of one
section of the country over those of another, but they grow
primarily out of the quickening influence of our districtschool system, — out of the mathematical training to
which our children are subjected, not only in our colleges,
but in those little seminaries which are scattered along
every road-side, and which have been called the people's
14




158        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
universities.  Scientific truth is no longer allowed to "lie
bed-ridden in the dormitory of the soul," but is taken out
and aired. Philosophers think, as of old; but now ships
and factories and steam-engines are the garb which their
thoughts put on.  The student to-day devotes himself to
mathematical studies with a zeal unknown to the pupils
of Thales or Euclid, because he finds in these studies not
only "the beauty of truth," but also the germs of all
human improvement. The heavens above and the earth
beneath are, as he sees, replete with the results of mathematical science. There is nothing too high for its far-reaching glance, nothing too deep for its analysis, nothing too
minute for its scrutiny. Le Verrier observes certain irregularities in the motions of Uranus. He predicts the existence of a disturbing body, and sits down in his chamber to
verify his'prediction. With his curtains drawn, alone amid
figures and diagrams, he demonstrates the existence of an
unknown world, determines its magnitude, and assigns its
exact place in the heavens. The astronomer is told just
where to look for the new globule of light. Telescopes
from a hundred observatories are pointed to the spot, and
the new planet Neptune is revealed to the astonished gaze
of night-watchers all over the world.  James Watt turns
the acumen of a mathematical mind to the investigation of
the properties and applications of steam. The tea-kettle of
the indignant Mrs. Muirhead expands into the steam-engine; and now the fire-winged car, as Carlyle expresses it,
"is flying from far cities to far cities, weaving them together like a monstrous shuttle." It is in the facilities for rapid
locomotion that science has made its most wonderful achievements and accomplished its most beneficent results for society. A little more than three fourths of a century ago, a
stage-coach that pretended to go from Philadelphia to New
York in three days was advertised in the newspapers as
"a flying machine."




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.          159
Now the same distance is travelled in less than three
hours. The passage across the ocean to a foreign country
is less difficult and formidable to us to-day, than was the
annual visit of our fathers to their adventurous relatives
" down East." Out of this rapidity of intercommunication-this more intimate nearness of the nations- there
grows, it is easy to see, that intense commercial activity
which is enabling England and this country, in particular,
not only to enrich themselves with " the wealth of Ormus
and of Ind," but also to exert an immense moral and political influence upon the nations of the earth. Steamships
pass and repass each other on every sea, and visit every
port.  Anglo-Saxon energy and enterprise, and AngloSaxon customs and principles, are finding their way among
every people and  modifying  every government.  The
"Celestial Empire" is awaking to a consciousness of the
power and importance of the " outside barbarians."  The
most distant island of the ocean is introduced into the community and brotherhood of nations. American ingenuity
is building railroads for the Russian Czar; American curiosity is prying into the harems 6f the Turkish Sultan;
American indifference to danger is whittling on Mount
Vesuvius; American thrift is hawking wooden clocks in
the streets of Canton, and selling bass-wood hams to the
"' chosen people " in Judoea; American adventure is searching for relics of Sir John Franklin among polar'icebergs,
and for Lot's wife along the shores of the Dead Sea;
American piety is establishing religious institutions in the
Sandwich Islands, and teaching the Christian faith to Caffres
and Hottentots. It was true, when Cowper said it, that
"Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed
Make enemies of nations, which had else,
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one."
But its truth will soon become a voice from the Past, which




160        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
can find no echo in the Present. Friths are bridged, like
a Hellespont, with steamboats, and mountains melt away
before a mightier power than that which levelled Athos.
There comes, with this annihilation of distance, an approximation to a greater harmony of interests, and a consequent
assurance of a golden age of universal peace.
Let us not forget the silent, unobtrusive cause of the
superiority of the age in which we live over every period of
past history. Steam-engines, mule-jennies, miners' lamps,
magnetic telegraphs, chloric ether, reaping-machines, waterrams, -what are they all but the outward vestments of
mathematical science? Logic in theology, precision in law,
analysis in chemistry, profound reasoning on any subject,what are these but the fruits of mathematical training and
discipline? The history of mathematics, if it should ever
be written, will be found to be the history of intellectual
growth and development,- of social improvements and
international amity, — the history, in a word, of human
progress.
In the next place, a striking indication of progress in
popular education is seen in the increasing importance attached to female instruction.  A school for the higher
education of girls was never heard of, even in the most
cultivated of the ancient nations.  Of course the idea of
woman as a teacher was never entertained in their theories
of education. With the exception of the talented and illfated Hypatia, who sat like a queen among nobles at the
head of the Platonic school at Alexandria, in the fourth
century, and V Maria Agnesi, the gifted daughter of Italy,
who was appointed Professor of Mathematics in the famous
old University of Bologna, I think of no females, in the
history of the past, who have sustained the office of teacher
in the schools.
It was not until the age of chivalry that woman began to
assume her proper place and importance in the affairs of the




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.            161
world. With the spread of the principles and faith of the
Teutonic-Christian tribes of Germany, there sprung up all
over Europe a higher appreciation of the female character,
and a higher reverence for female worth and genius. So
far as she is concerned, the age of chivalry is not passed,
Burke's epigrammatic assertion to the contrary notwithstanding.  John Knox, in the zeal of Reform, may denounce "the Monstrous Regimen of Women."  Milton,
after one of his three wives had run away from him, may,
in the recollection of wounded pride, cry out:
" O why did God,
Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven
With spirits masculine, create at last
This novelty on earth, this fair defect
Of nature, and not fill this world at once
With men as angels, without feminine?"
But these voices, whether of contempt or complaint, are
unheeded in the willing homage which is now everywhere
in Christendom accorded to virtuous and intelligent womanhood. It is true, that we do occasionally, in these latter
days, amuse ourselves with learned discussions about the
relative intellectual superiority of the sexes. But a recollection of the simple principle in arithmetic, that a ratio
can subsist only between like quantities, would save us
from all this harmless folly. We might as well ask, Which
is superior, Swedish iron or the paintings of Michael Angelo? as to ask, Which is superior, the male or female
mind? The things compared are unlike, and the question,
therefore, in its very nature, admits of no answer. Still,
as Shelley expresses it,
"We, - are we not formed as notes of music are,
For one another, though dissimilar? "
One thing, at least, is undoubtedly true: women, whatever atrabilious defamers may say of their heads, have certainly softer hearts than men, —a greater wealth of affec14 




162        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
tion, a quicker insight into duty, a firmer faith where we
cannot walk by sight, a more ready tact in emergencies,
more enduring patience under trial, a livelier interest in
children, a higher-toned and purer morality.  These are
traits of character now valued everywhere above price, as
constituent elements in the composition of a teacher. And
so it has come to pass, that, while antediluvian fogies in the
political, and seven-by-nine luminaries in the moral world,
make themselves merry with coarse jests about woman's
sphere and woman's rights, there is one place which it
is agreed on all hands she may occupy, and be in her
sphere, - one office which she may hold in the republic,
and not intrench on the province of the masculine gender, or break the charmed spell of her own mysterious
power. That place is none other than the school-room;
that office, none other than the instruction of the young.
Nature never intended that men should reckon among
their prerogatives the care of children. They are unsuited
to the duties which it imposes. The boy despises the doll;
the girl has no fondness for guns and boats. Man loves the
variety and activity of the out-door world; woman is happy in the quiet and seclusion of home. Man is eager to
mingle in the strugglings and conflicts of mature minds;
woman is content to assist the unfledged younglings in their
first attempts to fly. It is obvious, therefore, that a man
in a primary school is out of his place; that this realm
belongs to woman alone. To train boys and girls to gentle dispositions, a respectful demeanor, and unquestioning
obedience; to inspire them with an enthusiastic love and
invariable practice of the truth, though the heavens fall;
to secure from them the greatest amount of study and discipline, without hazarding their health or hindering their
physical development; to control the ardent impulses of
young hearts, and direct them to all high and holy aspirations; to fashion anew the bad manners and soften the




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.         163
harsh and self-willed perverseness of neglected children;
to begin with patience every new day, with no perceptible
advance on the previous day; to look with hope into rayless pewter eyes where " there is no speculation "; to wait
and watch with an unfaltering faith for light to dawn in
faces where there is no day-star nor promise of morning;
to follow with prompt and kindly sympathies the idle and
the vicious in their wanderings, and win them back to industry and virtue by the power of love; — to do all these
things, and more, requires in the,teacher a variety and
union of qualities seldom if ever found in the male sex,
and to be sought, if sought at all, among females, "in
whose own hearts," as has been well said, "love, hope,
and patience have first kept school."
We would not be supposed, in anything which we have
said, to entertain the opinion that woman should be limited
to the primary departments of human instruction. We believe that-a large majority of the Grammar Schools in this
State would be better taught and better governed by educated and accomplished women than by men. They have
a power peculiar to their sex, interpreting the paradox that
weakness is strength, and enabling them to control those
stubborn and imbruted natures which laugh to scorn mere
physical force. There is something in the gentleness of
shrinking maidenhood more terrible to Young America than
the bludgeon of the sternest man, though he be bearded
like the pard. Byron had in mind the power to which we
refer, when, in painting a storm on the Alps, he exclaims:
"0 night,
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! "
There is a magic in female beauty' and refinement more
potent than Aaron's rod, or the rod of anybody else. Wild,
rough-hewn boys, who "neither fear God nor regard man,"




164        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
yet have a remarkable respect for woman. This simple fact
is beginning to be recognized and applied in our methods of
instruction. In the State of Massachusetts -whose common-school system is unquestionably the most perfect one
in the Union - the whole number of teachers for the year
1857, according to the Report of the able Secretary of the
Board of Education, was 7,153, of whom 5,385, or more
than three fourths of the whole, were females.  Other
States are following her example. Out of this acknowledged
adaptation of the female mind and heart to the business of
teaching have grown the means and appliances for the education of girls which characterize the present age. Woman,
to teach, it is understood, must first herself be taught.
Hence Female Seminaries, Teachers' Institutes, and Normal Schools have sprung into being. In all the agencies
of the present day, which are elevating the female character
and introducing into our school-rooms and nurseries a
greater amount of enlightened female instruction, we recognize the indispensable elements of progress in popular
education, and the efficient means of renovating, to some
extent, our fallen humanity.
In the next place, we may discover indications of progress
in popular education in the introduction of music into our
schools. On this topic we shall say but a word. It is urged
by some, that most persons are so constituted by nature as
to be utterly unable to learn to sing, and that therefore the
time spent upon this exercise in school is lost to a majority
of the pupils. Petrarch mentions an individual of his acquaintance who was less charmed by a concert of nightingales than by a serenade of frogs; and we have all known
persons who were apparently so insensible to the finest musical strains, that they felt no more pleasure in listening to
the best adapted tones of melody, than in hearing the jar of
a poker on a pair of tongs. But all such cases as these are
rare, - mere exceptions interspersed among men at remote




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.          165
intervals, like rests in a staff of music. A child, it is true,
may be totally unmoved by the "linked sweetness long
drawn out " of an Italian concerto, and yet turn a delighted ear to the grinding of a' barrel-organ. Now if there
were in him no elements of music, he would have no preference for one kind of sound to another. All alike would
be an indifferent or annoying vibration of the tympanum.
But the fact that he knows " Yankee Doodle " from "' Old
Hundred," and prefers one to the other, is indubitable evidence that he has in him materials to work upon. While,
therefore, it cannot be denied that some few persons are
destitute of a very discriminating love for "sweet sounds
and harmonies," it may nevertheless be safely affirmed that
much of every one's relish for the niceties of musical composition is the result of cultivation and practice, and the
great difference in respect to musical ear is a difference in
degree rather than kind. In relation to
" The man that hath no music in himself,"
it is as true now as in the days of Shakespeare, that
"The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus."
We have ourselves visited more than once a primary
school of nearly one hundred scholars, in which every child
could sing. If there was any cold and unimpassioned nature among them, yet, in the glow of excitement and sympathy, the frozen tunes thawed out of him, as they did out
of the coachman's horn, hung up by the fireplace, in the
story-book. They began young, and sung together every
day, -in these two facts lay the secret of their success.
The time and effort spent in accomplishing this result, so far
from making injurious drafts upon other branches, seemed
to facilitate the progress of the pupils in their regular and
prescribed studies.
Considered, then, either as an intellectual or moral dis



166         PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
cipline, either as an elevated science or as a means of
humanizing harsh and stubborn natures, we regard the
practice of singing in our common schools as one of the
happiest innovations of the present day. Music is indeed
in itself as dignified and practical a branch of study as geography or history.  But it is a recreation as well as a
science. It breaks up the dull monotony of tedious recitations, gives variety and entertainment to all the exercises,
soothes the petty animosities of children, quiets the excited
nerves of teachers, growing neuralgic and dangerous, and
makes the school-room pleasant to everybody. Its influence as a species of moral suasion in government is of the
highest importance. Lorenzo was right, when he said to
Jessica:
"'There's naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature."
Cleinias, when moved to anger, would strike his lute and
say, " I am in search'of serenity." We are firm believers
in Solomon, and think that, when lectures on obedience are
uniformly disregarded and despised, they may very properly
be enforced and illustrated by means of wood-cuts. At the
same time, we have no doubt that, as a general truth, a
fiddle is far better than a ferule in a school-room, and that
a song well sung may often save a strapping well laid on.
The last indication of progress in popular education to
which I shall refer, is seen in a higher regard to the moral
influence of beauty, - beauty of architecture and beauty of
natural scenery.  A  sketch of our school-houses as they
were is hardly necessary.  We may each, probably, recollect one specimen, at least, as it lay on the landscape, in
our childhood, like a blotch on the face of nature, - in its
outward seeming, an uncouth and hideous shape,
" If shape it might be called that shape had none,"
and in its inward arrangement gloomy, mutilated, incon



PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.         167
venient, spine-distorting, as full of cramps as Stephano in
" The Tempest," and all bedimmed and befogged with a
hot and fetid air, as "thick and slab" as the hell-broth
which boiled and bubbled in the witches' caldron.  Those
of us who, in our younger days, worshipped in one of
those Temples of Apollo and the Muses, can easily credit
the descriptions given by a Parliamentary Committee, some
years ago, of the schools in the mother country. In respect to one of them, the committee say: " In a garret up
three pairs of dark, broken stairs, was a common dayschool, with forty children, in a compass of ten feet by
nine.  On a perch forming a triangle with a corner of the
room sat a cock and two hens; under a stump-bed immediately beneath was a dog-kennel in the occupation
of three black terriers, whose barking, added to the noise of
the children and the cackling of the fowls at the approach
of strangers, was almost deafening. There was only one
small window, at which sat the master, obstructing three
fourths of the light." The labors of the first Secretary of
the Massachusetts Board of Education, in representing to
the public eye the unmitigated deformity and ugliness of
the pens in which our children were crowded like prisoners
in a Calcutta " Black-hole," prepared the way for the valuable and popular work of Henry Barnard,- a work which
is gradually renovating the public taste, and accomplishing
for our school architecture what the writings of the lamented Downing are accomplishing for our " Country Houses
and Cottage Residences." Some of the school edifices in
this State are now models of beauty, -finished in their exterior with some appreciation of the rules of art, and within
with some regard to the laws of health. But this, though
much, is not all. They are not, when built, left to stand
like the Pyramids on a leafless plain, under "a hot and
copper sky," but they are surrounded and sheltered with
trees. It is remembered that in their grounds, as well as




168        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
halls, the children of the community obtain their earliest
and strongest impressions, -impressions which the longest
and busiest life cannot efface. The youngest school-boy,
not less than the banished Duke in Shakespeare, can, if
he have the chance,
" Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
Nature has a thousand dialects, but none which the human heart cannot read and understand. I can pardon the
ancient Epirotes, who heard the voice of the gods in the
" speaking oaks " of Dodona. I do not wonder at the reverence which the old Celtic Druids had for trees. There
is something in their graceful form, their living beauty,
their overshadowing protection, their answering whisper to
every questioning wind, which seems to endow them, not
only with the physical attributes, but with the intelligence
of an exalted humanity. There have been worse heretics
in the world than the old Manichaeans. " Whoso plucks
the fruit or the leaves from trees is guilty of homicide," say
they, "for in each case he expels a soul from its body." *
Whether bending under the green luxuriance of summer,
or decked in the crimson glory of autumn, or defying in
their naked strength the wintry tempest, they are among
the most majestic objects of nature. The most beautiful
word employed in Holy Writ, as descriptive of heaven, is
the word Paradise, - a garden full of trees. There is no
spot on earth which may not be made more attractive
through the help of trees. They gather around themselves
a thousand associations, - associations connected with all
that is delightful in our recollections of childhood and innocence and parental love. Every sapling which we plant
on the naked street before our dwellings makes, with every
expanding leaf and spreading limb, home pleasanter, and
* Augustine, De Morib. Manichm., Lib. II. cap. 17.




PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.          169
our attachments to it stronger. The saddest" thing in the
sad lament of Eve, when she was driven by the angel from
Eden, was her apostrophe to the trees and flowers, which
she had reared "from the first opening bud," - trees and
flowers
" That never would in other climate grow."
If the child is always to feel that, under the influence of
a " manifest destiny," he must leave the home of his father,
we can at least so surround this home with beauty that he
shall go away more and more reluctantly, and his heart, in
whatever distant land it beats, shall, like the sea-shell far
from its native ocean, retain some faint whispers of its early
dwelling-place. Whether planted in our yards, or on the
streets, or in our public squares, or in our school grounds,
trees always and everywhere exert a controlling moral influence. That natural scenery possesses a power over human hearts and human life every attentive observer of men
and things must have seen. The quiet and phlegmatic
Dutchman is a natural product of the level, monotonous
Netherlands. The Switzer, with his bold, adventurous, and
unconquerable spirit, is, in his character, a legible transcript -a daguerrotype - of the peaks and glaciers and
rugged beauty of the Alps. We may not be able to tell
how this influence is exerted, but the fact we know and feel
in our daily life and experience. How often does it happen
that a falling leaf, a faded flower, or a blooming landscape
has changed the whole current of our thoughts and our being! There is often more of divinity and divine instruction
in the "still, small voices " of nature, than in the articulate
teachings of men. The hardened and the vicious may turn
away their ear from the warnings of the fireside, and from
the expostulations of the pulpit, but they cannot thus easily
escape from the preaching of'nature. Some strain of music
from this overarching cathedral, or some breath of incense
from its thousand altars of worship, will reach them in their
15




170        PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
wanderings. Not a thing, animate or inanimate, is presented to the eye of the young, but enstamps itself upon
their minds and hearts. Their every thought takes its hue
and coloring from the objects which surround them, It has
come, therefore, to be regarded as a matter of no small importance, in a moral point of view, that our school grounds
should be something besides naked, glaring sand-banks,
diversified, if diversified at all, with shapes of ugliness. If,
as somebody somewhere says, a man's progress in holiness
of heart and life depends somewhat on the binding of the
Bible and prayer-book from which he reads, how important
is it that the leaves of the great volume of nature, which
our children read, not morning and evening, but always,
should be pure on every page; that no blurred or blotted
text should hide the meaning of the Author; that no gross
or hideous picture should defile the imagination of the
reader!  We are material beings, and live in a material
world, which is certain to affect us for good or ill, whether
we will or not. The author of "' Yeast " utters a true sentiment when he says: " The spiritual cannot be intended
to be perfected by ignoring or crushing the physical, unless
God is a deceiver and his universe a self-contradiction."
The moral which this truth teaches, and which is beginning
to be understood and applied, is nothing more nor less than
this: while we are beautifying our own dwellings with
trees, we should remember the school-house, and not 1" lay
down the shovel and the hoe " until we have made the
play-grounds for our children there such in themselves and
in all their associations as shall inevitably tend to elevate
and purify and ennoble human character.
I have thus brought before you, very imperfectly, some
of the indications of progress in popular education. Other
topics in this connection will suggest themselves to my audience. I have said nothing of the higher and more intelligent regard now paid to physical health, as shown particu



PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.         171
larly in the modern methods of school-house ventilation;
nothing of the influence of Normal Schools and Teachers'
Institutes in elevating the instructor from an artisan to an
artist, and his business from a wood-hewing and waterdrawing servitude to a dignified and honorable profession;
nothing of the tendency of Educational Festivals, to give
concert to action and to crown labor with success; nothing
of the deeper interest of the people in the mental and moral
illumination of the young, as indicated by more ample appropriaions of money for schools and a more careful personal supervision; nothing of the higher appreciation of
the value of indefatigable and enlightened instruction, as
shown by the more liberal salaries now paid to competent
teachers, - salaries which actually enable them to eat the
food convenient for them and to cast a shadow.
If, in conclusion, I might, after clerical fashion, be indulged with two very brief reflections, I would remind you,
in the first place, that, next to the mother by the cradle, the
common-school teacher is the most important element in
the national greatness. We may say of his profession, as
Dr. Boteler said of strawberries: "Doubtless God could
have made a better berry, but doubtless he never did."
Without any of the pinchbeck emblazonry which glitters
alike on the shield of the warrior and on the forehead of
the politician, the teacher lays his hand upon the central
forces of our common nature, and "wields at will the fierce
democratic" of untamed passions, and wins to high and
worthy objects grovelling affections.
My last reflection is this, and it may not be inappropriate
to the younger portion of my audience: Thorough, luminous instruction in school-room and nursery, costly libraries
in every neighborhood, magnificent school edifices, surrounded with grounds as beautiful as the gardens of Alcinoiis, - these, and such as these, can never be made to
serve as substitutes for unremitting, self-reliant, individual




172         PROGRESS IN POPULAR EDUCATION.
exertion. There is no way, as a modern writer has intimated, of developing character in a young man by putting
guano in his shoes, or training him like a tropical shrub
against a south wall. Splendidly bound volumes of classic
lore on our shelves, with their gilded leaves unthumbed,
will not impart to us the elegant scholarship of a Felton or
a Woolsey. There is no key but labor which can unlock
to us the mysteries of mathematics, and make ill-looking
symbols and distorted diagrams beautiful with meaning and
intelligence. It is as true now as when Hesiod sung it:
Tr 3' 8cpeTrs L8p(ra Aeol 7pO7rapo7rpoev EOl7Kav'AOdvarot.
"The gods have placed sweat in the pathway to excellence."
" The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night."
If we would see the glory which encircles the great
truths that lie beyond the vision of dim-eyed men, we must
see it in the light of our own enkindled intellects. If we
would assure ourselves of the future progress of popular
education, we must be ourselves the common multipliers in
the ascending progression. If we would be true patriots,
we must listen to our country, as from her thousand mountain heights she calls us to labor, as the cry of the muezzin
calls to prayer. If, in a word, we would make the most of
life, we must remember that " he most lives who thinks
most, feels the noblest, acts the best."




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.*
[Now first printed.]
IPERHAPS there are no efforts of human industry so
little heeded, no productions of the human mind so
little valued, as those of the poet.  The reason is obvious.
The poet acts not in the outward, but in the inner world;
not upon substance, but upon spirit. Let genius be employed upon inert matter, and the result is at once apparent
in the living marble or speaking canvas; let it be employed
in making the mind a "mansion for all lovely forms,"
the "memory a dwelling-place for all sweet sounds and
harmonies," and it requires an inward-seeing eye to appreciate its effects. All men acknowledge and applaud the
genius of Watt and Fulton, because they see the steamvessel riding like a sea-god over the ocean, and the firewinged locomotive flying over the land. But Shakespeare
and Dante are, in the apprehension of most men, nothing
but empty names.  They, forsooth, never constructed a
railroad nor built a hospital; they never commanded an
army, nor made a stump-speech in a political campaign.
But yet it is not difficult for one who looks beneath the
surface of things to understand that the influence of the
great poet is far more powerful and permanent than that
of artisan or warrior, statesman or orator. We may not
be able to define the elements of poetry, nor explain the
method in which they act.  " The wind bloweth where it
The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, edited by Mrs. Shelley.
With a Memoir. In Three Volumes. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co.
15*




174             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
listeth, and we hear the sound thereof, but cannot tell
whence it cometh nor whither it goeth." Who can express
in words the effect which music exerts? And yet every
one has felt its power. The often-quoted remark of the
Scottish statesman, " Let me write the songs for a nation,
and I care not who makes the laws," is founded upon
a deep and accurate knowledge of human nature. The
simple notes of the Ranz des Vaches, played rudely in
strange lands upon the Alpen-horn, seldom fail to suffuse a
whole regiment of Swiss veterans in tears. The Marseilles
Hymn, sung in the streets of the cities of France, effected
more in enkindling the patriotism and arousing the indignation of the French people, than all the feudal and ecclesiastical tyrannies which had crushed them during the despotic
reign of Louis XVI.
Poetry is as universal as nature. Its tones are heard in
the glad voices of children; in the passionate appeals of the
orator; in the death-song of the savage; in the whisper of
love. Its spirit looks out firom the star and smiles in the
flower. An old Greek has called the world the Poem of
God. Few have read this " Poem of God," or listened to
its solemn music as chanted by a thousand voices from hill
and forest, air and ocean. We are often told by persons
of the utilitarian school, that poetry is a mere effeminate
luxury, —a suitable aliment for weak and sickly minds,
but by no means fit for men. They forget that it has
nourished and inspired the most masculine intellects. They
forget that Homer's Iliad was the daily and nightly companion of Alexander in his conquest of the world. They
forget that the shadowy pages of Ossian enkindled the
enthusiasm of Bonaparte before the battles of Austerlitz
and Jena. They forget that Galileo outwatched the stars
in reading the great epic of Ariosto. They forget that
Chatham, the first orator of England, made the Greek
poets the study of his life; and that Burke owed his supe



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.              175
riority over the other distinguished statesmen of his age to
the power and brilliancy of a cultivated imagination. In
a word, they forget that man is endowed with passion as
well as reason, and that his feelings, not less than his intellect, have their wants and their capabilities. The elements
of poetry, therefore, may be found in all men, —even in
those who are most prose-like in their exterior, and who,
under some circumstances, exhibit the most unpoetic qualities. The author of Lear and Macbeth, we are assured,
was at one time a deer-poacher in the parks of Warwickshire; at another, a link-boy in the streets of London; and,
as tradition hath it, unfortunately terminated his career by
an over-dose of home-brewed humming ale! But that he
is nevertheless a poet- nay, the poet - will not be questioned so long as the wavering ambition of Macbeth, the
shattered greatness of Lear, the filial affection of Cordelia,
the deadly malice of Iago, the proud jealousy of the Moor,
and the pure love of Desdemona shall find an echo and an
interpretation in the human heart. Carlyle has said, that' all are poets who can read a poem well." That all are
mathematicians who can read the'HJicanique Celeste, is a
truth not more obvious.  "The imagination that shudders
at Dante's Hell " is the same, though weaker in degree, as
Dante's own. The peasant who is a worshipper of nature,
though his faith may not be so strong, nor his devotion so
deep, yet kneels at the same altar with Wordsworth. One
after another rises up, at long intervals, who is able to
"I wreak his thoughts upon expression ": the rest, the multitude, can only feel a response, or simply say amen. Theirs
is the unwritten poetry of the heart.
Of those who have left us the records of their genius, we
regard with especial interest the gifted, though unfortunate
and misguided SHELLEY. We are drawn to him, not for
his prominence in the world of letters, but for his unappreciated, intrinsic worth; not because his poetry is faultless,




176              PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
or his character a model, in many of its features, for imitation, but because his good qualities shine with peculiar
lustre, and of his faults we may say, with King Henry, that
"There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out."
We shall speak of him as we would of Burns, in terms neither of unqualified eulogy, nor of indiscriminate censure.
The independence of his philosophical investigations, his
disregard of many of the, established forms of society, his
hostility to old customs, the boldness of his innovations,
and his reckless contempt for the religious dogmas which
had come down to him  hoary with age and sanctified by
time, - these have cut him off from the sympathies of men,
and left him in the world, as he says of himself,
"neglected and apart,
A herd-abandoned deer, struck by the hunter's dart."
Some have ventured to extenuate his faults; few have had
the courage to extol his virtues. His poetry has been garbled and condemned by hireling critics; his character
calumniated and his name anathematized by the "overmuch righteous "; and even the publication of his works
was not long since, in spite of Talfourd's eloquent defence,
adjudged a crime by the Court of Queen's Bench.  Still
the productions of his pen are bound up in the same volume
with Coleridge and Keats; they lie on our centre-tables, or
stand in the goodly company of authors on our shelves,
and are beginning to be read, for good or evil, by the whole
literary world.  Such being the position which Shelley
now occupies, a discussion of his character as a man and
his claims as a poet seems not inappropriate.
It has been said that a poet's life is one of his poetical
works.  Shelley's life was a tragic poem.  Born near the
close of the eighteenth century, he entered upon the stage
with Byron, Coleridge, and Wordsworth as fellow-actors
and rivals. The connection of his family with that of Sir




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.             177
Philip Sidney, one of the most illustrious names in English
history, secured to him a favorable introduction to the
world. At the age of thirteen he was sent to Eton, where
he foolishly distinguished himself for his neglect of the prescribed studies of the school, and for the publication, in the
fifteenth year of his age, of two novels, " The Rosicrucian "
and " Zastrozzi." This was the first act in the drama. At
the age of sixteen he was removed to Oxford, where, becom-ing imbued with the elements of logic, he ventured to
apply them to the investigation of hypotheses which it had
been prudent not to question.  Adopting'as his motto
the first maxim of the Cartesian philosophy, - " Disbelieve
everything till it is proved,"- he began to inquire into the
reason of things, and to resist what he could neither demonstrate as true, nor reconcile to his own notions of right.
The result was the shipwreck of his faith, his expulsion
from college, and the curse of his father. This was the
second act in the drama. Soon after his expulsion, he married a beautiful girl much younger than himself, who, by
her birth and education, was utterly unfit for companionship with a poet. The consequence of this ill-assorted
marriage was the unhappiness of both, until their final separation, in a few years, by mutual consent. His two children, at the instigation of his own father, were wrested
from him by a decree of Lord Chancellor Eldon, because,
forsooth, he was not within the pale of a healthy religious
organization, and he was cast forth upon the world again
alone.  This was the third act in the drama.  Soon after
the death of his first wife, he married Mary Wolstonecraft
Godwin, daughter of the noted author of "Political Justice," and of the no less noted authoress of "The Rights of
Women." With her he left England for Italy, where he
resided alternately at Venice and Pisa. Here, in connection with Byron and Leigh Hunt, he had just commenced
the publication of a periodical miscellany, entitled "The




178             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
Liberal," when the curtain fell on the fourth act of the
drama. In the summer of 1822, while returning from
Leghorn to his house on the Gulf of Lerici, the boat in
which he set sail was lost in a violent storm, and all on
board perished. More than a week had elapsed, when he
was found with a volume of the latest poems of Keats still
open in his hand. His body was placed by his friends on
the shore of the Tuscan Sea, where, with the ancient accompaniment of myrrh and frankincense, it was burned to
ashes, - all but his heart, which would not consume. This
was the last act of the drama. Shelley was less than thirty
years old at his death. The eccentricities of his youth had
just given place to the better judgment and maturity of
manhood. He died in the midst of unaccomplished purposes, of magnificent beginnings.  "We doubt," says
Macaulay, "whether any modern poet has possessed, in
an equal degree, all the highest qualities of the great masters. Had he lived to the full age of man, he would
undoubtedly have given to the world some great poem of
the very highest rank both in design and execution."
Without stopping to dwell upon the splendor of his
talents, the variety and extent of his acquirements, the
kindness and generosity of his disposition, the integrity
and purity of his character, or the mistaken efforts of his
life, it will be sufficient in this place to say, in the language
of another, that "' he was a singular illustration of the force
of natural genius breaking the bonds of birth and habit
and the conventional ties — of the circle in which he was
born, and soaring high under the direction of his own
spirit, chartless and alone." It is not improbable that, if
his first errors had been treated with more lenity or less
attention, his hostility to the established religion and social
institutions of his country would not have been so bitter
nor so lasting. If the learned Faculty of Oxford, instead
of visiting their indignation upon the first Dissertation of




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.,             179
Shelley, had passed it over with the silent contempt which
it deserved, the subject would have lost all interest in his
own eyes and been forgotten, or remembered only with
mortification, as one of the follies of his youth.  If his
first poem had been permitted to rest in obscurity until the
spirit of love had brooded over it, its atoms of chaotic
thought might have subsided into shapes of symmetry and
beauty, and its "wild and whirling words" might have
assumed a high and harmonious meaning. As it was, he
lost all confidence in the clemency and justice of the world.
His conduct, therefore, was regulated entirely by his own
ideas of right, and, as a matter of course, he was in constant warfare with the usa/ges and ceremonies of society.
His portrait, accompanying his published works, is strikingly indicative of his character. Like that of Dante, as
Carlyle has described it, his face is the mournfullest that
was ever painted from reality. There is in it the softness
and gentle affection of a child, the purity and intelligence of
an angel; but all is overshadowed with a proud, and silent,
and hopeless pain. It is the face of one wholly in protest,
and life-long, unsurrendering battle against the world.
It may be well at this point, before discussing the claims
of Shelley's poetry, to notice some of the graver charges
which have been brought against his philosophy. In the
first place, it is said by some, that he was an atheist.  If
this charge were true, as it probably was at one period of
his life, we should hesitate in pronouncing over his works
our unqualified " anathema maranatha." If we should stop
to curse all whose belief is not in unison with our own,
how little time were left to bless! Milton was a believer
in the pre-existence and eternity of matter, - the {VXa of
Plato; in the materiality of the human soul; in the lawfulness of polygamy; in the entire abolition of the Mosaic
code,,- Decalogue and all; in the competency of any person, without form or ceremony, to act as an ordinary




180            PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
minister, to perform the rite of baptism, and dispense the
elements of the Sacramental Supper to an indiscriminate
congregation, disciples or infidels. Now, shall we, because
one or all of these articles in Milton's creed are utterly at
variance with our own notions of what is true and right,
denounce him as a miserable heretic, and hasten to do God
service by burning his " Paradise Lost "?  We may detest
Shelley's stern and barren philosophy, but we need not, in
our wide-sweeping wrath, consign his character and his
poetry, as well as his metaphysics, to perdition. We may
deplore the unhappy consequences of his belief to himself,
but we may not despise him. We may wonder at his rashness, as we see him blotting, one by one, the stars from his
sky, and converting his future into the darkness of a rayless, hopeless night, but we may not question the earnest
sincerity of his investigations, we need not adopt his
"most lame and impotent conclusions."  In our honest
admiration of Shelley's good qualities, far be it from us to
apologize for atheism in any form. We pity the man who
can discover in this beautiful and breathing world no traces
of God's handiwork. We pity still more the man who
would attempt to measure moral worth or poetic genius by
the number or length of the articles in his creed. It is a
melancholy fact, that there are but few productions in the
world of letters in which some things may not be found
that deserve our reprehension. Even our standard works
-those which have received the seal of public approbation - must be read with caution as well as admiration.
There is the subtile scepticism of Hume; the insidious infidelity of Gibbon, where more is meant than meets the
ear; the vulgarity of the old dramatists, from Congreve
down to Shakespeare; the cold rationalism of the German
mind, -of Goethe and Schiller, of Lessing and Wieland.
Yet he would hardly deserve the name of scholar who, for
these faults, would blot from the firmament of literature
these its most brilliant lights.




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.             181
There is one precaution of paramount importance, which
should always be observed in determining the moral character of any author. We should be careful to distinguish
between those opinions which are truly his own, and those
which are expressed simply on account of their dramatic
propriety.  It would assuredly be most unjust to accuse
Milton of impiety on the ground that Satan and Beelzebub, in his "Paradise Lost," denounce Omnipotence, and
declare eternal war against the tyranny of Heaven. It
would be no less unjust to charge Shelley with atheism or
irreverence, because his Ahasuerus, the scoffing Jew, rails
at an "Almighty Fiend."  It is in a poem called "Queen
Mab" that the arguments in support of this charge are
mainly found. This poem, it may be well to premise, was
written at the age of eighteen years, when his opinions
on all subjects, and especially on the mysteries of spiritual existence, were immature and chaotic. It was printed
for private circulation only, but was fraudulently obtained
and published to the world long after the writer had altered
and openly disclaimed many of the sentiments which it
avowed.  The poem itself is a strange compound of wild
chimeras, wayward fancies, and intellectual beauty. In
entering upon it you seem to enter an ice-grotto: all is
hung around with grotesque and beautiful shapes, but they
are frost-work, and the light that falls upon them is the light
of a wintry moon. Still there is in the poem a life and
affection. It breathes throughout a spirit of uncompromising
hostility to every form of oppression, civil and ecclesiastical,
and a passionate, if mistaken, devotion to human happiness.
It must be acknowledged that, in speaking of a Supreme
Being, he was not always sufficiently explicit. In his animadversions, he was not uniformly careful to discriminate
between the essence of Deity and the image set up byi men
for worship.  The commonly received notions of God it is
certain that he treated with contempt. Nor is this alto16




182              PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
gether unaccountable, when we consider the manner in
which the character and attributes of Deity were too often
portrayed, even in his enlightened age, by.mitred bigotry
and ignorance.  Religion was a thing of legislative enactment, - the creature of civil and political power. It was
in view of this cold formality and intolerance which he saw
pervading a Christian nation, that Shelley turned away in
disgust from its religious systems, and panted after those
olden times when the presence of Divinity was felt in earth
and ocean, and worshipped in simplicity as the "' Soul of
Nature."  It was for the same reason that Wordsworth
dared to ejaculate a wish for those old and palpable Divinities of Grecian mythology, when he exclaims:
"Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan, suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on some pleasant lea,
Have glimpses which may make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea,
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."
Superstition, which, Bacon says, "erecteth itself into
a tyranny over the understanding of men, destroying
reason, philosophy, natural piety, laws, reputation, and
everything that can serve to conduct to virtue," Shelley
hated almost to insanity.  The grotesque absurdities and
pompous pretensions of Catholicism, its sacred relics and
pictured saints, its mummeries and its miracles, its indulgences and its intolerance, were all alike his utter abomination.  The rigid sternness of Calvin and John Knox,
which Burns could ridicule, he shuddered at as repulsive
to all that is true and trustful in human nature.  Though,
as a climax to his youthful folly, he dared, in the Album
of Mont Auvert, to subscribe himself Atheos, still he clung
with all the pertinacity of a poetic faith to the idea of some'Great Spirit of Intellectual Beauty," pervading, animating, ennobling all things. The truth is, Shelley, like his




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.              183
models, the poets of classic Greece, was, to all intents and
purposes, a Pantheist. To him everything was God, and
God was everything. Every place was peopled with forms
of beauty and animated with living  intelligences.  Hills
and valleys, forests and fountains, were each thronged with
presiding deities, - bright effluences from the Divinity that
stirred within and shone above the whole.  For this faith,
however poetic it may be, we have in this age no excuse to
offer in his behalf. Pantheism, though sometimes preached
from Christian pulpits, is not Christianity.
Shelley had an excess of fancy, -" enough," as Moore
says of him in his Life of Byron, " for a whole generation
of poets." Through this, as an alembic, his facts as well as
his theories were too often distilled. While, therefore, the
foundations of his philosophy were laid in the deductions of
enlightened reason, the superstructure was the air-chateau
of a creative imagination. The temple which he built was
beautiful without and adorned within, but it contained no
" ark of the covenant," nor " golden candlestick," and its
altar bore the Athenian inscription, "To the unknown
God." He had little faith in the authenticity of the Sacred
Scriptures as a record from Heaven; and yet, in his inconsistency, he read and studied the book of nature published
under the same sanction, with all the eagerness and docility
of a true disciple.  If he denied the existence of the
God of the Jews, yet he worshipped the God of universal
being "in spirit and in truth."  Following Queen Mab to
her palace in the centre of the universe, he exclaims, while
suns and systems circle round him —
"Spirit of Nature! here,
In this interminable wilderness
Of worlds, at whose immensity
Even soaring Fancy staggers,
Here is thy fitting temple.
Yet not the lightest leaf
That quivers to the passing breeze
Is less instinct with Thee;




184              PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
Yet not the meanest worm
That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead
Less shares thy eternal breath."
Now, while we admire the simple, unpoetic doctrines of
our Puritan fathers, yet it seems to us that, if we should
blend our worship with that which goes up like incense
from every true poet's heart, the tendency would be neither
to mutilate our faith nor quench our devotion. The religious fervor'of no sane man was ever cooled, the religious
principle of no sane man was ever shaken, by reading
Shelley's poetry. We expect from the poet not so-much a
castle of strength as a landscape of beauty; not so much
a theory of divinity as a dwelling-place in his ideal paradise; not so much a trusting faith as a soaring imagination;
not so much the psalms and hymns of Dr. Watts as the
inspiration of Shakespeare.
A second charge brought against the philosophy of
Shelley is, that it denies the existence of a future state of
being. A sufficient refutation of this charge may be found
on every page of his poetry. No one can read his Adonais,
a poem written in memory of the author of Endymion and
Lamia, who died at Rome a few years before his own untimely death, without finding the doctrine of the soul's
immortality taught in the most explicit terms.
"Peace! peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep.
He hath awakened from the dream of life;'T is we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings."
The last charge brought against Shelley's philosophy
which we shall notice has reference not so much to the
world of spirits as to this more tangible world of men and
women. We mean the subject of marriage. His theory
on this point is briefly this: Love is inevitably consequent upon the perception of loveliness. It withers under




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.                 185
restraint; its very essence is liberty. A husband and wife,
therefore, ought to continue so long united as they love
each other, and any law which should bind them together
after the decay of their affection would be a most intolerable despotism. The conviction that wedlock is indissoluble
holds out the strongest of temptations to the perverse;
they indulge without restraint in all the little tyrannies of
domestic life, when they know that their victim is without
appeal.
There is, undoubtedly, some little truth in this view of
the matter; but its general fallacy is too obvious to warrant
its discussion, though it has been supported in its main
features by a writer of no less celebrity than John Milton.
The melancholy suicide of Shelley's first wife, and his own
consequent insanity for long and bitter months, is a sufficient commentary on the practical workings of his marriage
system.  While, therefore, it is admitted that his opinions
of the conjugal relation are decidedly heterodox, yet it is
certain that he appreciated, to the fullest extent, the power
and influence of woman.  His writings, unlike those of
Milton, are all fragrant with the incense which he has offered
to female worth and beauty.  Near the opening of his;" Episychidion," an overwrought poem, intended, probably,
as introductory to another, he thus, in the fulness of his
adoration, apostrophizes woman: -
" Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be human,
Veiling beneath the radiant form of Woman
All that is insupportable in thee
Of light, and love, and immortality!
Sweet Benediction in the eternal Curse!
Veiled glory of this lampless Universe ~
Thou Moon beyond the clouds! thou living Form
Among the dead! thou Star above the Storm!
Thou Wonder and thou Beauty and thou Terror!
Thou harmony of nature's art! thou mirror
In whom, as in the splendor of the Sun,
All shapes look glorious which thou gazest on! "
16*




186            PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
Whether this eulogium of woman be just or extravagant,
we will leave it, without note or comment, for the " better
half" of our readers to decide.
We come now to speak of the poetry of Shelley.
The word poetry is derived from a Greek word signifying creation. These ideal " creations " have their origin in
the longings of the human soul for something higher and
holier than can be found in a material universe.  Surrounded by deformity and sin, we aspire to the beautiful
and pure. Sick of/the meanness and littleness of men, we
create to ourselves a new world, and people it with angels.
It is in this dissatisfaction with what is false and fading,
and in this ceaseless longing after the true and ever-during,
that we find, aside from Revelation, the strongest evidence
of our immortality.
The ancient Romans attributed to the poet not so much
creative as prophetic power. Hence, in the Latin language,
the same word, vates, is used indiscriminately either for
poet or prophet. Sometimes both of these endowments
are found in the same individual. Such was the case, in
an eminent degree, with the old Hebrew prophets, - with
Isaiah, and Hosea, and Ezekiel, -those " trumpets filled
with the voice of God." Coming unbidden from the depths
of the wilderness, or from caves in the shadows of Sinai
and Horeb, their stern words of inspired warning were
always fringed on their terrible edges with poetry.
Extended definitions have been given to poetry, and
patient analyses made of its elements, but with a success
like that of the ancient anatomists searching for the seat of
the soul,  while the matter was scrutinized, the essence
escaped. Simonides says, "A poem is a speaking picture,
and a picture is a silent poem." Not unlike this is the
definition of Macaulay. "By poetry," says he, "we mean
the art of doing by means of words what the painter does
by means of colors." In this view of the matter, poetry




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.              187
is not, as some suppose, confined to any particular species
of writing, but is seen in everything, however familiar and
commonplace, which the imagination has painted for the
eye to rest on.  There is poetry in the answer of the
poor mute, who, when asked for a definition of forgiveness,
wrote on his slate, " Forgiveness is the fragrance which a
bruised flower yields to him who tramples on it." There
is poetry, too, in the explanation which some one has given
of the simple Christian precept, "Love your enemies."
He who loves his enemies is like "the sandal-tree, which
sheds a perfume on the axe that fells it." There is poetry
in the Table-Talk of Coleridge, not less than in the stately
verse of Milton; in the Book of Job, as well as in the play
of Hamlet. But after all these explanations, it must be
felt to be understood; and to be felt, there must be a soul
alive to every noble impulse and strong emotion.
" Divine it is, a light, a love,
A spirit which like wind doth blow,
As it listeth, to and fro,A dew rained down from God above."
He who is endowed with a poetic temperament is alone
in harmony with all things. It is said that, if a certain
note in music be struck, this note will be answered by a
precisely corresponding tone from a viol, or any stringed
instrument, which may be standing in another part of the
room. Just so the varied tones which come to the poet
from sky and earth find ready responses in the harp-strings
of his own heart. Let the sun rise in brightness, and they
make melody sweet as that of Memnon. Let it set in
storms, and they vibrate to the rainy winds in sad IEolian
music.  " I am always," says Byron, "most religious on a
sunshiny day; as if there was some association between an
internal approach to greater light and purity, and the kindler of this dark-lantern of our external existence." But
notwithstanding this sympathy between nature and the




188             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
poet, we are by no means to believe that poetic genius-is
dependent on the outward world for its inspiration and
development. The light and beauty which the shifting
scenes of nature may fling upon the spirit of the poet are
not radiant, but reflected. They were first shed from his
own being. The soul impresses its own forms upon matter,
and gives it its own hue and coloring. In the language of
our own Dana:
"The rill is tuneless to his ear who feels
No harmony within; the south-wind steals
As silent as unseen among the leaves.
Who has no inward beauty, none perceives."
To give those not already acquainted with him even a
faint idea of Shelley as a poet, in the space left to us, were
no easy task. David Hume' has said, that "criticism is
nearly useless, unless the critic quotes innumerable examples." To do this, in the present instanice, is impossible,
and to attempt to make a fair exhibition of the genius of
Shelley by merely an extract or two from his poetry, would
be to imitate the well-known Scholasticus, with his specimen
brick. Perhaps there is no better way of accomplishing
our purpose than by considering him in connection with
two other poets with whom every intelligent person is supposed to be familiar.  We remember that a reviewer,
many years ago, made Byron, Shelley, and Wordsworth,
in the order of their names, a synonyme with the progress
of poesy.  Without stopping to question the justice of this
arrangement, we will compare them briefly with each other
in some particulars.
Byron is the favorite poet of impassioned youth; Shelley,
of intellectual manhood; Wordsworth, of infancy and old
age. The genius of Byron flashes forth in the fitful splendor of the Aurora Borealis; that of Shelley burns with the
clear and constant flame of the Roman vestal; Wordsworth sheds upon you the quiet light of the harvest-moon,
or rather the fading glory of the western sky.




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.             189
While reading Byron you seem to sit in an old castle,
among whose gray ruins autumn winds are wailing, and
through whose widening crevices and painted windows
streams the light of a golden sunset. Shelley transports
you to some far-distant " Hall of Spells," where spirits live
and dream, - where all that is sweet in sound or pure in
vision floats on the air or passes dimly before the sight.
Wordsworth takes you by the hand, and leads you forth
from the busy haunts of men to green pastures and by still
waters.
In the selection of subjects, Byron has restricted himself
to the world of passion. Voluptuousness and misanthropy
are his never-failing themes; —hate your neighbor and
love your neighbor's wife, it is truly said, are the two great
commands of his decalogue. His poetry, like the harem
of an Eastern prince, is full of beauties; but while you
approach to admire, the fierce scowl of their keeper is upon
you. It is only when portraying the darker features of'the
human heart that he is in his sphere. His sky is always
sunless and starless. The earth is to him " a weary land,
without the shadow of a great rock," —a desert, without
fountain or oasis. He seems to feel that "every man's
hand is against him," and, like a true son of Ishmael, "he
turns his hand against every man." Life is a burden to
which he clings only from  the fear that his death may
gratify his enemies. Hence he writes in a letter to Moore:
" I should many a good day have blown my brains out, but
for the recollection that it would give pleasure to my
mother-in-law; and, even in that case, I would have done
it, if I could have been sure to haunt her, and fling my
shattered scalp in her frightful face."  His poetry is a
transcript of himself. The life which animates his heroes
is an emanation from his own. His Cain, and Manfred,
and Lara, and Harolde are nothing but the writer himself,
in different countries, and clothed in different costumes.




190             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
His own proud and dissatisfied spirit pervades all his
works.  Like the ever-open eyes of some painted saint or
sire, its cold glance will follow you whichever way you
turn. It is related of Phidias, that, in constructing the
ivory statue of Minerva at Athens, he so wrought his own
image into the shield as to render its removal impossible
without the destruction of the statue. So the features of
Byron are wrought into the very structure and framework
of his poetry; they are chiselled by his own dark genius
for immortality.
Shelley, in his subjects, has little intercourse with the
lower and darker passions of men.  His sphere is the
higher one of Intellect. In studying his poetry, you feel
that those olden times have returned, when the "groves
of philosophy were watered by the Ilissus of the Nine."
In his earnestness to inculcate principles, he forgets himself.
If you see him at all, he is but a dim, shadowy figure standing in the far background.  He acts under the strong
belief that the structure of society is fundamentally wrong;
that the wheels of government, in their revolutions, crush
the weak and helpless, while the minions of power ride
over them in triumph and derision; that hoodwinked custom is binding in chains of ice all the warm and gushing
feelings of our natures; that superstition is brooding, like
night, over the spirits of men, enshrouding the light of
reason and filling the imagination with spectres of darkness. He does not, in view of these things, envelop himself in a gloomy misanthropy, and rail at all human kind;
but, with the strong purpose of a reformer, girds himself
for conflict with the world.  Yet every page of his poetry
is warm with kindness, as well as luminous with thought.
The melioration of society, the, elevation of men to freedom
of thought and equality of privilege, the expulsion of the
demons of hate and discord and oppression by the power
of love, -these are the objects of his ambition, and to the




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.               191
accomplishment of these he brings alike the treasures of
learning and the enthusiasm of genius. Sick of the regal
pomp and- ecclesiastical tyranny of his own country, he
longs for the liberty of the old democracies. Responding
from his very heart to the sentiment of Burns,
"The rank is but the guinea-stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that,"
he dreams of a "good time coming," when the shows and
shams of a titled dignity shall be swept away before the
might of a redeemed and disenthralled manhood; when
the princes, powers, and potentates of the earth shall be
but as chaff on the breath of an awakened, and intelligent,
and free people. It is, therefore, with all the exultation of
hope that he hails, in his "Revolt of Islam," the rising
republic of America.
"That land is like an eagle, whose young gaze
Feeds on the noontide beam, whose golden plume
Floats moveless on the storm, and in the blaze
Of sunrise gleams when earth is wrapt in gloom."
Wordsworth, in the selection of his subjects, tells us
himself that "low  and rustic life was generally chosen,
because in that condition the essential passions of the heart
find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity,
are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more
emphatic language." Acting upon this theory, he runs, as
a matter of course, into a thousand absurdities.  You are
pained at every step with a palpable incongruity between
his characters and the parts which they perform. The
pedler of small wares, in his "Excursion," is made the
organ of the soundest social and philosophical reflections.
Gypsy women become oracles of wisdom; and shepherds,
because they are most familiar with the varying scenes of
the outward world, are inducted, without the " laying on
of hands," into the high-priesthood of Nature. He seems
to have forgotten that a familiarity with Nature often hard



192             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
ens the heart to her charms, even as water sometimes converts the leaf or limb over which it flows into stone. The
traveller who, for the first time, looks forth from the icy
summit of Mount Washington upon the world of hills
around him, will, if he has a soul, feel an oppressive sense
of his own littleness and insignificance amidst the sublimity
and grandeur of nature. But his guide, who was born
among those hills, and whose journeyings have been through
mountain passes from boyhood to gray hairs, sees neither
sublimity nor beauty, but wonders only in his heart that a
man in his senses should go so far and spend so much
money to see a great pile of rocks. Wordsworth constantly
overlooks the fact, that, with the poor, life is often regarded
as a necessary evil, and the world as a sort of vast Sahara.
The necessity of incessant toil checks the flow of their
finer feelings and blunts their keener sensibilities. They
may, like the beautiful Alice, - one of the finest creations
of Bulwer, - contain the germ of a higher nature, but it is
enshrined in an impenetrable chrysalis. If a hope steals
over them, it comes shadowed with despair, like a dream
of future happiness to the Hebrew in a strange land, faint
with watching for the Messiah. They have little sympathy
with earth or its inhabitants, but rather look beyond, like
the poor washerwoman, who longed to die, that she might
exchange the tub and rubbing-board of earth for the white
apron and psalm-book of heaven.
Byron, in his style, is impetuous and unstudied.  You
are hurried on in the full tide of some overpowering passion. His characters never sit in attitude till he has
sketched them off, but all are up and in motion. His
language, as would be supposed, is strong and glowing,
abounding, in some of his poemis, with all the gorgeous
imagery and splendor of the East.
Shelley's style has all the conciseness of Sallust, blended
with an Ionic elegance, which would scarcely lose by a




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.                  193
comparison with Sophocles himself. There is in his classic
verse a music, not wild and clarion-like, but deep and
measured as the orchestral chantings of an old cathedral.
No one better than he understood the capabilities of the
English language, or was more competent to express high
thoughts and impassioned feeling,
"In notes with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony."
The style of Wordsworth is, in many of his productions
at least, cumbered with verbiage. There is no correspondence between the multitude of his words and the paucity
and meagreness of his thoughts. A passage from the third
canto of his Wagoner, which has been criticised by Professor Wilson, illustrates this assertion:"Now, heroes, for the true commotion,
The triumph of your late devotion!
Can aught on earth impede delight
Still mounting to a higher height;
And higher still,- a greedy flight!
Can any low-born care pursue her,
Can any mortal clog come to her?
No notion have they, - not a thought
That is from joyous regions brought!
And while they coast the silent lake,
Their inspiration I partake;
Share their empyreal spirits, - yea,
With their enraptured vision see
O fancy - what a jubilee!
What shifting pictures clad in gleams
Of color bright as feverish dreams!
Earth, spangled sky, and lake serene,
Involved and restless all, - a scene
Pregnant with mutual exaltation,
Rich change, and multiplied creation!"
Now under all this pomp  and  circumstance  of diction,
this Pelion-on-Ossa pile of words, the crushed and purple17




194             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
faced thought looks out distressfully, and asks for help.
A sailor and a wagoner, it seems, are reeling from a
grog-shop late at night, along toward home, by the side
of their team of eight horses and a donkey, until they come
to the margin of a lake, when they stop to glorify the
beauties of nature, and in a fit of drunken affection shake
hands and hug each other till they fall asleep. There is a
passage in an Icelandic poem, entitled " The Song of the
Sun," which, for its striking similarity in some respects,
deserves to be mentioned in this connection. The literal
translation of the original is as follows: " I hang the round,
beaten, gaping snake on the end of the bridge of the
mountain-bird at the gallows of Odin's shield."  For a
solution of this wordy enigma, we are to learn that the
" round, beaten, gaping snake" is a ring, -a snake with
his tail received into his "gaping" mouth representing
a circle.  The " mountain-bird" is the falcon, and his
"' bridge" is the hand; that is, the part on which he is
supported by the falconer.  The end of the "bridge" or
"hand" is the finger.  The "gallows of Odin's shield" is
the arm, — the limb on which the shield is hung. The
passage, therefore,'"I hang the round, beaten, gaping
snake on the end of the bridge of the mountain-bird at
the gallows of Odin's shield," when stripped of its muffled
disguise, is found to contain a thought no bigger and no
more beautiful than this: I put a ring on my finger.
Byron, in his efforts, and therefore in his productions, is
irregular and uneven. The most brilliant stanzas are intermingled with the most puerile pratings.  "Dirt and divinity " are blended in due proportions.  This is especially
evident in one of his latest and longest poems, -a poem
written under the inspiring influence of hot gin-sling, - a
beverage to which the noble Lord, it would seem, had no
very particular aversion while engaged in some of his
other works. The high powers with which he was en



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.                195
dowed were not self-acting nor self-sustaining, but required
the inspiriting influences of bad liquor or the lashings of
the Scotch Reviewers.
Shelley depends on his own resources, and therefore
never sinks below his own standard. There is a strength
and Doric delicacy in his slightest as well as his more
labored efforts. "' He touches nothing which he does not
adorn." From the visionary dreamings of his " Queen
Mab " to the last offering to his Muse, every line is finished.
Whether you sit amid the gloomy magnificence of " The
Cenci," or gaze upon the glory-tinged expanses of the
" Revolt of Islam," or watch the calm  agony of the
"' Titan," you feel that you are in the presence of high
and commanding genius. There are no spasmodic outbursts of passion, followed by an epilepsy of all thought
and feeling; no striking beauties set off by a background
of deformities; nothing dependent for its sublimity on a
corresponding bathos.  His imagination, though lofty in
its flights, yet, like the famed Eastern bird, soars on a
pinion which never tires nor rests.  He has an eye for the
harmonies of the outward world, but so far from depending
on them, like Byron, for his inspiration, he turns from
them as from shadows to listen to his own spirit:
"The land of song within thee lies,
Watered by living springs:
The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes
Are gates into this paradise;
Holy thoughts like stars arise,
Its clouds are angels' wings."
Things visible are regarded by him  as unsubstantial and
evanescent. Permanence is predicated only of what pertains to mind; or, in his own language,
"Thought
Alone, and its quick elements, - will, passion,
Reason, imagination,- cannot die."




196            PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
His conceptions on this subject are beautifully expressed
in a passage of Plato's Republic, in which the mistaken
apprehensions of the human mind with respect to the material world are compared to those of a man, who, in a cave
into which no light can enter but by a single opening,
views upon the wall opposite to the entrance the shadows
of external objects, and mistakes them for realities.
Wordsworth, in his productions, is still more uneven
than Byron. You have every variety, from the highest
and severest walks of poetry down to the lullabies of the
nursery, - the melodies of "Mother Goose."  Some parts
of his "Excursion," though on the whole it is a tedious
poem of nine books, show the skill and power of a master.
His sonnets are second only to those of Milton. The address to his sister, in " Lines composed a few Miles above
Tintern Abbey," is full of tenderness and beauty. His
" Intimations of Immortality," though deeply imbued with
the Platonic theory of the soul's pre-existence, has all the
elegance and lyrical music of a Grecian chorus.  But
when we turn' from these to such effusions as "Goody
Blake" and "Peter Bell," we are ready to exclaim, with
the prophet, " How art thou fallen, O Lucifer, son of the
morning!"  The gifted author of the majestic Sonnet to
Milton sinks so low as to spin out a hundred doggerel
stanzas about an idiot boy, - stanzas which the boy himself, in his brighter moods, would have been ashamed to
write. The muse to whom he had been bound, as he
assures us, for "fourteen years," is solemnly invoked to
aid him in telling us how old Susan Gale is taken sick in
the night, and Betty Foy, as a good neighbor should, lifts
her idiot son Johnny upon a donkey, and sends him after
the doctor. The night waxes late, and old Susan waxes
worse, and Betty waxes anxious; or, as the poet himself
expresses it,



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.                 197
" And Susan's growing worse and worse,
And Betty's in a sad quandary;
And then there's nobody to say,
If she must go, or she must stay!
She's in a sad quandary."
At length the clock is on the stroke of one, and she, full
of woful apprehensions, starts off after Johnny, who, it
seems, in the proud enjoyment of his first ride, has forgotten to look after the doctor, but is amusing himself in listening to the screech-owls or staring at the moon. After
wandering a weary while in dim lanes, through bush and
brake, and indulging in a variety of speculations as to the
fate of the object of her search, and inly cursing old Susan
for being sick, and half resolving, in the extremity of maternal anguish, to drown herself in a pond, - at last, when
hope is darkening into despair, she spies through an opening in the trees the pony and its rider.  Her joy at this
event the poet describes in these highly graphic stanzas:"And now she's at the pony's tail,
And now is at the pony's head,On that side now, and now on this;
And, almost stifled with her bliss,
A few sad tears does Betty shed.
"She kisses o'er and o'er again
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy;
She's happy here, is happy there,
She is uneasy everywhere;
Her limbs are all alive with joy.
"She pats the pony, where or when
She knows not, happy Betty Foy!
The little pony glad may be,
But he is milder far than she,
You hardly can perceive his joy."
It ought, perhaps, to be added, that'old Susan recovered,
and, so far as we know, is still alive and doing well.
With Byron and Shelley there is always a correspondence between  the subject chosen and the language em17*




198               PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
ployed.  A  trifle is not invested with the dignity of the
Epic Muse, nor is an elevated theme rendered trivial by
clothing it in the language of children and idiots. The
beggar is not tricked out in purple and fine linen, nor does
the emperor grovel in dirt and rags.
Wordsworth, on the other hand, in not a few instances,
adopts an entirely different method. The most lofty discussions are treated in the style of the nursery, while characters the most insignificant are made to strut in the buskin
of Sophocles. In many of his earlier and minor poems,
the 1" poetic diction," to say nothing of the laws of rhetoric,
finds little favor at his hands. In respect to a band of Gypsies, whom he unexpectedly finds just where he had left
them " twelve bounteous hours " before, he exclaims:"Behold the mighty moon! this way
She looks as if at them, but they
Regard not her! 0 better wrong and strife
(By nature transient) than such torpid life!
The silent heavens have goings-on;
The stars have tasks, but these have none."
He seems to have been so interested in the dress of one
of the Gypsy women that he essays a description of it:"She had a tall man's height, or more;
No bonnet screened her from the heat;
A long drab-colored cloak she wore,
A mantle reaching to her feet;
What other dress she had I could not lknotw,
Only she wore a cap that was as white as snow."
His appreciation of the "good points " in a certain young
lady are beautifully set forth in the following stanza: —
"I met Louisa in the shade,
And having seen that lovely maid,
Why should I fear to say,
That, nymph-like, she is fleet and strong,
And down the rocks can leap along
Like rivulets in May? "




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.               199
We have thus, as was proposed, compared Shelley with
Byron and Wordsworth in several particulars; —in the
adaptedness of their poetry to the different periods of human life; in the hue and strength of their imaginings; in
the selection of their subjects; in the style of their execution; in the evenness of their efforts; and in the appropriateness of their diction. In all these respects there can
be little hesitation in awarding the palm of superiority
to Shelley. But still he is not without his faults. The
splendor of his intellect is sometimes clouded by his metaphysical speculations; his faith in human perfectibility
involves him at times in theories as visionary as the "Utopia" of Sir Thomas More; the brilliancy of his imagination leads him to color too highly some of the creations
of his pen; the multiplied classical allusions in his poetry
place it, like Milton's, above the appreciation of the many;
but the paramount fault, which has been already noticed
when speaking of his philosophy, is his manifest discredit
of the authority of the sacred writings. It is true that he
was an ardent admirer of their beauty and sublimity; but
while his lyre caught its spirit-like tone from the harp of
Judah, and his imagination its fire from the altars of the
prophets, he failed to acknowledge the "inspiration of the
Almighty." In searching for subjects and for characters
in his dramas, he uniformly turns from Holy Writ to Grecian mythology.  He gathers for his Muse the flowers of
Parnassus rather than the roses of Sharon. But in all
this Shelley, unfortunately, is by no means peculiar in the
world of letters. Since the production of " Paradise Lost,"
Milmnan and Bailey in England, and Hillhouse in our own
country, are the only poets worthy of mention who have
exerted their genius upon Scriptural themes. It is a matter of no small surprise, that a record so hoary with age,
so rich in incident, so thrilling in adventure, so glowing in
descriptions of things visible and invisible, so fraught with




200              PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
the strange and miraculous, so hallowed by heart-felt associations, has found so little favor in the eyes of aspiring
poets. If it boasts of no Jupiter shaking Olympus with
his nod, yet it glories in a legislative Deity, beneath whose
feet the tops of Sinai smoke and tremble; if it declares no
responses from the golden Diana of Ephesus or the marble
statue of the Parthenon, yet it utters the voice of' Him
" who spake and it was done"; if it tells us of no smouldering Ilium, yet it exhibits the ruins on Mount Moriah
and the mournful desolation of Salem; if it describes no
wanderings of JEneas or king of Ithaca, yet there is the
scattering of the sons of Jacob to the ends of the earth;
if it portrays the patriotic devotion of no Curtius ready to
cast his life into the abyss to save his country, yet it speaks
of One who sacrificed himself for a world. Shelley has
shown in his " Prometheus Unbound," a magnificent drama, that, although he had but little respect for the theological distinction between o64ovo'la  and  otovo-vta, or for any
of the other subtile speculations about the nature of Christ,
still he appreciated the moral beauty of his life and the
sublimity of his death. It hardly need be said, that his
eye is fixed on Calvary, and that he is watching the deathstruggle of the Saviour, when, in the language appropriated
to Prometheus, he cries out:
"Remit the anguish of that lighted stare;
Close those wan lips; let that thorn-wounded brow
Stream not with blood; it mingles with thy tears.
Fix, fix those tortured orbs in peace and death,
So thy sick throes shake not that crucifix,
So those pale fingers play not with thy gore!"
If the space would permit, it might not be an unpleasant
task to analyze some of the principal poems of Shelley, -
especially those on which his claims to celebrity most depend. A passing glance of recognition is, however, all
that we shall now bestow upon them.




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.             201
The " Revolt of Islam," his longest work, represents the
conflict of man's uprising, free-born spirit with the crushing tyranny of custom, - the struggle of the soaring eagle
with the serpent.
"The Cenci," a highly wrought and admirably sustained
tragedy, second in thrilling interest to none in the English
language, is founded upon the bloody and revolting history
of an old Italian family, and is intended to show the horrid
enormities which may be perpetrated with impunity by the
minions of ecclesiastical power. The beautiful face of the
heroine, Beatrice, made immortal by Guido, smiles upon
us, through its tears, upon the wall of many a modern parlor; and her statue, chiselled by the skilful fingers of one
who is an ornament as well to her sex as to her chosen
profession, even now, through the delicate munificence of a
noble-spirited patron of art and learning, graces the hall
of the Mercantile Library in the city of St. Louis.
His "Adonais," one of his most finished and beautiful
productions, is a tribute of affection, welling up from his
heart of hearts amid the roofless recesses of the Pisan
Hills, to the memory of the poet Keats, and in every essential respect deserves a higher. place than either the Lycidas
of Milton or the Elegies of Bion and Moschus.
The " Prometheus Unbound," a lyrical drama, suggested
by a lost drama of ZEschylus of the same name, written
among the deserted and flower-grown ruins of Rome, depicts in glowing colors the high contest between the strong
endurance of the champion of mankind, and the haughty
despotism of their unrelenting, omnipotent oppressor.
His "Alastor; or, the Spirit of Solitude," paints the lofty
aspirations of a young poet, and his fruitless search in the
world of sense after the bright creatures of his own imagination, -a sad picture of his own strange life.
We might with great propriety refer to the briefer poems
which are scattered throughout his works, and which, for




202             PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
melody of verse and spirituality of conception, we have no
hesitation in saying, are unsurpassed and unequalled, except, perhaps, by Keats and Tennyson, in the whole range
of English lyrics.  There is " The Sensitive Plant," a
fitting emblem of the poet himself, whose extreme delicacy
of organization could
"scarce uplift
The weight of the superincumbent hour."
There, too, is the ode " To a Skylark," which, like the
spirit-bird it celebrates, is full of " music sweet as love."
But, without specifiying further his several productions,
we will only commend them to a discriminating perusal.
Read them with the assurance that, if death had not prevented, he would have himself protested with a sad but
earnest spirit against the scepticism and false philosophy
which mar many of the productions of his earlier years.
Read them as the history of a mind groping through the
darkness which overshadows the earth, on toward the light
which shines from heaven. Read them as the record of
a man who died in the morning twilight of his intellectual
and moral being.
He will not, like the gentle Cowper, welcome you to the
repose of the " Sofa," but he will demand of you patient,
vigorous, sleepless thought. He will not, like the pathetic
Crabbe, depict man as he is in the " Parish Register " of
Muston or the "Borough " of Suffolk; but he will endow
him with the attributes of an ideal perfection, and exhibit
him as he lives in the El Dorado of a poet's dreams. He
will not, like the didactic Young, shrouded in the gloom
of "Night Thoughts," assail you with " the pious violence
of prayer"; but he will portray the spirit-land in all the
reality and freshness and beauty of the " Isles of the Blest."
He will not, like the moralizing Wordsworth, give unending lessons from the book of nature, as the only source of
all that is fair and good; but he will unfold to you "a




PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.                   203
mythology rich with visions as glorious as the gods that
live in the marble of Phidias, or the virgin saints that
smile on us from  the canvas of Murillo."  He does not,
like the majestic Milton, attempt to
" assert Eternal Providence
And justify the ways of God to men ";
but he teaches us, with Prometheus in his conflict with
Jupiter,
"To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite,
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night,
To defy Power which seems omnipotent,
To love and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates:
Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory! "




WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.*
IN the nations of the Old World, the safety of the state
is the principal problem; with us, the living man is
considered of more consequence than a hoary abstraction.
With them, the throne is set on the people; with us, the
people sit on the throne.  With them, the strength of the
nation lies in its standing armies; with us, it is seen in the
infantry of the primary school. With them, a partial legislation is intended to subserve the interests of favorite
classes; with us, a democratic legislation is fitted to secure
the inalienable rights of individuals.  With them, the "insolent prerogative of primogeniture," as Gibbon denominates it, renders the oldest son a mere appendage to a freehold, and drives all the others into professions to which
they are unsuited, or which are already full to overflowing;
with us, there is no entailment to the few, but estates are
divided as children are multiplied, and when this mathenatical process has been carried far enough in any district,
we turn our eyes to the untrodden West, and take up the
chorus, ",Uncle Sam is rich enough to give us all a farm."
With them, all property is deemed a gift or grant from the
government, and therefore subject of right, and without
reserve, to its disposal; with us, property is the reward of
* A Lecture delivered before the Lyceums of East Boston, Newburyport, and Chicopee, Mass., Biddeford and Lewiston, Me., Manchester and
Milford, N. H., and in other places. 1853 - 55.




RELATIONS OF WEALTH TO A FREE GOVERNMENT. 205
labor, and he whose industry has been most wisely directed
occupies his broad acres " without leave asked " of kings.
In a word, the grand characteristic of our national civilization - a characteristic impressed upon us by the peculiarity
of our political system - is the energy of individual life,
the force of personal existence.
When Demrosthenes was asked what were.the three
grand requisites to an orator, he answered, "Action, action,
action." The spirit of this answer is exhibited to-day in
the life and enterprise of the American people. Action,
ceaseless and tireless, is the attribute of our intellectual and
physical being.  The baby-jumper of the nursery and the
panting engine of the machine-shop are simple outward
manifestations of the energy that, from infancy to age,
struggles within us. Under the stimulus of our free schools,
alike the product and protection of our other free institutions, the mind of the masses has been awakened to an
activity without precedent or parallel in the history of
nations.
Let us, in the further discussion of our subject, consider
this mental activity in some of its objective relations to the
material world, and more especially in its connection with
the accumulation of wealth. It is obvious that all intelligent
action has some impelling motive; it tends toward some
result. Children may exercise for the fun of it, but men
work for an object. There is method in their industry;
their energies are not poured out wastefully upon the surface of things, but they flow in one channel toward some
end. In this country, where all the prizes of life are held
out alike to the grasp of all, the most tempting, perhaps, is
wealth, - tempting because of the advantages which it
confers, both in itself and in its relation to the other great
objects of human ambition.
The young man cannot fail, as he looks abroad on
society, to see that money does give a person consideration
18




206       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
and consequence among his fellow-men; that the doors to
political preferment and to aristocratic pretension do swing
open most easily when " on golden hinges turning."  He
has hardly left the school-room before he catches the spirit
of the bustling worshippers of Mammon, and begins at
once his life-struggle in the crowd who are making haste
to be rich.
It cannot be denied that we are emphatically a moneyloving and money-getting people. With us wealth is a
virtue, and poverty a crime. We graduate everything,
material and immaterial, on the scale of dollars and cents.
We estimate a writer's merit, not by the depth of his
thought and the brilliancy of his style, but by the number
of books he makes and sells. We determine the character
of the preacher, not by his talent and piety, but by the
amount of his salary. We prize the chief works of the
artist, not by their intrinsic excellence of design or execution, but by the extravagance of their cost. We recognize
a true gentleman, not by that unbought grace, that indefinable charm of conversation and manner, which gives far
stronger assurance of gentle blood than the longest line of
princely ancestors, but by the length of his rent-roll. We
judge of the wife-like qualifications of the maiden we woo,
not by her beauty of mind or person, but by the number
of her father's shares in the railroad or factory; for now,
as in the days of Mistress Anne,
" A world of vile, ill-favored faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year."
The influence of money is felt in every department of
our busy life, in every profession and handicraft. It sits
in the front pews of gorgeous churches, modifies the tone
of the pulpit, takes off the bandage from the eyes of
Justice, is a power at the long end of the lever in our
political action, looks over the shoulder of the writer, follows the laboring-man like his shadow to the field, and the




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.            207
shop, and over the sea. Even on the Sabbath, the time
when, if ever, men are " from worldly cares set free," the
same hurried air is observable; the same care-worn, calculating expression sits heavy on the countenance. There is
many a man whose eye is turned toward the altar, on
whose face one can see the image and superscription of the
almighty dollar stamped as legibly as though it had been
done at the Philadelphia mint.
The clergyman who ministers to a congregation of these
"solid men." is pretty liable, as a modern writer has intimated, to know no sin but "original sin," and no sinners
but Adam and the Devil. In the theology of a man thus
situated, all violence and iniquity are, like the scrofula and
consumption, constitutional; and all righteousness is, like
Abraham's, " imputed." We have more than once heard
such an one attempt, in euphuistic phrase, to "remember " his brethren "' in bonds "; but when it flashed upon
him that one of his parishioners - the one, too, who paid
the heaviest tax —was engaged in the Southern trade,
"'vox faucibus hbesit,"- the half-uttered prayer for the
slave stuck in his throat, like Amen in the throat of Macbeth. "It is hard," as an old English divine says, "to
maintain truth; but still harder to be maintained by it."
Duty and pecuniary profit, it is certain, do not always go
hand in hand in the:" primrose path of dalliance "; they
do not stand toward each other in the relation of cause
and effect. A virtuous act is not always, in the language
of the brokers, a good investment. The dividends on it
are small, and, when declared, they are not usually in the
current coin. It is no easy thing for a poor minister, especially if in his hunger lie have lost faith in the continued
existence of that species of raven which fed Elijah, to proclaim unwelcome doctrines to an audience who hold in
their hands the keys to his pantry and wardrobe. He
soon learns to talk to them in the gilt-edged phrase of the




208        WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
shop and the exchange, and his words fall musically on
their ears, like dimes on a counter. But while we thus
speak, it is no more than just to our clerical friends to say
that, among the faithless, many an Abdiel is found faithful;
that, in proportion to their numbers5 they furnish, perhaps,
more men than any other class who, in spite of all adverse
influences, are foremost in every good word and work.
There are among them men whom no tyrannical public
sentiment can intimidate, no gilded bribes seduce, —men
who think more of "the pure river of the water of life"
than they do of a Lydian Pactolus, even though every
modern Midas should bathe in it, and its waters should
glisten with golden sands, as of old.
The power of wealth, again, may be seen in our courts
of justice. We do not refer to any peculiar corruptibility
in our bench or panel; we do not know that judges stain
their ermine or jurymen violate their oaths oftener in this
country than in any other. But we refer to the wellknown fact that crimes of every hue and dye, from petty
larceny up to gaunt murder, have their pecuniary equivalent,  that their prices are marked against them in the
statute-book by our legislators, just as merchants mark their
goods. It has always been true, that,
"In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice."
The rich man who forges or steals, or commits any offence
which lies without or within the shadow of the gibbet,
mnay, at the pleasure of the Supreme Court, pay the bill,
take a receipt in full of all demands, and leave for parts
unknown; while the poor wretch who never inherited a
fortune, and is therefore unable'to secure from loss those
who might possibly be tempted to become his bail, must
do the state some service in the penitentiary. This may
be a necessary evil in the workings of the law; but still,
when those who are not initiated into the mysteries of




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.                209
jurisprudence see one man who has committed midnight
arson hammering stone within high walls at Charlestown
or Sing-Sing, and another who has been proved guilty of
the same offence driving fast horses or speculating in fancy
stocks, they are led to exclaim, with Dean Swift,
"Strange such difference there should be'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee."
It need not be said that a distinction, which exists not in
the enormity of the crime, but in the comparative wealth
of the criminals, is not likely to be appreciated by the unreasoning multitude, nor is it fitted in its practical application to enhance a poverty-stricken villain's reverence for
the majesty and impartiality of law.  It only tends to
quicken in the community the already riotous sense of the
desirableness and omnipotence of gold..
In speaking of the various relations which wealth sustains to human conduct in this country, we cannot, of
course, shut our eyes to the fact, that money is an element
of no little force in our political action. It is well known
that, in some of the States, property is made in their fundamental law a test of a man's fitness to vote or be voted for.
He must have a freehold in order to be deemed a, safe repository for a civil right so sacred as the elective franchise.
His patriotism is virtually measured by the acre, and in
some States his qualifications as. a fireeman are counted
up on his fingers by the number of slaves he owns.  The
Constitution of South Carolina declares, among other things,
in its first article, "that no person shall be eligible. to a
seat in the House of Representatives unless he be legally
seized and possessed, in his own right, of a settled freehold
estate of five hundred acres, of land and ten negroes."
But it is not of the constitutional disfranchisement of men
because of their poverty that we would speak.  We refer
rather to the influence of money in the elections in those
18*




210       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
States where, theoretically, all, rich and poor, high and
low, are on a horizontal level. It costs an aspiring individual something now-a-days to get elected to any high
political office. To secure the suffrages of an influential
voter, he must render a quid pro quo, either in ready cash
or in magnificent promises of post-offices or clerkships.
One of the " general gender" may be enlightened as to
his duty, perhaps, with free lunches, free drinks, and an
affectionate shaking of hands.  It is notorious that the
ballot, in some Congressional districts, is coming to have a
mercantile value, and the caucus has already become a
collection of stock-jobbers. Those grand test questions of
Jefferson, -" Is he honest?  Is he capable? Is he faithful to the Constitution? "- are gone into disuse, and now
the only inquiries interesting to Empire Clubs or bar-room
juntos are, whether the candidate for office will stick to the
platform, and part with himself; keep his mouth shut on
agitating subjects, and his purse open at the call of his
party. If he have the proper amount of dough, - dough
that will not "rise," - nothing more is requisite; his
statesmanship is complete. He may know the difference
between the Constitution and a kangaroo, or he may not.
If he is elected, the Union will be safe; the stars on our
national banner will twinkle with an unwonted brilliancy,
and the stripes will all run together - e pluribus unum —
into one broad expanse of glory.  "The world," as Samson Brass hath it, " will turn on its own axis, and have lunar influences, and revolutions round heavenly bodies, and
various games of that sort." But should he be defeated,
then,
" Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!"
But the influence of money does not stop with electionday; the accumulation of wealth is the " be all" and the
"end all " both of our national and State legislation.
Man is postponed. Cotton in politics, as in fashion, is




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.              211
prominent and foremost, while humanity sweats and pants
behind it. We think more of the tunic than of the toga
virilis; more of the shirt than we do of its wearer. It
was in view of the perverse influence which an all-absorbing passion for money exerts, that Plato, in his Republic,*
affirms that "virtue is so at variance with wealth, that,
supposing each to be placed at opposite ends of a balance,
they would always weigh the one against the other." This
of course cannot be accepted as a universal proposition;
but it is too true, that, to no small extent, the tables of the
money-changers do now, as of old, defile the temple of the
human soul. It is this greed for gain which flouts at conscience, and would coin the public heart, and "drop its
blood for drachmas."
But this auri sacra fames - this accursed hungering for
gold —is felt as keenly in literature as in politics. Au-.thors catch the spirit of the times in which they live, and
their utterance is modulated by the circumstances which
surround'them. The writer who has learned that books
of real merit can find no sale but with the trunk-maker
or grocer, and no higher mission than to line a box or
enwrap a parcel of damp sugar, is impelled to knock down
his talents to the highest bidder, and to write, rather
than starve, what he had better starve than write, - sentimental tales for seven-by-nine magazines, puffs of pills
and panaceas for penny papers, yellow-covered pamphlets
reeking with obscenity and atheism for precocious boys,
rose-water novelettes for young ladies in pantalets and
pinafores, political tirades for ambitious demagogues or
malignant partisans. The mercantile element is a constituent element in book-making. He must use the same
discrimination in the productions of his brain that the
manufacturer employs in the productions of his mill. It
is of vital importance to know " what prints will sell."
x Book VIII. chap. 6.




212       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
Milton neglected this worldly wisdom, and therefore,
through much tribulation, got five pounds for his Paradise Lost; Byron regarded it, and the bookseller was glad
to pay him fifteen thousand dollars for the first five cantos
of Don Juan. Professor Anthon is shrewd enough to see
that text-books in Greek and Latin sell better to students
when all the hard places are translated, and so Homer and
Horace, Cicero and Virgil, no longer speak to us in their
vernacular language, but we hear them, as in Pentecostal
days, "every man in our own tongue wherein we were
born."  Roman sesterces, in the estimation of the learned
Professor, are of more consequence by far than American
scholarship.
It is a melancholy fact in the history of literature, as
well as in the present world of letters, that authors, even
the most gifted, are nothing but men, -' forked, straddling
animals with bandy legs." However brilliant their talents
or ethereal their genius, yet, as Carlyle has said of the
French peasants, " every unit of them stands covered with
his own skin, and if you prick him he will bleed."  They
may attempt to "soar in the high reason of their fancy,
with their garlands and singing-robes about them," but
they always find themselves, even as other men, beating
their wings helplessly against the walls of their earthly
prison-house. If they would live in the bright creations
of thought and imagination, yet they have five craving
senses, and their- stomachs, like the daughters of the
horse-leech, continually cry, " Give, give."  The gnawings
of the gastric juice, as well as the presence of a moneygetting public sentiment, produce in authors, as in other
people, a utilitarian materialism. They learn to detect in
the running brook so many mill-privileges; in the spreading tree, so many cords of wood; and in the sporting lamb,
so many pounds of meat. ~" See those lambs," said Sir
Walter Scott to his wife,.- "h' ow beautiful! " Yes, my




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.             213
dear," replies the appreciating Lady Scott, "beautiful —
boiled!  " The " better-half " of the great Scotch minstrel
expressed the inmost conviction of many a hungry poet in
all ages of the world. Poetry and mutton! Happy would
it have been for the poor children of the Muses in the days
of Pope, if they could have effected a reconciliation between good writing and good eating, between rhyming
ballads and boiled lamb.  Chatterton  then would not
have poisoned himself to prevent starvation; Otway would
not have choked himself to death with a roll of bread, in
his eagerness to atone for an unwilling fast; and "poor
Goldsmith" might not have incurred the oppressive debt
of four thousand pounds, which prematurely crushed out
his life.
To the young person, male or female, ambitious of any
other distinction than a possible posthumous fame, the
annals of literary men do not furnish much encouragement. The dividends do not come until the certificateholder is gone. Garrets and genius, poverty and poetry,
have generally been boon companions. Dr. Johnson, the
" colossus of English literature," wrote his Rasselas in six
successive nights, to obtain the money for the defrayal of the
funeral expenses of his mother. Indeed, during his whole
life, the great lexicographer and editor of the Rambler
struggled day and night to keep his soul and body together,
and yet was worsted in the end.  Authors at all times,
with the exception of a few, like Scott and Dickens and
Mrs. Stowe, have maintained the same struggle, and oftentimes with even less success.  Between the appetite of
the poet and the stall of the butcher, as between the ancient Sestos and Abydos, an angry Hellespont has rolled,
spanned by no bridge of boats.  A sans-culotte from necessity, his " looped and windowed raggedness" has degraded him to a companionship with strolling mendicants,
and left his reputation to the mercy of succeeding genera



214       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
tions. With such prospects before them, it is not strange
that the class of literary men as such, in this country, has
ever been small.  We have but few men who devote
themselves exclusively to the higher walks of thought; we
have many, far more than any other nation, who can read,
write, and cipher,- read the Bible and newspaper, write
a note for sixty days, and cipher up the interest on it when
it falls due. We are not by any means deficient in intellectual power and resources; there is among the shining
faces in our school-grounds many a "mute, inglorious Milton"; but we choose rather to do than to dream, especially
when wealth is the consequent of the one, and poverty is
the shadow of the other.  Hence with us the thought
becomes at once an act; our ideas do not, as in Germany,
lie idle in our heads, like specimens in a cabinet, but they
are organized into institutions, engines, reaping-machines,
and chloric ether.  Not unfrequently, our profoundest
thinkers are engaged in the most active pursuits. Our
scholars are superintendents of railroads or agents of factories; our men of genius preside over machine-shops;
our poets are editors of political papers; our linguists are
learned blacksmiths; our mathematicians are building
bridges or navigating ships. Elihu Burritt learned some
fifty languages between the forge and the anvil. The Mecanique Celeste, which could be read by but one person
in England, was translated and improved by Nathaniel
Bowditch while at the head of an annuity-office in Massachusetts, Familiar facts like these might be multiplied to
an indefinite. extent,
As a people we are decidedly utilitarian in our notions
and conduct. We cultivate table-sauce rather than flowerborders, ruta-bagas rather than  roses, parsnips rather
than pansies. We like robins and bobolinks, not so much
because they sing, as because, when broiled, they are not
bad to take. We sympathize with the practical Hibernian,




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.             215
who was sure entirely that he would not keep pigs, the
troublesome creatures, if it were not for the pork. We
cannot stop to worship the beautiful in nature or art, -
such worship does not pay one per cent a month. We think
more of a potato-patch than of a painted landscape; more
of McCormick and Manning than of Titian and of Claude
Lorraine.  Fat oxen and merino sheep look better to us
when chewing their cuds in our barn-yards, than when
reposing in bright colors on the imaginary hillsides of the
artist. Statuary is regarded as well enough for those who
can afford to indulge in such luxuries, but the Apollo Bell
vedere and Venus de Medici would excite the admiration
of not a few to a higher degree if they could be turned to
any practical use. There are those, I doubt not, to whom
the Greek Slave of Powers is an object of less interest
and value than one of a darker hue, who could do a man's
work in a cotton-field.  We look at all things, animate
and inanimate, in the light of loss and gain; and our children are taught the higher law of trade -" Put money in
thy purse "- long before they learn the moral code or the
"chief end of man."   The ingenious Yankee who engraved the Lord's prayer on one side of a dime and the
ten commandments on the other, was a representative man.
It matters not that the letters on the coin are too small for
the naked eye; the coin itself is visible, and that is the
main thing.
In our anxiety to "make" the most in life, if not of it,
we give less time to amusements than any other nation.
It is with us " all work and no play."  We have nothing
corresponding with the great national festivals of the Grecian republic. Instead of the Olympic, Pythian, Nemaman, and Isthmian Games, to which every people of the
Hellenic race flocked in their holiday attire, and at which
genius and -patriotism were kindled to a flame, private
feuds forgotten in the hilarity of social'enjoyment, and




216       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
grovelling tastes and pursuits rebuked amidst the masterpieces of statuary, painting, and architecture, we listen
gloomily to the left-handed prophecies of some world-destroying Millerite at a second-advent camp-meeting, or
encore the wordy harangues of flatulent orators. It has
been said of us by a foreigner, that our only two amusements are "theology for the women and politics for the
men, - preaching and voting." It is certain that the natural cravings of the young for innocent recreation are not
properly attended to; while the old, plodding on in their
hard-trodden paths of business, lose long before the time
all relish for the few pastimes of their youth, - all power
to see any " sunny side" in life. This is unquestionably
wrong; for the time will come, do all we can to avert it,
when the wild roses will all be gathered from the wayside,
the bird fly elsewhere with his song, the storm-wind scatter the red leaves from the maples, and darkness settle
down upon our path, - a path which has lost all too soon
its flowers, its music, and its verdure.  There has been
abroad in the community a sentiment, zealously inculcated
by well-meaning but undeserving men, entirely opposed to
amusements of every class and kind. Because
"Life is real, life is earnest,"
it has been thought by many altogether wicked for one to
do anything but work with his hands on week-days and
rest from his labors on Sundays. This may be good; but
"man cannot live by bread alone."  A  deeper wisdom
would enable overweening censors to see that all those
recreations which do in reality re-create man, as an intellectual and moral being, are desirable; that those only are
sinful which appeal to our passions and debase us; that
labor and diversion, like day and night, should alternate;
that a pure morality and a rational amusement are congenial, an'd may go together. There is quite as much truth
as poetry in the oft-quoted line of Horace,



TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.             217
" Dulce est desipere in loco,"which, being interpreted, signifieth that that man mows
the most grass in a day who stops once in a while to whet
his scythe. A cheerful religion should be to us a " thousand-voiced psalm" of life, and not be made a garb to be
put on and taken off like a cloak or an overcoat. There
was a whole volume of moral philosophy in the remark of
a student of Yale College, now a retired veteran clergyman, who, when asked with surprise, on a certain occasion,
by a narrow-minded classmate, if he, a professor of religion,
was going out to engage in the sports of the gymnasium,
resolutely replied, " Yes, I am going to pitch quoits to the
glory of God." The time, however, has nearly gone by
when it is thought by anybody a virtue to set our nature
at strife with itself; when all pleasure is condemned simply
because it is' pleasant, and all pain is welcomed simply because it is painful. There have been men - we have seen
them- who were never comfortable unless they were miserable, - men who were always unhappy in life unless, in
the quaint though energetic language of Dr. South, they
felt the " fire and brimstone flaming round them."  Far
different from this was the philosophy of the old Spaniard,
who always put on spectacles when he was about to eat
cherries, that they might look bigger and more tempting.
In like manner, as it seems to me, does it become us in this
working world, and especially in this busy country, to
make the most of every innocent enjoyment, of every
harmless amusement.
Within the last few years the absorbing passion for
money has been quickened and intensified by the acquisition
of California, and the consequent discovery of exhaustless
gold mines. The enthusiasm which animated the followers
of Peter the Hermit and St. Bernard, in their march to
the Holy Sepulchre, has been matched in the eagerness of
the thousands who have gone in crusades to the " placers"
19




218       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
of this new El Dorado. The treasures over which the
indolent Mexicans had  stumbled blindly for centuries
have been suddenly poured into our great cities, and
thence, as from the fabled Tmolus, they have flowed in a
thousand golden streams all over the land. To the political economist there is a startling interest in some of our
recent moneyed statistics. A statement from official sources
shows that, during the five years ending December 31,
1853, the total production of gold in California was the
enormous sum of $ 300,000,000. Down to this same date,
Australia, though her mines had been worked but two
years and a half, had yielded to the English $176,000,000.
Now the whole estimated stock of gold in Europe and
America both, in 1848, was $2,785,000,000. The produce of California and Australia for the five years succeeding that time, therefore, was more than seventeen per
cent on the whole amount of gold in the whole civilized
world! What addition to this extraordinary percentage
has been made during the last eight years, we have not the
means of determining.  Nor is it easy to foresee what
the final result of this unprecedented influx of gold into
our channels of trade will be. We do know, however,
that Mexican and Peruvian mines did much to overthrow
the Spanish power and nationality; that it diverted industrial energy from honest labor into reckless adventure, and
contributed more than anything else to change a hardy and
enterprising people into a herd of indolent, imbecile, intriguing cut-throats, with scarcely any trait of their former character remaining, except their indomitable pride.
That California gold will work similar effects on us, we do
not like to believe. Our commercial activity, our internal
improvements, the railroads which are checkering our land
and uniting our oceans, the manufactories which are mingling the music of spinning-jennies and power-looms with
the music of waterfalls, - these all require capital, and all




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.                219
serve to scatter the shining dust of the Sacramento and
Sierra Nevada to every village and hamlet in the Union.
Still, it cannot escape the notice of the most careless observer, that a revolution is going on in our every-day life.
Our social habits are changing; the relation of labor to a
physical subsistence is undergoing no slight modification.
The increase in the amount of money is followed by a proportionate diminution in its value.*  It takes more of it
now than it did a few years ago to pay for " food convenient for us." It is manifest that the laboring classes, whose
wages per diem or salary per annum were fixed under the
old r#gime, must either, like Oliver Twist, " ask for more,"
and, unlike him, get it, or else they must put their wives
and children upon short allowance.
The increased wealth of the nation, it is obvious, therefore, is in some respects operating to the disadvantage of
the many whose daily bread is dependent on their daily
labor; it is no less obvious that the accumulation of this
national wealth in the hands of a class or limited number,
as will inevitably be the case, can hardly fail to affect unfavorably these favored few. There is a Nemesis which
always rules in human affairs. When weak men have all
the means of personal gratification at command, the temptation to wasteful extravagance and dissipation, hurtful to
themselves as well as to the community, is ordinarily too
strong to be resisted.  The truth of this assertion is forcibly illustrated in the fashionable follies running riot in
some of our principal cities. The cost of a new suit for
an exquisite Broadway dandy of the first water, including
finger-rings, watch-chain, snuffbox, and eye-glass, would
be amply sufficient to purchase in Minnesota a whole
township of government land; it would even go far, if
invested in a constitutional way, to entitle him to the privilege of voting in the empire of South Carolina! Carlyle
* Bank capital in 1860, $ 421,890,095. Report on Eighth Census, p. 193.




220       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
must have had his eye on one of these specimens of humanity when he defined man to be a "clothes-wearing
animal." Such characters as these clothes-horse dandies
are not mythological; we see them on pleasant days in
the streets, or catch the perfume of their presence in drawing-rooms, never employed, but always and everywhere
serene and " idle as Solomon's lilies "; not real flesh-andblood men, but padded and elaborate figures of speech.
But outward show is not the prerogative of one sex.
There is, I doubt not, to-night, in many a fashionable
saloon, many a lady whose costume, scanty though it be,
at a fair mercantile value, the whole Plymouth Colony, in
the time of John Carver, could not have bought.
Luxury in some of its multitudinous forms has always
been the result and accompaniment of wealth. It was
true in Rome and Corinth; it is true in these United
States. Its most common and absurd mode of development, however, has been rather in the extravagance of the
table than of the dress. Men have coveted riches for their
own sake; not as a means, but as an end; not to relieve
human want or to embellish cultivated life, but to minister
to the unnatural appetences of their own pampered bodies.
In the reign of Augustus, after the conquest of Asia, we
read that, notwithstanding the strictness of the sumptuary
laws, epicurism had attained such a pitch of sickly refinement that Maltese cranes, peacocks, and nightingales,
though hardly eatable, were considered great delicacies,
and their tongues and brains still greater. It is a sober
historical fact, that a single surmullet, a fish of the perch
variety, was sold for a sum equivalent to two hundred
and fifty dollars of our money. 2Esop, the tragic actor,
treated his guests to a dish of birds which had been taught,
with infinite pains and expense, either to sing or to speak,
and set before them also a flagon of wine whose flavor
he had attempted to improve by a solution of pearls. Hor



TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.                221
ace, however, ascribes this fact of hospitality to the son of
JEsop:
"An actor's son dissolved a wealthy pearl
The precious ear-ring of his favorite girlIn vinegar, and thus luxurious quaffed
A thousand solid talents at a draught."
In the reign of Domitian, the Senate, the grave and reverend Roman Senate, was convened by imperial proclamation, to consult on the best mode of dressing a turbot of
unusual size which had been presented to the Emperor.
The despot knew, says the historian, that no council of
cooks could furnish him with better advice. Some of the
rarest dainties which regaled the senses of the Roman epicure have not yet, so far as we know,
" Risen, like a stream of rich distilled perfumes,"
from the tables of American gastronomists. Snails, and a
species of large borer found in old timber, were, if we may
believe Apicius, who tells us how to cook them, fattened
with peculiar care, as a delicate morceau for the fastidious
human palate; while, according to Pliny, fricasseed nursing
puppies were worthy of being served at a supper for the
gods.  The aristocracy of our great cities have not yet
reached this refinement of luxury. Still they are quite as
flaunting and showy in their public exhibitions of wealth.
Armorial bearings emblazoned on the doors of carriages,
footmen in gaudy liveries, and grand parties, in which the
host may smile upon the beauty and the chivalry from a
halo of gas-light glory, amidst the fragrance of Weller's
fricandeau and the hired music of " flutes and soft recorders," -these are the modes in which the pride of some
of our millionnaires finds expression.
But, notwithstanding the thousand absurd follies constantly perpetrated by the worshippers of the golden calf
in our great cities, we should do violence to our own
convictions of truth and justice should we attempt to con19 




222       WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
vey the impression that they are a fair type of our wealthy
men. Many, if not most, of our rich men have been the
artificers of their own fortunes; they have risen to opulence by their own skill and exertions. The concentration
of mind, the persistency of purpose, the indefatigable industry, which made John Jacob Astor worth his millions,
might, if these same faculties had been applied to books,
have made him a Sir William Temple or a Dr. Parr.  The
liberality of the mercantile class is as munificent as it is proverbial. The names of our merchant-princes, whose hands
are ever "open as the day," are known and honored
throughout the land, in connection with our highest and
most cherished institutions of learning and charity and religion. While there can be no doubt that, by a large majority of the American people, an undue importance is attached
to wealth as the chief, if not the only good, yet we would
by no means depreciate its desirableness to an individual, or
its necessity to an enlightened community. The elevation
of man in civilized life above the fisher and hunter is owing
to the increased amount and secure possession of property.
Without this we should relapse into barbarism. The hum
of industry would cease; the pant of the engine would be
hushed; briers and thistles would overspread the garden and
fruitful field; its acorns and honey would again render the
oak sacred to Jupiter in the eyes of the hungry multitude;
the sails of commerce would flap idly over rotting hulks;
the warehouse and granary would be empty; learning would
forsake the halls of the university, and invention sit listless among broken crucibles and half-finished implements
of skill; the monuments rising from the red fields of our
fathers' valor would pause in their ascent; the hospital
would no longer open its doors to the sick and mutilated
and insane; the owl and the raven would congregate in
the temple, and from chancel to porch "' the satyr would
cry to his fellow." It is in the contempt which our Indians




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.             223
feel for labor and its material products that the missionary
finds the most serious obstacles to his efforts for their improvement. The Bedouin Arabs have no conception of
the sacredness of our household gods. The root which
they plant in the soil is plucked up without blood, and they
need no ghost of Polydorus to induce them to seek Lavinian shores. It is only where there is an accumulation
of property and a "'local habitation" that all the sweet
charities of society, friendship, and home gather.  The
nomadic herdsman, following the caprice of his grazing
cattle, must, in the nature of things, be solitary and selfish.
The famous line of Terence — " I am a man, and deem
nothing human unrelated to me" - could have no meaning to him. With him it is all of life to live. There is no
care for others in the present, none for himself in the future. The law of appetite is the highest law he knows.
Few people are aware how great an accumulation of
values, how vast an amount of capital, is required, not only
to' promote, but even to maintain our civilization. The
school systems of different countries are not bad illustrations of this fact, while at the same time they are indices
to the degree of a nation's progress and culture. The
young of the Free States in this Union do not comprehend
the magnitude of the sacrifice which is made every year
to secure to them the opportunities of a good education.
The most important item in determining the liberality of a
State in this particular- an item generally overlooked —
is not the money raised for common schools, but the time
which the young are permitted to appropriate to their books.
It makes a wonderful difference with a family, whether its
members are producers or consumers only. The state is
but a family of larger growth. The actual value of the
twenty weeks' time spent last year by the ninety thousand
children of New Hampshire in the public schools, was, at
the lowest estimate, half a million dollars, or an average




224        WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
of not less than six dollars to each tax-payer of the State.
In Massachusetts the proportional amount is much greater
than this. Now, such an expenditure can only be made by
a wealthy people. It could not be done in China, or even
in a large part of Great Britain; for there, as soon as a
child can earn a penny a day, he must earn it or starve.
But the amount expended in time and money on our
free schools, though fraught with the most momentous consequences to the country, is but a trifle compared with the
vast sums required to sustain the other' great interests
which distinguish us from the savage and barbarous nations
of the earth. The characteristics of an enlightened civilization are these six: a common-school education, to which
we have referred, the Christian religion, a skilful culture
of the soil, manufactures by steam and water-power, rapidity of intercommunication, and commerce. These all cost
money, - how much not many of us, perhaps, ever stop
to inquire.  According to the report of the Superintendent
of the Census, the value of our church property in 18'50
was $ 86,416,639. It appears also, from the same document, that $ 151,000,000 were invested in agricultural
implements and machines.* The capital employed in our
various manufactures, on the 1st of June, 1850, not including any establishments whose gross income was less
than $ 500 per annum, was $ 530,000,000.t On the first day
of January, 1852, ten thousand eight hundred and fortythree miles of railroad had been built in the United States,
at a cost of $592,770,000. How many miles have been
finished since that date, and how many are now in process
of completion, we have not the data to determine. $  Of
Value of agricultural implements and machinery in 1860, $ 247,027,496.
Report on Eighth Census, p. 197.
t The total value of domestic manufactures produced in the year ending
June 1, 1860,was $1,900,000,000. The amount employed in this production
was $ 1,050,000,000. Ibid., pp. 59, 190.
$ At the close of the decade in 1860, 30,599 miles of railroad in the United
States had been completed, at a cost of $ 1,134,452,909. Ibid., p. 103.




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.              225
the amount of money invested in commerce I have no
definite knowledge; but the enormous sums already enumerated are sufficient to show that there is an intimate
connection between capital and civilization.
We have thus spoken of wealth in some of its relations
to a democratic government. We have seen that out of
the freedom of our political institutions there has sprung
up an unexampled physical and mental activity; that this
activity is especially manifested in the intensity of our haste
to be rich; that money exerts a controlling influence in all
the departments of our energetic life, - entering the schoolroom, ascending the pulpit stairs, paying the penalty for
crime, withholding or bestowing as by a divine right the
elective franchise, making merchandise of our political
principles, tempting the man of letters from the shades
of the academy into the marts of trade, destroying our
relish for rational amusements, and shutting our eyes and
petrifying our hearts to the beautiful in nature and in art.
We have seen, too, that, notwithstanding these multiform
abuses of wealth, it is indispensable to the success, and
even existence, of those magnificent interests which characterize an enlightened nation. We have endeavored to
show that, though some rich snobs in Fifth Avenue are
guilty of all sorts of grotesque and absurd extravagances,
still the beneficent influence of wealth upon our social,
industrial, educational, and religious relations is such as to
render it an object worthy of individual exertion and of
national concern.
Two very brief remarks shall finish what we have to
say.
In the first place, " a man," as Theodore Parker, in his
quaint way, expresses it, "was meant to be something
more than the tassel to an estate." Thought and labor,
at least in the Free States, may go hand in hand in a path,
not unstrewn with flowers, to competency and fortune.




226        WEALTH IN SOME OF ITS RELATIONS
"The fool, who holds it heresy to think,
And knows no music but the dollar's chink,"
is not a fool of the highest style. When Shylock asked,
"Hath a dog money? is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?"
he thought, undoubtedly, that he had made the grand distinction between the genus canis and the genus homo. But
it is coming to be generally conceded, that to be a man, a
full-grown, well-developed man, somewhat more is necessary than skill in shaving notes without drawing blood.
There is a significance in the exclamation of Solomon:
" How much better is it to get wisdom than gold, and to
get understanding, rather to be chosen than silver! " But
let the gold and silver, and the high thought and warm
heart and open hand, go together, as they may, and then
you shall follow the path of the rich man through life by
the fruits of his culture and the splendid monuments of his
generosity.
The last remark which I have to make is this: material
wealth and physical power will not alone insure permanency to a free government. Sir William Jones has well
answered the question of his own asking:" What constitutes a state?
Not high-raised battlement or labored mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
But men, high-minded men."
The soil of Attica is as fertile, its valleys as beautiful with
vines, and its hills as redolent of olive-blossoms, as when
Miltiades conquered at Marathon, or Demosthenes hurled
his terrible Philippics at the king of Macedon.  The sky
of Italy is as serene and blue, and the Adriatic is as
exultant with white-winged commerce, as when Cato, with




TO A FREE GOVERNMENT.                 227
vindictive pertinacity, repeated in the ear of the Roman
Senate his famous Delenda est Carthago; and the Seven
Hills are as firm as when they echoed to the tramp of
Caesar's victorious legions. But the Genius of their liberty was like the image which the Chaldvean king saw in
his vision. " Its head was of fine gold," but in its iron feet
there was a mixture of " miry clay." Athens -splendid,
ivy-crowned, poet-sung, world-renowned Athens *- talked
eloquently of human rights with her sandalled foot upon
the neck of four hundred thousand slaves, and worshipped
devoutly in glorious temples dedicated to "the unknown
God "; and Rome, in her lust of dominion, in the realization of her " manifest destiny," became the bloated oppressor of the world; —and so they fell. On the banks
of the Ilissus and the Tiber their shadowy forms still rest,
beautiful in desolation, mementos of the past and prophecies of the future,
" So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there."
From  amidst the broken arches of their civilization, and
the mouldering monuments of their military triumphs, there
comes to us, in one of the inspired utterances of Cicero, a
voice hollow as the sepulchre, and awful in its admonition
as the voice of doom: "No  Republic can stand unless
its pillars rest upon the foundation-stones of Eternal Justice!" t
* "Ac r) XtLrapaL Kal loroEc]0avot Kal aoltltot, KXriel'Al Svat.
t " Sine summa Justitia Rempublicam geri nullo modo posse." - Cicero
de Rep. Lib. II. c. 44.




THE PHILLIPS FAMILY AND PHILLIPS
EXETER ACADEMY.*
[North American Review, July, 1858.]
T HE failure of a contributor to fulfil his engagement
has prevented, until this late day, any notice in our
pages of Mr. Taylor's Memoir of Judge Phillips.  The
intrinsic merits of the work, as well as the elevated character of its subject, deserve a larger space than we can
even now bestow. We can do little more than to express
our high sense of the research and fidelity of the writer,
and our admiration of the " Christian statesman, scholar,
and philanthropist " to whose intimacy he has introduced
us. The ancestry and personal history of a man remarkable in all the relations of life, sketched in an appreciative
spirit and with a skilful hand, are never without interest.
Especially in these days, when politicians are publicly
bought and sold at the Washington brokers' board, and
quoted daily in the money articles of the commercial press
like fancy railroad stock or copper-mine shares, it is pleasant, for the novelty of the thing, to contemplate the character of a patriot of the olden time. It is a consolation,
too, to know that the wealth which now flaunts in the
grotesque extravagance of our modern pill and panacea
aristocracy, once was employed in founding institutions of
* 1. A Memoir of His Honor Samuel Phillips, LL. D. By REV. JOHN L
TAYLOR. Boston: Congregational Board of Publication. 1856.
2. Catalogue of the Officers and Students of the Phillips Exeter Academy for
the Academric Year 1857 - 8.




THE PHILLIPS FAMILY.             229
learning, and consecrated with many prayers " Christo et
Ecclesiae."
Among the distinguished passengers on board the ship
Arbella, which entered the harbor of Salem on the twelfth
day of June, 1630, was the Rev. George Phillips, " a godly
man, specially gifted," who used to talk to the sturdy old
Puritans at Watertown " at such a rate as marvellously
ministered grace unto the hearers." He was the intimate
friend, as well as fellow-voyager, of Governor John Winthrop and Sir Richard Saltonstall, and seems to have been
a leading spirit in moulding the civil and ecclesiastical
institutions of the early New England Colonies. Cotton
Mather's quaint epitaph upon him introduces us to his son
Samuel:"Hic jacet Georgius Phillippi,
Vir incomparabilis, nisi Samuelem genuisset."
This same son, whose lustre had dimmed the father's
fame, was an eminent preacher of the Word at old Rowley
for forty-five years, from 1651 to 1696. Among the fruits
of his ministry we find, in the line of regular succession, a
son who inherited the paternal prenomen, though the prophetic mantle fell upon a younger brother. We know of
this patronymic descendant, only that he was a successful
goldsmith in Salem, and that he transmitted the favorite
family name to the Rev. Samuel Phillips, a man of striking
individuality and energy of character, whose pastoral relation to the old South Church at Andover commenced with
its origin, in 1711, and continued without interruption for
a period of sixty years. His charge of ordination, on the
eighteenth day of November, 1730, to the Rev. Timothy
Walker, the first minister settled in that " remote part of the
wilderness' then called Penacook, but now known as Concord, New Hampshire, is still extant. Besides this, he left
behind him numerous sermons of marked ability, and three
sons, SAMUEL, JOHN, and WILLIAM, the founders of the
20




230              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
Phillips Academies at Andover and Exeter.  Of these,
the first was the father of his Honor SAMUEL PHILLIPS,
JR., or, as he is more commonly called, JUDGE PHILLIPS,
the subject of Mr. Taylor's Memoir. The former of these
titles, the office of Lieutenant-Governor of Massachusetts,
held during the last year of his life, gave to him; the latter
he earned by sixteen years' laborious service on the bench
of the Court of Common Pleas for Essex County.
The son of religious parents, without brothers or sisters,
young Phillips grew up, in the companionship of his elders,
a grave and manly boy.  The defeat of Braddock, the
capture of Nova Scotia by Massachusetts troops, the repulse of Baron Dieskau by General Johnson near Lake
George, and the thousand thrilling tales of the French and
Indian wars, stirred the blood of his early childhood, and
gave a military glow to his future life. In his quiet retreat
at Byfield Academy, in 1765, he could hear the forensic thunders which foreboded the storm of revolution.
The two Adamses were denouncing the Stamp Act, and
proclaiming the doctrines of republican liberty; the breath
of James Otis, like a flame of fire, was consuming writs of
assistance, and kindling the patriotism of his countrymen;
the clarion voice of " the Boston Cicero," Josiah Quincy,
the honored sire of a no less honored son, was waking the
echoes in old Faneuil Hall. Having completed his preparatory studies at Byfield, he entered Harvard in 1767.
But the silence of its classic grounds was soon disturbed by
the din of martial preparation. The legislature, in 1768
and in 1770, indignantly refused to sit in Boston, occupied as it was by British troops, and held their sessions in
Cambridge. The students caught the spirit of their deliberations; and some of Phillips's college themes, still preserved, sound more like the Philippics of the Athenian
orator than like the literary essays of a smooth-faced boy
of eighteen summers. He was graduated in 1771, with




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          231
the Salutatory Oration. He seems to have been in college,
as he was in his whole subsequent life, a model, not only
of scholarly industry and refined manners, but of pure
morals and rational piety. In 1773, at the age of twentyone, he married Miss Phocebe Foxcroft, a highly cultivated
and accomplished lady, his senior by nearly nine years,
yet his junior in temperament and constitutional vivacity.
The marriage was eminently happy. The wife was a
beautiful counterpart of the husband. The self-possessed
dignity and solid virtues of her character admirably fitted
her to preside over his household, and to manage his affairs
during the long periods of his absence; while her exuberant hopefulness irradiated the clouds which sometimes lay
dark in the western horizon of his life.  Whether she was
keeping for him the records of the town, or dispensing a
generous hospitality, or the " cynosure of neighboring
eyes " in the social circle, she was always and everywhere
to him, as he used to express it in his stately, though affectionate letters, " his invaluable partner," c" his best friend."
She survived him nearly eleven years, and died in 1812,
having almost reached the allotted threescore and ten.
Some five years before her death, she, in connection with
her son, contributed $ 20,000 toward the establishment of
the Theological Seminary at Andover, and thus carried
into execution the partially formed plans of her husband.
This institution was still further endowed by other members of the Phillips family. His Honor William Phillips,
cousin of the Judge, bestowed upon it during his life
$4,000, and at his death left it a legacy of $10,000.
Samuel Abbot, grandson of the Samuel Phillips of Salem,
and the wife of Moses Brown, great-granddaughter of
the same, founded the Abbot and the Brown Professorships,- the former giving for this purpose $ 20,000, and
the latter, together with her granddaughter, Mrs. Sarah
W. Hale, $ 24,000. It is a noteworthy fact, too, that the




232              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
Abbot Female Seminary had its origin in the munificence
of a descendant of the same Salem goldsmith.
In contemplating the career of Judge Phillips, we are
amazed at the amount and variety of labor which he performed. There was hardly any sphere of action, public or
private, into which he did not enter, and in which he did
not succeed. His body was literally a " living sacrifice"
to God and duty. Though "' he completed his self-immolation at mid-life," yet, philosophically speaking, his death
at fifty was not premature. He died old and full of years,
because his life had been crowded with action and with
thought.
"We live in deeds, not years, - in thoughts, not breaths, -
In feelings, not in figures on a dial;
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best."
At the age of twenty-three years, he was chosen a representative to the Provincial Congress, which met at Watertown, July 19, 1775. The records show that he was
especially efficient and influential in all the deliberations
of its four successive sessions.  When the tide of war
turned towards the South and West, and the people began
to think of inaugurating a new government upon the basis
of republican principles, he was elected a delegate from
Andover to the Constitutional Convention, which met at
Cambridge, September 1, 1779, and was a conspicuous
member of the committee of thirty-one, chosen by ballot to
prepare " a frame of government and declaration of rights."
His associates were such men as John Adams, Samuel Adams, John Hancock, James Bowdoin, Levi Lincoln, John
Lowell, Thebphilus Parsons, John Pickering, and Caleb
Strong. There were giants in those days. After the formation and adoption of the Constitution, he was chosen
under it to the Senate, in 1780, and continued to be reelected for twenty years, for fifteen of which he was Presi



AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          233
dent of that body. He occupied this high position, too, it
should be remembered, when statesmen, as Josiah Quincy
quaintly remarks, "were not made out of every sort of
wood.". It was during this period, in the summer of 1786,
that.Shays's rebellion assumed an alarming aspect.  The
conspirators had gathered in large numbers, with arms in
their hands, at Northampton and various other places in
Western Massachusetts.  The same riotous spirit had begun to exhibit itself in New York and Vermont; and in
New Hampshire it had menaced the legislature, then in
session at Exeter.  John Sullivan, the President of New
Hampshire, (as the governor was called under the constitution of 1784,) attempted to convince the insurgents of
the unlawful and revolutionary character of their proceedings; but " inter arma leges silent."  At the point of
the bayonet, they demanded, among other things, an emission of paper money, a release from debts, and an equal
distribution of property. The citizens of Exeter, incensed
at their audacity, flocked together at once, in such numbers,
and with such manifest hostility, that the rebels retired to a
lhill a mile distant, where, on the next morning, General
Cilley charging upon them with a troop of horse, "they
were instantly broken, and fled without firing a gun."
The dispersion of the rebels in New Hampshire had disheartened their confederates in Massachusetts.  Governor
Bowdoin, February 19, 1787, issued his proclamation,
" setting a price of ~ 150 upon the head of Shays, and
~ 100 upon each of the other three leaders, Wheeler,
Parsons, and Day." These men soon found it discreet,
if not valiant, to leave the State, and it became evident
that large numbers of their followers were anxious to return to their allegiance to the government.  A  special
commission, therefore, was created by the legislature, to
treat with the disaffected, and receive their submission.
Judge Phillips, General Lincoln, and Samuel Allyne Otis
20 




234              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
were appointed commissioners. The delicate and responsible trust confided to them was discharged with most gratifying success, and the clouds which overhung the infant
commonwealth passed away. The next year Judge Phillips returned to his position in the Senate, which he continued to occupy until he was elected, the year before his
death, Lieutenant-Governor. In addition to the arduous
duties connected with these public stations, he served, with
eminent ability, as one of the judges of the Essex Court
of Common Pleas from 1781 until 1798, — having been
absent in all that time in but two cases, when some other
public duty rendered his presence impossible. His associates on the bench were Benjamin Greenleaf, Samuel Holton, and John Pickering.
It would seem that these manifold civil labors were
enough to absorb the interest and exhaust the energies of
any common man. But yet, in the midst of them all, he
gave, as Knapp expresses it, " incredible attentions to business." - He was an extensive and successful farmer. His
saw-mill, grist-mill, and paper-mill, under his watchful
supervision, were constant sources of revenue. The' powder-mill which he had erected in the winter of 1775 - 6,
when Washington was compelled to lie inactive at Cambridge for want of ammunition, and General Putnam was
roughly praying, "Powder, powder, powder! ye gods,
give us powder! " after playing a most important part in
the Revolutionary drama, was blown up in 1796. His
stores at Andover and Methuen felt the influence of his
ubiquitous presence, and became places of extensive traffic
and corresponding income. His thrift is sufficiently indicated in tile fact, that his property, exclusive of the estate
of Madam Phillips, was appraised after his decease at nearly
$150,000. But neither the pursuits of wealth nor the
discharge of civic trusts could divert his interest from the
subject of education.  "The times had made him a man




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          235
of business; had associated him with powder and politics;
had agitated him with public cares, and consumed him
with public toils; but in all this he had shown how completely a far-seeing patriot scholar can sacrifice his predilections in great public exigencies." His native temperament,
his intellectual qualities, his moral affinities, are all exhibited in his enthusiastic exertions in behalf of sound learning
and the Christian faith. He gave $ 5,000 as a perpetual
funsd, for the purpose of lengthening the common schools
of his native town, and scattering religious books among
the people. As Senator, he was ex officio an Overseer of
Harvard University for twenty years, and his paternal
counsels to the students were not the least attractive feature of the Senior examinations.  He was one of the
original members of the American Academy of Arts and
Sciences, incorporated May 4, 1780.  His address from
the bench to the grand-jury, upon the importance of
educating the youth of the community and the pitiable
parsimony of employing cheap instructors, is replete with
profound thought and wise suggestions, not inappropriate
to these times and this meridian. But he is more widely
and favorably known as the projector of the Phillips Andover Academy. In the establishment and well-being of this
institution he exerted a controlling influence, and its honorable fame is a monument to him more lasting than brass.
Though he did not himself bestow upon it any very considerable sums of money, yet he " subsidized a family of
kindred spirits, and unlocked their hoards and hearts." His
father gave to it $ 6,000, his uncles John and William
$ 31,000 and $ 6,000 respectively, and his cousin William
$ 28,000. The various benefactions of this extraordinary
family, amounting to more than $ 100,000, have made Andover a place sacred forevermore to letters and religion.
But, commending Mr. Taylor's book to the general
reader, as a beautiful tribute to the fragrant memory of




236             THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
"the accurate scholar, the enlightened statesman, the accomplished gentleman, and the exemplary Christian," we
propose now to turn aside, and spend an hour among the
trees and in the halls of an institution, planted by one of
the uncles just alluded to, in the pleasant town of Exeter.
PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY was incorporated April 3,
1781, just six months, lacking one day, subsequent to the
incorporation of the Phillips Andover Academy. It is the
oldest institution of learning in New Hampshire established
by the legislature, Dartmouth College having been chartered by royal grant in 1769. The provisional government,
which, commencing with the Declaration of Independence,
was supplanted at the close of the Revolutionary war by
the constitution of 1784, was then in force.  The act of
incorporation, signed by John Langdon, Speaker of the
House of Representatives, and Meshech Weare, President
of the Council, is a liberal and enlightened document, worthy of a people who knew that the freedom for which they
were battling could rest secure only on the basis of intelligence and virtue. After setting forth in its preamble the
great advantages accruing to society from the education of
the young, the act proceeds: " Be it therefore enacted, by
the Council and House of Representatives in General Assembly convened, and by the authority of the same, that
there be and hereby is established, in the town of Exeter
and County of Rockingham, an Academy, for the purpose
of promoting Piety and Virtue; and for the Education of
Youth in the English, Latin, and Greek languages; in
Writing, Arithmetic, Music, the Art of Speaking, Practical Geometry, Logic, and Geography,' and such other of
the liberal Arts and Sciences or Languages as opportunity
may hereafter permit, or as the Trustees hereinafter provided shall direct." The entire management of the institution is vested in a Board of Trustees, not to exceed seven
in number nor to be less than four, a majority of whom




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          237
must be " laymen and respectable freeholders," and a majority, too, non-residents of Exeter. These Trustees constitute a close corporation; and whenever any vacancies
occur in their number, the survivors are authorized to fill
them by ballot "in perpetual succession forever."  The
last clause of the act declares, that " all the lands, tenements, and personal estate, that shall be given to said
Trustees of said Academy, shall be and hereby are forever exempted from all taxes whatsoever." The Academy
was named after the person who was the prime mover and
efficient agent in its organization, and to whose princely
munificence it is indebted for its capabilities of usefulness.
Of the character of "the founder," the scanty materials at
our command enable us to give only a meagre sketch.
The HON. JOHN PHILLIPS, LL. D. was born December
27, 1719. Of his early youth we know but little. He was
graduated with distinction at Harvard College in 1735, the
same year in which Rev. Eleazer Wheelock opened, in
Lebanon, Connecticut, the school, which, thirty-five years
afterwards, was removed to Hanover, New Hampshire,
and transformed into Dartmouth College. After his graduation, he pursued the business of teaching for several
years, during which time he studied theology with such
helps as he could command. The religious element was the
controlling one in his character. "An angel had troubled "
the fountains of his being; and in the outflow of his life
there were cleansing and health. While in charge of a
private classical school at Exeter, he was unanimously invited to the pastorate of the First Church; but not being
able to overcome his natural diffidence, he declined, and the
vacancy was filled by the Rev. Woodbridge Odlin. The
wonderful eloquence of Whitefield, whose preaching at
that time in the region round about had caused the " Great
Awakening," seems to have elevated the standard of pulpit
oratory in the esteem of young Phillips to such an unattain



238              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
able height, that he abandoned at once his ministerial plans,
and devoted himself to business. The energy and sagacity
of a mind vigorous by nature and quickened by careful
culture, could hardly fail of success in any sphere of effort.
The unpretending house in which he both lived and "kept
store," is still standing, on Water Street, in Exeter. After
the decease of his widow, who did not survive him a long
time, it was the residence of Dr. Abbot, the Principal of
the Academy; but during the last half-century it has experienced various vicissitudes of fortune, until now it is said
to be devoted by its colored occupants to billiards and bad
liquor!  The dog-kennels of Louis XIV. and his kingly
successors have become a famous normal school at Versailles; the very buildings and grounds, once dedicated to
pointers and fox-hounds, are now the beautiful home of
young men and women preparing themselves to be the
teachers of France.  The transformation of the Phillips
mansion is quite as absolute as that of the royal doggeries,
though in the opposite direction.
Dr. Phillips was a vigorous old Puritan, a little sombre in
his exterior, but genial and warm-hearted with his friends.
He was punctilious in his exactions of outward respect.
While expending his fortune for the welfare of the young,
he would not give a boy a cherry from his trees, unless the
favor were asked with a low bow and in the most reverent
tone.  The failure of a little girl to make her accustomed
courtesy on meeting him in the street would overshadow
his face with a frown, which hours of sunlight could not
dissipate. He was conscious of his position in society, and
was not unwilling to receive the homage of youth or age.
And yet he did not walk in a vain show, nor were his
thoughts all concentred on himself. He was simple in his
habits, and far-seeing in all his plans. As a natural consequence, his accumulations of property were rapid, - outstripped only by his benefactions. The wealth which he




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          239
acquired was not wasted in personal extravagance, nor
hoarded with miserly greed; but it was used in large measure during his life for noble ends, and the residue was consecrated at his death to the promotion of knowledge and
virtue. His charities did not flow in a single stream, but
distilled like the dew. He endowed a professorship of theology in Dartmouth College, and served for twenty years
as one of the Trustees of that institution. To Princeton
College also he dispensed his bounties with a liberal hand.
Every enterprise which his judgment approved, as tending
to elevate and enlighten the young, was sure to command
his! sympathy and unwavering support.  The honor of
originating the idea of the institution at Andover, it is
affirmed, belongs to neither of the three brothers referred
to above, Samuel, John, and William; but rather, as we
have seen, to the only son of the eldest, Samuel Phillips,
Jr. But it is agreed on all hands, that the execution of the
various plans for a model school depended to a great extent, if not chiefly, upon the intelligent counsel and material aid of Dr. Phillips. The benevolent purpose of the
nephew would never have taken form and fulness, had it
not been for the practical wisdom and enlightened efforts
of the uncle. He was one of the two original signers of
the constitution of Phillips Academy at Andover. From
its organization to his death, he was one of its most efficient
Trustees, and, during the last five years of his life, President of the Board. For its endowment he did more than
any other man. He gave to it at the outset, in equal
shares with Samuel Phillips, senior, three hundred and fortyone acres of land and the sum of ~ 1,614 sterling. His interest in it continued through life, and his contributions to
it, as has been stated before, were not less than $31,000.
But, besides these liberal benefactions to Andover, Dr.
Phillips was the originator and sole founder of the Academy at Exeter.  "Without natural issue, he made posterity




240             THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
his heir." How much he gave at various times to the
Phillips Exeter Academy, it is not easy to determine with
mathematical accuracy. But it is indebted solely to him
for all its funds, with the exception of a bequest by Nicholas Gilman of $ 1,000, the income of which is expended
for instruction in music, and a donation of $ 100 by the
late Hon. Leverett Saltonstall, for the library. The present property of the Academy may be stated approximately
as follows: -
Real estate, including six or seven acres of land
in the village, the Academy building, Abbot
Hall, and the house of the Principal,     $ 35,000
Productive funds in notes and stocks,..  100,000
It is safe to say, that it is altogether the best-endowed institution of its class in the State of New Hampshire, if not
in the country. The founder, however, did not merely bestow his wealth and then leave it to the control of others,
but he watched over its use with a sleepless interest. The
same breadth of vision in general plans, and the same
economy in minute details, which characterized the man of
business in his accumulations, were characteristic of the
Trustee in the application of funds which he considered
sacred to God and humanity.  He was constant in his
attendance upon the meetings of the Board, as its President, and fruitful in his expedients to promote the prosperity of his favorite institution.  When the burden of
increasing years grew heavy upon him, he appointed as his
successor his Excellency John Taylor Gilman; but still he
labored on in the vineyard of his planting, and death found
him watching. He died, April 21, 1795, at the age of
seventy-five years and four months. The Rev. Benjamin
Thurston was invited by the Trustees to deliver a eulogy
upon the deceased, at their next annual meeting. This
tribute of friendship was paid, October 14, 1795, in the




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          241
meeting-house; but no copy of the eulogy has come down
to us.  The portrait of the founder was taken by Stewart,
and placed in the library. A marble monument in the old
cemetery covers his remains, and the inscription, from the
classic pen of Nathaniel A. Haven, Jr., tells us of his manifold virtues.
The animating purpose of the founder, as expressed near
the commencement of the Constitution, which he drafted
himself, was "'the instruction of youth, not only in the
English and Latin grammar, writing, arithmetic, and those
sciences wherein they are commonly taught, but more especially to teach them the great end and real business of
living." Further on, he expresses himself on the same
point, in a style worthy of the elevated sentiment which
he is enforcing. "Above all, it is expected that the attention of instructors to the disposition of the minds and
morals of the youth under their charge will exceed every
other care; well considering that, though goodness without
knowledge is weak and feeble, yet knowledge without goodness
is dangerous, and that both united form the noblest character
and lay the surest foundation of usefulness to mankind."
If he had been writing a text-book on ethical philosophy,
he could not have enunciated with more conciseness, and
at the same time fulness of truth, the great proposition
which must underlie every system of Christian education.
Near the close of the Constitution, he says: "And in order
to prevent a perversion of the true intent of this foundation, it is again declared, that the first and principal design
of this institution is the promoting of virtue and true piety,
-useful knowledge being subservient thereto." To put
this purpose more effectually into execution, as well as to
give special instruction to those who had the ministerial
profession in view, it was voted at a meeting of the Trustees, October 15, 1791, "to proceed to the choice of a
Professor of Divinity in the Phillips Exeter Academy, and
21




242              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
joint instructor with the Preceptor, thereof." The Rev.
Joseph Buckminster was chosen, and his salary fixed at
"one hundred and thirty-three pounds six shillings and
eight pence, lawful money, per annum." But it does not
appear that he accepted the responsibilities of the position.
No further movement was made in that direction during
the life of the founder, nor indeed until 1817, when the
Rev. Isaac Hurd, pastor of the Second Church in Exeter,
was elected "Theological Instructor."  The duties attached
to this office were stated lectures on the principal topics of
theology, together with more frequent moral and religious
instruction of a familiar character. At a meeting of the
Trustees, August 22, 1838, — present, Jeremiah Smith,
Samuel Hale, Daniel Webster, and Charles Burroughs, -
it was "Voted, that the office of Theological Instructor be
discontinued from and after the eleventh day of March
next." The propriety of this action of the Board was
sustained in an elaborate report by Dr. Dana. Since that
time, the moral training of the students has been committed to no particular individual as his specialty; but the culture of the heart, as well as of the intellect, has devolved
upon the regular instructors. So far as they may be faithful to their trust, the Academy will be what its founder
intended it should be, -" not," in the words of another,
"a sectarian school, and not a mere scientific school; but
a classical and Christian gymnasium, in close alliance with
the university and the learned professions." It is proper
to add, that, though Dr. Phillips was a thorough Calvinist,
yet he did not establish the Academy for any one sect.
This is manifest from the fact that, of the seven original Trustees appointed by himself, two, John Pickering,
LL. D., and Rev. Benjamin Thurston, were Arminians;
and three others, Hon. Paine Wingate, Hon. Oliver Peabody, and Hon. John Taylor Gilman, together with the
second Preceptor, Benjamin Abbot, LL.D., men of his




AND. PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.         243
own selection at different times prior to his death, all entertained theological views at variance with his own. The
truth is, the school is not, never was, never was meant to
be, and we devoutly hope never will be, in any sense sectarian.
Having thus spoken of the establishment of the Academy
in connection with the elevated character and aims of Dr.
Phillips, it is proper to refer to the early teachers, whose
scholarship and ability are attested, not only by the reputation of the institution, into whose inanimate organism they
breathed the breath of life, but also by the world-wide fame
of a multitude of their pupils.
The first meeting of the Trustees was held, December
18, 1781, eight and a half months after President Weare
put his name to the act of incorporation. The school does
not- seem to have been opened in due form until February
20, 1783, on which occasion a discourse was delivered by
the Rev. David McClure. It is probable that on that day
the Rev. Benjamin Thurston, as temporary instructor, gave
the first lessons ever given to the students of Phillips Exeter Academy. The old records, however, are somewhat
misty on this point.  WILLIAM WOODBRIDGE, A. B., who
had been appointed Preceptor by the founder, was not inducted into office until the first day of May following, at
"two o'clock, P. M."  The Academy building, which
was of moderate size, was situated a few rods west of Tan
Lane, on a swell of land now owned by Mr. Jeremiah
Robinson. It was removed, after the erection of the present structure in 1794, nearly a mile, and transformed into
the dwelling-house occupied at the present time by John
T. Gordon, Esq. The salary of the Preceptor, it was
voted, should be one hundred pounds sterling per annum.
The failure of his health, and his consequent inability to
discharge the duties of instruction and government, constrained him to resign his position. In accepting his resig



244              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
nation, on the second Wednesday of October, 1788, the
Trustees tender to him their thanks for his "faithful services and unwearied exertions," and express the hope, that,
"in whatever sphere he may hereafter move, his efforts
may be crowned with distinguished usefulness." He afterwards, in connection with his sister, opened a school for
young ladies in Medford, Massachusetts, and exercised his
gifts as a preacher at Jamaica Plain and in other places.
Of his personal characteristics and history, we have no
very definite knowledge; but we infer, from some floating
traditions, that, though the Trustees wished him well at
his departure from Exeter, as Christian men should, yet
they economized their tears on the occasion, and proceeded
in a business-like way to elect his successor.
BENJAMIN ABBOT, LL. D., a native of Andover, Massachusetts, was born September 17, 1762. He labored on
his father's farm until he was nearly twenty-one years of
age, and, then, with his face towards college, he commenced
his Latin grammar, under the instruction of Professor
Eliphalet Pearson. He evidently studied to some purpose;
for he delivered the Salutatory Oration in the class which
was graduated at Harvard in 1788. In the autumn of the
same year, he was employed as an instructor at Exeter,
where he labored successfully for two years, when, on _Friday, October 15, 1790, he was regularly chosen Preceptor,
with a fixed salary of one hundred and thirty-three pounds
six shillings and eight pence, lawful money, per annum.
Friday did not in this case prove to be one of the old Roman dies nefasti. The school, when he took charge of it,
was small in point of numbers, and backward in scholarship.
There were but two pupils who had looked beyond common
reading and spelling into the mysteries of Latin.  The
aspect of things was soon changed.  Students were multiplied, a new building was erected for their accommodation,
the course of study was enlarged, and a spirit of order and




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.         245
system " moved upon the face of the waters."  It became
necessary, in a short time, to procure for the Principal
some assistance.  Inexperienced youth just from college
proved inadequate to the task; and it was therefore voted,
in a meeting of the Trustees, August 23, 1803, "that there
be established in the Academy a permanent instructor, to
be denominated the Mathematical Instructor."  His title
was afterwards changed, by formal vote, to " Professor of
Mathematics and Natural Philosophy," and Ebenezer Adams, who had been Principal of the Academy at Leicester,
Massachusetts, was in 1808 elected to the Professorship.,But in the course of the next year, he accepted an invitation to a similar Professorship in Dartmouth College. The
place thus made vacant was filled in 1811 by Rev. Hosea
Hildreth, a man of eminent ability and fine scholarship,
full of quaint wit and irony, with an exceedingly expressive
face, which Robert Treat Paine affirmed might be cut up
into a thousand epigrams. His connection with the Academy continued until 1825, when he left it, and devoted
himself exclusively to the ministry, - a sphere of labor in
which his power as a writer found scope and verge. The
distinguished American historian is his oldest son. Mr.
Hildreth's successors were John P. Cleaveland, D. D.,
Charles C. P. Gale, Joseph Hale Abbot, Professor Francis
Bowen, and William H. Shackford. In 1841 the Trustees
elected to the office Joseph G. Hoyt, the present incumbent.
In the classical department, too, Dr. Abbot was always assisted by some young man who had sustained a high rank in
college, and who wished to furbish here his armor in preparation for the conflicts of life. Among these assistants
we find no small array of brilliant names, - Daniel Dana,
D. D., Abiel Abbot, D.D., Peter O. Thacher, Judge of
the Municipal Court in Boston, Nicholas Emery, Judge
of the Supreme Court of Maine, Joseph S. Buckminster,
21




246              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
one of the most accomplished Biblical scholars in the country, when
" Snatched all too early from that august Fame
That on the serene heights of age
Waited with laurelled hands,"
Ashur Ware, Judge of the United States District Court of
Maine, Nathan Hale, senior editor of the Daily Advertiser,
Alexander H. Everett, the writer, diplomatist, and statesman, Nathaniel A. Haven, Jr., the profound lawyer and
man of letters, the saintly Henry Ware, Jr., D. D., Nathan
Lord, President of Dartmouth College, and James Walker,
President of Harvard University.
Dr. Abbot combined in himself, in a wonderful degree,
the various elements of a model teacher. He was a gentleman.  We do not mean that he was a Chesterfield or
a Count d'Orsay.  He was something more and higher.
Though scrupulously exact in all the externals of life, yet
he was not dependent on them for his position either in
society or in the school-room. The finest broadcloth did
not so much dress him as he the broadcloth. The lofty
bearing of a nobleman sat easy on him, simply because he
was a nobleman. His were not the titular dignities of a
partisan parliament, that
" Hung loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief";
but they were the choicer gifts of imperial nature. He
knew how to be dignified without being ungenial. There
was in him the rare quality which Cato attributes to his
friend, comitate condita gravitas. His greatness did not
repel the trembling school-boy, but rather attracted him;
and the attraction was the stronger, as in the planetary
system, the nearer he was approached. His pupils feared
him, but not half so much as they loved him. They never
doubted his honor or his truth. They knew that he was




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.           247
their friend, great-hearted and strong.  There was, it is
true, an indefinable distance between him and them which
was never passed,- a sort of aopio-Trq ey, a sacred belt of
land, which no Megarean stripling,. however venturesome,
ever dared to invade. When his face was lighted with a
smile, it shone all the sunnier because its sedate seriousness was not often disturbed. The earnestness of his labors
left him little time for simpering small-talk or idle ceremony. Manners and morals meant the same thing to him
in his life, as well as in his Latin lexicon.  He was never
surprised into an uncourteous word or an unchristian act.
Never for a moment, either in the sovereignty of his own
immediate realm, or in the intercourse of the social circle,
did he forget or undervalue the beautiful amenities of life.
He was a scholar. The standard of scholarship is variable, - different in different times and places. It is undoubtedly much higher in this country to-day than it was
seventy years ago. But Dr. Abbot, in his time, was foremost among scholars, as he was a primate among teachers.
His high position in college was but the foundation on
which he was rearing a superstructure, story after story,
all his life. He knew that, among regal minds, progress is
the supreme law; and he was not content to sit by the
roadside, a wondering spectator, while the grand procession moved on. He did not, like some men, merely mark
time, but he fell into line and marched. New books and
new educational systems did not come and go without his
knowledge.  By his request, his brother-in-law, James
Perkins, Esq., who visited Europe in 1802, examined the
methods of instruction in Eton and other prominent schools
in England, and transmitted the fruits of his observations
to him. He made the Academy the centre of his efforts
and his thoughts. Everything else he compelled to pay
tribute to this. Invitations to the Boston Latin School
and to other positions, though offering larger rewards for




248              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
less labor, he resolutely declined.  Prevented by his continuous duties from seeing much of the great world, he
was nevertheless emphatically a live man. His mind was
a fountain, not a reservoir. His knowledge came gushing
up from the overflowing depths of his own being; it was
not drawn up with rope and bucket from the moss-grown
wells of antiquity alone. He breathed his own spirit into
the worn text-books of the recitation-room, and the mystic
page glowed with his inspiration.  The Latin of Cicero
and Horace, his favorite authors, when pronounced by him,
seemed instinct with new life and meaning. The denunciations against Catiline sounded to his electrified pupils as
terrific as when they were first uttered in the old Roman
senate-chamber; while the rhythm of the Carmen Smeculare was as musical as when, two thousand years ago, it
won the "friendly ear " of Diana. He was a scholar of
breadth as well as depth, knowing something more than
the mere routine of daily study. Modern literature, politics, and theology, as well as the ancient classics, found
a place in the circle of his reading. Few men were so
deeply versed as he in that most abstruse of all studies, the
human nature of boys. He had striven to obey the precept
emblazoned on the Delphic temple; and, as a natural consequence of his self-knowledge, he had an intuitive perception of the modes of thought and springs of action in
others. He had the faculty of making his classes believe
that the particular subject on which they were engaged was
the most important and attractive branch of study in the
world. They caught fire from him, and teacher and pupils
alike glowed with the same enthusiasm. He knew how to
put himself in communication with youthful minds. Age
did not make him morose; but he was always fresh in his
feelings and sympathies, and his heart was young to the
last in all its pulsations. It is fitting to add, that the light
of a Christian faith irradiated all his intellectual attain



AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.         249
ments, giving them a brighter lustre, just as a lamp in an
alabaster vase brings out into bolder relief and clearer expression the beautiful figures sculptured upon it.
He knew how to govern. It is not every man whose
name is tasselled with an A. B. that is able to manage boys.
Many a college graduate would feel as helpless and unhappy in a populous school-room as a frog in a beehive. He
may find no difficulty in unravelling the knottiest problem,
or in resolving the longest Greek verb into its elements,
and yet may fail entirely in his attempts to command the
smallest company of light-infantry. Reducing equations
and reducing rebellions are very different things. If of the
various attributes of a teacher Dr. Abbot had any one in
pre-eminence, it was the attribute of imperial authority,the auctoritas of Cicero.  His pupils came from  every
State in the Union, and from foreign countries. There
was among them every variety of character and disposition, -the spoiled child of fortune, the untrimmed sapling
from the backwoods, the haughty son of the old Castilian;
but to all of them alike, the ominous shake of that longforefinger was as decisive as the nod of Jove.  There was no
appeal from him, -no escape from the penalty of violated
law.  But in his bearing there was nothing harsh or severe, and in his quiet tones no " sound and fury signifying
nothing." Though he had a voice like the voice of many
waters, yet he seldom spoke so loud as to be heard across
the recitation-room. The scarcely audible tap of his penknife on his desk hushed his room to silence in a moment.
However indignant he might be at any act of wickedness
or folly, his speech was always gentle. Of a temper naturally quick and passionate, it often cost him a struggle to
rule his own spirit. But if the volcano sometimes heaved
and surged, yet the hot lava was never allowed to blast the
verdure which clothed the outer slopes with beauty to the
crater's very rim. The moral suasion of his manner was




250               THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
the principal element in his governing power. Still occasionally, at rare intervals, there would be an individual
whose incorrigible depravity required extraordinary treatment. But the day when the culprit, especially if he had
been guilty of a lie, was sent up into the library, and, after
listening for a time in anxious suspense for the slow step
and creaking shoes on the stairs, was visited at length by
the Doctor with his rattan, was a day in his history to date
from and be remembered.  He never wished to consult the
library a second time.
Dr. Abbot had many characteristics, both as a man and
a teacher, which belonged also to Dr. Arnold; and it is
not strange, therefore, that an "old boy "of the latter
should be struck, as one recently was, with the strong
points of resemblance between the school at Exeter and
that of Rugby. The enthusiastic regard which the pupils
of each entertained for their teacher is the highest encomium which could be paid to their excellence.
When Dr. Abbot had passed beyond his seventieth year
of life, he wished to resign his position; but was persuaded to retain it until he had completed a term of fifty
years' service. The reluctant acceptance of his resignation,
August 23, 1838, was the signal for such a gathering at
Exeter as is seldom seen. i During the half-century, there
had gone forth from the institution more than two thousand
who had sat at his feet, and now they came thronging back
to do their old instructor reverence. They came from the
senate-chamber, the cabinet, the court-room, the gubernatorial chair, the hall of the university, the pulpit, the fields
of literature, and the laboratory of science; and they held
a high festival of the heart. The arches of the crowded
church reverberated with their glad song: —
"From the highways and byways of manhood we've come,
And gather like children about an old home;
We return from life's weariness, tumult, and pain,
Rejoiced in our hearts to be school-boys again.




AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.              251
"0, glad to our eyes are these dear scenes displayed,
The halls where we studied, the fields where we strayed;
There is change, there is change; but we will not deplore;
Enough that we feel ourselves school-boys once more.
"Enough that once more our old master we meet,
The same as of yore when we sat at his feet;
Let us place on his brow every laurel we've won,
And show that each pupil is also a son.
"And when to the harsh scenes of life we return,
Our hearts with the glow of this meeting shall burn;
Its calm light shall cheer till earth's school-time is o'er,
And prepare us in heaven for one meeting more."
Daniel Webster presided on the occasion, assisted by Edward Everett,  the Demosthenes and Cicero of the American forum. Eloquent speeches were made by them, and
by Judge Thacher, Judge Emery, Judge Merrill, Dr. Palfrey, Dr. Henry Ware, Jr., Leverett Saltonstall, Jonathan
Chapman, A. H. Everett, John P. Hale, and many others,
whose names will illuminate the page of history.  Some of
the most distinguished alumni were prevented from being
present, among whom was Lewis Cass,- a pupil for seven
or eight years, and the commander of the first military
company formed in the Academy, in 1799, -from whom
Dr. Abbot, to the close of his life, continued to receive
delicate and gratifying evidences of affectionate regard.
After the dinner was over, Mr. Webster, in behalf of the
old pupils present, and of many who were absent, presented
to their venerable teacher a massive and elegant silver
vase, as a token of their profound respect and abiding reverence. His portrait, taken by Chester Harding, had been
secured for the occasion, and it now hangs side by side
with that of his early patron and constant friend, the
founder. Besides this, some two thousand dollars were
subscribed for the establishment of the "Abbot Scholar



252              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
ship " at Cambridge, the annual income of which is now
appropriated to the college education of some meritorious
student from the Academy at Exeter.
Dr. Abbot lived more than ten years after the semi-centennial celebration, in the full possession of his faculties,
honored and revered, in the enjoyment of a true fame, and
surrounded by troops of friends. His pupils did not forget
him; but, in the beautiful language of one who was worthy
to be his companion while he lived, and who still dwells
among us, a cherished remembrancer of the past, " their
kindly visits made many a green spot in the winter scenery
of his life." October 25, 1849, at the age of eighty-seven,
he was permitted to rest from his labors; "for so HE giveth
his beloved sleep."
His successor in office was GIDEON L. SOULE, LL. D.,
the present Principal. The prosperity of the Academy
continues unchecked; its students are steadily increasing
in numbers, drawn thither in part by its ancient renown,
and in part by its present reputation and charities.
It may be safely affirmed, that no academic institution in
the country is doing more, pecuniarily, for young men, than
Phillips Exeter Academy. First, tuition is uniformly remitted to all whose circumstances require a careful husbandry of their resources. More than half of the students
pay nothing for instruction. Secondly, Abbot Hall, an exceedingly well-built and well-arranged brick edifice, with
accommodations sufficient for fifty students, was built, at a
cost of more than $17,000, expressly for young men of
limited means. It contains, in its four upper stories, twen,
ty-six studies, with bed-alcoves attached, all neatly and
substantially furnished. Not only is no charge made for
rent, but the trustees pay one fourth of the sixty cents per
week which the matron receives from each occupant for her
services in cooking the food provided by the steward of the
club, and in keeping the rooms in order. Thirdly, in addi



AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          253
tion to this, about $ 21,000 of the funds have been appropriated to the establishment of twenty scholarships. At the
close of the first academic term of each year, the Trustees
elect to these scholarships, from a large number of applicants, twenty students'in indigent circumstances, but of
good character and "excelling genius."  The successful
candidates receive the average sum of $ 63 each per annum,
for three years, less as a charity than as a reward of merit.
It is easy to see, that an enterprising young man in the
receipt of this stipend, and at the same time exempted
from all tuition-fees, and allowed to board in Abbot Hall at
a cost, in ordinary times, of only about $ 1.50 per week,
may fit himself for college without distressing his friends,
or involving himself very deeply in debt.  Among the
beneficiaries of the institution, we find the names of some
of its most celebrated alumni. The money bestowed upon
such men as Jared Sparks, and John G. Palfrey, and
George Bancroft, was certainly not a bad investment. In
the Doric dialect of trade, " It pays."
The internal economy of the school is not unlike that of
a well-ordered college. The teachers constitute a faculty,
in which are vested the government and instruction. Their
support comes exclusively from the funds.  They do not,
therefore,'" hang on princes' favors," or on the still more
fickle favor of the populace. As a natural consequence,
they are not obliged, by any considerations of interest, to
listen to the capricious whims of boys, or to pander to the
taste of a superficial, hurrying people.  The precocious
youth who disliked to join either of the regular classes, but
wished to devote himself solely to Greek and astronomy,
because he expected to be a public speaker, could not be
accommodated. The amount of his tuition was, as Mr.
Toots would express it, "of no consequence."  The Facculty can be systematic and thorough, without becoming a
topic for debate and denunciation in town-meeting. The
22




254              THE PHILLIPS FAMILY
Trustees can build a club-house or a gymnasium without
increasing anybody's taxes. A rigid classification, without
which no institution can attain to its highest efficiency, has
been adopted, and is enforced. There are in the Academy
four classes only, —the Junior, Middle, Senior, and Advanced,- the first three preparatory, and the last covering
the ground of the Freshman year in college. Latin, Greek,
and mathematics go together, part passu.  Of the students
who leave the Academy each year, a majority are fitted for
Sophomore standing. The course of study is arranged with
special reference to young men of ability and industry. It
is not thought worth while to attempt to thrust a liberal
education upon drones, and there are eleemosynary asylums
provided expressly for persons of " weak understanding."
The Acaderhy makes no show or parade to catch the favor
of the public. It has no exhibitions, and seldom publishes
even the calendar of its terms in the newspapers. It seems
to act in accordance with the sentiment of Cowper: -
" Stillest streams
Oft water greenest meadows; and the bird
That flutters least is longest on the wing."
For its advertising, it depends to a large extent upon the
friendly interest of its graduates; and, in not a few instances, there appear in its general Catalogue three successive generations of the same name and blood,- the living
stream growing wider as it flows on. The area of its usefulness might of course be enlarged, if still more ample
means were put at its disposal. There are new fields in
literature and science to be explored; new departments of
instruction to' be filled; new books to be placed upon the
library shelves. And then, too, there is many a soil-stained
child of genius in the valleys and mountain shadows of life,
uttering in the dawn of his awakening intellect Goethe's
dying cry, "More light!"
It is a pleasant thing to be vitally connected with out



AND PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.          255
ward nature,- to be mirrored in Avon and Windermere,
to be a felt presence at Marshfield and Mount Vernon.
But Dr. Phillips, in establishing the institution which
bears his name, has secured to himself an immortality more
beautiful and grand than that of poet or statesman.  He
lives not merely in the sacred, though fading, associations
of a single spot, but the light of his spirit shall shine in
every one of the thousands of radiant minds, which, age
after age, his munificence shall call from obscurity and
quicken into newness of life.




ORCHARD CULTURE,
IN CONNECTION WITH THE LAWS OF VEGETABLE GROWTH.*
"Nec longum tempus, et ingens
Exiit ad coelum ramis felicibus arbos."
THE  saying of rare Ben Jonson —" A certain amount
of soul is necessary to save the expense of salt " - is
as true of every profession as it is of every individual. But
in no profession is earnest, thinking, cultivated mind more
in demand than in that of the farmer. It is true that any
clown who knows enough to manipulate a shovel or trundle
a wheelbarrow by day's work, and find his way home at
sunset, may get a living, so called, from the land. But to
develop the latent resources of the soil, and to make the
most of his profession and from his profession, requires of
the agriculturist, in our judgment, a wider range of studies
and a closer power of thought and analysis, than are required in any one of the learned walks of life. It is related
of Cuvier, we think it was, that, sitting one day in the
shade of a tree, with his hand upon the ground, he exclaimed, with no little emphasis: "I could, with the highest pleasure as well as profit, spend my life in studying
upon the nature and properties and laws of the little spot
of earth which is covered by my single hand."   There
was nothing extravagant in this declaration of the great
naturalist. It would puzzle the wisest of us to give an
* New Hampshire Agricultural Transactions. 1850 - 52.




ORCHARD CULTURE.                257
intelligible and intelligent exposition of the laws which
control the growth of the smallest blade of grass, or which
regulate the mingling and shading of colors in the simplest
flower of spring.
There is no department of agriculture which can afford
to dispense with the "' aid and comfort" of science. Mechanical philosophy assists the farmer in selecting the best
implements of husbandry, and in applying his horse-power
or ox-power or water-power, as the case may be, in the
most efficient manner, and with the least possible waste.
Physiology teaches him what breeds to cross and what fodder to provide in order to -improve his stock.  Ornithology
enables him, not only to make the most of his Shanghais
and Cochin Chinas and Bolton Grays, but also to appreciate the worth and secure the friendship of the forest birds.
Entomology shows him the way to distinguish his foes from
his friends among the insect tribes, curculios from ladybugs, codling-inoths from ichneumon-flies, and tells him
how to crush the one and protect the other. Chemistry
enables him to look, with Lynceus, into the earth, and to
gather from the wonderful experiments which Nature is
ever performing in her dark laboratory, some hints about
the relation which subsists between the growth of plants
and the constituent elements of soils and manures.
But in no branch of agricultural labor is scientific information, or at least enlightened common sense, more important, than in the raising of fruit. Now, though we disclaim
all pretensions to profound knowledge in agricultural science, yet we will venture to submit a few suggestions in
relation to the mode of planting and cultivating an apple
orchard.
If we had an acre of land which we wished to plant with
apple-trees, embracing those varieties which we know from
our own experience and observation are of the highest quality in their respective seasons, we would plant it with some
22 




258               ORCHARD CULTURE.
fifty trees of about a dozen different kinds. Fifty trees,
set at equal distances on a square acre, would stand thirty
feet apart, and leave a margin of fourteen feet on all sides
of the field. A weak, poor soil permits a greater number
of trees; but if the soil is strong and rich, fewer should
be set, for the simple reason that the better the soil, the
larger will be the growth of the trees, and, of course, the
greater the space required by each one in the orchard.
In respect to the varieties, we would plant, for early
summer eating, the Williams Favorite, and especially the
Early Sweet Bough; for September and October, the
Orange Sweeting, Ramsdell's Sweeting, the Porter, and
the Gravenstein; for November and December, the Hubbardston Nonesuch, and by all means Jewett's Red, or, as
it is more generally known, the Nodhead; for January and
February, the Rhode Island Greening, Red Russet, and
Baldwin; for March, April, and May, the Sweet Greening, Roxbury Russet, and Northern Spy. We do not say
that these are the best apples in New England, but we do
say that of the one or two hundred varieties with which
we happen to be familiar, they are the best selection which
we could make.
In choosing these trees from the nursery, the largest and
stockiest should be taken, rather than the tall, slender, citified-looking saplings.  Two years old from the bud is generally the best age for transplanting. The holes for their
reception should be dug five or six feet square, and not less
than two and a half feet deep, and then filled up again to
the requisite height with turfs, rich loam, soft-burnt brickbats, rotten wood, leaves, or anything else which is good,
not excepting a little well-rotted, thoroughly fermented
manure. The trees should ordinarily be set just as high as
they stood in the nursery; on very wet land, a little higher.
The roots should be spread out carefully with the fingers,
and, if dry, should be sprinkled withl water, so that the




ORCHARD CULTURE.                259
fine loam may the more readily adhere to them. Great
pains should be taken in saving the fibres, for at the end of
each rootlet there is a little sponge, or spongiole, as it is
called, which is the principal instrument in supplying the
tree with its nutriment. When the roots are covered, and
the holes filled up within an inch or two of the surface,
a fork full of salt hay, or, in default of this, an equivalent
amount of straw or sawdust, should be put around each
tree, and slightly covered with good soil.  After this
mulching, not before, the earth may be trodden down, and
the tree considered planted.
The land among our trees we should keep under high
cultivation, ploughing as deep as possible without interfering too much with the roots. The crop taken off should
be potatoes, carrots, or some similar vegetable, and never
grain, corn, or anything else which exhausts the soil by
maturing the seed, or wastes its ammonia by exhalations
from the flower. As for pruning, the main object should
be to give beauty and symmetry to the head of the tree,
and to let in as much sunlight as possible to the fruit.  To
accomplish this, we should begin with the youth of our
trees, and never use a larger tool than a small penknife.
We should be slow to sh6ck their nervous system by carrying into our orchard an axe or a handsaw. To make the
bark healthy and vigorous, and at the same time to destroy
insects and their eggs, the trees should be washed thoroughly in April or May, with soapsuds,- about half soft
soap and the rest warm water. This we should " lay on " in
true Macbeth style,- not gently or genteelly, with a longhandled paint-brush, but with a crash towel, as a faithful,
hard-handed nurse would scour down a "slovenly Peter"
once a year. As a further protection against the borers, in
particular, a few quarts of ashes, more or less, according to
circumstances, should be put around each tree-trunk early
in the spring. Above all things else, the ground about the




260               ORCHARD CULTURE.
trees should be kept mellow and entirely free from weeds
and grass of every name and kind.
We have thus mentioned the more obvious physical facts
connected with the planting and culture of an orchard.
Let us now look for a few moments at the philosophy of
these facts,- at some of the laws and conditions of vegetable growth.
The first and most important proposition in agricultural
science is nothing more nor less than this: all plants live
and grow by eating. From the hyssop on the wall up to the
tallest cedar of Lebanon, every green thing in the vegetable
world must eat to live. Each particular plant, too, whether it be a cabbage or a crab-apple, requires, by its constitution, a particular kind of food. Clover is fond of lime,
and hence the reason why the intelligent farmer besprinkles
his premium clover-field with gypsum or sulphate of lime.
Beans have an appetite for sulphur; while turnips, potatoes, and grape-vines possess an " unbounded stomach" for
potash, and are therefore called potassa plants. The same
law, in a word, obtains in the vegetable as in the animal
kingdom. It is well known that there is a certain plant,
commonly called lamb-kill, which is death to sheep, but
upon which horses, like Jeshurun of old, will "wax fat
and kick." So, too, black-cherry leaves and peach leaves
will kill calves, because of the prussic acid which they contain; but this same prussic acid, a single drop of which
would kill a cat as soon as a rifle-ball through her heart,
may be fed out to birds of prey, or at least to eagles, "' with
perfect impunity and great boldness."
Now an apple-tree is by no means an omnivorous vegetable. It does not eat everything, but is as particular as an
epicure about its diet. It becomes a question, then, of
some interest, What does an apple-tree eat? One thing is
certain: aside from a few gaseous compounds which it absorbs, it lives exclusively on " spoon victuals," or, to be more




ORCHARD CULTURE.                 261
explicit, it receives nothing into its stomach but liquids, —
it takes no bread in its milk, no crackers or cod-fish or old
cheese with its toddy. A definite and full answer to the
question, "  What does an apple-tree eat? " would involve
the necessity of subjecting the tree, or some portions of it,
to the crucible of the chemist. We must know what it is
made of,  what ingredients have gone into its construction, and in what proportions. It has been ascertained, by
actual chemical analysis of the ashes of the apple-tree and
of the apple itself, just what the constituent elements of
this tree and of its fruit are. It should be premised, however, that combustion of wood, or of anything else, is not
its annihilation, but only a change in the form of the thing
consumed, or, as scientific men would tell us, a chemical
union of the fuel with the oxygen of the air. The rusting
of a ploughshare, left by a careless farmer in his field, is
just as truly a case of combustion as the burning of pineshavings in a cooking-stove. Now equal portions of the
heart-wood, sap-wood, and bark of the apple-tree have been
burnt, and an analysis of the ashes remaining shows that
of this tree a little more than one third is carbonic acid,
about the same amount is lime, a little more than one
twelfth is potash, a little less than one twelfth is phosphate
of lime, a little less than one twentieth is magnesia, and
nearly the same quantity is soda. In addition to these,
various other ingredients are found in smaller proportions.
J. H. Salisbury, M. D., analyzed several kinds of apples
a few years ago, and communicated the results to the Secretary of the New York State Agricultural Society. While
the constituents were the same in each case, the proportions
varied somewhat with the different varieties. Of one hundred pounds of the ashes, according to his analysis, the
average amount of lime was about four and a half pounds;
of potash, about thirty-six and a half pounds; of phosphoric
acid, about thirteen pounds; of magnesia, chlorine, and




262               ORCHARD CULTURE.
silica, about two pounds each; of soda, about twenty-four
pounds; of sulphuric acid, about seven and a half pounds;
of phosphate of iron, a little more than one pound; and
of malic acid, albumen, sugar, and other organic materials,
a little more than six pounds. The carbonic acid formed
in the process of combustion was about sixteen pounds.
In answer, therefore, to the question, " What does the
bearing apple-tree eat?" we say that, besides the hydrogen and oxygen which it drinks in with water, it lives
principally upon carbonic acid, lime, potash, phosphoric
acid, magnesia, soda, sulphuric acid, and iron.
How shall the hungry tree obtain this food? The carbonic acid it gets in part from the air in an aeriform state,
by absorption through its leaves, but chiefly from the soil,
the spongioles of the roots sucking, it up in a liquid state.
But how shall it be furnished to the soil?  We know that
it is always the product of decay, - of decaying vegetables
as well as animals of every kind. It is supplied to the soil,
therefore, in great abundance, by ploughing in green crops,
- green clover and buckwheat, - and by the fermentation
of barn-yard and stable manures.  Charcoal-dust, spread
upon the ground and mixed in with the soil, is good, not
because it produces carbonic acid, as Cole says in his FruitBook, (for it does not produce a particle,) but because it is
capable, in consequence of its extreme porosity, of absorbing some eighty or ninety times its own bulk of carbonic
acid, and thus holds it in custody for the groping rootlets
of the tree. Clay produces the same effect, only in an inferior degree.
The lime necessary to the growth and life of the appletree may be furnished to the soil, in which it is deficient,
by spreading on air-slaked lime or plaster of Paris, or the
plastering from old walls.
The potash, when wanting, is easily supplied by besprinkling the ground in the orchard with dry wood-ashes. The




ORCHARD CULTURE.                  263
process of leaching changes essentially the character of
ashes, as we shall see, if we consider for a moment their
constitution. All vegetable ashes contain the alkaline salts
of potassa and soda, which are soluble in water, the earthy
salts of lime, magnesia, and the sesquioxide of iron, which
are soluble in muriatic acid, and the silicates, which are
soluble neither in water nor in acids. The soap-maker, in
drenching his ashes with water, dissolves the potash and
soda, and draws them off in the lye; but he produces no
sensible effect upon the other constituent elements. If,
therefore, the orchardist wishes to feed his trees with potash, he must obtain it from dry ashes or from soapsuds,
and not expect to find it in the leach-tub. If, on the other
hand, his, soil is rich in potash and soda, but deficient in
lime, magnesia, and sesquioxide of iron, leached ashes are
as good for him as dry. We see, in the light of these facts,
why a thorough, liberal washing with soapsuds always promotes the growth of our trees. It not only destroys noxious insects, but it supplies them, in the most convenient
form, with the most important ingredient which enters-into
their constitution.
The phosphoric acid, which constitutes more than one
seventh of the ashes of a Roxbury Russet apple, constitutes
also one fourth part of the bones of mammalia and of birds.
To enable the tree, therefore, to gratify this want of its
nature, we have only to dress our land with bones unmashed, bone-dust, or, better still, with superphosphate of
lime.
The magnesia and soda and chlorine which the apple
requires are all found, as we have seen, in dry or recent
ashes. They also exist in common salt. Indeed, common
salt is but another name for. muriate of soda or chloride of
sodium, and the peculiarly bitter taste of the salt water of
the sea is owing to the presence of sulphate of mnagnesia.
The sulphuric acid, of which there are more than eight




264               ORCHARD CULTURE.
pounds in every one hundred pounds of the ashes of the
Rhode Island Greening, may be supplied to the tree by bestowing upon the soil liberal doses of sulphate of lime. The
same result may be effected by irrigating the land among
our trees with sulphuric acid, diluted with one thousand
times its own weight of water. The acid decomposes various kinds of earth, and forms from them soluble sulphates,
which are absorbed by the rootlets of the tree, and thus
accelerate its growth.
The iron, which is a never-failing constituent of plants
as well as animals, may be obtained for our trees by mixing
with our soil the sweepings of the blacksmith's shop, or by
sweetening our manures with copperas, - an inappropriate
name for sulphate of iron.
The great staple articles of food, therefore, for the appletree, are animal manures, lime, ashes, bones, common salt,
gypsum, and copperas. If these particular ingredients are
not present, in some form, in the soil where we plant our
orchard, however rich the soil may be in other things, we
have no more right to expect our trees will grow in it, than
we have to expect that our horse will thrive on clam-chowder or our dog on white beans. Nor will it answer the purpose of vegetation to substitute for one of these ingredients
a double portion of another totally unlike it. They are all
at the same and at all times and equally indispensable, not
only to vegetable growth, but to vegetable life. A certain
amount of iron is as absolutely essential to the formation of
a Baldwin apple, as is a certain amount of albumen to the
formation of a baby's brain.
It must be remembered, however, in dressing our land,
that Nature herself is a chemist, and that the surface-soil is
in a special manner her laboratory. Should it, therefore,
be inconvenient for us to furnish a given plant the very
thing which it may need,'yet we may be able to furnish
something which will combine with some ingredient already




ORCHARD CULTURE.                 265
in the soil, and so produce the very thing it needs.  It is
to be remembered, too, in case we are troubled either in
determining the wants of our soil, or in providing any particular article of food for our orchard, that the manures of
animals, herbivorous and carnivorous, contain all the materials, in a greater or less degree, which enter into the
growth of the apple-tree.  The faeces from the barn-yard
are rich in undissolved vegetable tissue and insoluble salts,
while the urine, like the guano of commerce, abounds in
the soluble salts of potassa, soda, lime, magnesia, and ammonia. We need not, then, despair of being able to satisfy
the appetites of our trees, so long as we allow them access
to our manure-heap.  If we are obliged to buy, we should
not forget that, other things being equal, that manure
is best which comes from  full-grown, well-fed animals.
Young cattle appropriate all the best of their food to the
formation of flesh, and therefore what they leave behind
them is mof little value.
We have:thus seen that a liberal supply of food, and
food too of a particular kind, is one of the essential conditions of vegetable growth.
We may mention, as the next condition of vegetable
growth, the presence of:a certain amount of light.  That
light is indispensable to the production alike of tree and
fruit is obvious.  Every plant is a heliotrope.  The appleblossoms:and the flowers in the border all turn their faces
toward the rising sun with a more than Persian devotion.
One of the.most important functions in the vegetable economy- the absorption of carbonic acid and the exhalation
of oxygen by means of the leaves - is performed only in the
daylight. The necessity of light to the perfection of fruit
is a simple fact indeed, but it has a very intimate relation
to apple-raising in New England.  We cannot, of course,
control the weather, but we can avail ourselves of the fact
that we -have more sunshine, and sunshine of a higher
23




266               ORCHARD CULTURE.
style, than any other portion of the apple-growing world.
It is generally understood, we believe, that flowers never
have a strong fragrance, nor fruits a high flavor, in countries where the weather is generally rainy, or even cloudy.
This law of nature has been recognized by observing men
in all ages. Pliny the elder, who wrote more than eighteen
hundred years ago, says in reference to this subject, " In
Egypto minime odorati flores, quia nebulosus et roscidus
aer est a Nilo flumine "; or, in plain English, " Flowers
in Egypt have very little fragrance, because the air is cloudy
and humid in consequence of exhalations from the river
Nile." It is on the same principle, too, we suppose, that
the onion, a somewhat pungent vegetable with us, is in
Egypt a mild-flavored, commonplace article of every-day
diet. Indeed, Herodotus assures us- that sixteen hundred
talents of silver —a sum equal to nearly two millions of
dollars of our money - were expended in the purchase
of onions, garlic, and radishes for the workmen, during the
twenty years they were employed in building the great
Pyramid of Cheops.
It is easy to see why our apples are the best apples in
the world. They are ripened beneath a blazing sun. It is
not strange, therefore, that they'have been for years supplanting the insipid things grown amid the fogs and rain of
the British Islands, until at length the English nobility
have the good taste to consider our Baldwins and Newton
Pippins indispensable to every well-furnished table, and the
Queen herself, unless she has one of our big apples under
her bodice, feels within, as the hymn hath it,
"An aching void
The world can never fill."
The next condition of'vegetable growth may be said to
be a certain degree of heat. In our climate it is important
to make the season of vegetation as long as possible. In




ORCHARD CULTURE.                267
looking about for a suitable piece of land for an orchard,
we should, in a latitude as high as ours, select the warmest
and quickest soil, -a light, sandy loam. Some of our
crops, particularly corn, are very often cut off for the want
of a week or two more of warm weather. This amount
of time, and more too, is lost every spring on many farms,
in consequence of the accumulation of surface water,- an
evil which might be easily avoided by under-draining, or
oftentimes by deep and thorough tillage.' Surface water operates badly in two ways at least. It packs the soil, stops
its pores, and thus renders it impervious both to the warm
air and to the warm rain of the spring weather. But it
exerts a more positive injury; its evaporation cools both the
soil and the air above it down below the possibility of vegetation. Few persons are aware of the rapidity with which
the temperature of a body is reduced by means of evaporation. We have no doubt that a horse could be frozen to
death at noonday, in the hottest blaze of a July sun, by
simply sprinkling him for an hour or two with ether. There
is nothing poisonous or hurtful in the ether itself. It is the
chilling power of the evaporation which kills him. Every
particle of the ether, as it flies off from him, carries with it
a portion of the animal heat, until at length his temperature is reduced below the level of life; he is a dead horse.
We " catch colds " on the same principle. The act of getting wet does not hurt us; it is the act of getting dry that
does the mischief. Not unlike this is the effect of the
evaporation on the soil, -it is chilled; " the sensible warm
motion becomes a kneaded clod." The seed cannot germinate in it; the root-fibres remain torpid, when they should
be supplying the tree with its currents of life.
The last condition of vegetable growth which we shall
mention is the necessity of a certain amount of moisture.
Water is indispensable to vegetation, not only because it
supplies the oxygen and hydrogen, which are two of the




268                ORCHARD CULTURE.
four proximate elements essential to living plants, but because it dissolves- and holds in solution the various salts
which, as we have seen, serve as food for everything that
grows in the vegetable kingdom.  The Egyptian priests,
according to Vitruvius, taught that "all things consist of
water"; and it was Pindar who sang,
" Of all things, water is the best."
The means and methods of irrigation was, in ancient
times, and is now in many places in the Old World, the
great problem in farming. The definition of Oriental agriculture was "valuable machinery for raising water"; and
even one of the signs of the zodiac is a somewhat significant
emblem of the primeval mode of artificial irrigation.  But
with us there is no need of tanks and lakes, or of hydraulic
engines, or that " the: rivers of water be turned." The easiest and surest way to secure the necessary moisture to our
plants, whether corn or trees, is nothing more nor less than
deep and thorough tillage. Besides the mixing of vegetable and mineral elements together, subsoiling benefits trees
in two ways at least:  In the first place, it enables the tree
to send its many-mouthed fibres down into the earth, and
thus drink of deeper fountains when those near the surface
are dried up.  The roots of apple-trees run down much
farther than is generally supposed. In taking up a well
last summer, a gentleman of Exeter, G. L. Soule, Esq.,
found the roots of a New York Pippin below the bottom of
his well, a depth of thirteen feet. Professor Johnston, in
his agricultural chemistry, states that the roots of sainfoin,
a sort of grass cut for hay in France, " penetrate through
a calcareous, rubbly subsoil ten or twelve feet." It is obvious, therefore, that, if the hard-pan which underlies the
surface-soil be thoroughly broken up, the tree will strike
deep enough to secure itself ordinarily from the effects of
the severest drought. We see the reason, then, why, in




ORCHARD CULTURE.                 269
planting an orchard, we should make the depth of the holes
not less than two or three feet.
But there is another way in which subsoiling and fine
tillage is beneficial to trees. If we should dip one end of a
dry sponge into a washbowl of water, everybody knows
that, in accordance with the laws of capillary attraction,
the sponge will suck up water from the bowl until it is
itself saturated, or the contents of the bowl exhausted.
The sponge will not only do this, but it will also retain the
water indefinitely long. Let us see if we can make this
simple fact illustrate the law which we wish to present and
explain. The earth, we know, grows moister the deeper
we dig into it, until we come to unfailing water. The
lower strata we will call the  "washbowl."  The upper
stratum, when deeply and thoroughly pulverized, acts the
part of the " sponge." It must be deeply pulverized, otherwise the spongy mass will not reach down to the moisture
below, and so will not be able to draw it up from the roots.
The sponge can suck no moisture from the bowl unless it
comes in contact with it. It must be thoroughly pulverized, for the finer the soil, the easier and higher will the
moisture ascend in it, and the longer after its ascent will it
remain. If several glass tubes be placed in a vessel of
water, the water will rise the highest in the smallest tube.
Then, too, evaporation is not so rapid from a porous as
from a hard body. The door-stone, after a shower, becomes dry a good deal sooner than the ploughed field.
That the upper. stratum of the earth is constantly, with
more or less activity, drawing up the moisture from the
strata beneath, will be manifest to any one who will take
the trouble to put on his spectacles and walk in his own
garden about sunset any warm summer's day.  He will see
the dry surface, especially in the paths and between the
rows of his potatoes and beans, gradually assuming a moist
appearance, until at length, before the twilight is gone, all
23 *




270                ORCHARD CULTURE.
the top of the ground will be wet. This does not come
from the dew; for a dry, warm soil is the last place on
which the dew falls; but it is drawn up by capillary attraction from the depths below. During the bright sunlight,
this moisture was carried off by evaporation as fast as it
came up; but when the sun had lost his power, it was left
visible on the surface.
We have thus attempted to discuss, somewhat in detail,
the subject of orchard culture in connection with some of
the essential conditions of vegetable growth. It is worse
than useless to set out trees, unless these trees be well
selected, well planted, well pruned, well protected, and well
fed. But let their roots have the freest range in a quick,
warm, deep, moist, well-furnished soil, and they cannot fail
to "bring forth fruit, some thirty-fold, some sixty, and some
an hundred." We have no doubt that apple-raising is as
much the mission and " manifest destiny" of New  England, as cotton-growing is "the chief end" of Georgia and
Mississippi.  The nature of our soil, the peculiarity of our
climate, our blazing sunshine in the summer, our commercial relations with all the world, the ice which crystallizes at
our very doors, and which alone is necessary to keep our
apples fresh and fair till their delivery at the ports of the
remotest and hottest tropical nation, -these all invite us
to devote ourselves and our farms to the production of
fruit for exportation as well as for home consumption.
Apples are no longer a mere luxury; they have, like potatoes, become a necessity.  Money expended in scientific
orchard culture is quite as sure to earn "' one per cent a
month," as it would be if invested in fancy stocks or fast
horses.  We know in this region not a few farms whose
one acre of apple-trees yields more profit to the owner than
all the other "ninety and nine."  But besides the pecuniary advantages connected with fruit-raising, there are other
considerations of a moral character not unworthy of notice.




ORCHARD CULTURE.              271
No man can live among trees 6" exempt from public haunt,"
and make himself familiar with Nature in all her exhibitions
of beauty, without becoming a purer and better man. In
the old Zendavesta of Zoroaster we read that "to be a
saint," according to the Magian religion, "a man must be
the father of orderly children, must plant useful trees, must
destroy noxious animals, must convey water to the dry
lands of Persia, and work out his salvation by pursuing
all the labors of agriculture."




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.*
AMIDST all the foreign and domestic wars of Ancient
Greece, there was one spot, the central island of the
Cyclades, always consecrated to peace. Ionians, Persians,
and Athenians, alike leaving behind shield and spear and
the recollection of hard-fought battle-fields, met together at
DELOS, and around the same altar joined in the worship of
a common Deity.  Not unlike those old warriors may we,
whatever be our party names, pause for a moment amid the
strifes and animosities of our political warfare, and, under
the white flag of peace, make our united offering at the
shrine of Letters. There is surely no one among us so
warm with partisan zeal, or so engrossed with plans of personal preferment, as to be unwilling to attend to the present necessities of his children, or to consult for their future
well-being and success. Even the few who may have failed
to comply with that oldest and most honored command,
given through Noah to a thinly-peopled world, are yet endued, it is hoped, wyith a patriotism so liberal and expansive
as to enter with earnestness into any discussions which may
relate to our system of common schools, — intimately connected as this system is, not only with the highest interests
of our town, but with the true greatness of the State and
the permanency of the government.
Read at the annual town-meeting in Exeter, N. H., March 9, 1852, and
ordered to be printed by the town.




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          273
PRIMARY INSTRUCTION.
A teacher of small children especially should be a sort
of locomotive patent-office,- full of " all manner " of inventions. The young love novelty as much as they hate routine. To secure their interest, therefore, one must excite
their astonishment and admiration, every hour of every
day in the week, with some " new thing under the sun."
The mistaken and ruinous notion is sometimes entertained,
that, while the highest order of talent and acquisition is
requisite in the instructor of advanced scholars, anybody
will do for beginners. Wordsworth, throughout his huge
octavo volume, has expressed no truer thought than that
contained in the simple line so often quoted,
"The child is father of the man."
The teacher of the primary school sweetens or embitters
the waters at the fountain.  An infusion, which would
poison the heart and the life of the child, might be poured
into the man without especial harm. The dead horse which
would pollute the spring might not seriously affect the
flowing river. There is no grace, however winning, no
virtue, however ennobling, no knowledge, however profound, no wisdom, however exalted, which may not find
full scope for its highest exercise even in an infant school.
It has become a pleasant fashion in these latter days to
bestow suitable testimonials of approval and appreciation
upon those who, in responsible positions of trust or honor,
have acquitted themselves like men. It is no unusual thing
for sea-captains and clergymen, police-officers and statesmen, to receive from their friends gold medals or silver
pitchers, as a reward for long-continued, faithful service.
Now the elder (not elderly) Miss E.. has not, it is true,
commanded a ship, nor worn a white cravat on Sundays,
nor carried the staff of a Marshal Tukey, nor has her elo



274          EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
quence fulnined from the Capitol, but she has been a
laborious and successful teacher in this town for twenty-five
years, during which time she has probably done more than
any other single human being to give shape and direction
to the young minds in this community. We beg leave to
suggest, with all deference, to District No. 1, that some
expression of respect and confidence, - some befitting testimonial of a grateful appreciation of unremitting labors,
performed with more and more efficiency through a quarter
of a century, might not be inappropriate or undignified.*
DISTRICT No. 1. -EAST GRAMMAR SCHOOL.
FEMALE INSTRUCTION.
We have visited this school often, and uniformly with
unalloyed gratification. Its seventy-eight scholars, in their
quiet stillness, in their neat apparel, in their cheerful
obedience to necessary rules, in their careful observance
of the little courtesies of social intercourse, in their earnest
interest in their studies, in the high-toned moral sentiment
among them, furnish a good illustration of the subduing
and quickening and purifying influence which an educated
and accomplished woman must always and everywhere
exert.
The recitations were brisk and thorough.  There was no
servile dependence on text-books, but a habit of self-reliance on the part both of teacher and pupils; no dull routine of stereotyped questions through which the class " like
a wounded snake dragged its slow length along," but questions which, being invented at the moment, were fitted to
excite in the learner intense thought and mental exertion.
In arithmetic, for instance, written as well as oral, the
* In accordance with the suggestion of the Committee, the sum of $ 120
was at once subscribed and deposited in the Exeter Savings Bank, subject
to the order of the teacher here mentioned.




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          275
great effort was not, as is too often the case, to cumber the
memory with useless verbiage, but to quicken the reason
and strengthen the understanding. But amidst the excitement of animated recitation, the most noticeable thing was
the ease and stillness with which the machinery of the
school-room worked in its gearing. Whenever we have
been present, perfect order has prevailed without any apparent effort on the part of the teacher to enforce it. Boys
who, in their untamed strength and reckless daring, would
not flinch before any mere physical force, however crushing, have, like Bottom in "the most lamentable comedy of
Pyramus and Thisby," been led, under her influence, to
"roar you as gently as any sucking dove."  In the very
necessity of things this cannot be otherwise. The most
potent forces in nature are always the most silent in their
operation. A young man, however masculine in gender
or rough-hewn in character, stands abashed in the
"light
Of a dark eye in woman ";
he can no more shake off the power of female refinement
and beauty, than he can escape from the law of gravitation.
HIGH SCHOOL.
The method of instruction is eminently thorough and
scholar-like. The recitations are discussions of principles,
rather than rehearsals of abstract, unintelligible rules. The
student is taught to examine into the reason of things, and
not to be content with the unsupported assertions of his
text-book; to discriminate between the dogmatism of arbitrary authority and the deductions of rigid demonstration.
As a result of this system of investigation, he soon comes
to know what he does know, and to know what he does
not know, —the two most important elements in all true
scholarship.




276         EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
The course of study pursued is liberal and comprehensive, embracing in the English department most of the
branches usually taught in college. Indeed, a fault has
been found with it by some, because it is so liberal, and requires so much time and persevering effort to go through
with it. It does not seem to us, however, that we need be,
" frightened out of our propriety," ordinarily speaking, lest
our children study too hard or know too much. It does
not follow as a logical sequitur, that because "a little learning is a dangerous thing," therefore a good deal is, a fortiori, a deadly evil. The objection, too, is sometimes made
to some of the branches prescribed, that they are not sufficiently practical, that they do not dovetail into the business
of every-day life. We remember that, in Virgil's beautiful
description of the games about the tomb of Anchises, the
prize was not taken by the competitor whose arrow entered
the mast, nor by the one who cut the string, nor yet by him
who hit the dove in its upward flight; but the palm of victory was awarded to him whose far-ascending shaft kindled
among the clouds, and marked its track with flames. It is
not all of life to live. The process of digestion is not the
only nor the highest function of organized existence. We
have hearts as well as hands; intellectual aspirations as
well as animal appetites. We might, however, say with
entire truth, that every study which requires mental exertion is a practical one. It matters but little what the branch
of study is, whether it belongs to the higher mathematics
or to low Dutch, only let it demand patient, continuous,
earnest thought, and it will be of service in this," workingday world." The solution of a hard problem in algebra
strengthens and invigorates the mind, just as roast beef
does the body. Besides all this, the school pursuits of our
children should be fitted, not only to increase their moneymaking power, but also to widen the range of their vision
and to multiply the sources of their happiness. The boy




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          277
who has studied faithfully some treatise on astronomy, for
instance, will ever after live in a new world; a new heavens will bend over his head; the stars, no longer mere
" gimlet-holes to let the glory through," become the centres
of revolving systems, and the universe, instead of being
shut in within the confines of the old neighborhood, expands itself into the boundless realm of the Infinite One.
DISTRICT No. 2.
In this school, as in the High School, there has been the
past year a very large increase in the number of visitors.
This is not only in itself a pleasant indication of interest on
the part of parents, but it is fitted to insure greater fidelity
on the part of teacher and pupils.  The apathy of the
community on this subject is not merely strange, - it is
altogether unnatural.  The farmer, merchant, mechanic,
lawyer, all alike pack off their children to a school-house
whose interior they have never seen, and intrust their
future destiny to an individual of whose character they
know as little as they do of the dialect of the Choctaws.
A lady will not permit everybody to scribble their names or
their nonsense in her Album; yet, when she has become a
mother, she allows without concern any person, whom the
prudential committee may have hired cheap, to write on
the white pages of her child's mind any lessons, whether of
vice or virtue, which he may choose. The old monks of
the Middle Ages had a way of erasing the'ancient writings
from parchment, that they might substitute the legend of a
saint for a book of Livy. But there is no art of monk,
no device of chemist, no tears of repentance even, which
can blot from the child's mind the early impressions received
in the school-room. They strike through like the red letters
on our bank-bills.  The importance of this topic might
warrant a further discussion, but we shall be content with
24




278         EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
simply congratulating the citizens in District No. 2 that
they have had a teacher the past year who, among other
good qualities, had the faculty of exciting in parents an
interest in their own children.
DISTRICT No. 3.
We would refer with especial commendation to the skill
exhibited in drawing maps. There is no exercise more sure
than this to interest children,- none better calculated to
impress indelibly upon them the most important lessons in
geography. Let a child draw a map of the United States,
with the rivers, lakes, mountains, and principal towns belonging to it, and he will, when the work is done, have a
more full and accurate knowledge of the geographical features of his own country than is possessed by the great
majority of our teachers, not to say of our superintending
committees.
The school-house, though surrounded with beautiful
woods and rich fields, is not itself particularly ornamental
to the landscape. It may be added, that it is no better
than it looks.
DISTRICT No. 4.
A very commendable interest is felt by parents in the
school, as has been exhibited from time to time by voluntary contributions in fuel; but, after all, a want of successful parental effort in a certain direction is still painfully
evident in this District, -the whole number of scholars
being but twenty. It should be mentioned, however, to
its praise, that there has been since our last report an increase to its population of three.
It may be further stated, that the children, few as they
are in number, are yet already altogether too numerous for




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          279
the little box in which they are packed. Such a building
is not large enough for any purpose of human instruction.
It is too inconveniently small to tend one baby in,  too
ugly in itself and in all its appointments to be looked at
without danger of strabismus. A good-sized boy of high
aims and expansive views would feel himself "cabined,
cribbed, confined" in it, and in his attempts to study
would find himself unconsciously babbling of brooks and
green fields. We shall be pardoned for suggesting, that an
edifice, not unlike a medium-looking goose-pen in airiness
and amplitude of dimension, set up on a few cobble-stones
on the edge of a rough and rocky road, surrounded with
no play-grounds, and overshadowed by no tree, with no
pleasant object without or within to address the eye or
touch the heart, is not exactly the place to kindle the intellect and develop the moral nature of the young.
DISTRICT No. 5.
A few of the largest scholars appeared to good advantage
at our last examination, but the mass of them were somewhat dull, especially in arithmetic. There is in fact very little
in the school-house itself or around it calculated to "' stir
the divinity within them." We have expressed our mind
in relation to this temple of Apollo and the Muses on former occasions. It certainly does not look any better now
than it did five years ago. Indeed, we did not perceive any
very striking difference. Perhaps the walls are a little
browner, - the benches a little more hackneyed, - the tout
ensemble, like the character of the First Consul, a little
more " grand, gloomy, and peculiar."  The stove-funnel, it
should be observed, was, possibly in honor of our last visit,
tied up and securely fastened with a bran-new tow string!
The bricks, which at some remote period formed the hearth,
have come to be "like angels' visits, few and far between,"




280         EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
so that now, in the wild waste of the billowy floor, the
solid land looms up like an island in an archipelago. Time,
or somebody else, has in a good degree stripped the plastering from the ceiling, as
"From a Tartar's skull they strip the flesh,
Or peel a fig when the fruit is fresh."
It ought, perhaps, to be mentioned, too, that a small and
necessary edifice belonging to the establishment, not consecrated to scientific purposes, after changing its position as
often as an ambitious politician, has at length found rest on
the windward side of the school-house, in immediate and
fragrant contact with a window, which it darkens, where,
in the summer season particularly, it is not destined, like
Gray's unseen flower,
"To waste its sweetness on the desert air!"
Aside from these slight variations, " all things since the
fathers fell asleep continue as they were from the beginning."
DISTRICT No. 6.
The school in this District has been taught 35 weeks, —
23 in the summer by Miss L., and 12 in the winter by Mr-.
S. Miss L. had 30 different scholars; Mr. S. had 36. Miss
L.'s intellectual qualifications were very good; those of Mr.
S. were by no means deficient. Miss L. was gentle, and at
the same time firm; Mr. S., so far from being tyrannous in
his exactions of obedience, was as easy as an antiquated
slipper. Miss L. made her pupils sing; Mr. S. did not
make his dance. Miss L. was careful to keep the room
neat and clean; Mr. S. was content.to let it go dirty.
With Miss L. the scholars studied hard most of the time;
with Mr. S. they whispered hard all the time. In looking
upon the exercises, as conducted by Miss L., at our examination, we were favorably impressed with the stillness




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.              281
which prevailed; in listening to the dissonant hubbub of
Mr. S.'s young disciples we thought of what an old poet
has said:
"The earth and planets in their course
Move along with silent force;
The smallest chap that walks the footstool
Makes more racket by a jugfhl."
Miss L.'s children made rapid progress up the hill of
science. Mr. S.'s slid down the same hill. In a word, as
Cicero hath it, Miss L. kept a good school; Mr. S. kept no
school at all.  It is possible that Mr. S., if he would revise
and correct his notions of discipline, might yet become a
successful instructor. We hope, however, that the experience of the past winter may satisfy this District, without
further trial, that the masculine gender is not the only gender belonging to nouns, and that, when they get a good
female teacher, it is for their interest to keep her.
DISCIPLINE.
If there is any place on the surface of the earth where
order is the first and last and highest law, that place is the
school-room. Without it there can be no such thing as
progress. But in maintaining discipline, it is not necessary
for the teacher to be rough and severe. He need not go
armed and equipped with bludgeons or blunderbusses. He
adds no weight to his authority by bloody threats "full of
sound and fury, signifying nothing."   But he must be
prompt in decision, firm in purpose, and uniform in action.
His laws should be few, but as immutable as the laws of
nature; and the penalty of wilful transgression should be
as certain as the decrees of fate. Or, as Tupper expresses it,
"' Be obeyed when thou commandest, but command not often;
Let thy carriage be the gentleness of love, not the stern front of
tyranny."
24*




282         EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
If, as will sometimes happen with the most skilful managers, corporal punishment becomes unavoidable as a last
resort, the guilty culprit should even then be dealt with as
old Izaak Walton dealt with the frog he used for bait," running the hook through his mouth and out at his gills,
and in doing so using him as though he loved him." The
operation, however, should never be a trifling one to the
offender. It should be an event in his history to date from
and to be remembered. He should, in after years, when
clothed and in his right mind, look back upon it as the time
when the devil was cast out of him, and a better and truer
life commenced within him.
NON-ATTENDANCE.
The whole number of different scholars, over four years
of age, who have attended the public schools in town at
least two weeks during the year, is 780. The average
number is 479. It will be seen from this, that 38- per cent,
or nearly two fifths, of the children of a suitable age to be
in the school-room, have in effect been absent throughout
the year. Who are these absentees, and where are they in
their absence?
It must be obvious to every reflecting person, that 381
percentage of absence is unnecessarily and ruinously large.
We cannot stop to expatiate upon its pernicious effects in the
derangement of classes, in the disturbance of recitation, in
the actual loss of mental discipline to the irregular scholars
themselves, and in the disgust which they acquire for
school and all its exercises as a consequence of falling behind their more punctual classmates. The influence is evil,
and only evil, and that continually. We have no doubt
that it could be to a great extent remedied by parents, if
they chose to feel a proper interest in the subject. If
one half the effort were used in getting children into our




EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          283
schools which is used in getting voters to the polls, few
would be left to stroll through the woods, or to loaf at the
corners of our streets, or to smoke and swear in bar-rooms,
or to drink and gamble in billiard-saloons and tipplingdens.  It is a true saying of the Latin poet, "Facilis
descensus Averni," - which, being interpreted, signifieth,
the distance to perdition from a grog-shop is short and all
the way down hill.. The surest method of securing the
young from vice is to keep them employed. The employment most appropriate to them is the pursuit of knowledge
under the eye of a thorough and efficient instructor.
SOME OF THE QUALIFICATIONS dHARACTERISTIC OF
A GOOD TEACHER.
We have examined during the year six individuals who
proposed to instruct in this town, of whom we recommended five and rejected one. It must not be supposed,
however, for a moment, that -every person who can pass
the strictest examination is fit to manage a school. It takes
a peculiar man to be just the right sort of a teacher. He
is an article compounded of various ingredients such as you
cannot ordinarily buy at the apothecary's.  As to his intellectual qualifications, his mind should be a fountain, and not
a reservoir. His knowledge should gush up of itself, and
not have to be drawn up by a windlass. He should be a
man of ingenuity and tact, of various resources and expedients, and not a helpless creature of custom, plodding on
day after day in the same old path like a horse in a barkmill. He should be fresh in his feelings and sympathies,
and not a petrified Medusa, — his heart should be young
in all its pulsations, though his head may be as bald as
Elisha's. Endued with a courage and resolution that know
no defeat, he should, like Dickens's Raven, "never say
die." He should be a man of the world as well as a man




284         EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.
of books,- familiar with human nature not less than with
Mitchell's Geography.  He should be a scholar of some
breadth as well as depth, knowing something more than the
mere routine of daily study; and not a man whose halfdozen thoughts rattle in his vacant head like shrunken
kernels in a bean-pod. His mental storehouse should be
filled with the fruits of various and extensive reading, so
that he need not be compelled to draw his illustrations for
the recitation-room from the " Tales of his Grandfather "
or from the treasures of a last year's almanac. In addition
to his intellectual furnishing, he should be a man of integrity, of moral rectitude and purity of character, imbued
with the spirit of truth and wisdom. If, beside all this,
the light of a Christian faith should irradiate his scientific
and literary acquirements, it would serve to give them a
brighter lustre; even as'" a lamp set in an alabaster vase
brings out into bolder relief and clearer expression the
beautiful figures which may be sculptured upon it." Let
the common-school teacher possess qualifications like these,
and he can do much, perhaps more than any single individual, for the renovation of human society. But he
cannot do everything alone, and should not be condemned
for other people's sins. He needs the active co-operation of
the parent and the community. If, as it is sometimes said,
he takes the child as the sculptor takes the marble from the
quarry, there is yet one important difference: when the
sculptor leaves his work for rest or relaxation, the halfformed statuary remains as he left it. But the pupil is
never found as he was left. The self-developing power
of the subtile element of life cannot be calculated by any
rules of art. Excrescences may burst forth from him in
some evil hour, which cannot be chipped off with hammer and chisel. And then, too, other hands besides the
teachers have been busy upon him in giving form to his
plastic nature. Silently and unobserved, mysterious influ



EXCERPTS FROM SCHOOL REPORT.          285
ences, in the street and by the fireside, at noonday and
beneath the quiet stars, have been at work. The character
which promised to reveal, in the beauty and symmetry of
its proportions, an Apollo Belvedere, has been touched by
the spoiler, and has become a Caliban of misshaped ugliness.
While, therefore, we would exhort our teachers to elevate, term by term, the standard of their scholarship, we at
the same time think the community should leaven their
strictures and denunciations with the heavenly grace of
charity.




ELECTION OF JUDGES.*
R. CHAIRMAN: — Some gentleman has intimated
the hope that there may be a free expression of opinion on the subject under consideration. On that hint, I
propose to state, with all brevity, some of the reasons which
will influence my vote when the question is taken. The
report of the chairman of the Judiciary Committee, though
somewhat complicated, must have appeared to all who heard
it, or who have since read it, as exceedingly able and elaborate. Most of the changes suggested in the judiciary system will undoubtedly meet with the concurrence of the
Convention and of our constituents. The most questionable clause, as it seems to me, is that which recommends
that the appointment of the most important officers in the
State be confined to the Governor.
Now, Sir, I am one of those radical democrats who believe that neither the integrity of the bench nor the security
of the public interests requires the exception of even the
judges of the Supreme Court from the officers to be elected
by popular suffrage. The experiment has been tried, to
some extent at least, in several States; and in no instance
is it pretended that it has so far operated unfavorably. The
eminent ability and unsullied purity of the bench in New
York is strong, if not decisive evidence, that the people
appreciate true worth and talent, and that every new responsibility imposed upon them tends to develop in them
* Speech in the Convention for the Revision of the Constitution of New
Hampshire, December 18, 1850.




ELECTION OF JUDGES.              287
new energy to meet it. In this fact lies one of the most
powerful arguments against refusing to the people the election of important officers of the government. Give them
something to do worthy of their doing, something in
which they have a deep personal interest, and they will bestow upon it such attention as its importance demands. It
is only when the people are indifferent as to the result of
an election, that they suffer themselves to become the tools
of demagogues. The candidates for judges need not and
cannot become, as some gentlemen fear, the centres of political contests; for, apart from all other considerations which
would prevent it, it is not proposed by any one, so far as I
know, to elect the judges of the Supreme Court annually,
or even biennially. It is felt to be due to the legal talent
and great responsibilities connected with the office of judge,
to make the term of his service much longer than that of
any other officer. Let him be elected not oftener than once
in six years, and he is removed, of course, to a great degree,
from the violence of party warfare. Partisans will rally
around those candidates who appeal every year — and not
once in six years - to the suffrages of the people.
The arguments which have been urged against allowing
the people to elect the judges might be urged with the
same force against allowing them to elect the Governor and
Senate, and even the representatives to the State legislature.
All such arguments are based, not upon convenience or
economy, not upon the necessity of delegating power, but
upon the assumption that the people are either ignorant or
corrupt, or both, - an assumption difficult to prove, perhaps,
to the satisfaction of the people themselves. But if the
assumption were true, how do we remedy the difficulty by
permitting them to do, through another, what we forbid
them to do by themselves? Manifestly, we only " change
the place and keep the pain." " What one does by another
he does by himself," is an old maxim of common law. The




288              ELECTION OF JUDGES.
truth is, if the people are fit to delegate power, they are fit
to exercise power. This proposition is as indisputable as
the old 47th Theorem in Euclid. Why are not the people
as competent to elect those who shall decide what the law
is in a controverted case, as to elect those who shall make
the law which applies to such controverted case? Is it consistent in us to be indifferent as to our law makers, but overweeningly scrupulous in the matter of our law expounders?
For myself, I should be as willing that the people should
seat the judge on the bench, as to seat themselves in the
jury-boxes. One thing is certain, when they cease to be
intelligent and virtuous enough to do either, it is a matter
of very little consequence who their judges are, or who
elects them.
But the election of judges, as well as all other officers, by
popular suffrage, is not only consistent with the safety of
the people, it belongs to them as a right and a duty.  That
it is their right, nobody of course has any doubt. The Czar
of Russia appoints his officers according to his sovereign
pleasure; for he is regarded by his subjects as the source of
all political power. But the proposition, that all power is
inherent in the people, need not, of course, be demonstrated
in New Hampshire. The right to choose their own rulers
in the first place, and, in the second place, the exercise of
this right in frequent elections, are the two prominent characteristics of a free people. The right itself distinguishes
our government from a despotism; the frequent exercise of
the right distinguishes it from an elective monarchy. But,
Sir, the choice of all officers of the State is not only the
right, it is the duty of the people, - a duty from which they
have no right to shrink. I care not if we were sure that
our State Executive would always be a man of inflexible
integrity, of the most disinterested patriotism, of the most
varied intelligence and profoundest wisdom, -a man free
from all partisan virulence and party prejudices, - such a




ELECTION OF JUDGES.              289
man as some of our Governors have been, - still my objections to clothing him with the appointing power would be
equally strong. It is the system to which I am opposed, - a
system which attempts to mingle and fuse together the disagreeing elements of a democracy and a monarchy. Aside
from these considerations, the very situation of a Governor
incapacitates him from doing right, if he were so disposed.
His personal knowledge cannot extend to all who are suitable candidates for the office ofjudge or attorney-general. He
must rely on the representations of others, - representations
beset with motives of which he can know.little or nothing,
setting forth fictitious claims with all the exaggeration of
partial friendship, or depreciating real merit with all the
zeal of rival interest or the malignity of private hate. But
if there are any candidates for office with whom the people
are better acquainted than with all others, they are the very
candidates whose election it is proposed to take from them.
As jurymen or witnesses or suitors or spectators at our
courts, they know the men whom they would elevate to the
judicial office, and in whose hands they would be willing to
trust their interests, whether property or reputation, or liberty or life. The people may not know anything of a candidate for Governor, except the fact that the omnipotence of
a caucus demands their votes; but every eminent lawyer
in the State, whether he be at the bar or on the bench, is
known personally or by reputation to every intelligent man
in the State, - to the citizen as well as to the Governor.
Instead, therefore, of electing the Governor by the people,
and then allowing him to appoint the judges, it strikes me
as far more appropriate for the people to elect the judges
with the power to appoint the Governor.
At all events, I know of nothing in the gubernatorial
chair which should suddenly impart to the occupant any
extraordinary endowments. I suppose that the citizen may
know about as much the day before he is elected Governor
25




290              ELECTION OF JUDGES.
as he does the day after; and I presume, further, that he
does not of necessity lay aside his wisdom and integrity
when he lays aside the robes of his office.
I am further opposed to clothing the Governor with the
appointing power, because, in exercising that power, he is
constantly liable to frustrate the will and outrage the feelings of the people.  Many men, through the means and
appliances which may be brought to bear upon the executive, are promoted to places of trust and power, who, if
compelled to submit their claims to the intelligence of the
people, would be permitted to occupy themselves in some
more quiet and useful employment. Not a few individuals,
who are now conspicuous in the public eye, would, if the
people could reach them, have an opportunity to enjoy the
otium cum dignitate, - " the dignity of private life." Many
a man, too, condemned by the popular voice to political
execution, has been saved through the intervention of executive clemency; and not only saved, but "6 made a ruler
and a jhdge " over the very people by whom he had been
tried and found guilty. I need not say, of course, that I
do not refer to those officers in this State who now hold
their appointments immediately from the Governor; for,
so far as I know, there is but one voice in relation to our
Supreme Judges and Attorney-General, and that is a voice
of unqualified commendation. But such incongruities between the fundamental idea of a free government and its
practical workings as have been described, are always liable
to exist when the people, without even the pretext of convenience or economy, delegate to others the power which
they should exercise themselves. The importunity and
bribes of office-seekers, the indignation of disappointed
ambition, the intimate connection between the bounty of
the patron and the support of the client, are but too well
fitted to produce corruption in high places. The candidate
who may be the favorite of the executive may not be the




ELECTION OF JUDGES.              291
favorite of the people. At any rate, he drinks not from
the fountain of popular sovereignty, but from the pool at
the Capitol, -a pool stirred, as I am told, by no angel.
But, Sir, I am still further opposed to conferring upon
the Executive the authority to appoint the Judges of the
Supreme Court and the Attorney-General, because the power of dispensing patronage tends to convert a republican
magistrate - no matter whether he be a President of the
United States or a Governor of New Hampshire - into a
despot. Men look up to him for favor; they cringe before
his power. They
" Crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning."
As a candidate for office, he has no lack of violent advocates; for he may have " the loaves and fishes" to
distribute to his followers.
If there is any one thing which, more than all others, is
sapping the foundations of our government, it is the patronage at the disposal of our national anrd State Executives.
"' To the victors belong the spoils" has come to be the
watchword of the successful party, whatever its name.
Men fight, not for principle, but for plunder. Nothing
would contribute so much to soothe our party strifes and
animosities as to strip every office of all power of rewards
and punishments. The zeal of small-beer, bar-room politicians, who, like a certain personage in Shakespeare, can
"con state without book, and utter it by great swarths,"
would be extinguished the moment you extinguish in them
all hope of pay.
But without detaining the committee to discuss this point
at greater length, I will only say, that, in my judgment,
executive patronage and popular sovereignty are antagonistic elements in our government. Their union is an
unholy alliance between despotism  and democracy.  The




292             ELECTION OF JUDGES.
accumulation of power in the hands of the few implies an
absorption of power from the many.  The necessity of
guarding against this centralizing influence cannot be too
strongly urged. Political action should not be confined to
the seat of government; it should extend to every hamlet
and hillside in the State. When the limbs of the body
politic begin to grow cold, and the blood to concentrate in
the heart, we may know that the symptoms indicate danger, if they do not betoken dissolution.
It is on general principles like these, that I am opposed
to the recommendation of the Judiciary Committee now
under discussion, and in favor of giving to the people the
election of judges, and all other important officers in the
State,




PUBLIC BUILDINGS,
IN THEIR RELATION TO HEALTH, TASTE, AND CIVIL
LIBERTY.*
A S the representative of the town, and in its behalf, I
accept from  you the keys of this edifice.  Of the
manner in which the committee, of whom you are chairman, have discharged the trust reposed in them, I need not
say a word. The structure is here, and speaks for itself.
It stands in our village, and we trust it will stand for centuries to come, not only a magnificent illustration of the
liberality of the town, but also a monument to the taste of
the architect, to the ability of the committee and masterbuilder, to the fidelity of the workmen, one and all. I think
I merely give expression to the public sentiment, when I
assure you that your services have met, as they deserved,
the earnest approval of an intelligent and appreciating
community; and this, I know, will be to you the highest
possible reward.
I congratulate my fellow-citizens on the completion of a
hall suited to the wants and befitting the character of the
town. Exeter is one of the earliest settled towns in New
Hampshire, and, in point of intelligence and literary fame,
is second to no other in the State.  And yet, while individual members of the community have been erecting
over their own heads private edifices, which bespeak their
wealth and do credit to their taste, the town has had no
* Speech delivered at the Dedication of the Town-House, Exeter, January 31, 1856.
25*




294               PUBLIC BUILDINGS.
public buildings which were not inconvenient, full of cramps
within, and in their outward shape,
"' If shape it might be called, which shape had none,"
grotesque and forbidding.
An occasion of more than ordinary interest might call
together in this village not less than eight hundred persons;
but there has not been a room in town which could hold
half of that number for an hour, without extreme personal
discomfort, not to say positive injury to the health. The
capacity of the " Lecture-Room," as it is called, undoubtedly the best room we have had for public purposes, is less
than 25,000 cubic feet. To those of us who have sat and
suffered there for years, it does not require much ciphering
to show that the air in such a place, packed as it often is
like a Calcutta Black-Hole with human victims, must be,
long before the expiration of an hour, not unlike the " gruel
thick and slab " which boiled and bubbled in the witches'
caldron. One of the first and highest and most indispensable requisites in a hall is capacity for air and the means
of keeping it pure. As I shall probably never have a better audience or a more favorable opportunity, I am sorely
tempted to preach to you a few minutes on this subject.
The air around us is rendered unfit for respiration in
three different ways. First, by the consumption of its vital
element, or oxygen, as it is called. The most eminent
physiologists assure us, that one man will consume the
oxygen from twenty cubic feet of air in an hour. Of
course eight hundred men will consume the oxygen from
16,000 cubic feet in an hour. In the second place, the air
is rendered unfit for respiration by being surcharged with
carbonic acid. It takes but three and a half per cent of
this noxious gas to make the air a poison, - slow indeed,
but still a deadly poison. Now one man will in one hour
surcharge with carbonic acid fifty cubic feet of air. Eight




PUBLIC BUILDINGS.               295
hundred men will, therefore, poison in an hour 40,000
cubic feet. In the third place, the air is rendered unfit for
respiration by becoming saturated with hurtful vapors. It
has been found, by careful experiment, that one man will
throw off from his lungs and skin not less than two ounces
of pulmonary vapor and insensible perspiration in one hour.
These two ounces will saturate one hundred and twentyfive cubic feet of air. Eight hundred men will, therefore,
in one hour saturate 100,000 cubic feet of air. If, now, we
bring our several results together, we shall see that eight
hundred men in one hour will, in the three different ways
which I have described, utterly vitiate 156,000 cubic feet
of air. Now the lecture-room, as we have said, contains
less than one sixth of this amount, or scarcely enough to
last eight hundred men ten minutes or four hundred men
twenty minutes. What, then, must be its condition, and
what must be the condition of the unhappy creatures who
have sweltered in it for a full hour and more? Of course,
in such an atmosphere, slimy, sticky, ropy, thick as poor
molasses, and fetid and sulphurous as the fumes which John
saw rising from the pit in the Revelation, - I say, in such
an atmosphere a man can no more be expected to generate
an elevated thought or to make a brilliant speech, than
Jonah could be expected to prepare a sermon or to write a
psalm of praise in the whale's belly.
But in the construction of this hall the committee have
paid some attention to the laws of health. Its capacity is
80,000 cubic feet, and, with some slight additional arrangements for ventilation, the air here may, however large the
audience, be kept as pure as that which blows fresh from
our northern hills.
But, besides the relation which this edifice sustains to
health and physical comfort, there are other relations in
which it is pleasant to look at it. The whole structure
within and without wears the appearance of durability as




296                PUBLIC BUILDINGS.
well as architectural taste and beauty. It is natural for
men to strive to perpetuate their memory. There is a
yearning in every human heart for some kind of an immortality. The only immortality to which a town can aspire
is that which may be wrought out for it by the genius and
taste of its citizens. It matters not how green its fields,
or how fertile its soil, or how prosperous its inhabitants:
these all pass away with the changing seasons, or at most
with the lapse of a generation. It is in the " thoughts that
breathe and words that burn" on the pages of its eloquent writers; it is in the trees which line its streets in
colonnades not less beautiful than those which once embellished the Parthenon and Basilicse; it is in the public
structures which tower above the humble dwellings around
them, and which, in their massive strength, outlast the life
of man; —it is in these, and these alone, that a town
lives, - lives in the present, and will live, if it live at all,
in the future. Athens, Corinth, Rome, survive in their
works of art and in the monuments of their literature.
It is well to have something in a town to be proud of,something which may not be subject to the fluctuations of
a stock-exchange or the caprices of political parties. The
poor man may sleep in a miserable hut, and that not his
own. The rains and the winds may dispute with him the
empire of his solitary room and bed of straw. But in the
public edifices of a town he is a joint tenant with the millionnaire. He owns as much stock in its most costly structure as his wealthy neighbor. He may feel that he casts
his vote on town-meeting day, or listens to discussions of
questions in science or literature or politics on winter
evenings, in his own house. There is no danger of having
too many things in a town in which its citizens have a common interest and feel a common pride. For one, I rejoice
to feel that here in Exeter we need no longer blush when
we introduce a public speaker into our lecture-room, or




PUBLIC BUILDINGS.              297
stammer when a stranger, who, perchance, may have heard
of the great names in our history, inquires for our TownHall. It was Keats who said,
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever."
A handsome edifice, like a beautiful landscape or a beautiful woman, is not only a pleasure to the eye, but, like them
also, it cannot fail to exert a healthful moral influence.
That our characters are modified by the objects, whether
animate or inanimate, which surround us, is a law as fixed
and immutable as the law of gravitation.
There is one other relation which this hall bears to the
community, at which I will merely glance, and then relieve
your patience. The town-halls of this country are the
schools in which we learn the first and highest lesson in a
republic: we learn how to govern ourselves as a political
commonwealth. Every town is a republic; every townhall is a hall of Congress; every town-meeting is a
meeting of Congress; every citizen is a member of Congress.  It is true, we may not get our eight dollars a
day, but we get what is far better, -a knowledge of the
nature and spirit and value of a free' government. Give
to the old king-ridden monarchies of Europe town organizations like our own, let the people assemble in their townhalls, and talk and vote and establish municipal regulations for themselves, and it would not be a generation
before republican liberty would be triumphant from the
White'Sea to the Mediterranean, from the Bay of Biscay
to the Ural Mountains. Whatever freedom there is, either
in the Old World or the New, might be traced directly to
popular gatherings in halls like this. It was the hall built
by the Canton of Uri, in commemoration of the escape of
Tell from the stormy Lake of Lucerne and the death of
the tyrant Gessler, which for centuries was the beaconlight of liberty to the brave Switzers struggling with their




298               PUBLIC BUILDINGS.
Austrian oppressors. It was in the tennis-court around the
great hall of Versailles, whose doors had been shut against
them by royal command, that the members of the National
Assembly bound themselves by an oath never to separate
until they had given a constitution to France. It was in
old Faneuil Hall in Boston that Otis and Adams and
Quincy denounced the oppressive acts of the British Parliament, and by their impassioned eloquence roused the
people to fight the battles of freedom. It was in old Independence Hall in Philadelphia that the adoption of the
Declaration of Independence was first announced, while the
iron tongue of the bell in the steeple proclaimed in a loud
voice, " Liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof."
May this hall, like that of Versailles, like the Tellesplatte on Lake Lucerne, like old Faneuil and Independence
Halls, be, in all coming time, a rallying-place for freemen
jealous of their rights and uncompromising in their devotion to universal liberty.




SELF-CUL TURE.
C HARACTER is a development. It is not the result
of any one act, or of any one resolve, or of any one
purpose of the will. But it grows into shapes of symmetry
or ugliness just like an animal or a tree. Under the rings
and scales of the worst-looking caterpillar there lie, all
folded up and hidden from human view, the gorgeous wings
of the summer butterfly. Wait a little, and the dull worm
will become, in the blessed sunshine, the beautiful emblem
of immortality. You will find even in the apple-seed, if
you should examine it with a powerful microscope, the
rudiments of the future tree.  The massive trunk, the
wide-spread branches, the downward-striking roots, with
their thousand fibres and spongioles, all appear in clear and
well-defined outline to the eye of science; and I know not,
if your instrument be strong enough, but that you may see
in the seed, not the tree only, but its fruit also, tenera
lanugine mala, weighing down the limbs and blushing in
the sunlight like the cheeks of Eve at her bridal hour, a
" celestial rosy red."  The fertile soil and gentle rains and
genial atmosphere and gladdening sunshine do not change
the nature of the seed or endue it with any new properties;
they only warm it and feed it, supply to it the conditions of
its development, but the whole process of assimilation is its
own. Its growth into a tree is the result of its own mysterious vitality.  It drinks up its nourishment from  the
* Extract from a speech delivered before the Evening Classes of the Polytechnic Institute, St. Louis, February 11, 1859.




300                 SELF-CULTURE.
ground, or inhales it from the air, and so grows from within
outwards. It only asks that the soil be enriched and cultivated, and the dead branches and capricious sprouts be
trimmed away; all the rest it does itself, clothing itself in
its gorgeous array of green leaves more beautiful than
Tyrian purple of prince or silken robe of maiden, shedding
fragrance from its opening blossoms as from a thousand
swinging censers, and in autumn scattering its yellow fruit
upon the frosty grass like apples of gold in pictures of silver.
The history of a tree may not be unlike the history of
any young man who hears me. The best college in the
country, the most accomplished instructors that ever graced
the professor's chair, can only furnish the student with the
materials for his development. If he appropriate them to
himself, he will grow up like " a tree planted by the rivers
of water." If he should be too indolent to chew his food
and digest it, no human ingenuity can convert his shrunk
muscles and-feeble intellect into a stalwart manhood. He
becomes, not a cedar of Lebanon, in which the birds sing,
not a " high-haired oak," of which Homer sings, but a dry,
leafless trunk, borrowing any temporary beauty with which
it may be decked from some clinging vine. No, old Epicharmus is right: "The gods have placed sweat in the
pathway to excellence."  It takes labor to retrace one's
steps from Avernus, and so it does to accomplish anything
in this world. The hic labor and hoc opus of Virgil are
inscribed upon every human undertaking. But labor is
honorable; it is only the performance of it in ignorance
and darkness which is a disgrace and a crime. The toilhardened hand and the thought-furrowed brow are alike
the heraldic emblems of Nature's nobility. The leather
apron of Kawah, the blacksmith of Ispahan, was for centuries the banner of the Persian empire.  The good
Emperor Aurelius worked at the anvil, and, among other
products of his skill, made the very sword by which he




SELF-CULTURE.                  301
was slain.  One of. the finest pictures of the Iliad is the
poet's representation of Vulcan at the forge fashioning the
wonderful shield of Minerva.
Poverty is undoubtedly a misfortune; but the flowering
almond-tree, it should be remembered, blossoms not on the
leaf-covered, but the bare branches. Birds of paradise,
we are told by naturalists, fly best against the wind; it
drifts behind them the gorgeous train of feathers, which
only entangle their flight with the gale. The only welleducated man, in the proper sense of the term, is the selfeducated man.  It matters not whether his youth is spent
in academic groves or in the field of toil. The advantages
of the one cannot, without untiring exertion on his part,
produce in him a masculine vigor of thought, nor can the
disadvantages of the other quench in him the thirst and the
successful effort for a higher and intenser life. Every difficulty we conquer, whether it be a hard problem in mathematics or a crisis in business, gives acumen and power to
our intellect. There is, therefore, an important truth in
the superstition of the savage Otaheitan, who imagines that
the strength and valor of the stalwart enemy he slays
passes into himself.
"So a wild Tartar, when he spies
A man that's handsome, valiant, wise,
If he can kill him, thinks t' inherit
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit."
Remember, that learning, in whatever degree possessed,
was not intended to embellish the dreams of a dignified
leisure, but to enrich human life with discoveries and possessions; that the common fatherhood of God, implying of
necessity the brotherhood of men, demands that our talents,
whether one or ten, be consecrated to those principles which
underlie society and uplift the grovelling, struggling multitude; that only when humanity, disenthralled and elevated
26




302                  SELF-CULTURE.
by the power of intellectual culture and a religious faith,
shall stand up in its primal strength and beauty, will Rothermel's picture of the "Laborer's Vision of the Future"
find its happy realization.  When each member of the
community, in whatever sphere of life he moves, shall,
under the discipline of schools like this, learn to think, -
to think for himself, to act in the radiancy of his own
enlightened reason, to fear God, and therefore fear no one
else, - then no longer shall spectres haunt the imaginations
and fallacies pervert the judgments of men; and there shall
rise upon the eye of the world the lineaments of a republic
far transcending the loftiest conceptions of Plato, -a republic of which poets have dreamed and prophets spoken,
the flowerage of centuries, the bloom and perfume of a
Christian civilization.
THE END.
Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.