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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

OEATIONS AND SPEECHES.

ORATIONS

AHD

SPEECHES

VAEIOUS OCCASIONS.

EDWARD EYERETT.

VOL. II.

SIXTH EDITION.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BBOWN, AND COMPANT.
1860.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850,
By Chakles C. Little and James Beo^wn,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Coiirt of the District of Massachusetts,

PEEFACE

FIRST EDITION OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

This volume consists, for the most part, of addresses
delivered since those contained in the first volume. The
first four only are of an earlier date, and the fifth (a
short speech on the Western Railroad) ¦was originally
included in the first volume. The first, second, and
fourth are now for the first time published. At the
time of their delivery respectively, they ¦were hastily
prepared, and it was not in my power, when the first
volume appeared, to revise them with sufficient care for
publication. I omitted the address before the American
Institute of New York, on American manufactures, in the
collection of 1836, on the ground that it might be
thought to fall within the rule which I had adopted,
and to which I still adhere, of excluding party politics.
On further consideration, I have been led to think that
the manner in which this subject is treated in this ad
dress, and in the oration at Lowell on the fourth of
July, 1830, is not likely to be objected to on that
ground, and that they are not out of keeping with the
general character of the work. (5)

vi PKEFACB TO THE SECOND VOL'UME.
I have admitted into this volume a selection from a
much larger number of short speeches made at the table
at public festivals, on various occasions. I have not, oi
course, done this in the belief that they can have much
value, even with the partial reader, as literary compo
sitions. I have thought, however, that they might have
an interest of a different kind, sorae of them as con
taining allusions to historical events, and some from
their connection with important public occasions and occur
rences. Even the few sentences addressed to the Indian
chiefs who visited Boston in 1837, and the short reply to
the President of the Geographical Society in London, on
the reception of the medal awarded to Dr Robinson for
his standard work on Palestine, may be thought to derive
sufficient interest from the occasions which called them
forth, to justify their insertion.
The short speeches made in England were nearly all in
reply to toasts, in which complimentary reference was had
to the diplomatic body generally, or to the American min
ister, when he alone happened to be present. The usages
of society (the same in this respect on both sides of the
water) impose a certain character upon speeches made
under such circumstances. A few obvious topics of remark
are almost of necessity apt to be repeated. To attempt to
avoid such repetition would be an unprofitable, probably
an unavailing, exercise of ingenuity; but I hope it will
be thought that I have not, in the speeches now alluded
to, dwelt entirely in the commonplaces of such occasions.
I have been the rather induced to admit them into the
volume, and thus to give them a more permanent form
than they might seem in themselves to deserve, in the

PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME. vii
belief that this interchange of public courtesies between
a foreign minister and the people among whom he resides
is a valuable step in the advancing civilization of the
present century. In former times, the public intercourse
of a foreign minister was exclusively with the govern
ment or court to which he was accredited. At the present
day, in England and in this country, he is a welcome
guest on all public occasions not in their nature exclusively
national. The change appears to me favorable to a good
understemding between countries in more important re
spects. History furnishes instances in which the foreign
relations of governments have been afiected by the feelings
and dispositions of the individuals charged with conducting
them. I own it affords me pleasure to give what per
manence I Eim able to these memorials — however slight
in themselves — of acts of courtesy and manifestations of
friendly feeling on the part of public bodies and individ
uals of highest consideration and worth, and of grateful
appreciation on mine. EDWARD EVEKETT
CAmniDOE, June, 1850.

CONTENTS

SECOND VOLUME

I.
The Boyhood and Yotjth of Feanklin,  1
A Lecture delivered in Boston, before the Society fbr the
Difliision of Useful Knowledge, on the 17th of November,
1839. IL
Fourth of Jitlt at Lowell,  47
An Oration delivered at Lowell, on Monday, the Sth of
July, 1830. m.
American Mantjfactuees,  69
An Address delivered before the American Institute of the
city of New York, at their fourth annual Fair, on the 14tli
pf October, 1831.
VOL. II. b (9)

X CONTENTS. IV.
Anecdotes of Early Local Histoky,  1"'
A Lecture delivered before the Massachusetts Historical
Society, on the 21st qf October, 1833.
V.
The Western Railroad,  142
A Speech delivered at a meeting held in Faneuil Hall, on
the 7th of October, 1835, for the purpose of taking measures
to complete the subscription to the capital stock of the
railroad. VI.
Anniversary of the Settlement of Springfield, . . . 154
A Speech delivered at the public dihner on the 25th of
May, 1836, in commemoration of the first settlement of that
place. VII.
The Importance of the Militia,  160
Remarks made at the anniversary dinner of the Ancient
and Honorable Artillery Company, on the 6th of June, 1836.
VIII.
The Seventeenth of June at Charlestown, .... 164
Remarks made at a public dinner at that place, on the 17th
of June, 1836, the anniversary of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

CONTENTS., xi
IX.
Haiivard Centennial Anniversary,  169
A Speech made at the public dinner on the Sth of Sep
tember, 1836, in commemoration of the close of the second
century from the foundation of the University at Cambridge,
Massachusetts. X.
The Settlement of Dedham,  180
Remarks made at the public dinnei on tbe 21st of Sep
tember, 1836, the anniversary of the settlement of that place.
XI.
The Cattle Show at Danvers,  185
Remarks made at the public meeting for the award of the
prizes on that occasion, on the 28th of September, 1836.
XII.
The Irish Charitable Society,  191
A Speech made at the public dinner of the Irish Charitable
Society of Boston, on the 17th of March, 1837, being the
one hundredth anniversary of the institution.

XIII.
Improvements in Prison Discipline,  196
Remarks made at the annual meeting of the Prison Dis
cipline Society, in Boston, on the 30th of May, 1837

xii CONTENTS. XIV.
Superior and Popular Education,  '^""
An Address delivered before the Adelphic Union Society
of Williams College, on Commencement Day, on the 16th
of August, 1837. XV.
The Boston Schools,  . . . . 235
Remarks at the public dinner in Faneuil Hall, on the 23d
of August, 1837, the' day of the examination of the public
schools. XVI.
The Importance of the Mechanic Arts,  238
An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Charitable
Mechanic Association, on the 20th of September, 1837, on
occasion of their first Exhibition and Fair.
XVII.
Reception of the Sauks and Foxes,  256
An Address made to the Chiefs and Warriors of the Sauk
and Fox tribes of Indians, with their replies, on occasion of
their public reception, at the State House, in Boston, on the
30th of October, 1837. XVIII.
Dr Bowditch,  . . , 262
Remarks made at a meeting of the American Academy of

CONTENTS. xiii
Arts and Sciences, on the 20th of March, 1838, on occasion^
of the decease of Hon. Nathaniel Bowditch, LL.D., F. R. S.,
President of the Academy. XIX.
Fourth of July, 1838,  268
Remarks made at the municipal dinner in the city of Bos
ton, in Faneuil Hall, on the 4th of July, 1838.
XX.
Education the Nurture of the Mind,  273
Remarks made at the County Convention of the friends of
education, held at Tisbury, on the Island of Martha's Vine
yard, on the 16th of August, 1838.
XXI.
Festival at Exeter,  281
Remarks made at the festival celebrated at Exeter, New
Hampshire, on the 23d of August, 1838, in honor of Dr
Benjamin Abbott, who on that day resigned the place of
Principal of Phillips Exeter Academy, which he had filled
for fifty years.
xxn.
Accumulation, Property, Capital, Credit,  288
An Address delivered before the Mercantile Library Asso
elation, in Boston, on the 13th of September, 1838

xiv CONTENTS. XXIll.
Importance of Education in a Republic,  "1^
Remarks made at a County School Convention, held in
Taunton, Massachusetts, on the 10th of October, 1838.
XXIV.
The Settlement "of BAftisrsTABLE,  325
Remarks made at the public table, on the 3d of Septem
ber, 1839, the second centennial anniversary of the settle
ment of Barnstable. XXV.
Normal Schools,  335
An Address delivered at the opening of the State Normal
School, at Barre, on the Sth of September, 1839.
XXVI.
Opening of the Railroad to Springfield,  363
Remarks made at the public table, on occasion of the
opening of the Western Railroad from Worcester to Spring
field, on the 23d of October, 1839.
XXVIL
The Scots' Charitable Society,  ; , wa
Reniarks made at the table, on the 30th of November,
1839, on occasion of the celebration of the one hundred and

CONTENTS. 5ty
eighty-third aapiversaTy of th? Sofite? Charitable Society of
Bostpn.

xxvm.
John Lowell, Jun., Founder of the Lowell Institute, 379
A Memoir delivered in the Dieqn, in Boston, on the 31st
of December, 1839, as the introduction to the lectures on
his foundation.

XXIX.
Dr Robinson's Medal,  422
Reply to the Speech of the President of the Royal Geo
graphical Society, (William R. Hamilton, Esq., P. R. S.,) on
occasion of the award of the society's gold medal to Rev.
Dr Robinson, of New York, for his Biblical Researches in
Palestine, Mount Sinai, and Arabia Petrsea, on the 23d of
May, 1842.
XXX.
British Association at Manchester,  424
Response to a toast given by the President of the British
• Association for the- Promotion of Science, (Lord Francis
Egerton, now the Earl of Ellesmere,) at the public dinner
on the 25th of May, 1842, on occasion of the meeting of
the Association at Manchester.

XXXI.
University of Cambridge,  431
Rpply to a toast complimpntary to the American and the

xvi CONTENTS.

Other foreign ministers, given by the Vice-Chancellor, (Rev.
Dr Archdale,) at the public dinner at Emmanuel College, on
the 4th of July, 1842, on occasion of the installation of the
Duke of Northumberiand as Chancellor of the University.

XXXII.
The Royal Agricultural Society at Bristol, .... 435
Reply to a toast given by the President of the Royal Ag
ricultural Society of England, (Mr Handley,) at the public
dinner at Bristol, on the 14th of July, 1842.
XXXIII.
Agricultural Society at Waltham,  442
Reply to a toast from the President of the Society, (the
Duke of Rutland;) at the public dinner on the 26th of Sep
tember, 1842. XXXIV.
York Minster,  447
Remarks made at a meeting held at York, on the 6th of •
October, 1842, on the subject of the restoration of the Mm-
ster, Lord Wharncliffe in the chair.

XXXV.
Lord Mayor's Day,  >gi
Reply to a toast complimentary to the foreign ministers
at the Lord Mayor's dinner, on the 9th of November, 1842.

CONTENTS. xvn
XXXVI.
The Geological Society of London,  454
Reply to a toast from Mr (now Sir Charles) Lyell, at the
anniversary dinner of .the Geolpgical Society of London,
Henry Warburton, Esq., M. P., (President of the Society,) in
the chair. XXXVII.
The Royal Academy of Art,  459
Reply to a toast in honor of the foreign ministers, at the
anniversary dinner of the Royal Academy of Art, on the 6th
of May, 1843, Sir Martin Archer Shee, (President of the
Academy,) in the chair. XXXVIII.
Royal Literary Fund,  462
Reply to a toast given at the anniversary dinner of the
Royal Corporation of the Literary Fund, on the 10th of May,
1843, the Duke of Sutherland in the chair.
XXXIX.
The Agricultural Society at Derby,  466
Reply to a toast from the President, (the Earl of Hard-
¦wicke,) at the Royal .Agricultural Society of England, at
Derby, on the 13th of July, 1843.
XL.
Reception at Hereford,  471
Remarks made at a public reception at the city of Here-
VOL. II. c

xviii • CONTENTS.
ford, on die 9th of September, 1843, in acknowledgment of
a toast given by E. P. Clive, Esq., M. P.
XLI.
Saffron Walden Agricultural Society,  474
In reply to a toast from the President of the Society,
(Lord Braybrooke,) at the public dinner at Saflron Walden,
on the 13th of October, 1834. XLIL
Scientific Association at Cambridge,  478
Remarks made in the Senate House at Cambridge, on the
19th of June, 1845, on occasion of moving a resolution of
thanks to Sir John Herschel, the President of the Associa
tion for the year. xLin.
The Pilgrim Fathers,  484
In reply to a toast from the President of the day, (Hon.
C. H. Warren,) at a public dinner at Plymouth, Massachu
setts, on the 22d of December, 1845.
XLIV.
University Education,  493
An Address delivered on occasion of the inauguration of
the author as President of the University at Cambridge,
Massachusetts, on the 30th of AprU, 1846.

CONTENTS. xix
XLV.
The new Medical College,  519
An Address delivered at the opening of the new Medical
College, in Grove Street, Boston, on the 4th of November,
1846.

XLVI.
The Famine in Ireland,  533
Remarks at a public meeting, in Faneuil Hall, on the sub
ject of sending relief to the suffering Irish and Scotch, held
on the 18th of February, 1847, Hon. Josiah Quincy, Jun.,
Mayor of the city, in the chair. XLVII.
Aid to the Colleges,  540
Remarks made before the joint committee of the Board of
Education of the Legislature of Massachusetts, on the 1st of
February, 1848, in support of the memorial of the three col
leges of the commonwealth. xLvni.
Eulogy on John Quincy Adams,  555
Delivered in Faneuil Hall, on the 15th of April, 1848, at
the unanimous request of the Legislature of Massachusetts.

XX CONTENTS. XLIX. KOrf
The Cambridge High School 
Remarks made at the dedication of the new High School
in Cambridge, on the 27th of June, 1848.
L.
Second Speech on Aid to the Colleges,  605
An Argument before the joint committee on education of
the Legislature of Massachusetts, on tlie 7th of February,
1849, in support of the memorial of the three colleges.
LI.
American Scientific Association,  630
Remarks at the public table, on the last day of the meet
ing of the American Association for the Advancement of
Science, at Cambridge, Massachusetts, on the 21st of August,
1849, Professor Henry in the chair.
LII.
The Departure of the Pilgrims,  639
Remarks at the table, at Plymouth, Massachusetts, on the
17th of September, 1849, Mr Webster in the chair; this day
being the anniversary of the final departure of the May
flower from Plymouth in England.

CONTENTS. xxi
LIII.
Cattle Show at Dedham,  646
Remarks at the dinner of the Norfolk County Agricul
tural Society, at Dedham, on the 26th of September, 1849,
Hon. Marshall P. Wilder (President of the Society) in the
chair. LIV.
The Nineteenth of April at Concord,  653
In reply to a toast given in honor of England as the
parent country, at the celebration at Concord, on the 19tli
of April, 1850, Judge E. R. Hoar in the chau:.
LV.
The Bible,  664
A Speech made at the annual meeting of the Massachu
setts Bible Society, in Boston, on the 27th of May, 1850,
^Simon Greenleaf, Esq., (President of the Society,) in the
chair.

OEATIONS AND SPEECHES.

OEATIONS AND ADDEESSES.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.*

Gentlemen :
No subject for a single lecture seems to me more fairly
comprehended withm the province of a " Society for the
Diffusion of tfseful Knowledge " than the biography of those
who have been eminently useful to their fellow-men. What
ever may have been their sphere of action, the qualities
which made them what they were are presented in the most
attractive form, when woven into a narrative of their fortunes.
It is often quite curious to see the first symptoms of character
as developed in boyhood ; and nothing is more interesting
than to trace the great man step by step. In no way can
lessons of discretion, perseverance, temperance, and fortitude
be so well inculcated as in the historical delineation of an
honorable career. This is especially the case when the
young are to be addressed. Ethical and didactic writing of
every kind is apt to be read with impatience and weariness
by those who most need instruction ; but biography is uni
versally fascinating.
There are few individuals whose lives unite so great and
various an interest as that of Benjamin Franklin. The
humble position from which he rose, in an obscure colony, to
wealth, station, fame, and commanding influence, in an inde-
* A Lecture delivered in Boston, before the Society for the Diffusion
of Usefill Knowledge, on the 17th of November, 1829, now first published.
(1)

2 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FBANKLIN.
pendent state, — the struggles of his curiously checkered
early life; his brilliant scientific discoveries and celebrity as
a philosopher ; his great business talent and practical energy ;
his extraordinary skill in addressing the common sense of
mankind with his pen ; his great influence as a statesman, at
a most critical period of the history of the country; his
agency in bringing about political events of high moment ;
and his personal intercourse with the first characters of the
time, at home and abroad, with other circumstances not to
be enumerated here, — combine to furnish the materials of a
biography possessing all the interest of a romance.
For us the narrative comes with the additional attraction
that he was born in Boston, and that he derived his early and
only education, scanty as it was, from our public schools —
an obligation that he remembered in his will. It is true that,
at a very early period in his life, he left our city, and saw it
afterwards only as a visitor. But he never ceased to regard
it with warm attachment ; and, in a letter written to Dr
Samuel Mather, but a few years before his death, he says, " I
long much to see again my native place, and to lay my bones
there." I shall confine myself, on the present occasion, to the first
years of Franklin's life. It would be impossible to run over
his whole career to any valuable purpose within the compass
of a single lecture. If I do not greatly mistake, his boyhood
and youth will be found a very instructive subject of con
templation; and this is the topic to which I now invite
your attention.
In reviewing the life of Dr Franklin, tUl he reached the
age of fifty, we have the inestimable advantage of his auto
biography, one of the most valuable specunens of this kind
of writing contained in our language. It will furnish me
nearly all the materials for the present lecture, and I shall
often use his own words. I shall for this reason, before
entering upon the narrative, ask your attention to a some
what singular circumstance connected with the composition
of this memoir.
The first part of this narrative has been very frequently

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 3
republished and widely circulated. As the introduction to a
small collection of Franklin's miscellaneous writings, it forms
a volume from which most persons, who do not make a
study of his works, derive their knowledge of his life and
character. The copy which I possess is entitled, the Works
of Dr Benjamin Franklin, consisting of his Life, written by
himself, together with Essays, humorous, moral, and literary,
chiefly in the Manner of the Spectator.* The portion of
Dr Franklin's Autobiography contained in this and the similar
manujd editions of his works is probably the specimen of his
(supposed) writing with which the generality of readers are
most familiar, and consequently, in popular estimation, the
best known example of his style. It is therefore a somewhat
curious fact that it is not, in the form in which it now
circulates, from Dr Franklin's pen.
This first portion of the memoir, which brings his life
do-wn to the twenty-fifth year, was written in England in the
form of a letter to his son. A copy of it was sent to a friend
in France, (M. Le Veillard,) and it appeared in that country,
in a French translation, as an introduction to a small collection
of Franklin's Essays. An English translation, from this
French version, was made in London for a similar collection
published there shortly after Dr Franklin's death. It is this
translation of a translation which continues to be reprinted
in this country and in England, as the Life of Franklin,
written by himself, and generally with a continuation by Dr
Stuber of Philadelphia. The original memoir, as written by
Dr Franklin, was first published by his grandson. Temple
Franklin, in 1818 ; but the old retranslation continues to
hold its place in popular use in -this country and England.f
* Charlesto-wn, printed by John Lawson for the principal booksellers in
Boston, 1798.
t When this lecture was delivered in 1829, the fact stated in the text —
altiough mentioned in the Preface to Mr Temple Franklin's edition of his
grandfather's writmgs, and in several of the popular editions, especially the
first which appeared in London — had, I think, seldom been adverted to. I
have before me an English edition of the Works of Dr Benjamin Franklin,
with his Life, published as late as 1844, which gives the retranslation, with
Stuber's continuation. The late Mr Benjamin Vaughan of Hallowell, the

4 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FKANKLIN
The French version I have never seen ; the English is very
well executed : but the easy and sometimes negligent, but
always delightful, simplicity of Dr Franklin's original, often
wholly disappears in this double translation. In the quota
tions which I shall make from the memoir, in the course of
this lecture, I shall furnish you with specimens of both.
We have the satisfaction of knowing, as we narrate the
life of Franklin, that he himself took an interest in the his
tory of his family. He informs his son, in the outset of the
autobiography, that " he had ever had a pleasure in obtaining
any little anecdotes of his ancestors." He made a journey
with him, for this purpose, to the village in England, where
his family had been settled as far back as it could be traced ;
and he expressly mentions it as an inducement for writing
the memoir, that his posterity may be desirous of learning
and imitating the means by which he raised himself from
poverty and obscurity "to a state of affluence and some
degree of celebrity in the world."
The family of Dr Franklin, when he commenced his
inquiries, had been settled for three centuries at the village
of Ecton, in Northamptonshire, in England, the same county
in which the family of Washington was established in the
early part of the sixteenth century. The immediate ances
tors of these great men, who performed so distinguished a
part in the American revolution, and were born themselves
in the opposite extremities of the colonies, must have lived
at no very great distance from each other in the mother
country. The families, however, both at the original seat in
England and in this country, occupied very different stations
in society. That of Washington belonged to the landed
aristocracy of England, and some of them rose to eminence
venerable friend of Dr Franklin, (who was induced, in part by Mr
Vaughan's persuasion, to continue the autobiography,) in a letter addressed
to me shortly after this lecture was delivered, spoke of the fact in question
as " a discovery ;" which, however, it cannot be called.
Mr Sparks, in the Preface to his standard edition of Franklin's Works,
(published in 1840,) gives a full account of the matter. He even informs
us that, in a new collection of Franklin's Works, published at Paris, in
1798, the autobiography is translated back again into French, from the
iiinglish retranslation.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 6
in the army and the state. Franklin's ancestors lived on a
freehold farm of about thirty acres ; and it was their custom,
from father to son, to eke out the frugal support derived from
this little domain by the business of a smith, to which the
oldest son was habitually brought up, "
The grandfather of Franklin, towards the close of life,
removed to Banbury, in Oxfordshire. He had four sons who
grew up, — Thomas, John, Benjamin, and Josiah, — and our
Franklin was the son of the youngest ; being the youngest
son of the youngest son, like his predecessors in the family
for five generations.
It is a circumstance much more worthy of record, that the
" humble family," as Franklin calls it, early embraced the
reformed religion. They continued to be Protestants during
the reign of Mary ; and were sometimes in danger of perse
cution, in consequence of their zeal against popery. Franklin
has preserved an anecdote of his ancestors in this connection,
which discloses a state of things almost beyond belief at the
present day, and which shows plainly enough the indissoluble
connection between civil and religious liberty. " The family
had Em English Bible ; and to conceal it, and place it in
safety, it was fastened open with tapes under and within the
cover of a joint stool. When my great-grandfather wished
to read it to his family, he placed the joint stool on his knees,
and then turned over the leaves under the tapes. One of the
children stood at the door to give notice if he saw the appari
tor coming, who was an officer of the Spiritual Court. In
that case, the stool was turned down again upon its feet, when
the Bible remained concealed under it as before." What
happened in this way beneath the humble roof of the Frank
lins took place, no doubt, at the same time in hundreds and
thousands of the homes of England. It is the policy by
which mfatuated rulers, in church and state, have at all times
promoted the reforms they seek to stifle ; and turned yeomen
and artisans intcf martyrs, champions, and heroes.
The family of the Franklins adhered to the Church of
England till about the end of Charles H.'s reign. By this
time, the lessons learned by the Church in the time of her

6 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
tribulations were forgotten ; and two thousand ministers were
silenced in one day for non-conformity. The father of
Franklin and one of his uncles adhered to thek silenced
pastors, and continued non-conformists to the end of their
lives : the rest of the family remained of the Church of
England. These circumstances are worth recording, for they
determined the removal of the family to America. The
non-conforming clergymen being forbidden by law to hold
their " conventicles," as they were called, and being frequent
ly disturbed at their religious meetings, some considerable
men of their acquaintance determined tc emigrate to New
England. The father of Franklin was induced to join
them ; and, in 1682, — sixty-two years after the settlement
at Plymouth, — he removed to Boston with his wife and
three children. Four children were added to the number
after their arrival in America ; and ten more were born to the
father of Franklin in a second marriage. Benjamin was the
youngest of ten sons ; and, with the exception of two
daughters, the youngest of the family. He was born on the
seventeenth of January, (New Style,) 1706, according to the
common tradition, in a house in Milk Street, which many
persons present will recollect as standing nearly opposite to
the Old South Church. It is known that this house was, at
one period, the residence of Franklin's father ; but, according
to an account given by the historian of Boston, (Dr Snow,)
Dr Franklin himself informed a person, who was still living
in 1824, that he was born in a house which stood at the
corner of Union and Hanover Streets, and was afterwards
known as a public house, by the sign of the Blue Ball.
The father of Franklin, as we have seen, emigrated to
America in 1682. The entire population of the British
colonies was estimated, twenty years later, at two hundred
and sixty thousand. In one hundred years from the time
when his parents landed on this continent, Benjamin Frank
lin signed, at Versailles, the provisional articles of peace
between the King of Great Britam and the United States of
America, then containing a population of more than three
millions.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 7
The mother of Benjamin Franklin, the second wife of his
father, was Abiah Folgier, of Nantucket, daughter of Peter
Folgier, one of the first settlers of New England, and the
head of a family in which an aptitude for scientific attain
ment, scarcely if at all inferior to- that possessed by Benjamin
Franklin, has been transmitted to the present day. These
venerated parents lived together in humble thrift to a good
old age, and, before they departed, witnessed the growing
honors of their illustrious son. " I never knew either my
father or mother," says he, " to have any sickness but that
of which they died, — he at eighty-nine, and she at eighty-
five years of age. They lie buried together at Boston, where
I some years since placed a marble over their grave, with this
inscription : " — In the (higincd.
JOSL\H FRANKLIN
And
ABIAH his wife,
Lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock,
Fifl;y-five years ;
And without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labor, and honest industry,
(With God's blessing,)
Maintained a large family comfortably;
And brought up thirteen children and seven grandchildren.
Respectably.
From this instance. Reader,
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling.
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man,
She a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son.
In filial regard to their memory.
Places this stone.
J F. born 1655, died 1744. ^tas 89.
A. F. borp J667, died 1752. Mism 83.

8 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
In the Rdranslatwn.
Here lie
Josias Franklin
And
Abiah his ¦wife:
They lived together with reciprocal affection
For flfly-nine years ;
And without private fortune, without lucrative employment,
By assiduous labor, and honest industry,
Decently supported a numerous family ;
And educated with success
Thirteen children and seven grandchildren.
Let this example. Reader,
Encourage thee diligently to discharge the duties
Of thy calling.
And to rely on the support of Divine Providence.
He was pious and prudent,
She discreet and virtuous.
Their youngest son.
From a sentiment of filial duty.
Consecrates this stone
To their memory.
The humble memorial dutifully erected by Franklin to his
parents, in the Granary Burying-ground, being in a state of
decay, it was replaced, a year or two since, by a substantial
granite obelisk. On its eastern front the name of Franklin
appears in relief; beneath which a copy of the original in-*
scription, engraved upon a suitable slab, is sunk into the face
of the obelisk. It was on the occasion of the erection of
this monument, that I was first led to notice the difference
between the original inscription and the version contained
in the common editions of the autobiography.
The brothers of Benjamin Franklin were all put as appren
tices to various trades, Benjamin, at the age of eight years,
was placed, in the year 1714, in the grammar school of
Boston, — the venerable parent of the classical schools of the
country, still existing in our midst, and never more prosperous

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 9
than at the present day. It was, at that time, under the care
of the Rev. Nathaniel Williams. It was his father's inten
tion, in placing him at this school, to devote Benjamin,
as the tithe of his sons, to the church. His early readiness
in learning to read, (" which," says he, " must have been
very early, for I do not remember when I could not read,")
and the opinion of all his friends that he would certainly
make a good scholar, encouraged Franklin's father in the
purpose of giving him a learned education. His uncle Ben
jamin approved the project so warmly, that he promised to
give him, to set up with, the volumes containing the reports
of sermons which he had taken in short hand, provided ,he
would learn the character. Benjamin remained at the school
less than a year ; in which time, however, he rose gradually
from the middle to the head of the class of that year, and
thence to the class above ; from which he was to have been
still further advanced, at fhe end of the year.
By this time, his father's purpose in reference to his educa
tion was changed, in consequence, perhaps, of some change
of his circumstances; for the other reasons assigned — viz.,
the narrowness of his means and his large family, with the
little encouragement afforded in that line of life to those
educated for it — must have existed, in equal force, the year
before. In pursuance of this change in his destination, Ben
jamin, at the age of nine, was taken from the "Latin school,
and placed at a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a
then famous man, Mr George Brownwell. " He was," says
Franklin, " a skilful master, and successful in his profession,
employing the mildest and most encouraging methods. Under
him, I learned to write a good hand pretty soon ; but I failed
entirely in arithmetic."
Knowing, as we do, the general aptitude of Frankhn for
learning, and especially the clearness of his head, and the
practical turn of his mind, it is surprising to hear him speak
of failing in arithmetic — a simple study, in which, of all
others, we should expect hun to make early and easy progress,
and in which a few years later he tells us he found no diffi
culty. We are inclined to do justice to the pupil at the
VOL. II. 2

10 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OP FRANKLIN.
expense of the master, and to doubt whether Master Brown-
well could have been, as far as arithmetic is concerned, a
skilful teacher. It seems unpossible that a mind like Frank
lin's, even at that early age, should have failed to comprehend
the rules and operations of arithmetic, had they been pre
sented with even moderate good judgment. Some meagre
manual of arithmetic was probably put into his hands, and
he, was told " to do the sums ; " without any attempt, on the
part of the book or the teacher, to explam their prmciples, or
open the mmd of the pupil, by familiar illustration, to the
power of figures, and the nature of arithmetical processes.
With this mode of teachmg it, Franklin is not the only one
who has had cause to lament " that he failed entirely in arith
metic." How justly he states " that he learned to write a
good hand " during his year's instruction by Mr. Brownwell,
is matter of notoriety ; and few points of a practical educa
tion are of greater importance. At ten years old, he was taken
from this school to help his father in his business.
These two years of interrupted schooling, from the age of
eight to that of ten, were all the regular education which
Franklui ever received. It is an illustrious example how
much can be done for the improvement of the mind, with
the most scanty means when faithfully improved. Of the
benefit which he derived from the Boston schools, Franklin
himself, as I have already stated, retained to the close of his
life a grateful recollection, evinced by a provision in his will
by which his name will be embalmed in the hearts of the
boys of Boston to the end of time. That provision must not
be omitted on this occasion ; it is in the following terms : —
"I was born in Boston, New England, and owe my first instructions in
literature to the free grammar schools established there. I therefore give
one hundred pounds sterling * to my executors, to be by them, the survivors
or survivor of them, paid over to tlie managers or directors of the free
schools in my native town of Boston, to be by them, or the person or per
sons who shall have the superintendence and "management of the said
• The principal of the fund is now (1850) $1000. A sum two or three times
larger than its interest is required for the annual distribution of medala, and
is liberally supplied from the city treasury.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 11
Bcnools, put out to interest, and so continued at interest forever ; which inter
est annually shall be laid out in silver medals, and given as honorary re
wards annually by the directors of the said free schools, for the encourage
ment of scholarship in the said schools, belonging to the said town, in such
manner as to the discretion of the selectmen of the said town shall seem
meet"

This provision immediately took effect. The fund was
placed at interest, and has accumulated to twice its original
amount, the whole of the income apparently not having at
first been required for the annual distribution of medals. The
first name on the record of the medallists is that of our re
spected fellow-citizen, Dr John Collins Warren, 1792.
At the age of ten, as -vge have already seen, Benjamin was
taken from school to help his father in his business, which was
that of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler ; a business to which
he was not bred, but which he had taken up on his arrival in
New England, because he had found that his trade as a dyer
was in little request, and would not support his family. In
this, his first occupation in life, our future philosopher, states
man, and ambassador, was employed in cutting wick, filling
the moulds, attending the shop, and running errands. This
business was not to the taste of the aspiring lad, who had a
strong inclination for the sea, against which, however, his
father declared. But living near the water, he was much in
it and on it. He learned to swim well, and retained his fond
ness for this exercise for the rest of his Ijfe. He learned
also to mauEige boats ; and, when embarked with other boys,
was commonly allowed to govern, especially (as he adds with
some slyness) " in any case of difficulty." On other occa
sions, he was generally the leader among the boys, and some
times led them into scrapes. One instance of these he was
induced to leave on record in his autobiography, inasmuch as
it shows an early projecting public spirit, though not then
justly conducted. As it will furnish a striking example of the
superior simplicity of Franklin's own style ovei; that of the
retranslation above described, I quote the account of this
little effort of roguish engineering in both forms : —

12 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.

The Ori^naL
" There was a small marsh which
bounded part of the mill-pond, on the
edge of which we used to fish for
minnows. By much trampling we
had made it a mere quagmire. My
proposal was to build a wharf there
for us to stand upon ; and I showed
my comrades a large heap of stones,
which were intended for a new house
near the marsh, and which would
very well suit our purpose. Accord
ingly, in the evening, when the
workmen had gone home, I assem
bled a number of my playfellows,
and we ,worked diligently, like so
many emmets, sometimes two or
three to a stone, till we brought them
all to make our little wharf. The
next morning, the workmen were
surprised at missing the stones,
which had formed our wharf. In
quiry was made after the authors of
this transfer; we were discovered,
complained of, and corrected by our
fathers ; and though I demonstrated
the utility of the work, mine con
vinced me that that which was not
honest could not be truly useful."

The Retranslation.
" The mill-pond was terminated on
one side by a marsh, upon the bor
ders of which we were accustomed
to take our stand, at high water, to
angle for small fish. By dint of
walking we had converted the place
into a perfect quagmire. My pro
posal was to erect a wharf that should
afford us firm footing ; and I pointed
out to my companions a large heap
of stones, intended for the building
of a new house near the marsh, and
which were well adapted for our pur
pose. Accordingly, when the work-
men'retired in the evening, I assem
bled a number of my playfellows, and
by laboring diligently, like ants,
sometimes four of us uniting our
strength to carry a single stone, we
removed them all, and constructed
our little quay. The workmen were
surprised the next morning at not
finding their stones, which had been
conveyed to our wharf. Inquiries
were made respecting the authors of
this conveyance; we were discovered;
complaints were exhibited against
us, and many of us underwent cor
rection on the part of our parents ;
and though I strenuously defended
the utility of the work, my father at
length convinced me, that nothing
which was not strictly honest could
be useful."

This father, who succeeded so early in inculcating upon
his hopeful son one of the great rules of practical morality,
though in humble life, was no common man. He is admira
bly sketched in the autobiography. He had an excellent con
stitution, was of middle stature, was well set, and very strong.
He could draw prettily, and was skilled a little in music. His
voice was sonorous and agreeable, so that when he played on

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 13
his violin, and sung withal, as he was accustomed to do after
the business of the "day was over, it was extremely agreeabk
to hear. He had some knowledge of mechanics, and on
occasion was very handy with other tradesmen's tools. This
taste and skill passed to his distinguished son. But his great
excellence was his sound understanding, and his solid judg
ment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs.
It is true he was never employed in the latter, the numerous
family he had to educate, and the straitness of his circum
stances, keeping him close to his trade ; but he was frequent
ly visited by the leading men, who consulted him for his
opinion in public affairs, and those of the church he belonged
to, and who showed great respect for his judgment and advice.
He was also much consulted by private persons when any
difficulty Occurred in their affairs, and was frequently chosen
an arbitrator between contending parties. At his table he
liked to have, as often as possible, some sensible friend or
neighbor, and always took care to start some ingenious or
useful topic of discourse, which might tend to improve the
minds of his children. " By this means," continues Frank
lin, " he turned our attention to what was good, just, and
prudent in the conduct of life ; and little or no notice was
ever taken of what related to the victuals on the table ;
whether it was well or ill dressed, in or out of season, of
good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this or that other
thing of the kind ; so that I was brought up in such a per
fect inattention to those matters, as to be quite indifferent
what kind of food was set before me. Indeed, I am so un
observant of it, that to this day I can scarce tell, afew hours
after dinner, of what dishes it consisted. This has been a
great convenience to me in travelling, where my companions
have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suitable
gratification of their more delicate, because better instructed,
tastes and appetites."
When Franklin's father taught his son this well-learned
lesson of indifference to the pleasures of the table, he gave
him, poor as he was, a better philosopher'.s stone, than was
ever dreamed of by the alchemist. In the mean time, how-

14 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
ever, he was to learn a trade. Two years' trial at soap and
candles but rendered this business the more disgusting, and
increased the hankering for the sea, which the good father,
however, still opposed. In the hope of finding among the
other mechanical trades one which would strike the son's
fancy, he was taken by his father to see the bricklayers, the
joiners, the turners, and the braziers, but all apparently with
no great effect. Some seeds indeed of mechanical ingenuity
were sown, a fondness for tools encouraged, aud so much
skill in handling them acquired as to be ever after useful in
life, not only in doing trifling jobs in the house, when a
workman was not at hand, but in constructing machines for
philosophical experiments, at the moment when their concep
tion was fresh and warm. For a short time there is a pros
pect of a choice. The father has a nephew bred to the
cutler's business in London, and just established in Boston.
It is proposed that Benjamin shall be apprenticed to his cousin
Samuel as a cutler. But the aspiring youth is designed by
Providence to deal with weapons of a finer temper and a
keener edge. There is no friendship in trade ; Samuel de
mands an exorbitant fee for receiving his cousin as an
apprentice, and the displeased uncle takes his son home again.
Benjamin, from his youth, had been passionately fond of
reading, and all the money that came into his hands was laid
out by him in purchasing books. The hereditary Puritanism
of the family guided him to his first acquisition ; but a better
could hardly have been made. It consisted of the works
of John Bunyan, in separate little volumes ; and these, when
thoroughly read, were sold to purchase R. Burton's Histor
ical Collections, " small chapmen's books, forty volumes in
all." As to the good father's little library, it consisted chiefly
of books in polemical divinity — dry, unprofitable reading,
most of which, however, Benjamin perused, and often regret
ted afterwards, that, at a tune when he had such a thirst for
knowledge, more proper books had not fallen in his way.
There was, however, among the father's books, a copy of
Plutarch's Lives, -which Benjamin read abundantly ; and " I
still think," says he, " that time spent to great advantage." No

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 15
doubt our hopeful little scapegrace who builds a wharf, in
the night, with the stones laid up for a neighbor's house, and,
preparatory to being whipped, " demonstrates to his father
the utility of the work," was prepared to read the lives of the
old Greek and Roman worthies to some advantage. They
often took their neighbor's stones to build their own struc
tures, and never failed, when necessary, " to demonstrate the
utility of the work." Among the father's books were De
foe's Essay on Projects, and Cotton Mather's Essay to do
good ; " which," says the autobiography, " perhaps gave me
a turn of thinking that had an influence on some of the prin
cipal future events of my life."
This fondness for books at length determined the father
for the trade of a printer, although he had already one son,
(James) of that profession, for so Benjamin designates the
calling of his choice. In 1717, James had returned from
England with a press and types, to set up as a printer in
Boston. This was a more attractive business than that of a
tallow-chandler ; but the desire for the sea still remained. To
nip that passion effectually in the bud, the father was impa
tient to have Benjamin bound to his brother ; a formidable
ciffair in those rigid and summary times. Benjamin stood
out for some time, but was at last persuaded, and signed the
indenture when he was but twelve years old. He was to
serve an apprenticeship of nine long years ; but, as some com
pensation for this protracted term, he was to have journey
man's wages the last year.
These were somewhat hard conditions for a lad naturally
impatient of restraint, and aspiring beyond his years. But
the situation was not without its advantages. " I had now
access to better books," and more of them, and from this
time began with earnestness the work of self-education.
The apprentice of the printer naturally became acquainted
with the apprentices of the booksellers, and in this way a
volume could be occasionally borrowed, which he was care
ful to return soon and clean. But a youngest apprentice,
especially if but twelve years old, has not much leisure in
the day for reading. " Often I sat up in my chamber," says

16 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
he, " reading the greatest part of the night, when the book
was borrowed in the evening to be returned in the morning,
lest it should be found missing. " But he was not long compelled
to pursue his youthful studies by stealth. Good Mr Matthew
Adams, " a merchant, an ingenious, sensible man, who had a
pretty collection of books," is a frequenter of the printing
office. He perceives in the youngest apprentice the unmis
takable signs of an ardent love of learning. " He took notice
of me, invited me to see his library, and very kindly pro
posed to lend me such books as I chose to read." This
friendly notice, and the books kindly placed within his
reach, no doubt had a most important influence on the em
bryo philosopher and statesman. Worthy Mr Adams himself
wrote " essays, which were received with marks of the public
esteem at the time, and were reprinted in periodical miscel
lanies of later date." * Their memory has all but perished ;
but a single page in the autobiography has immortalized their
writer as Franklin's first friend and patron.
About this time, that is, when our apprentice had perhaps
reached his thirteenth or fourteenth year, he took a strong
inclination to poetry, and wrote some little pieces. In this
his brother James, "supposing it might turn to account,"
(alas for poor human nature !) encouraged him, and induced
hun to compose two occasional ballads. One was the Light
House Tragedy, and deplored the shipwreck of Captain
Worthilake and his two daughters ; the other was a sailor's
song, on the capture of the famous Teach, the pirate, com
monly called Blackboard. Franklin's mature judgment pro
nounced them " wretched stuff, in street-ballad style ; " but
the first, he says, sold prodigiously, the event being recent,
and having made a great noise. Whatever the grown man,
writing at the height of his fame, at the palace of a bishop,
might have thought of them, the poor boy, at the time, had
a right to be proud of his success. He composed them, set
up the types from which they were printed, probably tended
the press when they were struck off, and then, says he, " my
* Eliot's Biographical Dictionary.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 17
br :)ther sent me about town to sell them." They might well
be called his works ; but they are lost.
But there are dangers in success, especially to youngest ap
prentices. The prodigious sale of his ballads " flattered the
vanity " of our boyish poet. Here the judicious and frugal
parent stepped in. " My father discouraged me by criticizing
my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally
beggars." Not very cheering this : " Your verses, my little
man, are pretty well for you; but, after all, they are but
wretched stuff; and even if they were better, the chance is
equal they wfll make a beggar of you. Throw away your
pen, Benjamin, and stick to the composing-stick." Such
was probably the substance of old Mr Franklin's Art of
Poetry, shorter than Horace's, but, on this occasion, full as
much to the point. " Thus," says his son, " I escaped being
a poet, and probably a very bad one."
Not so with prose ; and " as prose writing," says the auto
biography, " has been of great use to me in the course of
my life, and was a principal means of my advancement, I
shall tell you how, in such a situation, I acquired what little
ability I may be supposed to have in that way." It was in
the following manner: Benjamin had become intimately
acquainted with " another bookish lad about town, by name
John Collins." With him he was in the habit of disputing
on subjects suggested by their reading ; and both being fond
of argument, and very desirous of confuting each other, they
began to contract a disputatious turn, which Franklin says
he had already caught by reading his father's books of dis
pute on religion. He speaks of this as a very bad habit,
making people extremely disagreeable in company, souring
emd spoiling the conversation, and producing disgusts and
enmities. To this just condemnation of a disputatious turn,
Dr Franklin adds the curious remark, that " persons of good
sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it, except law
yers, university men, and generally men of all sorts who
have been bred at Edinburgh." In the course of their argu
ments, Collins and young Franklin fell upon the question, as
to the propriety of educating the female sex in learning, and
VOL. II. 3

18 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
fheir abilities for study. Collins (and a graceless fellow he
afterwards turned out to 'be, as might have been expected
from this beginning) maintained that it was improper, and
that they were naturally unequal to it. Benjamin took the
contrary side, perhaps a little, as he states with candor, for
dispute's sake. Collins seemed to get the better in the argu
ment, rather from superior eloquence and a greater flow of
words than by the strength of his reasons. This did not
satisfy Benjamin, and as they parted, not to meet for some
time, he wrote out his argument carefully, and sent it to his
opponent. Collins rejoined in the same way, and three or
four letters passed between them. These came to old Mr
Franklin's knowledge, and without entering into the delicate
subject of female education, he took occasion to talk to
Benjamin about his manner of writing. The spelling and
pointing (thanks to the discipline of the printing office) were
superior to the antagonist's ; but in elegance of expression,
in method, and perspicuity, the advantage was greatly on his
side. This the clear-headed father established by several
instances, and the docile son "saw the justice of his re
marks." The same prudent discipline, which had nipped a
bad poet in the bud, fostered the germ of excellonce in one
of the best of prose writers. " I grew more attentive," says
he, " to my manner of writing, and determined to endeavor
to improve my style."
Chance threw in his way, at this moment, the guide and
model of which he stood in need, — an odd volume of the
Spectator, which he had never seen before. It had, in fact,
been published but a short time, the first number having
appeared on the first of March, 1711, and the last on the
twentieth of December, 1714. Benjamin bought the odd
volume, "read it over and over, and was much delighted
with it." Nothmg is more characteristic of the inborn good
sense and sound taste of Franklin, brought up as he was in
a family where the principal reading (and not much of that)
was in the polemical writings of the Puritan divines, than to
seize with instinctive avidity upon this odd volume of the
Spectator, not yet known even at home as a standard work,

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 19
and -which some chance had cast up on the shores of this
distant and austere colony, like the trunk of a palm-tree
drifted from the tropics to a colder region. But Addison was
read and relished. Our youthful apprentice, his eyes already
somewhat opened by his father's criticism, " thought the
writing excellent, and determined, if possible, to imitate it."
With this view he took some of the papers, and, making
short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by
for a few days, and then, without looking at the book, tried
to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sen
timent at length, as fully as it stood in the author, and in any
suitable words that occurred to -him. " I then," says he,
" compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some
of my faults, and corrected them." He felt, however, that
he wanted a stock of words, or readiness in their recollection
and use. He remembered his old poetical exercises : after
all, it might not have been so bad to have kept them up ;
the continual search for words required by the measure or the
rhyme would perhaps have taught variety and readiness in
the use of language. But it is not too late to make the
experiment ; and some of the tales of the Spectator were
translated into verse, and after a time, when the original was
pretty well forgotten, turned back into prose. So, too, for the
sake of learning method and arrangement of the thoughts,
the above-mentioned hints were "jumbled into confusion,"
and, after some weeks, reduced to order before the process of
recomposition began. " By comparing my work with the
original," says the autobiography, " I discovered many faults,
and corrected them ; but I sometimes had the pleasure to
fancy that, in certain particulars of small consequence, I had
been fortunate enough to improve the method or the lan
guage, and this encouraged me to think that I might, in time,
come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was
extremely ambitious." Dr Blair has shown, in his Lectures
on Rhetoric, that there was no arrogance in undertaking an
occasional correction of the style of the Spectator, thrown
off as it was in the haste inseparable from a daily publication.
The time allotted for these self-imposed exercises, and for

20 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
reading, was at night, before work began in the moming, or
on Sundays, when, it must be remarked with regret, he says,
he contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding, as much
as he could, the constant attendance at public worship, which
his father exacted while under his care, and which he himself
continued to consider his duty, though he could not afford
time to practise it. It wfll be remembered, in extenuation
of this error on the part of the studious youth, that the public
services of religion were at that time protracted to what
would now be thought an unreasonable and tedious length.
But Franklin, it must be confessed, in reference to religion,
contracted, in his early years, some loose notions, from read
ing the works of sceptical writers, such as Shaftesbury and
Collins ; a circumstance which, in the progress of the narra
tive, he admits and deplores.
At the age of sixteen, he learned one of the greatest lessons
of prudential morality, — the inestimable importance of tem
perance, — which, at first, he pushed to extreme. Having
met with a book written by one Tryon, which recommended
a vegetable diet, he determined " to go into it." At that
time, it was the practice for apprentices to board with their
masters. James was unmarried, but boarded, with his appren
tices, in another family. Benjamin's refusal to eat flesh
occasioned inconvenience, and he was frequently chid for his
singularity. Tryon's book came to his aid : he learned to
prepare some of the dishes there recommended ; to boil pota
toes and rice, and make hasty pudding ; and then proposed to
his brother, that, if he would allow him weekly half the
money which he p,aid for his board, he would board himself
The offer was instantly accepted ; and our young Pythago
rean found that he could sustain himself on half of his
allowance. This was an additional fund for books ; and it
had another advantage. The sober apprentice staid at the
printing house, whfle his brother and the rest went home to
dinner. The solitary meal (often no more than a biscuit, a
slice of bread, a handful of raisins, or a tart from the pastry
cook's) was soon despatched. This left time for study, " in
which," says he, " I made the greater progress, from that

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 21
greater clearness of head and quicker apprehension which
generally attend temperance in eating and drinking ; " for
Franklin understood well — what is too often forgotten —
that temperance belongs to both. Perhaps he carried it to a
point which cannot be recommended for general imitation, in
the degree of abstemiousness just described. It is impossi
ble, however, to doubt, aftef* the perusal of Franklin's
biography, that his resolute temperance lay at the foundation
of his success in life.
It was at this period, (about sixteen years of age,) that,
having been on some occasion made ashamed of his ignorance
of figures, he took up Cocker's Arithmetic and went through
it himself, with the greatest ease, somewhat to the reproach
of Master Brownwell's skill, of which we have spoken before.
The difficulty may, however, really have been that the mind
of the little boy, at nine years of age, had not yet ripened to
a capacity for arithmetic. Now, too, he read one or two
treatises of navigation, from one of which he derived some
knowledge of geometry ; and even ventured to take up
Locke on Human Understanding and the Port Royal Art
of Thinking.
Whfle intent upon improving his language, he had met
with an English Grammar, which contained at the end two
little sketches of rhetoric and logic, with a specimen of a
dispute in the Socratic method. He soon after procured a
translation of Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, wherein
there are many examples of the same method. He was
charmed with it, adopted it, dropped his abrupt habit of con
tradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the humble
inquirer. Having, as has been already observed, imbibed
some sceptical views, — though to what extent he does not
inform us, — he employed this method of disputation as the
safest for himself, and very embarrassing to those against
whom he used it.. He tells us that he took great delight in
this method ; that he practised it continually ; that he groAV
very artful and expert in drawing people, even of superior
knowledge, into concessions, the consequences of which they
did not foresee, — entangling them in difficulties, out of

22 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
which they could not extricate themselves, — " and so," he
adds, " obtaining victories that neither myself nor my cause
always deserved." He continued this practice for some few
years, but gradually gave it up, retaining only the habit of
expressing himself with diffidence ; never using terms of
positive affirmation, like certainly, and undoubtedly ; but such
as, I conceive, or I apprehend. This practice he thought had
been of great advantage to him, in inculcating his opinions
and persuading men to concur with him in the measures he
was desirous of promoting. The theory and practice of
Franklin, in this respect, would be worth considering by
those engaged at the present day in religious and political
controversy. To vilify your opponent, and claim to yourself
a monopoly of the argument and principle in the particular
case, as well as of morality and religion in general, is too
much the practice of many of our sects and parties.
On the seventh of August, 1721, James Franklin com
menced the publication of the New England Courant, a
weekly newspaper. It was the fourth paper published in
British America, having been preceded by the Boston News
letter, which began April seventeenth, 1704; by the Boston
Gazette, fourteenth December, 1719, and the American Mer
cury, which began at Phfladelphia, on the twenty-second of
the same month of December, 1719.* James was dissuaded
from this undertaking by some of his friends, who " thought
one newspaper enough for America. At this time," (1771,)
says Dr Franklin, " there are not less than twenty-five." At
the present day, it has been estimated that there are from
eighteen hundred to two thousand. But in a growing coun
try there is always room for one more of any thing. James
was determined not to be discouraged : another newspaper
was wanted, and he was determined to print it.
This paper is somewhat remarkable in itself, and stfll more
so in its connection with Franklin ; the education of whose
* See Thomas's History of Printing in America, Vol. I. p. 308. In his
autobiography, Dr Franklin, ¦vvriting from memory, speaks of the Courant
as the second newspaper published in America. He was probably misled
by the circumstance, tijat his brother James for a while printed the GazOte.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 23
boyhood was completed in its columns. We learn from
the autobiography, and from the numbers of the Courant,
— of which, however, unfortunately, a complete set is not
known to be in existence, — that the publisher was assisted
by a circle of ingenious men, who frequented his printing
house, and amused themselves in writing little pieces for his
columns. If the names of these ancient colonial wits are
preserved, J am unable to repeat them: Matthew Adams,
above mentioned, was no doubt one. Dfenjamin, the appren
tice, listened to their conversations, as they met in the print
ing house, and to their accounts of the approbation with
which their pieces from time to time were received; he
listened, and was excited to try his hand among them.
Being, however, stfll a boy, and an apprentice, doubting if his
brother would admit into the Courant any thing he should
write if he knew it to be his, he contrived to disguise his
hand, wrote an anonymous paper, and put it by night und^r
the door of the printing office. It was found in the morn
ing, and communicated by James to the friends accustomed
to write for him, when they made their usual visit. They
read it, commented upon it in Benjamin's hearing, and he
had the exquisite pleasure of finding it met with their appro
bation. In their various guesses at the author, none were
named but men of some character for learning and ingenuity.
It may be doubted whether in after life, at the summit of
fortune and renown, he ever passed a happier half hour than
whfle he stood at the printing-frame and heard his anonymous
essay commended. Encouraged by this attempt, he wrote
several other pieces, and sent them to the press in the same
way. He kept his secret till the fund for such performances
was exhausted, and then divulged it. He rose a little in the
estimation of the friends, but that did not quite please brother
James, who thought it tended to make Benjamin vain, and
was perhaps one cause of the differences which at that time
began to exist between them.
These we must not pass over, although it is not pleasant
to speak of the differences of brethren ; but they had a
decided influence over the whole course of Benjamin's life.

24 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF Ffi,ANKLIN.
They seem to have begun in the relation of the two brothers
in their trade. James was a master ; Benjamin an indentured
apprentice, — which in those times implied a good deal of
menial service. James appears to have been a man of no
little resolution, but, in other respects, of the common stamp;
Benjamin was one of a thousand, with a mighty future
opening in dim, unconscious vision before him. James ex
acted the same services from his brother that he -would from
any other apprentice*; Benjamin thought he was degraded too
much, and expected some indulgence. Their disputes were
often brought before the father. The right of appeal might
be doubted, and Benjamin generally gained his cause. Joseph
is apt to prevafl, when he pleads his own cause, and Jacob
sits on the bench. But James could not wait for the tedious
process of appeal, — perhaps he began to doubt the impar
tiality of the tribunal. Besides, he was passionate, and often
beat Benjamin, which the latter took extremely amiss. Then
there was the almost interminable indenture, but little more
than half run out. " I was continually wishing for some
opportunity," says the autobiography, "to shorten it, which
at length offered itself, in an unexpected manner."
The Courant from a very early day showed itself quite
free-spoken ; it was no doubt thought by many impertinent.
Venerable Dr Increase Mather subscribed for it, but seems to
have dropped it in disgust with the third number. It was
charged with being disrespectful to the civil authority and
the ministers, loose in opinion on matters of religion, and
abusive of private character. The freedom of the press was
not understood in those days. A sharp controversy soon
arose on the subject of inoculation for the small-pox. The
Courant, though professing to be impartial, evid&ntly leaned
agamst the introduction of the startling novelty. The
Mathers, father and son, recommended it with greater zeal
and knowledge than discretion. It must be admitted that,
contrary to what might have been expected, they were of
-vvhat should have been the popular side. The Courant threw
itself more on popular prejudice and opposition to innovation ;
although I believe modern science has gone round the whole

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 23
chcle, and got back to the starting-point, with the doubt
whether inoculation forthe small-pox diminished, upon the,
whole, the number of its victims. Be this as it will, great
bitterness was evolved in the controversy in 1721. The
physicians, through their organ the Courant, opposed, the
clergy from their pulpits defended, the practice. The passions
of the people ran so high that some of the latter " received
personal injury, others were insulted in the street, and were
h£u:dly safe in their houses." * A "granado ". was thrown into
one of Cotton Mather's windows, but providentially did no
harm. On the twenty-fourth of Jcinuary the venerable In
crease Mather fulminated a denunciation of the Courant, in
his own name, in the rival paper, the Boston Gazette. The
close of this extraordinary anathema is in the following
words : "I that have known what New England was from
the Beginning, cannot but be troubled to see the Degen
eracy of this Place. I can well remember when the Civil
Government could have taken an effectual Course to suppress
SI ch a Cursed Libel ! which if it be not done, I am afraid
that some Awful Judgment will come upon this land, and
that the wrath of G OD will arise, and there wfll be no rem
edy. I cannot but pity poor Franklin, [James,] who though
but a Young Man, it may be speedily he must appear before
the judgment seat of GOD, and what answer will he give for
printing things so vile and abominable ? And I cannot but
Advise the Supporters of this Courant to consider the conse
quences of being Partakers of other Men's Sins, and no
more countenance such a Wicked Paper."
The first notice taken by young Franklin of this denun
ciation was to reprint it with all its minatory capitals and
Italics in the next number of his own paper. A formal reply,
written with spirit and point, appeared a fortnight later, and
contained, what was no doubt the most satisfactory vindica
tion, the statement, that the Courant had received more than
forty new subscribers in the course of the month.
• Eliot's Biographical Dictionary, p. 79.
VOL. II. 4

26 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
What part, or whether any, was taken by Benjamin m
, these early troubles of the Courant, is not recorded. He was
*but a boy of sixteen, — a drudge in his brother's service, —
not likely to have given the tone to these proceedings ; but
very likely, on sly occasion, to have pointed a stray sarcasm
or aimed a saucy epigram at some distinguished mark.
Graver proceedings were in train, in which the courageous
apprentice was to bear a prominent part, and to find a way
of escape from the burdensome indentures.
The thunderbolt of the offended patriarch- fell as harmless
at young Franklin's feet as the granado had at son Cotton's.
It was behind the age. The Courant went on as usual, not
merely in reference to inoculation, but to every other topic
of public interest and concern. It was clever, bold, some
what scandalous even, at times, not wholly free from coarse
ness, but well sustained by a club of wits behind the scenes.
An intention evidently existed on the part of those in author
ity to lay the hand of power on the audacious journal. The
occasion seized to execute this purpose was, it must be
owned, of the slightest. A piratical vessel had appeared off
Block Island, and the government of Massachusetts was
requested by the government of Rhode Island to join in
proper measures for the capture of the corsair. The Courant
of June eleventh, 1722, contained an article dated at New
port, and giving an account of what was done there by way
of fitting out vessels to cruise for the buccaneer, and ending
with a single sentence, which certainly implies, in rather a
sarcastic manner, that the government at Boston were taking
matters quite leisurely. This was an unjust insinuation, inas
much as it appears that an armed cruiser was impressed,
manned by a hundred men, and was got ready to safl on the
second or third day after the news of the phate reached Boston.
For this offence, James Franklin was sent for, examined
before the council, and acknowledged himself the publisher
of the paper. A concurrent vote passed the two houses, that
the paragraph in question was a high affront to this govern
ment, and the sheriff of Suffolk was ordered to commit the

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 27
printer forthwith to jafl, where he remained till the end of
the session.*
During his confinement, the paper was carried on by Ben
jamin, then but a little over sixteen years of age. Whether
he was himself, at this time, called before the council, is not
certain ; but no one can doubt that these trying scenes, and
the responsibility which devolved upon him, formed no small
part of the discipline which prepared him for the great work
of his after life. Notwithstanding their personal differences,
the brother apprentice entered into his, master's wrongs, and
" made bold to give the rulers some rubs, which James
took very kindly." The tone of the paper, however, during
the imprisonment of the proprietor, was, of necessity, much
subdued. As soon as he was restored to liberty, the Courant resumed
its accustomed boldness. The leading article of the next
papei: appeared with this motto, from a sermon of worthy
Dr Hickeringill, (whose fame, but for this quotation, might
hardly have reached us:) "And then, after they had anathe
matized and cursed a man to the devfl, and the devil did not
or would not take him, then to make the sheriff and the
jafler take the devU's leavings." The following numbers
teemed with pertinent extracts from English writers, and
speeches in the English parliament, on the great principles
of civil liberty, and the freedom of the press ; and the
twenty-ninth chapter of Magna Charta was reprinted, with
Lord Coke's commentary at length. In a word, the result
of this, as of most other attempts to restrain the liberty of
the press, was to give it greater boldness and power.
I believe, however, that the Courant and its conductors
have, on this occasion, had credit for one reckless speech
which was never made by them. Mr Isaiah Thomas, the
veteran historian of printing in America, having related the
preceding incidents, proceeds to say, that the club, by which
the Courant was supported, " then applied the lash, as it was
termed, with the greater energy, especially to the governor
* See note at the end.

28 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
and some of the clergy." This expression is supported by
the following note : " No. 52 [should be 53] has this adver
tisement : ' This paper, No. 52, [53,] begins the fifth quarter,
and those that have not paid for the lash are deshed to send
in then money, or pay it to the bearer.' " But our youthful
censors, or rather the ingenious wits who supported them,
were bold and keen, not coarse. It seems to have been the.
custom in those days to pay the subscription to the news
papers quarterly. At the commencement of the new quarter,
the Courant appeared with this advertisement : " This paper
(No. 53) begins the fifth quarter, and those who have not
paid for the last are desired to send in their money or pay it
to the bearer." The venerable historian of printing mistoqk
the old fashioned Jl for Jh.*
But it must be owned, that the lash, if not threatened in
words, was pretty freely applied in fact.' At the end of
another six months, the printer was again in trouble. On
the fourteenth of January, 1723, a piece appeeired in the
Courant on the subject of hypocrisy, containing severe allu
sions evidentljr to persons of authority or influence, not now,
perhaps, traceable to the individuals aimed at. The printer
was sent for^ and questioned as to the author of the offensive
piece. Benjamin also was probably, at this time, taken up
and examined before the council ; but though he did not give
'them any satisfaction, they contented themselves with ad
monishing him, and dismissed him. They made allowances
for him as an apprentice, and consequently bound to keep
his master's secrets.
Dr Franklin's account of these events, written from mem
ory after a lapse of more than half a century, runs into one
occurrence the incidents of June, 1722, and January, 1723,
'a. portion of his narrative belonging to one occasion, and a
portion to the other. This leaves it doubtful whether he
himself was examined in June or January. Be this as it
wfll, both branches of the General Court concurred in an act
* Thomas's History of Printing in America, Vol. II. p. 218. Compare
the advertisement in No. 53 of the Courant with that in Nos. 52, 79,
and 157.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 29
which was approved by the governor, by which it was
ordered that, in consequence of the irreligious and offensive
character of the paper of the fourteenth of January, " James
Franklin, the printer and publisher thereof, be strictly forbid
den, by this court, to print or publish the New England Cou
rant, or any pamphlet or paper of the like nature, except it be
first supervised by the secretary of this province ; " and in
addition, he was required to give bonds to be of good beha
vior for twelve months. Our worthy fathers forgot that they
were not the Long Parliament.
What took place in this emergency had better be related
in the exact words of our apprentice, now lifted unexpectedly
into a new and critical position, at the age of seventeen.

Origirud.
"On a consultation held in our
printing office among his friends,
what he should do in this conjunc
ture, it was proposed to elude the
order by changing the name of the
paper.* But my brother, seeing in
conveniences in this, came to a con-_
elusion, as a better way, to let the
paper in future be printed in the
name of Benjamin Franklin ; and in
order to avoid the censure of the as
sembly, that might fall on him as still
printing it by an apprentice, he con
trived ' and consented that my old
indenture should -be returned to me
with a discharge on the back of it, to
show in case of necessity ; and in
order to secure to him the benefit of
my service, I should sign new in
dentures for the remainder of my
time, which were to be kept private.
A very flimsy scheme it was : how
ever, it was immediately executed.

Retranslation.
" In this conjuncture we held a con
sultation of our friends at the print
ing house, in order to determine
what was to be done. Some pro
posed to evade the order * by chang
ing the title of the paper ; but my
brother, foreseeing inconveniences
that would result from this step,
thought it better that in future it
should be printed in the name of
Benjamin Franklin ; and to avoid the
censure of the assembly, who might
charge him with still printing the
paper himself, under the name of his
apprentice, it was resolved that my
old indentures should be given up to
me, with a full and entire discharge
¦written on the back, in order to be
produced on an emergency ; but that,
to secure to my brother the benefit of
my service, I should sign a new con
tract, which should be kept secret
during the remainder of the term.

• The order was not, as stated from recollection in the autobiography, " that
he should no longer print the newspaper called the New England Courant,"
but that he should be strictly forbidden to publish that " or any pamphlet or
paper of the like nature." See the order in the Courant, No. 77.

30 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.

and the paper was printed, accord
ingly, under my name, for several
months.* At length, a fresh differ
ence arising between my brother and
me, I took upon me to assert my free
dom, presuming that he would not
venture to produce the new inden
tures. It was not fair in me to take
this advantage, and this I therefore
reckon one of the first errcUa of my
life ; but the unfairness of it weighed
little with me, when under the im
pressions of resentment for the blows
his passion too often urged him to
bestow upon me, though he was oth
erwise not an ill-natured man ; per
haps I was too saucy and provok
ing."

This was a very shallow arrange-
ment. It was, however, carried into
immediate execution, and the paper
continued in consequence to make its
appearance for some months in my
name.* At length, a new difference
arising between my brother and me,
I ventured to take advantage of my
liberty, presuming that he would not
dare to produce the new contract.
It was undoubtedly dishonorable to
avail myself of this circumstance,
and I reckon this action as one of
the first errors of my life ; but I was
little capable of estimating it at its
true value, imbittered as my mind
had been by the recollection of the
blows I had received. Exclusively
of his passionate treatment of me,
my brother was by no means a man
of an ill temper ; and perhaps my man
ners had too much impertinence not
to afford it a very natural pretext."

A questionable transaction, no doubt ; wrong on all sides ;
youthful petulance anonymously indulged, and pushed be
yond the fair limits of the liberty of the press; provoked
authority illegally and oppressively exercised ; and cunning
caught in its own toils. The smallest part of the blame
must be laid at the door of the youngest party ; the shame
and pain of the passionate beatings must be remembered in
palliation ; and the frank confession be accepted in atone
ment for the remainder of the offence.
And so finished the long apprenticeship before its still distant
term was reached. It had, however, lasted five years, and in
that time Benjamin had learned what proved to him a lucra
tive trade, had read widely, and with voracious appetite ; had
borne, not without fretfulness, the yoke of discipline ; had
* Not only for some months, but for several years ; probably as long as it
was published at all. The last paper in the set which belongs to the Massa
chusetts Historical Society, and which is perhaps unique, is No. 253, for June
4, 1726, more than three years after Benjamin Franklin left Boston, but stUI
bearing his imprint.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 31
Stood unsubdued before the presence of power, and on the
threshold of a jail ; and before he was fairly out of his boy
hood, had assumed the responsibility of a man. This is not
what one would choose beforehand as a desirable plan of
education ; but it is fit training for a bold part in difficult
times. When James found that Benjamin was determined to leave
his service, he took care to prevent his getting employment
in any oth.er printing house in Boston, by going round and
giving the poor boy a bad character with every master in
town. No one would give him work. Such an unbroth-
erly act was no doubt justified in the opinion of James, as
the means of bringing back Benjamin to the path of duty.
But he knew not the spirit with which he had to do. Una
ble to find employment in his native town, he determined to
seek it elsewhere ; and thought of New York as the nearest
place where there was a printer. Other considerations
inclined him to leave his home. The course which he had
pursued, in reference to his brother's paper, had made him
somewhat obnoxious to the governing party ; and the arbi
trary proceedings of the assembly towards James led him to
fear that if he staid, he might get into trouble. Besides
this, he ingenuously confesses that his indiscreet disputations
on religion had begun to cause him to be pointed at with
horror by good people, as an infidel and an atheist. For these
reasons he determined to remove to New York. They were
not reasons, of course, to be approved by the judicious father,
who now sided with James ; and Benjamin was sensible that
if he attempted to go openly, means would be taken to pre
vent him. His friend Collins accordingly undertook to man
age his flight. An agreement was made with the captain of
a New York sloop to take him on board ; and reasons were
assigned, discreditable as well as false, for keeping the trans-
. action secret. The well-read books were sold to raise a little
money ; he was~taken on board the sloop privately, had a fair
wind, and in three days found himself three hundred miles
from home, at the age of seventeen — a disgraced and fugi
tive apprentice, without any recommendation, or knowing

32 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
any person in the place, and Avith very little money in his
pocket. Ou this voyage to New York, Benjamin made an observa
tion in natural history, which disturbed his theoretical objec
tions against the use of animal food, and influenced his habits
in this respect. The sloop was becalmed off Block Island,
and the crew employed themselves in catching cod, of which
they took great numbers. Up to this time, Benjamin had
stuck to his resolution not to eat any thing that h^d had life.
On this occasion the soleran reflection crossed his mind, that
according to his master Tryon, (the writer already men
tioned,) "the taking of fish was a kind of unprovoked mur
der, since none of them had nor could do us any harm that
might justify this massacre." All this was reasonable ; but
human nature wfll vindicate itself. If you put down a hun
gry New England boy before a mess of fried codfish, ¦with
his appetite sharpened by the pure sea air, you must take the
consequences. " I had formerly," says our phflosophical
young vagrant, " been a great lover of fish ; and when it came
out of the frying-pan, it smelt admirably well." But he did
not, in this extremity, rush blindly and without reflection on
the savory viands. He balanced, like a conscientious run
away, between principle and temptation. He recollected
that, as he stood peering over the sailors when the fish were
opened, he saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs. One
may at any time see, in fishing on the Grand Bank, a fresh
cuttle-fish taken from a newly-caught cod, and a small crab
extracted from the cuttle-fish. Could the investigation be
pushed further into the diminutive sidler, there would no
doubt be found within his tiny maw some microscopical
univalve, some cube root, as it were, of a mollusk ; and so on
indefinitely. How far Benjamin pushed his researches, he
does not tell us ; but this first lesson in natural history was
not lost upon him. " If you eat one another," thought he, " I
don't see why we may not eat you." So he dined upon
cod very heartily, and continued afterwards to eat as other
people,, returning only now and then occasionally to a vege
table diet.

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 33
As New York was but a small place in 1723, — not proba
bly containing more than eight thousand inhabitants, — the
means of getting employment for a friendless, runaway ap
prentice were not likely to abound.* His original passion for
the sea was by this time done away, or it might now easfly
have been gratified. A voyage round Cape Cod, in a sloop,
was likely enough to give our youthful fugitive some new
ideas on that subject. Besides, he had another profession ;
and, conceiving himself a pretty good workman, he offered
his services to a printer of the place, — old Mr William Bra,d-
ford, — who, thirty years before, had established the first
printing press in New York.f Old Mr Bradford had little to
do and plenty of hands, and could give him no employment ;
but advised him to go to Philadelphia, where his son, also a
printer, had lately lost his principal hand, and was likely to
have employment for Benjamin. Philadelphia was a hundred
mUes off; but our stout-hearted adventurer has no time to
lose, nor money to spare, in waiting for work. He starts in
a boat for Amboy, leaving his " chest and things " to follow
him round by sea. In crossing Staten Island Sound, they
were struck by a squall, which tore their rotten safls to pieces,
prevented their getting into the kill, and drove them upon
the shore of Long Island. Here the surf prevented their
landing, and compelled them to pass a weary night, supper-
less, sleepless, and drenched with rain. The wind abated the
next day, and they made shift to reach Amboy before night,
" having been thirty hours on the water without victuals or
any drink but a bottle of filthy rum." In the evening, our
* The population of New York is stated at 8620, in 1731. See Amer
ican Almanac for 1830.
f Dr Franklin, in the autobiography, writing in 1771, states that old Mr
Bradford " had been the first printer in Pennsylvania ; hut had removed
thence, in consequence of a quarrelwith the govemor, Geo. Keith." Brad
ford removed to New York in 1693, in consequence of a prosecution against
himself and a certain George Keith, for a libel. Sir WiUiam Keith was
first govemor in 1717, twenty-four years after Bradford's removal. In the
subsequent part of his narrative, Dr Franklin alludes to the errors which
may have crept into it, in consequence of its having been written from
memory and without the means of referring to his papers.
vol.. II. 5

34 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
youthful traveller found himself very feverish, and went to
bed ; but having read somewhere that cold water drank plen
tifully was good for a fever, he followed the prescription.
He sweat plentifully during the night, and the fever left him.
Crossing the ferry the following day, he pursued the joumey
on foot towards Burlington, — a distance of fifty mfles, — and
where he was told that he would find boats that would take
him the rest of the way to Philadelphia.
This was not quite so luxurious a mode of travelling as
the litter of Marie Antoinette, in which he went from Paris
to Havre in 1785 ; and Benjamin wished himself well back
in the printing house in dueen Street, Boston, even at the
risk of a beating from his passionate brother. It rained hard
all day ; he was soon thoroughly soaked, and, by noon, a
good deal tired. He stopped at a poor inn, where he staid
all night, beginning now (he confesses) to wish he had never
left home. Nor was this the worst. He made so miserable
a figure, that he was suspected of being a runaway indentured
servant, and in danger of being taken up on that suspicion.
He was, however, allowed to proceed without detention ; and
got to an inn in the evening, within eight or ten miles of
Burlington. On arriving at Burlington the next day, (Satur
day,,) he finds that the regular boats for Philadelphia had just
gone, and he must wait till Tuesday for the next chance.
This was sad news for a light pocket. Benjamin returned
to an old woman, of whom he had purchased a stock of gin
gerbread to eat on the river, for the purpose of asking her
advice. The good-natured soul proposed to lodge him till a
passage could be had in some other boat. Foot-sore by the
long journey, Benjamin accepted the offer. Learning that he
was a printer, the gingerbread dame would have had him
remain in Burlington and follow his business, " ignorant,"
says the narrative, " what stock it was necessary to begin
with." More likely the kind old heart saw but too plainly
how lightly the poor boy was stocked with the years and
other needed outfit for venturing safely into the trials and
temptations of the city. She gave him, however, a hospita
ble dinner of ox cheek, and would accept nothing but a pot of

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 35
ale in return. Luckily, as he was walking on the Delaware,
in the evening, a boat came down the river going to Phila
delphia, with several persons on board. They took him in ;
and, as there was no wind, they rowed all the day. At mid
night, some of the coirfpany were confident they had passed
the city, and would row no farther. They turned into a
creek, and, landing near an old fence, helped themselves to
the rails to make a fire, for it was a cold October night. In
the morning, they found themselves in Cooper's Creek, jUst
above Phfladelphia ; and reaching the city about nine o'clock,
on Sunday morning, landed at Market Street Wharf.
Dr Franklin informs his son that he had been more partic
ular in this description of his journey, and should be so of
his first entry into Phfladelphia, that he might compare such
unlikely beginnings with the figure he afterwards made in
that city. His best clothes had been sent round by sea, and
he was in his working dress, — not certainly improved by
the rain and the long journey on foot, — " dirty from being
so long in the boat, the pockets stuffed out with shirts and
stockings." He knew no one, nor where to look for a lodg
ing. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and the want of sleep,
he was very hungry. His whole stock of cash was a single
dollar and about a shflling in copper, which he gave to the
boatmen for his passage. At first they refused it, as he had
rowed with them from Burlington to Phfladelphia ; but Ben
jamin insisted on their taking it. He was afraid they would
think he was poor ! Walking towards the top of the street,
he met a boy with bread. He had often made a meal of dry
bread, and eagerly got a direction to the baker's. " I asked
for biscuits, m,eaning such as we had in Boston : that sort, it
seems, was not made in Phfladelphia. I then asked for a
threepenny loaf, and was told they had none." This was,
indeed, to be in a land of strangers.
There was very good bread in PhUadelphia, as there is
now, capital. But the boy's "eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away."
He would have liked a biscuit such as they have in Boston ;

36 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
but, since that sort was not known in the "benighted, distant
province, " I told him to give me threepenny worth of any
sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was
surprised at the quantity, but took it ; and, having no room
in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and
eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street as far as
Fourth Street, passing by the door of Mr Read, my future
wife's father ; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and
thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridicu
lous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chesnut
Street and Walnut Street, eating my roll all the way ; and,
coming round, found myself again at Market Street Wharf,
near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the
river water ; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the
other two to a woman and her child that came down the
river in a boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus
refreshed, I w^ked again up the street, which, by this time,
had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking
the same way. I joined them, and was thereby led into the
great meeting-house of the Quakers, near the market. I sat
down among them, and, after looking round a whfle and
hearing nothing said, being very drowsy, through labor and
want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and con
tinued so till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind
enough to rouse me. This, therefore, was the first house I
was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia."
We have now reached the starting-point of Franklin's for
tunes. Lower he could not well sink. He is without a
lodging, an acquaintance, or a dollar, — in a strange city,
three hundred and fifty mfles from home. But, from this
moment, (with the exception of a few crosses and slight
mischances,) every step that he took was . forward and up
wards. We shall keep him company a little longer, but pass
rather more rapidly over the road. He immediately sought
and found employment with Bradford, the son, and Keimer,
the two printers in Phfladelphia, for each of whom he worked
as they had business for him. Their establishments were
miserably provided, — they themselves poorly skilled in the

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 37
art. Franklin, however, by his assiduity, contrived to earn
some money, and took up his lodgings at Mr Read's, making
now a better appearance in the eyes of his future wife than
when she first saw him. He also formed an acquaintance
with some young men of the town, who were lovers of
reading, and with them he passed his evenings verjr pleas
antly. His friends in Boston (with the exception of Collins) were
ignorant where he resided ; nor did he intend soon to return.
An accidental circumstance led him to alter this purpose. He
had a brother-in-law, Captain Holmes, who commanded a
sloop in the coasting trade between Boston and the Delaware.
He, being at Newcastle, and having heard that Benjamin was
at Philadelphia, wrote a letter, informing him of the grief of
his parents and friends, entreating him to return, and promis
ing, on their behalf, that every thing should be accommodated
to his satisfaction. Benjamin wrote him a letter in reply,
thanking him for his advice, arid stating the reasons for his
departure, in such a light as to convince good Captain Holmes
that he was not so much in the wrong as he apprehended.
Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was then at
Newc£istle ; and Captain Holmes happened to be with him
when he received Benjamin's letter. The letter was shown
to the governor, and read by him, who said the writer was
evidently a young man of promising parts, and must be
encouraged. Returned to Philadelphia, and in company with
Colonel French, another person of influence, the governor
called upon Benjamin while at work in Keimer's office, took
him off to a tavern to taste some excellent Madeira with
Colonel French, loaded hun with compliments, advised him
to set up for himself, and promised him the public printing.
As the astonished youth expressed doubts whether his friends
in Boston would assist him in such an undertaking, Sir
Wflliam promised to write to his father, and set forth the
advantages of the project. It was concluded over their Ma
deira that he should go to Boston in the first vessel.
Accordingly, about the end of Aprfl, 1724, seven months
after his departure, he sailed for Boston, with ample and flat-

38 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
tering letters from the governor. He arrived in a fortnight,
and all were very glad to see him, except brother James, who
had not perhaps digested the original offence, and who was
offended -at Benjamin's genteel new clothes, watch, and
pocket full of silver, somewhat ostentatiously displayed in
the presence of his admiring journeymen. > The cautious
father was pleased, but not convinced, by Sir William's let
ters ; Captain Holmes recommended the project, but in vain.
It was out of the question for a boy of eighteen to set up for
himself in a business requiring an expensive outfit. Accord
ingly, a civil letter of acknowledgment is written by the
father to the governor, declining to accede to his proposal.
He gave his consent, however, to Benjamin's return to Phil
adelphia, and dismissed him with much good advice to
behave respectfully to the people there, and avoid lampoon
ing and libelling, to which he thought him too much inclined.
He encouraged him with the prospect, that, by industry and
parsimony, he might save enough, by the time he was one
and twenty, to set up for himself, and promised, if at that
time he came near the mark, he would help him out with
the rest. " This was all I could obtain, except some small
gifts as tokens of his and my mother's love, when I em
barked again for New York, now with their approbation and
blessing." And here, at length, with his parents' blessing, we may
safely leave him. To trace him with minuteness through
the remainder of his career would require a volume. We
can but glance at the subsequent events of his life, which
was passed in almost unbroken prosperity and success. On
his return to New York, on the way to Philadelphia, Governor
Burnet, the son of the celebrated bishop of that name, having
heard of him. from the captain of the vessel which brought
him from Boston, as a young man who had books in his pos
session, sent for him and treated him with kindness. This
was the second colonial governor who, within a few months,
had taken particular notice of him. As he was yet but a
poor and friendless youth, he was justly flattered with this
distinction. There seems to have been something about him,

THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 39
from early youth, which attracted the notice and won the
confidence of persons older than himself
On reaching Philadelphia, he fell again into the hands of
Sir William Keith, who seems to have been a light, incon
siderate person, addicted to making promises which he never
thought of performing. Pretending regret that his father
was not willing to set him up in business, he avowed the
resolution of doing so himself He directed Franklin to
make out an inventory of the articles necessary to a print
ing office, promising to aid him in the purchase. The
amount was one hundred pounds sterling. This, Sir Wflliam
Keith informed him, no doubt truly enough, could be laid out
miich more advantageously in London, where also beneficial
correspondences could be established. Letters of recom
mendation and credit were promised by the heartless great
man. With these treacherous encouragements, Benjamin
makes ready to sail in the Annis, the annual ship, and the
only regular trader at that time between Philadelphia and
London. The letters constantly promised by the governor
were constantly delayed ; and at length, when our youthful
adventurer was actually embarked. Sir William had the
almost incredible meanness to send him word that the letters
of credit, with the rest of the governor's despatches, had
been thrown into the letter-bag, and could be selected on the
passage. Arrived in London, poor Benjamin found that no
such letters had been written, and that it was the governor's
habit and apparent amusement to make promises which he
never intended to perform. Thus was he betrayed into the
great world of London, without resources, without friends
able to serve him, and dependent on his hands for support at
the age of eighteen.
But he immediately went to work as a journeyman printer,
and labored a year and a half in that employment with dili
gence and success. At the close of this period, he formed a
connection in trade with Mr Denham, a merchant of Phfla
delphia, with whom he had become acquainted in London,
who was about to establish himself in America on a large
scale, and who made tempting overtures to P'ranklin to join

40 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
him. On leaving London, he remarks, that most of the time
he had spent there he had worked hard at the printing busi
ness, and spent but little money on himself, except in seeing
plays and buying books. His friend Ralph (not unknown as
a voluminous writer on English history) kept him poor, and
he returned home more improved in knowledge than in
fortune. On his return to Phfladelphia, at the age of twenty, he
commenced business as a trader with Mr Denham ; applied
himself diligently to his duty, studied accounts, and became
expert in selling. This arrangement was of short duration.
Franklin fell dangerously ill, as did also his friend and part
ner ; and the latter, after lingering for some time, died. This
circumstance broke up the establishment, and with it Benja
min's employment as a trader. He resumed the business of
a printer, as foreman to Keimer, for whom he had worked on
his first arrival in Phfladelphia. After about a year passed in
his service, he established himself as a printer, in partnership
with a fellow-apprentice of the name of Meredith ; and from
that time forward — at first slowly, but at length with
rapidity — he rose to full employment, consideration, wealth,
and fame.
I shall not attempt to trace the narrative any farther ; in
fact, we have gone through the boyhood and youth of
Franklin. The foundation is laid ; temperance, untiring
industry, a clear understanding, a cheerful temper, and reso
lute purpose will do the rest. The first decisive upward step
was the establishment of a newspaper, in which all his train
ing in the office of the Courant came immediately in play.
A pamphlet, on paper currency, soon followed ; the first of
that series of publications to which — and by means of his
happy style of prose composition — he owed, in his own
opinion, his advancement in the world. Soon the founda
tions of a public library are laid. Anon, through the humble
pages of an almanac, Poor Richard begins to utter his oracles
of simple wisdom, and to carry instruction .to every fireside
in the colonies. The office of postmaster of Phfladelphia is
soon conferred upon him, the first of a long series of public

THE BOVHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN. 41
trusts, uniformly discharged with success and credit. Pro
jects for a city watch and a fire company evince the practical
— at all times the prevailing — cast of his mind ; while the
plan of a philosophical society shows that the taste for public
utility is united with a fondness for scientific research. The
foundations are now laid by him for an institution for educa
tion, which eventually grows up into the University of
Pennsylvania. At this stage of his career, the experiments
by which the identity of the electric fluid and lightning is
satisfactorily established place his name among the most
distinguished in science. But science is only his recreation.
He enters political life as a member of the assembly, and
takes a leading and efficient part in the public business, civil
and military, in difficult times. His great capacity for affairs
soon points him out for almost the only civfl office, before the
revolution, which required a comprehensive view of the
whole country — that of postmaster-general for America. In
1754, he is a member of the Congress at Albany, and pro
poses there a plan for a union of the colonies. Honors, at
length, begin to reach him from abroad. He is chosen a
member of the Royal Society of London, and, going to
England as the agent of Pennsylvania, he is welcomed to the
highest scientific circles. He returns to his own country,
fills the speaker's chair of the assembly of Pennsylvania,
but is soon sent back to England, the agent — the envoy, in
fact — of half a dozen colonies. Here he is thrown, by
events, into the position of representative and champion of
his country, during the long and anxious struggle which
sprung from the ministerial plan of American taxation.
When the war broke out in 1775, he was already sixty-
nine years of age, but entered, at that advanced period of
life, with the alacrity of a youth, on a career substantially
untried. To the station of minister of the United States to
the court of France, he carried a European reputation of the
highest order, and an influence over the public mind in Eng
land not probably possessed by any other man. Associated
with Sflas Deane and Arthur Lee, he negotiates, in 1778, the
treaty of alliance with France, and, in company with John
VOL. II. 6

42 THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF FRANKLIN.
Adams and John Jay, signed, in 1783, the definitive treaty
of independence and peace with Great Britain. Once more,
and for the last time, returned to his native land, at the age
of eighty, he fills, for three years successively, the highest
office in the state of Pennsylvania. His last appearance in
public life was as a member of the convention for forming
the constitution of the United States. Although his age
and its infirmities prevented his taking a very active part in
the business of that body, a few short speeches made by him
are preserved, which attest the soundness of his mind.
Among the most significant is that with which he prefaced his
motion for daily prayers in the convention, an extract from
which will show that, although he had formed, in early life,
loose notions on points of Christian doctrine, he was firmly
grounded on the great basis of all practical religion. An
extract from this speech will furnish an appropriate close of
the present imperfect sketch.
After commenting on the fact that the convention had
been four or, five weeks in session, without making any valu
able progress, Dr Franklin proceeds as follows : —
"In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we were sensible of
danger, we had daily prayers, in this room, for the divine protection. Our
prayers, sir, were heard; and they were graciously answered. All of us,
who were engaged in the struggle, must have observed frequent instances
of a superintending Providence in our favor. To that kind Providence we
owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of estab
lishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten that pow
erful Friend ? or do we imagine we no longer need his assistance .' I have
lived, sir, a long time; and the longer I live, the more convincing
proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of men ! And if a
sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an
empire can rise without his aid ? We have been assured, sir, in the sacred
writings, that ' except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain who
build it' I firmly believe this ; and I also believe that without his concur
ring aid, we shall succeed in this political building no better than tne
builders of Babel : we shall be divided by our little partial, local interests,
our projects will be confounded, and we ourselves shall become a reproach
and a by-word to future ages. And what is worse, mankind may hereafter,
from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing government by human
wisdom, apd leave it to chance, war, and conquest"

NOTE

See Page 27.
As the Drecise causes ot the arrest and imprisonment of James Franklin
have not, I believe, mtnerto been stated, I have examined the manuscript
records of the General Court for the month of June, 1722, for the purpose
of ascertaining them. The incident is one of considerable curiosity in our
domestic history, and the follo-wing detail may therefore be interesting to
the reader.
In the month of May, 1722, a piratical vessel appeared off Block Island,
and made some captures. Information of this event was sent by the gov
ernor of Rhode Island to Governor Shute at Boston, and by him communi
cated to the Council on the 7th of June. The report was, that a pirate
brigantine of two great guns and four swivel guns, and of fifty men, was
off the coast, and had captured several vessels. In the defenceless state
of the American coasts and waters, this was an event well calculated to
cause alarm, though not one of infrequent occurrence.
The news from Rhode Island was immediately referred to a joint com
mittee of the Council and House of Representatives, who reported on the
same day, " that it would be of service to the government and of security
to trade, that a large sloop of seventy or eighty tons, or some other suitable
vessel, shoidd be immediately impressed, and manned with one hundred men,
and suitable officers to comraand the same, to be equipped with six great
guns, and a sufficient quantity of all warlike stores, offensive and defensive,
wifh provisions suitable for the said number of men for one month, to
cruise between the capes or elsewhere, where the captain-general shall see
cause to go in quest of a pirate brigantine expected to be on our coast, or
any other vessel that they shall have suspicion of."
This report was forthwith adopted ; the same committee was instructed
to carry its recommendations into effect ; and the treasurer was ordered to
fumish the necessary supplies.
No time seems to have been lost in executing these measures, for we
find from the records of the court, that on the next day (Sth June, 1722) tha
House of Representatives passed the following resolve: —
(43)

44 NOTE.
" "Whereas this coxirt has resolved that a suitable vessel, manned with a
hundred men, to be well fumished and equipped with aU warlike stores, offen
sive and defensive, shall be despatched and sent out ¦with aU possible expedi
tion to reduce and suppress a piratical brigantine now infesting our coast, —
for the encouragement of that expedition under Peter Papillon,
" Voted, That the captors shall be entitled to the piratical vessel they shall
take, and all the goods, wares, and merchandises that shall be found on board,
belonging to the pirates, so far as is consistent ¦with the acts of parliament in
such case made and provided.
"And for further encouragement, that they be paid out of the public
treasury the sum of ten pounds per head for every pirate killed, or that shall
be taken, by them, con-victed of piracy, and shall also be entitled to the com
mon wages of the port j and in case any man on board shall be maimed or
wounded in engaging, fighting, or repelling the pirates, he shall be entitled
to a bounty suitable to the wounds he or they shall receive, to be allowed and
paid out of the public treasury of this pro^vince."
It seems from these resolutions that a certain Captain Peter Papillon, at
that time outward bound for Barbadoes, had been immediately engaged to
command the vessel sent out against the pirates, which was named, aa
appears from subsequent proceedings, the "Flying -Horse."
On the 9th of June, the sum of one hundred pounds was ordered to be
advanced to Captain Papillon, to be paid to his men on account of their
wages. On the same day, a petition was presented to the General Court
by Philip Bunker and others, praying " that they may be allowed to pro
ceed on their fishing, and call at Nantucket as they go along, to give Intel
ligence of the pirate ; notwithstanding the embargo."
As it does not appear from the records of the court that any embargo
was laid ; as no notice of any embargo appears in the Courant for this week,
but, on the contrary, vessels appear to have cleared out as usual at the
custom-house ; this petition of Philip Bunker needs further explanation.
On Monday, June llth, in the Courant which appeared that day, there
was an article dated Newport, Rhode Island, June 7th, containing an
account of the appearance of the pirate off Block Island, and of the prompt
steps taken at Newport to send out two vessels to cruise against him. The
article then concludes with this remark : —
"-We are ad-yised from Boston, that the government of the Massachusetts
are fitting out a. ship to go after the pirates, to be commanded by Captain
Peter Papillon, and 't is thought he will sail sometime ihis month, wind and
weather permitting."
The same paper, under the Boston head, announced that above a hundred
men had been enlisted, and that the vessel would probably sail that
day. But the insinuation of tardiness in the conclusion of the pretended arti
cle from Rhode Island, seeras to have been taken in very ill part On tlie

NOTE.

45

I2th of June, the following singular proceedings were had in the General
Court : —
"Tuesday, 12 June, 1722. Present in Council,
" His Excellency, SAMUEL SHUTE, Esqr, Govr.

"William Taileb,
Samuel Sewall,
Penn Townsend,
Nath'l Nokden,
Add. Davenpokt,
Thos. Hutchinson,
Thos. Fitch,
Edmund Quincy,
Adam Winthkop,
JoNA. Belcher,

Isaac Winslow,
Edward Bromi-ield,
John Cushinq,
Benj'n Lynde,
Jona. Dowse,
li-sqrs, p^^j_ Dudley,
Sam'l Thaxter,
Charles Frost,
Spencer Phips,

Esqrs.

" In Council, the board having before them a paper called the New England
Courant, of the date of June llth, 1722, and apprehending that a paragraph
therein, said to be -written from Rhode Island, contains matter of reflection
on this government,
" Ordered, That the publisher of said paper be forthwith sent for to answer
for the same, and accordingly James Franklyn, of Boston, Printer, was sent
for, examined, and o-wned he had published the said paper.
" In Council, the board ha-ving had consideration of a paragraph in a paper
called the New England Courant, published on Monday last, relating to the
fitting out a ship here to proceed against the pyrates, and having examined
James Franklyn, printer, who acknowledged himself the publisher thereof,
and finding the said paragraph to be grounded on a letter, pretended by the
said Franklyn to be received from Rhode Island,
" Resolved, That the said paragraph is a high alfront to this govemment.
" In the House of Representatives, read and concurred, and
" Resolved, That the sheriff of the county of Suffolk do forthwith commit
td the gaol in Boston the body of James Franklyn, printer, for the gross
afirbnt bffered to this govemment in the Courant of Monday last.
"In Council, read and concurred ; consented to [by the governor.]"
In virtue of this resolution, James Franklin was arrested under a speak
er's warrant, and confined in the stone jail.
This summary power of punishing persons deemed guilty of contempts,
though perhaps now exercised for the first time in America in a matter pertain
ing to the liberty of the press, was borrowed from the parliamentary law of
England, where it is not yet obsolete. Pending these proceedings against
Franklin, three " Bridgewater men " were imprisoned in the same way, for
obstructing the surveyors appointed to run a boundary line under an order
of the General Court
The records of the General Court contain the following entry the next
week : —
"In Council, 20th June, 1722, a petition of James Franklyn, printer, hum
bly shewing, that he is truly sensible and heartily sorry for the offence he

46 NOTE.
has given to this court in the late Courant, relating to the fitting out of a
ship by the govemment, and truly acknowledges his inadvertency and folly
therein in affronting the government, as also his indiscretion and indecency
when before the court, for all which he intreats the court's forgiveness, and
praying a discharge from the stone prison where he is confined by order of
the court, and that he may have the liberty of the yard, he being much in
disposed and suffering in his health by the said confinement ; a certiBlcate of
Dr Zabdiel Boylston being offered with the said petition.
" In the House of Representatives, read, and
" Voted, That James Franklyn, now a prisoner in the stone gaol, may have
the liberty of the prison house aud yard, upon his giving security for his
faithful abi(^ng there.
" In Council, read and concurred ; consented to, "Samuel Shute."
An attempt was made in the Council to follow up their blow by an order
which passed that body, providing that "no such weekly paper [as the
Courant] be hereafter printed or published, without the same be first
perused and allowed by the Secretary, cw has been usual." This order,
however, was not at this time concurred in by the House. It is given at
length in the History of Printing, together with the proceedings of the fol
lowing January, when such an order passed both branches. See Thomas's
History of Printing in America, Vol. II. pp. 220, 221.
What the Council meant by the phrase " as has been usual," is not so
clear. It was omitted in the order as it finally passed both houses, in
January, 1723.

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.'

Fellow-Citizens :
I HAVE cheerfuUy complied with the request received from
you a short time since, that I would address you on this great
national festival. [A~considerable part of my time, since I
"was honored with your invitation, has been necessarfly de
voted by me to fulfilling a previous engagement. I therefore
appear before you this morning under chcumstances creating
some claim to your indulgence.
It seemed, however, to me that this was peculiarly the
occasion when a man ought to be ready and willing to appear
before his fellow-citizens with little or no preparation. It is,
in fact, eminently the day for short notice. It could not
well be shorter than that which our fathers had to gird on
the harness for the great conflicts which led to the declaration
of independence. Rarely, in the course of human affairs, is
shorter notice of important events given than that which
called the citizens of Middlesex to arms on the nineteenth of
April, 1775. Their deeds were not those of veteran armies
manoBU"vring for whole campaigns under skilful generals.
The very name which they gave themselves is their best
description. They were minute men; — they held them
selves ready to move without any notice ; — and their
marching orders came at last from the alarm-bell, at mid
night. I might go a little farther, emd say, fellow-citizens of
* Delivered at Lowell, on Monday, the Sth of July, 1830, and now first
published. A lecture before the Charlestown Lyceum was delivered by the
author, on the anniversary of Govemor Winthrop's landing, the preceding
week. (47)

48 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
Lowell, that your town itself, in its very existence, affords
signal authority for doing things at short notice. If, on the
fourth of .Tuly, 1820, — ten years ago only, — a painter had
come to the confluence of the Merrimack and Concord Riv
ers, and sketched upon his canvas the panorama of such a
cit3% as this, and pronounced that, in ten years, such a settle
ment would be found on this spot, it would have been thought
a very extravagant suggestion. If he had said, that, in the
course of forty or fifty yeafs^ such a population would be
gathered here, with all these manufacturing establishments,
private dwellings, warehouses, schools, and churches, he
would have been thought to indulge a bold, but pleasing,
vision, not, perhaps, beyond the range of probability. The
Roman history contains a legend of the Seven Sleepers of
Ephesus, who, having prolonged their slumbers to the unusual
extent of two hundred and seventy years, were a good deal
bewildered, when they awoke, to find a new emperor on the
throne, strange characters on the coin, and other very con
siderable innovations. A person who should have gone to
sleep in one of the two farm-houses which, ten years ago,
[ stood on the site of Lowell, would have found greater changes
on ¦waking.
Finally, my friends, without wishing to run down the idea,
I may remark, that our whole country has taken her present
position in the family of nations on very short notice.
Our history seems a great political romance. In the annals
of most other states, ancient and modern, there is a tardiness
of growth, which, if our own progress be assumed as the
standard of comparison, we hardly know how to explain.
Greece had been settled a thousand years before she took
Emy great part on the theatre of the world. Rome, at the
end of five centuries from the foundation of the city, was
not so powerful as the state of Massachusetts. It is not
much short of two thousand years since the light of the
ancient civilization — such as it was — began to dawn on
Great Britain. Its inhabitants have been a Christianized
people for nearly fifteen centuries ; and I have read in a
newspaper, this morning, an extract from an English print, in

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 49
which we are informed that turnpike roads and canals have been
introduced into that country for seventy years : and this is
mentioned as a long time. It is not one hundred years since
the mafl coach was first introduced into that country ; and
yet in this and all simflar enterprises we know that our
brethren in England are far before the rest of the European
world. What do we witness in this country ? Compare our present
condition with that of this then barbarous wilderness two
centuries ago. With what rapidity the civilization of Europe
has been caught up, naturalized, and, in many points of
material growth and useful art, carried beyond the foreign
standard ! Consider our rapid progress even in the last gen
eration, not merely in appropriating the arts of the old world,
but in others of our own invention or great improvement.
Take the case of steam navigation as a striking example. It
has been known, for a century or more, that the vapor of
bofling water is the most powerful mechanical agent at our
command. The steam engine was brought near to perfec
tion, by Bolton and Watt, sixty years ago ; and it is not much
less than that time since attempts began to be made to solve
the problem of steam navigation. Twenty years ago, there
were steamers regularly plying on the North River and Staten
Island Sound ; but so lately as eleven years ago, I think,
there was no communication by steam between Liverpoo
and Dublin, or between Dover and Calais ; nor did the use
of steamers spread extensively in any direction in Europe tfll
they had covered the American waters.
Take another example, in the agricultural staple so closely
connected with the industry of Lowell. The southern parts
of Europe, Egypt, and many other portions of Africa, and a
broad zone in Asia, possess a soil and climate favorable to the
growth of cotton. It is, in fact, an indigenous product of
Asia, Africa, or both. It has been cultivated in those coun
tries from time immemorial : the oldest European historians
speak of its use. It is, also, an indigenous product throughout
a broad belt on the American continent ; and was cultivated
by the aborigines before the discovery of Columbus. Al-
VOL. 11. 7

50 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
though it was the leading principle of the colonial system to
encourage the cultivation hi the colonies of all those articles
which would be useful to the manufactures of the mother
country, not a bale of cotton is known to have been exported
from the United States to Great Britain before the revolution.
Immediately after the close of the revolutionary war, attention
began to be turned to this subject in several parts of the
Southern States. The culture of cott->n rapidly increased;
and, since the invention of the cotton gin, has become, next
to the cereal grains, the most important agricultural product.
It is supposed, that, for the present year, the cotton crop of
the United States will amount to one mfllion of bales — • five
times, I presume, the amount raised for exportation in all the
rest of the world.
Take another example, in commerce and navigation, and
one peculiarly illustrative of the effect, on the industry of the
country, of the political independence established on the day
which we commemorate. The principles of the colonial
system confined our trade and navigation to the intercourse
of the mother country. The individuals are living, or recently
deceased, who made the first voyages from this country to
the Baltic, to the Mediterranean, or around either of thfe great
capes of the world. Before the declaration of independence,
the hardihood and skill of our mariners had attracted the
admiration of Europe. Burke has commemorated them in a
burst of eloquence which will be rehearsed as long as the
English language is spoken.* But though he exclaims, " No
sea but what is vexed by their fisheries, no climate that is
not witness to their tofls," the commerce and, navigation of
the colonies are scarce worthy of mention, in comparison
with those of the United States. All that Burke admired and
eulogized is inconsiderable, when contrasted with what has
* Speech on Conciliation with America. « Neither the perseverance of
Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of
English enterprise ever carried this most perilous mode of hard industry
(the whale fishery) to the extent to which it has been pushed by this recent
people — a people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet
hardened into the bone, of manhood."

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 61
been achieved, in this respect, since the declaration of inde
pendence.
' 1' Nor is the progress less remarkable which has been made
since that event in the interior of the continent. The settle
ment of our western country is a marvel in human affairs.
J['his great enterprise, as we know, languished under the
colonial government. For this there were many reasons.
The possessions of France, with powerful native tribes in her
alliance, stretched along the frontier, from the Gulf of the St
Lawrence to that of Mexico. A certain density of popula
tion along the coast was, of necessitj'^, a condition precedent
to the settlement of the region west of the Alleghanies ; and
when this subject attracted the attention of the mother coun
try, the extension of the plantations beyond the Ohio was
forbidden, for reasons of state. With the declaration of inde
pendence, — notwithstanding the burdens and discourage
ments of the war of the revolution, and the hostflity of the
formidable tribes of savages who sided with Great Britain, —
the hardy column of emigrants, with *Daniel Boone at their
head, forced its way over the mountains, and conquered and
settled Tennessee and Kentucky. As soon as the pacification
of the north-western tribes and the surrender of the British
posts made it practicable, the enterprising youth of New
England, and, among the foremost, those of Essex and Mid
dlesex, in this state, took up the line of march to Ohio ; and
now the three states which I have named, which, before the
revolution, did not contain a regular white settlement, are
inhabited by a population equal to that of the ^irteen colo
nies at the beginning of the revolutionary war-j
This astonishing growth has evidently not only been sub
sequent to the declaration of independence, but consequent
upon its establishment, as effect upon cause ; and this both by
a removal of specific obstacles to our progress, which were
imposed by the colonial system, and by the general operation
of the new political order of things on the mind and charac
ter of the country. The reason why England has long
excelled every other country in Europe, in the extent of her
available resources, and in the cultivation of most of the

52 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
practical arts, is to be found in those principles of constitu
tional representative government, in that parliamentary free
dom and popular energy which cannot exist under any form
of despotism. The stfll more complete establishment of
simflar principles here, I take to be the chief cause of a stfll
more accelerated march of improvement. It is usual to con
sider human labor as the measure of value. That which can
be got by any one without labor, directly or indirectly per
formed, as the common daylight and air, has no exchangeable
value. That which requires the greatest amount of labor for
its production, other things being equal, is most valuable.
But there is as much mere physical capacity for labor dor
mant in a population of serfs and slaves, or of the subjects
of an Oriental despotism, as in an equal population of the
freest country on earth; as much in the same number of men
in Asia Minor, or the Crimea, as in Yorkshire in England, or
Middlesex in Massachusetts. But what a difference in the
developments and applications of labor in the two classes of
population respectively ! On the one hand, energy, fire, and
endurance ; on the other, languor and tardiness : on the one
hand, a bold application of capital in giving employment to
labor ; on the other, a furtive concealment of capital where
it exists, and a universal want of it for any new enterprise;:
on the one hand, artistic skill and moral courage superadded
to the mere animal power of labor ; on the other, every thing
done by hand, in ancient, unimproving routine : on the one
hand, a constantly increasing amount of skilled and energetic
labor, resulting from the increase of a well-educated popula
tion ; on the other, stationary, often declining numbers, and
one generation hardly able to fill the place of its predecessor.
It is the spirit of a free country which animates and gives
energy to its labor ; which puts the mass in action, gives it
motive and intensity, makes it inventive, sends it off in
new directions, subdues to its command all the powers of
nature, and enlists in its service an army of machines, that do
all but think and talk. Compare a hand loom with a power
loom ; a barge, poled up against the current of a river, with
a steamer breasting its force. The difference is not greater

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 63
between them than between the . efficiency of labor under a
free or despotic government ; in an independent state or a
colony. I am disposed to think that the history of the world
would concur with our own history, in proving that, in pro
portion as a community is under the full operation of the
encouraging prospects and generous motives which exist in a
free country, precisely in that proportion will its labor be
efficient, enterprising, inventive, and productive of all the
blessings of life.
This is a general operation of the establishment of an
independent government in the United States of America,
which has not perhaps been enough considered among
us. We have looked too exclusively to the mere polit
ical change, smd the substitution of a domestic for a for
eign rule, as an historical fact, flattering to the national
vanity. There was also another consequence of very great
practical importance, which, in celebrating the declaration of
independence at Lowell, ought not to pass unnoticed. While
we were colonies of Great Britain, we were dependent on a
government in which we were not represented. The laws
passed by the Imperial Parliament were not passed for the ben
efit of the colony as their immediate object, but only so far as
the interest of the colony was supposed to be consistent with
that of the mother country. It was the principle of the
colonial system of Europe, as it was administered before the
revolution, to make the colonies subserve the growth and
wealth of the parent state. The industry of the former was
accordingly encouraged where it contributed to this object ;
it was . discouraged and restrained where it was believed to
JiEfve an opposite tendency. [ Hence the navigation law, by
which the colonies were forbidden to trade directly with any
but British ports. It is not easy to form a distinct conception
of the paralyzing effect of such a restraint upon the industry
of a population like ours, seated upon a coast which nature
has indented with capacious harbors, and with a characteristic
aptitude, from the earliest periods of our existence as a com
munity, for maritime adventure.
The case was still worse in reference to manufactures.

64 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
The climate of the northern and middle colonies is such as
to make the manufacture of clothing one of the great con
cerns of civflized life. Apart from all views to the accu
mulation of wealth, the manufactures of wool, (and of
late years of cotton,) of hon, leather, and wood, are connect
ed with the comfortable subsistence of every famfly. And
yet to all these branches of industry, except so far as they
were carried on for household consumption, not only was no
legislative favor extended by the home government, but they
were from time to time made the subject of severe penal statutes.
In this respect there was an important difference in the
condition of the northern and southern colonies. The indus
try of the latter was encouraged ; bounties were offered for
the cultivation of some of their staples; the growth of a
rival article, in the case of tobacco, was prohibited in the
mother country ; and a free market opened to all the agricul
tural produce, and the raw materials of manufacture, which
the colony could export. The Northern States were hardly
able to feed themselves. They had no agricultural produce
to give in exchange for foreign manufactures ; and that spe
cies of industry which was so peculiarly necessary, not so
much to their prosperity and growth as to their subsistence,
was inhibited -by act of Parliament.
Accordingly, when the country entered upon the condition
of independent political existence, of the three great branches
of human industry, its agriculture had been fostered and
patronized; its navigation, though subject to restraint, stfll
vigorous within the permitted limits ; and in the department
of the fisheries, as we have seen, carried on with such bold
ness and success as to attract the admiration of the world :
but its manufacturing interests were suffering under the effect
of a century of actual warfare, and the loss of all the skfll
which would have been acquired in a century's experience.
The establishment, therefore, of a prosperous manufac
turing town like LoweU, regarded in itself, and as a speci
men of other simflar seats of American art and industry,
may with propriety be considered as a peculiar triumph of
our political independence. They are, if I may so express

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 55
it, the complement of the revolution. They redress the
peculiar hardships of the colonial system. They not only do
that which was not done, but which was not permitted to be
done before the establishment of an independent government.
It is no part of ray present purpose. — in fact, I conceive
, it would be out of place on an occasion like this — to discuss
, the protective policy which has been extended to the manu
factures of the country as far as it has been made a party
question. It will, however, I think, strike every one that
the view I am now taking of the subject is peculiarly appro
priate to the fourth of July ; and it is only in this connection
that I propose to treat the subject. It is well known that the
sagacious and intelligent persons, who have been principally
concerned in establishing the manufactures of Massachusetts,
have never been friends of what has been called a high tariff
policy ; and that all they have desired, in this respect, was,
that after a very large amount of capital had, under the
operation of the restrictive system, as it was called, and the
war of 1812, been led to take this direction, and had grown
up into one of the most important interests of the country, it
should not be deprived of that moderate protection which
might be accorded to it under the general revenue laws of
the Union, and which was necessary to shield the American
manufacturer against the fluctuations of the foreign market,
and the effect of a condition of the laborer in foreign coun
tries, to which no one can desire to see the labor of this
country reduced.
Without, therefore, going at all into the merits of such a
system, as a matter of political controversy, I have thought
it appropriate to the occasion to point out, in a summary way,
the connection of the growth of our manufactures with the
independence of the country ; and I believe it would not be
difficult to show that no event, consequent upon the estab
lishment of our independence, has been of greater public
benefit. Let us consider, first, the addition made to the capital of
the country, by bringing into action the immense mechanical
power which exists at the falls and rapids of our streams.

66 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
Could the choice have been given to us, for the abode of our
population, of a dead alluvial plain of twice the extent,
every one feels that it would have been bad policy to accept
the offer. Every one perceives that this natural water power
is a vast accession to the wealth and capital of a state. The
colonial system annihflated it, or, what was the same thing,
prevented its application. To all practical purposes, it
reduced the beautiful diversity of the surface — nature's
grand and lovely landscape gardening of vale and mountain
— to that dull alluvial level. The rivers broke over the
rapids ; but the voice of nature and Providence, which cried
from them, " Let these be the seats of your creative industry,"
was uttered in vain. It was an element of prosperity which
we held in unconscious possession. It is scarcely credible
how completely the thoughts of men had been turned in a
different direction. There is probably no country on the
surface of the globe, of the same extent, on which a greater
amount of this natural capital has been bestowed by Provi
dence ; but a century and a half passed by, not merely before
it began to be profitably applied on a large scale, but before
its existence even began to be suspected, and this in places
where some of its greatest accumulations are found. If a
very current impression in this community is not destitute of
foundation, the site of Lowell itself was examined, no very
long time before the commencement of the first factories
here, and the report brought back was, that it presented no
available water power. Does it not strike every one who
hears me, that, in calling this water power into action, the
country has gained just as much as it would by the gratuitous
donation of the same amount of steam power; with the
additional advantage in favor of the former, that it is, from
the necessity of the case, far more widely distributed, sta
tioned at salubrious spots, and unaccompanied with most of
the disadvantages and evfls incident to manufacturing estab
lishments moved by steam in the crowded streets and un
healthy suburbs of large cities ?
Of all this vast wealth bestowed upon the land by Provi
dence, — brought into the common stock by the great partner,

FOURTH OF JULSr AT LOWELL. 67
Nature, — the colonial system, as I have observed, deprived
us ; and it is only since the establishment of our own manu
factures that we have begun to turn it to account. Even
now, the smallest part of it has been rendered available ; and
what has thus far been done is not so much important for its
own sake as for pointing the way and creating an inducement
for further achievements in the same direction. There is
water power enough in the United States, as yet unapplied,
to sustain the industry of a population a hundred fold as
large as that now in existence.
I do not wish to overstate this point, or to imply that it
was owing to the restrictions of the colonial system that such
a town as Lowell had not grown up in America in the middle
of the last century, or at some still earlier period. There
were not only no adequate accumulations of capital at that
time, but those inventions and improvements in machinery
had not been made, which have contributed so much to the
growth of manufactures within the last fifty years. There
is something, however, quite remarkable in the eagerness with
which our forefathers, at a very early period, turned their
attention to manufactures. Our colonial history contains
very curious facts in reference to this subject ; and it is not
to be doubted that, if no legislative obstacles to the pursuit
of this branch of industry had existed, and it had received
the same kind of encouragement which was extended to the
staple agriculture of the plantation colonies, a very different
state of things would have existed at the revolution. Such
certainly was the opinion entertained in England ; for such
was the principle of the whole legislation of the mother
country. The great and sagacious statesmen who ruled her
councils for a century would not, under all administrations,
have persevered in a course of policy towards the colonies,
manifestly arbitrary in its character and extremely vexatious
in its operation, if they had not been persuaded that, but for
this legislation, successful attempts would be made for the
development of manufacturing industry.
""Connected whh this is another benefit of the utmost im
portance, and not whoUy dissimilar in kind. The population
VOL. II. 8

68 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
gathered at a manufacturing establishment is lo be fed, and
this gives an enhanced value to the land in all the neighbor
ing region. In this new country the land often acquires a
value in this way for the first time. A large number of
persons iu this assembly are well able to contrast the condi
tion of the vfllages in the neighborhood of Lowell with what
it was ten or twelve years ago, when Lowell itself consisted
of two or three quite unproductive farms. It is the contrast
of production with barrenness ; of cultivation with waste ;
of plenty with an absence of every thing but the bare neces
saries of life. The effect, of course, in one locality is of no
great account in the sum of national production throughout
the extent of the land. But wherever a factory is established
this effect is produced ; and every individual to whom they
give employment ceases to be a producer, and becomes a
consumer of agricultural produce. The aggregate effect is,
of course, of the highest importance.
This circumstance constitutes that superiority of a domestic
over a foreign market, which is acknowledged by. the most
distinguished writers on political economy.
" The capital which is employed," says Adam Smith, " in purchasing in
one part of the country, in order to sell in another the produce of the
industry of that country, generally replaces by every such operation two
distinct capitals, that had both been employed in the agriculture or manu
factures of that country, and thereby enables them to continue that employ
ment When it sends out from the residence of the merchant a certain
value of commodities, it generally brings back in return at least an equal
value of other commodities. When both are the produce of domestic
industry, it necessarily replaces, by every such operation, two distinct
capitals, which had both been employed in supporting productive labor, and
thereby enables them to continue that support * * * The capital
employed in purchasing foreign goods for home consumption, when this
purchase is made with the produce of domestic industry, replaces too, by
every such operation, two distinct capitals; but one of them only is
employed in supporting domestic industry. * * * Though the
returns, therefore, of the foreign trade of consumption should be as quick
as those of the home trade, the capital employed in it will give but one
half of the encouragement to the industry or productive labor of the
country. " But the returns of the foreign trade of consumption are very seldom so
quick as those of the home trade. The returns of the home trade gen-

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 59
erally come in before the end of the year, and sometimes three or four
times in the year. The returns of the foreign trade of consumption seldom
come in before the end of the year, and sometimes not till after two or
three years. A capital, therefore, employed in the home trade, will some
times make twelve operations, or be sent out and returned twelve times,
before a capital employed in the foreign trade of consumption has made
one. If the capitals are equal, therefore, the one will give four and twenty
times more encouragement and support to the industry of the country than
the other." *
It is a familiar remark, of which all, I believe, admit the
justice, that a variety of pursuits is a great advantage to a
community. It affords scope to the exercise of the bound
less variety of talent and capacity which are bestowed by
nature, and which are sure to be developed by an intelli
gent population, if encouragement and opportunity are pre
sented. In this point of view, the establishment of manufac
turing industry, in all its departments, is greatly to be desired
in every country, and has had an influence in ours of a pecu
liar character. I have already alluded to the fact that, with
the erection of an independent government, a vast domain in
the west was for the first time thrown freely open to settle
ment. As soon as the Indian frontier was pacified by the
treaty of Greenvflle, a tide of emigration began to flow into
the territory north-west of the Ohio ; and from no part of
the country more rapidly than from Massachusetts. In many
respects this was a circumstance by no means to be regretted.
It laid the foundation of the settlement of this most impor
tant and interesting region by a kindred race ; and it opened
to the mass of enterprising adventurers from the older states
a short road to competence. But it was a serious drain upon
the population of good old Massachusetts. The temptation
of the fee simple of some of the best land in the world for
two dollars an acre, and that on credit, (for such, tfll a few
years ago, was the land system of the United States,) was too
powerful to be resisted by the energetic and industrious
young men of the New England States, in which there is
but a limited quantity of fertfle land, and that little of course
« Smith's Wealth of Nations, Vol. II. pp. 135, 136, Edinburgh ed.
1817.

60 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
to be had only at a high price. The consequence was, that
although the causes of an increase of population existed in
New England to as great a degree, with this exception, as in
any other part of the world, the actual increase was far frora
rapid ; scarcely amounting to one half of the average rate of
the country.* The singular spectacle was exhibited of a
community abounding in almost all the elements of prosper
ity, possessing every thing calculated to engage the affections
of her chfldren, annually deserted by the flower of her pop
ulation. These remarks apply with equal force to all the
other New England States, with the exception of Maine,
where an abundance of unoccupied fertile land counterbal
ances the attractions of the west.
But this process of emigration has already received a check,
and is likely to be hereafter adequately regulated by the new
demand for labor of every kind and degree, consequent upon
the introduction of manufactures. This new branch of in
dustry, introduced into the circle of occupations, is creating
a demand for a portion of that energy and spirit of acquisi
tion which have heretofore carried our young men beyond
the Ohio, and beyond the Wabash. Obvious and powerful
causes will continue to direct considerable numbers in the
same path of adventure ; but it will not be, as it was at the
commencement of this century, almost the only outlet for
the population of the older states. In short, a new alter
native of career is now presented to the rising generation.
There is another point of importance, in reference to man
ufactures, which ought not to be omitted in this connection,
and it is this — that in addition to what may be called their
direct operation and influence, manufactures are a great schoo".
for all the practical arts. As they are aided themselves, in the
progress of inventive sagacity, by hints and materials from
every art and every science, and every kingdom of nature, so,
in their turn, they create the skfll and furnish the instruments
for carrying on almost all the other pursuits. Whatever per-
* From 1820 to 1830, although some check had been given to emigratioh
from this state, the rate of increase of the population of Massachusetts wag
sixteen and one half per centum ; that of the whole United States thirty-
two and four fifths.

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 61
tains to machinery, in all the great branches of industry, will
probably be found to have its origin, directly or indirectly, in
that skill which can be acquired only in connection with
manufactures. Let me mention two striking instances, the
one connected with navigation, and the other with agricul
ture. The greatest improvement in navigation, since the
invention of the mariner's compass, is the application of steam
for propelling vessels. Now, by whom was this improvement
made ? Not by the merchant, or the mariner, fatigued by
adverse winds and weary calms. The steam engine was the
production of the machine shops of Birmingham, where a
breath of the sea breeze never penetrated ; and its application
as a motive power on the water, was a result wrought out by
the sagacity of Fulton from the science and skill of the mill
wright and the machinist. The first elements of such a
mechanical system as the steam engine, in any of its applica
tions, must be wanting in a purely commercial or agricultural
community. Again, the great improvement in the agricul
ture of our Southern States, and in its results one of the great
est additions to the agricultural produce of the world, dates
from the invention of the machine for separating the seed
from the staple. This invention was not the growth of the
region which enjoys its first benefits. The peculiar faculty
of the mind to which these wonderful mechanical contrivances
of modern art owe their origin, is not likely to be developed
in the routine of agricultural operations. These operations
have their effects on the intellectual chsuracter, — salutary
effects, — but they do not cultivate the principle of mechan
ical contrivance, which peoples your factories with their life
less but almost reasoning tenants.*
I cannot but think that the loss and injury unavoidably
accruing to a people, among whom a long-continued exclu-
* At the time this Oration was delivered, a few miles only of railroad had
been built in the United States, and the locomotive engine was hardly
known. It need not be said that this application of the steam engine fur
nishes a still more striking illustration of the benefits conferred on every
other interest by the mechanical skill which is not likely to be acquired
except in the service of manufactures.

62 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
sive pursuit of other occupations has prevented the cultivation
of the inventive faculty and the acquisition of mechanical
skfll, is greater in reference to the general affairs and business
of life than in reference to the direct products- of manufac
tures. The latter is a great economical loss, the nature and
extent of which are described in the remarks which I have
quoted from the great teacher of political economy ; but a
community in which the inventive and constructive principle
is faintly developed is deprived of one of the highest capaci
ties of reasoning mind. Experience has shown that the
natural germ~ of this principle — the inborn aptitude — is
possessed by our countrymen in an eminent degree ; but, like
other natural endowments, it cannot attain a high degree of
improvement without cultivation. In proportion as a person,
endowed with an inventive mechanical capacity, is acquainted
with what has been already achieved, his command is ex
tended over the resources of art, and he is more likely to
enlarge its domain by new discoveries. Place a man, how
ever intelligent, but destitute of all knowledge in this depart
ment, before one of the complicated machines in your facto
ries, and he would gaze upon it with despairing admiration.
It is much if he can be brought, by careful inspection and
patient explanation, to comprehend its construction. A skfl-
ful artist, at the first sight of a new machine, comprehends,
in a general way, the principles of its construction. It is
only, therefore, in a community where this skfll is widely
diffused, and where a strong interest is constantly pressing
for every practicable improvement, that new inventions are
likely to be made, and more of those wonderful contrivances
may be expected to be brought to light, which have changed
the face of modern industry.
These important practical truths have been fully confirmed
by the experience of Lowell, where the most valuable im
provements have been made in almost every part of the
machinery by which its multifarious industry is carried on.
But however interesting this result may be, in an economical
point of view, another lesson has been taught at Lowell,
and our other well-conducted manufacturing establishments,

FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL. 63
which I deem vastly more important. It is well known that
the degraded condition of the operatives in the old world had
created a strong prejudice against the introduction of manu
factures into this country. We were made acquainted, by
sanitary and parliamentary reports, detafling the condition of
the great manufacturing cities abroad, with a state of things
revolting to humEmity. It would seem that the industrial
system of Europe required for its administration an amount
of suffering, depravity, and brutalism, which formed one of
the great scandals of the age. No form of serfdom or slavery
could be worse. Reflecting persons, on this side of the
ocean, contemplated with uneasiness the introduction, into
this country, of a system which had disclosed such hideous
features in Europe ; but it must be frankly owned that these
apprehensions have proved wholly unfounded. Were I ad
dressing an audience in any other place, I could with truth
say more to this effect than I will say on this occasion. But
you will all bear me witness, that I do not speak the words
of adulation when I say, that for physical comfort, moral
conduct, general intelligence, and all the qualities of social
character which make up an enlightened New England com
munity, Lowell might safely enter into a comparison with
any town or city in the land. Nowhere, I believe, for the
same population, is there a greater number Of schools and
churches, and nowhere a greater number of persons whose
habits and mode of life bear witness that they are influenced
by a sense of character.
In demonstrating to the world that such a state of things
is consistent with the profitable pursuit of manufacturing
industry, you have made a discovery more important to
humanity than all the wonderful machinery for weaving and
spinning, — than all the miracles of water or steam. You
have rolled off from the sacred cause of labor the mountain
reproach of ignorance, vice, and suffering under which it lay
crushed. You have gained, for the skflled industry required
to carry on these mighty establishments, a place of honor in
the great dispensation by which Providence governs the
world. You have shown that the home-bred virtues of the

64 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
parental roof are not required to be left behind by those -who
resort for a few years to these crowded marts of social indus
try ; and, in the fruits of your honest and successful labor,
you are daily carrying gladness to the firesides where you
were reared.*
The alliance which you have thus established between
labor and capital (which is nothing but labor saved) may
truly be called a holy alliance. It realizes, in a practical way,
that vision of social life and action which has been started
abroad, in forms, as it appears to me, inconsistent with the
primary instincts of our nature, and wholly incapable of
being ingrafted upon our modern civilization. That no
farther progress can be made in this direction, I certainly
would not say. It would be contrary to the great laws of
human progress to suppose that, at one effort, this hard
problem in social affairs had reached its perfect solution.
But I think it may be truly said, that in no other way has so
much been done, as in these establishments, to mingle up the
interests of society ; to confer upon labor, in all its degrees
of cultivation, (from mere handiwork and strength up to inven
tive skfll and adorning taste,) the advantages which result from
previous accumulations. Without shaking that great principle
by which a man calls what he has his oicn, whether it is little
or much, (the corner stone of civilized life,) these estab-.
lishments form a mutually beneficial connection between
those who have nothing but their muscular .power and those
who are able to bring into the partnership the masses of
property requisite to carry on an extensive concern, — proper
ty which was itself, originally, the work of men's hands, but
has been converted, by accumulation and thrift, from labor
into capital. This I regard as one of the greatest triumphs
of humanity, morals, and, I wfll add, religion. The labor of
a community is its great wealth — its most vital concern.
To elevate it in the social scale, to increase its rewards, to
give it cultivation and self-respect, should be the constant
aun of an enlightened patriotism. There can be no other
• See note at the end.

FOURTH OF JULY AT LO^WELL. 65

-»

basis of a progressive Christian civflization. Woe to the land
where labor and intelligence are at war ! Happy the land
whose various interests are united together by the bonds of
mutual benefit and kind feeling !
But it is time, fellow-citizens, that I should close. On
Monday last, at the request of my friends and neighbors of
Charlestown, I addressed them on the anniversary of the
landing of Governor Winthrop, in 1630 — the date, as it may.
with propriety be considered, of the effective settlement of
Massachusetts. That was a day consecrated to hallowed
recollections of olden times. We dwelt upon the sacrifices
and privations of our ancestors while engaged, slowly and
painfully, in laying the foundations upon which we have
built. It is quite noticeable, that, within thirteen years from
that time, the manufacture of cotton, of hemp, and of flax
received considerable attention in this region ; * and that, as
early as 1645, a legislative grant of very ample privileges, to
encourage the manufacture of iron, was made to a company,
headed by Governor Winthrop's son. Those were the days
of faint and feeble beginnings. How different the train of
associations awakened by the spot where we are now assem
bled ! But ten years only ago, and Lowell did not exist : the
sofl on which it stands was an open field. These favored
precincts, now resounding with all the voices of successful
industry, — the abode of intelligent thousands, — lay hushed
in the deep silence of nature, broken only by the unprofitable
murmur of those streams which practical science and wisely
applied capital have converted into the sources of its growth.
The change seems more the work of enchantment than the
regular progress of human agency. We can scarcely believe
that we do not witness a great Arabian tale of real life ; that
a beneficent genius has not touched the soil with his wand,
* " Our supplies from England failing much, men began to look about
them, and fell to a manufacture of cotton, (whereof we had store from Bar
bados,) and of hemp, and flax ; wherein Rowley, to their great commenda
tion, exceeded all other towns." — Winthrop's Jourmd, Savage's edition.
Vol. IL pp. 119, 212.
VOL. II. 9

66 FOURTH OF JULY AT LOWELL.
f
,Han4 caused a city to spring from its bosom. But it is not so I
Your prosperous town is but another monument to the
wisdom and patriotism of our fathers. It has grown up on
the basis of the national independence. But for the deed
which was done on the Fourth of July, 1776, your streets
and squares would still be the sandy plain which nature
made them.

NOTE.

See Page 64.
The history of our manufacturing establishments, for the twenty yeara
that have elapsed since the foregoing address was delivered, has furnished
ample confirmation of the general principles advanced in it The " Lowell
Offering," a journal conducted by the female operatives of that city, has
been justly regarded, in this country and in Europe, as a production of the
highest interest, both literary and moral. A considerable portion of it was
reprinted in London, under the significant title of "Mind among the
Spindles." While these sheets are passing through the press, a letter has ap
peared in the newspapers, giving so graphic a description of the formation
of a New England manufacturing village, that I am tempted to quote a
portion of it, as an instructive commentary upon the views which I have
taken in the preceding pages. It is dated CUntonville, Mass., February
4, 1850, and signed C. W. Blanchard.
" AUow me," says the -writer, " to give a sketch of the rise, or, rather,
creation, of one of these -villages — the one I now live in.
" About a dozen years ago, in an adjoining town, a young man, about
twenty years of age, got it in his head that he could make a power loom for
weaving coach lace. He had no money ; but his brother, a year or two older,
who was an operative in a small factory in the neighborhood, had accumulated
a few hundred dollars, and, having full faith in his brother's genius, lent his
assistance. The young man succeeded with his loom. People came to look
at it, and approved it. Boston merchants and capitalists came and saw that it
would pay ; and they took stock in it. The young man, encouraged by suc
cess, and having his faculties sharpraied by exercise, went to work upon a
loom fbr weaving figured counterpanes. This sueceeded also. Next he tried
his hand at an ingrain carpet loom. That went to Lowell, and, consequently,
did not help to build up this place, (except inasmuch as it increased confidence
in his abilities,) although it is making emplo.j-ment fbr a thousand persons
there. Afterwards he got up a gingham loom, which was equally successful.
Well, he determined that his machines should be operated here. Capital was
ready to pay the bills, for it saw a prospect of large retums ; and this man
and his brother, the operative, went to work. They built a machine shop, in
(67).

68 NOTE.
order that their work might be done under their o-wn inspection. Then they
buUt machinery, and put up mills ; and, within the last six years, nearly two
nulUons have been invested here under their direction. A village of three
thousand inhabitants has sprung up in the midst of what was, eight years ago,
woods and barren sheep pastures. But how ?
" As soon as it was kno-wn that work was tb be done here, and money paid
for it, Yankee enterprise pricks up its ears and starts. The carpenters, brick
layers, stone masons, iron founders, machinists, flock in. In their traiA follow
tailors, shoemakers, butchers, bakers, and shopkeepers. Some are young and
poor, just commencing business ; others are older, and have got a thousand or
two of doUars. But they can do better here than at home. Those who have
chUdren of a suitable age put them at work in the mills, as places occur for
them, a portion of the year. Then the farmers aU about the neighborhood —
the citizens who do not come themselves — the doctors, lawyers, and ministers,
even — find their girls and boys have got the factory fever. The wages are
so good, and paid everj' four or five weeks, too ; — sisters, cousins, acquaint
ances are going ; — if they should n't happen to like, they can come home
again ; — in short, they must go to the factory, and wiU ! OccasionaUy, some
of the parents, who are not getting along quite as weU as they wish, come over
to see what the prospect is. They find ' it 's handy to meetin',' (we have
three or four churches ;) ' schooUn 's so much better 'n 'tis up our way,' (we
have five or six schools, primary, grammar, and high,) that they determine
they wiU move to the factory -viUage aud take a boarding-house, so as to be
with their chUdren, and enjoy the advantages of a larger community. The
persons who came first, meantime, are getting rich,^and men of note. They
are being elected representatives, selectmen, or filling other respectable sta
tions ; but they see no impropriety in their children spending a portion of
their time in the factory. They send them to school three, six, or nine months
in the year, and the remainder of the time keep them at work. The young
folks much prefer the miU to the work about house at home. Their brothers,
cousins, lovers, friends, or acquaintances are their overseers ; and their feUow-
operatives are of the same character. And thus our factory vUlage springs
up, and thus its mUls are fUled, — a large proportion of the operatives,
however, always belonging to homes in the neighboring to-wns or states,
whence they come to spend a year or two in the mill, and then retum to
marry some early acquaintance, or, marrying at the viUage, establish them-
Belve? in a new home."

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.

Mr President, and
Gentlemen of the American Institute :
Your annual fair has again presented the public with a
most gratifying spectacle. We have passed in review the
numerous specimens of the useful arts collected in your exhi
bition, and have seen the high degree of perfection to which
the mechsftiical ingenuity of the country has been brought.
Much that is required for the comfort or convenience of man,
— the implements of his various pursuits ; much that is
admirably adapted to save labor, economize time, and in
crease production ; and much which, rising above the phys
ical wants and services of our nature, is connected with the
refined and elegant arts of life, — is arranged in beautiful order
in your hall. We have contemplated and admired the dis
play ; and, more than all, we have reflected with pride and
pleasure that it is all the production of our neighbors and
fellow-citizens, whose intelligent explanations have added
not a little to the interest of the exhibition.
Let us pause for a moment upon this interesting spectacle.
Of what are these curious machines, instruments, and fabrics
composed? They are wrought from the lifeless elements
that surround us, — from the inanimate growth of the forest
or the field, — from the shapeless masses of the quarry and the
mine, — and from the spoils of the inferior animals, — iron,
clay, wood, leather, cotton, wool ; — dull, unorganized mat
ter. It is this which has been fashioned into machinery and
* Address delivered before the American Institute of the city of New-
York, at their fourth annual fair, October 14, 1831.
(69)

70 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
enginery, and into various fabrics of ornament and use, which
seem but little inferior to the mysterious organization of the
living muscle, limbs, and skin.
And whence are the power and skfll that have produced
this new creation? What exalted spirit has endowed the
lifeless stocks and stones with these wonderful properties ?
Who has gathered together the dry, opaque sand and alka:li,
and transformed them into the beautiful medium which ex
cludes the air and admits the light ; and cut and polished
them into an artificial eye, which never aches nor grows dim ;
which penetrates millions and millions of mfles beyond the
natural vision into the depths of the heavens, and, on the
other hand, reveals the existence of whole orders of animat
ed beings, that are born,' and live, and die within a drop of
dew ? What magician has touched the fibres of the cotton
plant, the fleece of the sheep, the web of an unsightly
worm, and converted them into the most beautiful and useful
tissues ; and who, out of a few beams of wood, and bars of
iron, and pounds of lead, has constructed the all-powerful
engine, that diffuses knowledge over the earth ; and speaks
with a voice which is heard beyond mountains and oceans, and
the lapse of ages ?
This magician, this exalted spirit, this (may I say it with
out irreverence, ) this creator is man ; man, operating not with
mystic power and fabled arts, but with the talents skilfully
cultivated, with which he himself — fashioned as he is from
the dust beneath his feet — is endowed by his Creator. The
philosopher's stone, which has converted these lifeless sub
stances into food and clothing, or the instruments of procur
ing them, — the alchemy, which has transformed these rough
and discordant elements into the comforts of human life, —
is the skill of rational man.
But how is this skfll obtained ? A hundred or two of mfles
from this spot, within the limits of the state of New York,
may stfll be seen remnants of a branch of the famfly of man,
— once covering, with a thin and needy population, this
entire continent ; possessed of all the powers which belong
to the human race, JDut without any of the improvements

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 71
which constitute the happiness and glory of social life ; shel
tered only by a wretched hovel and the most inartificial
clothing from the elements ; dependent on the constantly
recurring labors of the chase for a scanty supply of food ;
and totally destitute of the arts which lie at the foundation
of the growth, wealth, and refinement of civflized commu
nities. Yet these £u:e men like ourselves.
It is these ingenious an(J useful arts, — the product at once
and the cause of civflization, — acting upon society and them
selves in turn, carried to new degrees of improvement and
efficiency by social man, till they have been brought to the
state in which we find them in these halls, — it is these which
form the difference between the savage of the woods and
civilized, cultivated, moral, and religious man. It is art
which produces and perfects art. It is, then, not merely a dis
play of ingenuity that we witness ; not merely an exhibition
of productive industry, or a promise of public wealth ; but
it is the fruit and assurance of the civflization of the human
famfly. In these curious engines, machines, implements, and
products, although there is a vast deal which has been
struck out of late years, there is also a great deal, of which
the contrivance is coeval with the ancient dawnings of im
provement, and something which has been added by almost
every succeeding age. These arts are now, as they have
been in every age, a representative of human . civilization ;
and the moral and social improvement of our race, and the
possession of the skill and knowledge embodied in them, will
advance, stand still, and fall together.
The object of your society, then, gentlemen, is, by the
promotion of the useful arts, to promote the improvement
and welfare of man — the most liberal object which, individ
ually or collectively, we can pursue. You aim to awaken,
to guide, and to reward the industry of your fellow-citizens,
by this beautiful and commodious display of its products, and
by the honorary premiums which you have assigned to some
of its most successful efforts. The past success of your labors
encourages you to persevere. The useful arts have been
brought to a point of excellence among us, within a few

72 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
• years, equally unexpected and creditable. Their condition
is now such, as to assure you, and all who cooperate with
you, in any part of the country, for then: further cultivation
and advancement, that you are laboring on a fruitful sofl, and
with the best hope of an ample harvest. Invrited by you, a
short time since, to take a part in this agreeable festival, I
have thought I should best discharge the duty assigned me,
by some remarks on the general principles by which the use
ful arts of life, in their several chief departments, may be
most successfully cultivated and made productive of national
prosperity ; and by a sketch of the history of the mechanic
and manufacturing industry of the country, before and since
the revolution.
Your society, gentlemen, was incorporated "for the pur
pose of encouraging and promoting domestic industry in this
state, and in the United States, in agriculture, commerce,
manufactures, and the arts." The legislature of New York
evidently had in view, in thus stating the object of your
institution, the great subdivision which it is common to make
in describing the industrious pursuits.
It is usual to divide the industry of a country into the
three great branches of commerce, agriculture, and manufac
tures. There are, of course, some important pursuits, such as
mining and the fisheries, which do not exactly fall under
either head. It is the great business of agriculture to pro
duce the food to be consumed by the community, and a part
of the materials used for manufactures. The manufacturer
works up the raw materials and natural products of domestic
and foreign growth into various fabrics and articles for the
use of man ; and commerce carries on the necessary ex
changes between the farmer, the manufacturer, and the con
sumer, in different parts of the country,, and between the
whole community and foreign countries. V That country is
the most prosperous, which, under good laws and a wise
administration of them at home, and in the enjoyment of an
intercourse, on liberal principles, with foreign nations, pos
sesses these three branches of industry in their due propor
tion to each other ; so that all flourish together, and neither
languishes that the rest may thrive.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 73
These three great branches of industry are all, in the high
est degree, important, and entitled to the favorable regard of
the whole community. If we wish to form comparisons
between them, (which, however, ought not to be done, with
out recollecting that they are very intimately connected
together, and dependent on each other,) we should pronounce
agriculture the most important branch, manufactures the
next, and foreign commerce the least important of the three.
It was calculated, four years ago, in Great Britain, that the
annual value in money of the grain grown in that country
(including wheat, oats, barley, rye, and pulse) was one hun
dred and twelve millions of pounds ; and of cattle, sheep,
hides, wool, butter, cheese, and poultry, about as much more ;
making together more than a thousand millions of dol
lars. At this rate, the whole national debt of Great Britain,
vast as it is, would not equal four crops. If we suppose the
population of the United States to amount to thirteen mil
lions, and allow half a dollar a week as the entire expense of
the agricultural produce consumed as food and clothing by
each individual, it wfll amount to near three hundred and
forty millions per annum. Besides this, there is the food
consumed by domestic animals ; there is the agricultural prod
uce consumed for other purposes than food and clothing ;
and there is the entire accumulation,, or what is raised and
not consumed: an aggregate, I presume, of one thousand
millions of dollars.
The value of the manufacturing industry of the country
is less easy to estimate ; but it is vastly great. Articles
scarcely thought of, in taking a general view of the occupa
tions of the country, can be easfly shown to amount, in the
aggregate, to a prodigious sum. It has been lately calculated,
that the manufacture of hats in the United States amounts to
thirteen nifllions of dollars annually, and that of boots and
shoes to twenty-six millions. This would make the amount
of hats equal to more than half the export of the great staple
of cotton ; equal to twice the rice and tobacco exported ; and
to twice the amount of the entire sugar crop. The article
of boots and shoes at twenty-six millions of dollars would

74 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
exceed the average of the exportation of cotton, for the last
twelve years.
The amount of our foreign commerce, as consisting in the
export of domestic produce, is not greatly over sixty miUions
of dollars. This is, of course, the product of agriculture
and manufactures ; and bears but a small proportion to the
domestic consumption.
It was probably the consideration of facts like these which
led Adam Smith to the following traui of remarks : —
" The capital that is acquired to any country, by commerce and manufac
tures, is all a very precarious and uncertain possession, tUI some part of it
has been secured and realized in the permanent improvement of its lands.
A merchant, it has been said very properly, is not the citizen of any par
ticular country. It is, in a great measure, indifferent to him from what
place he carries on his trade ; and a very trifling disgust will make him
remove his capital, and with it all the industry which it supports, from one
country to another. No part of it can be said to belong to any particular
country till it has been spread, as it were, over the face of that country,
either in buildings or the lasting improvement of lands. No vestige now
remains of the great wealth said to have been possessed by the greater part
of the Hanse towns, except in the obscure histories of the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries. It is even uncertain where sorae of them were situ
ated, or to what towns in Europe the Latin names given to some of them
belong. But though the misfortunes of Italy, at the end of the fifteenth
and beginning of the sixteenth centuries, greatly diminished the commerce
and manufactures of the cities of Lombardy and Tuscany, tiiose countries
still continue to be among the most populous and best cultivated in Europe.
The civil wars of Flanders and the Spanish government, which succeeded
tliem, chased away the great commerce of Antwerp, Ghent, and Bruges.
But Flanders still continues to be one of the richest, best cultivated, and
most populous provinces in Europe. The ordinary revolutions of war and
government easily dry up the sources of that wealth which arises from
commerce only. That which arises from the more solid improvements of
agriculture is much more durable, and cannot be destroyed but by those
violent convulsions occasioned by the depredations of hostile and barbarous
nations, for a century together; such as happened for some time before and
after the fall of the Roman empire, in the western provinces of Europe." *
As the prosperity of a nation depends on the existence, in
a due proportion to each other, of these different pursuits, it
is the great problem in political economy how this state of
• Wealth of Nations, Vol. IL p. 202.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 75
things can be brought about. To this the general answer is
obvious : By free institutions of government, — laws afford
ing security to property, — and the diffusion of education and
useful knowledge. Under these propitious influences, the
inhabitants of any given country will be most likely to take
up and pursue those branches of industry for whicb, as a
whole or in its separate parts, it is best adapted, by the quality
of the climate and soil, other natural advantages, and the
various causes which affect the character of a people.
Of these abstract principles, there are certain modifications
in practice, which proceed from the division of mankind into
nations, — the necessity of securing, at all events, the nation
al independence and safety, — and promoting, in the highest
possible degree, the national strength and resources. This
necessity of living in nations is partly real, — that is, founded
on descent from a common stock, and required for the
happiness of the different famflies of man, — (it being
found, by experience, that all mankind cannot live under one
government, ) and it is partly founded on certain generous and
noble feelings, which we call patriotic, and which impose an
obligation not less imperious on all liberal natures. These
principles of national origin, feeling, interest, and pride modi
fy the laws of mere public economy. They require, for
instance, at times, the establishment of a new and separate
government. In 1775, on economical principles, it was mad
ness for our fathers to go to war for the sake of independence.
It would have been infinitely cheaper for that generation to
remain under the British government than to incur, first, the
expense of the war ; aad, second, of all the establishments
following a state of independence. To every independent
state it is absolutely essential to possess, at home, the means
of naval and military defence. Ships of war might be hired,
certainly they could be bought, abroad ; and mercenary troops
may be obtained for money. But the honor not less than the
safety of a country requires, that, at whatever cost, naval and
military establishments, and every thing required for them,
should be formed and produced at home. It is accordingly
admitted, even by writers opposed to all restrictions on trade,
that the manufacture of fire-arms, gunpowder, and other mu-

76 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
nitions of war, ought to be established in a country, although
it might cost less, in time of peace, to import them. On the
same ground, and in order to rear up a navy, a discrunuiating
tonnage duty has been defended by some in this country
unfriendly to other protecting duties.
But the principle evidently goes much farther. It requires
that all the branches of industry manifestly necessary for the
subsistence, comfort, and efficient action of the greatest
possible number of people should be introduced and support
ed. Such, to name a single instance, is the manufacture of
common clothing, such as is required for troops and the body
of the population. The letters of General Washington, in
the revolutionary war, show the calamitous straits to which
the army was reduced, for want of' clothing — an article for
which they were principally dependent on France. It is the
opinion of competent judges that the enhanced price of
clothing, during the war of 1812, amounted to a larger sum
than heis been paid for duties on imported cloths from that
day to this. And in general it is to be borne in mind, that
the legislation of the country ought to be calculated on the
occasional recurrence of war and an interruption of commerce
with foreign countries, — on whom we ought not, therefore,
to depend for the necessaries of life. Finally, on the same
principle, whatever is necessary for the increase of the coun
try in population, wealth, and general prosperity, — as an
independent community, — by a division of labor, an ade
quate circulating medium, and a conversion of natural into
active capital, must be effected, as far as possible, by judicious
laws protecting the industry of the ceuntry against the hostfle
effects of foreign legislation.
Such are the leading principles of a system calculated to
produce the highest possible prosperity and growth of a
country. All civilized countries have adopted most of these
principles, and almost all the whole of them. Whenever
any essential feature of the system has been neglected, the
pernicious consequences have been visible. Thus, in Tur
key, Persia, and other parts of the East, a despotic govern
ment and general insecurity have almost destroyed industry,
and reduced external and internal trade to a very low point.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 77
China, a country populous and industrious beyond example,
is kept poor and barbarous by severe restraints on commercial
adventure and the want of a legislation calculated to build up
a commercial and national marine.
In descending to the particulars of the laws, which it may
be necessary to enact in any country, for the purpose of
building up and protecting the arts and industry of the
people, they must depend partly on the legislation of
foreign countries, and partly on the state of things at
home. It is commonly considered that it would be an ad
vantageous intercourse to exchange, without restriction, the
products of agriculture in one country for those of manu
facturing industry in another. But if the foreign manufac
turer refuse to be fed by the agricultural produce of the
customer who consumes his fabric, it is absolutely necessary,
by a judicious legislation, to rear up a class of domestic
manufacturers who will make the exchange.
The necessity of such a legislation is further made mani
fest by considering the nature of many of the manufacturing
arts. They require great experience in constructing ma
chinery, — a great outlay of capital, — and practice in all
the various processes required for the production of the fabric.
How much of this skfll is required can be estimated by any
person who will visit a cotton mill, and, commencing from the
machine shop, trace the progress of the factory from the first
revolution of the lathe, by which the spindle is turned, to
the completion of the buflding ; and from the opening of the
bale of cotton to the packing up of the bale of cloth. This
skill is just as necessary to carry on a manufacture as the
machinery or the power that moves it. It is plain that it
must take some time to acquire it ; and, till it is acquired, the
infant manufacture cannot possibly sustain a competition
with those, establishments which possess the skfll. So cer
tain is this, that it has been stated by one of the most
popular writers on political economy in Great Britain, at the
present day, that it is impossible that the United States
should enter into competition with England, in the cotton
manufacture, because Great Britain has the start of us in the

78 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
requisite skfll. When we reflect on the infinity of detafl in
the business of a great manufacture, — in the contrivance,
construction, and management of the machinery ; the prepa
ration of the raw material and the processes for working it
up ; and what an essential difference in the result, on a large
scale, is produced, by a very small advantage, in any of the
parts, — it is obvious that, unless there were some protection
against foreign competition, in its infancy, no manufacture
previously well established in one country could be intro
duced into another. Accordingly, I believe it may be asserted
as a proposition, without exception, that there is no example
of a complicated manufacture, already existing in one coun
try and introduced into another, under a system of unre
strained commerce and without legislative protection.*
Such protection is necessary to prevent the condition of
the laboring population in one country from regulating the
condition of the same class in all other countries connected
with it. It is scarcely necessary to state, that as the laboring

* Mr Huskisson, in his celebrated speech of 1825, contrasts the wonder
fully rapid growth of the cotton manufacture in England, in the absence of
extraordinary legislative encouragement, with the much slower progress of
the woollen manufacture, which had been the object of innumerable pro>-
tectmg laws. There is no doubt that some of these laws were rather
injurious than beneficial in their operation on the woollen manufacture ; but
the cases are by no means parallel. It is unquestionable that, at the period
when the woollen manufacture was introduced into England, it could not
have supported the competition of the Flemish manufacture without legis
lative protection. The rapid growth of the cotton manufacture in England
was owing to the improvements in the machinery and to the steam engine.
This machinery was invented in England; she had consequently the start
of aU other nations in the skill embodied in it The same substantially
holds of the steam engine ; and a monopoly of the discoveries and improve
ments in both was secured, as far as it was possible or necessary to do it,
by penal enactments against the exportation of machinery. If the cotton
manufacture, with improved machinery, had been as well established in
France, before it was attempted in England, as the woollen manufacture
was in Flanders in the fifteenth century, — and if, under these circumstances,
the cotton manufacture had arisen and flourished in England, without legis
lative protection, — Mr Huskisson's contrast would have authorized the
inference which he draws ftom it There are, however, other points of
dissimilarity in the eases of the two manufactures.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 7'9
population, in all countries, forms the mass of the commu
nity, and as their labor must be the chief source of the
public wealth, the prosperity of the country depends on the
condition of this part of the population. Where the laborer
receives a generous portion of the products of his tofl and
skillj the country is prosperous ; and it languishes where his
share is mean and inadequate. In most of the countries of
Europe, the wages of labor are depressed to the point of a
bcu-e subsistence. It is impossible, therefore, othei' things
being equal, that the industry of any other country should,
without protection in the outset, enter into competition with
that of Europe, till its labor is ground down to the same
standeu-d. It has been the object of the economical system
of the United States to secure to the labor of the country a
just and equitable, but not an extravagant, portion of the
products. Of this last evil, however, there is the less dan
ger, as it must of necessity be checked by competition. The
moment a branch of industry is overpaid, it is thronged till
the compensation falls to the average of other pursuits.
These principles apply to all countries, but with modifica
tions appropriate to each. The situation of our own country
is peculiar. The settlements on our coast commenced at a
period when the south and west of Europe were in a highly
improved condition, when many of the arts of life were
greatly advanced, and several of the great manufactures
firmly established, skfll acquired, and capital largely accumu
lated in that region. Had other circumstances admitted the
establishment of manufactures in this country, these alone
would have prevented it. But in addition to this, were the
scantiness of the population and the abundance of land,
giving a value to labor absolutely incompatible with the
pursuit of manufactures.
Notwithstanding these circumstances, necessity forced upon
the first settlers of this country, at a very early period, some
attention to manufactures. The colony of Massachusetts
was founded in 1630. Between that year and 1640 there
was a great and steady influx of settlers ; and the first and
most profitable object of pursuit was the raising of pro-

80 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
visions. We can scarcely conceive of the state of industry in
a community to which there is every year added,, by emigra
tion, a number of individuals equal to the existing population.
Such, however, for a few years, was the case in New Eng
land. So great was the demand for provisions, that cattle
sold as high as twenty-five pounds sterling a head. In 1640,
the republicans got possession of the government in England ;
persecution for religious non-conformity ceased, and with it
the influx of emigrants to this country. Cattle feU immedi
ately to about five pounds sterling a head. The effect was
distressing, but it put the sagacious colonists upon new
resources. .The account of this, contained in the early his
torian of the colony, is so strongly characterized by the
simplicity of elder times, and illustrates so pertinently the.
state of things in which it becomes necessary to resort to
manufactures in a country, that I shall venture to read an
extract from the author who relates it.* After describing the
check put to emigration, he goes on as follows : —
" Now the country of New England was to seek of a way to provide
themselves with clothing, which they could not obtain by selling cattle as
before, which now were fallen from that huge price forementioned, first to
fourteen pounds and ten pounds a head, and presently after, at best within
the year, to five pounds a piece ; nor was there at that rate a ready vent for
them neither. Thus the flood which brought in much wealth to many per
sons, the contrary ebb carried all away out of their reach. To help them
in this their exigent, besides the industry that the present necessity put
particular persons upon, for the necessary supply of themselves and their
families, the General Court made order for the manufacture, of woollen and
linen cloth, which, with God's blessing upon man's endeavor, in a little time
stopped this gap in part, and soon after another door was opened by special
Providence. For when one hand was shut by way of supply from Eng
land, another was opened by way of traffic, first to the West Indies and
Wine Islands, whereby, among other goods, much cotton wool was brought
into the country from the Indies, which the inhabitants learning to spin,
and breeding of sheep and sowing of hemp and flax, they soon found out a
way to supply themselves of [cotton,] linen and woollen cloth."
In 1645, an iron foundery was established at Lynn, in the
state of Massachusetts ; but the same historian tells us that,
* Hubbard's New England, Chapter XXII. See also a curious allusion
to this fall in the price of cattle in Cotton's " Seven Vials," p. 26 of Second
Part, 6th Vial

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 81
" instead of drawing out bars of iron for the country's use,
there was hammered out nothing but contentions and law
suits." In the same year, the General Court of the colony
granted to a company, — of which Governor Winthrop's son
was the head, — as an encouragement to undertake the iron
manufacture, three thousand acres of land, a monopoly for
twenty-one years, the liberty to use any place containing ore
in the public domain not already granted, a tract of land
three miles square in the neighborhood of each establishment,
and freedom from taxation.* These liberal acts of encour
agement show the necessity which was felt, in the very
infancy of the country, of giving a legislative protection to
manufactures. But to understand the history of the industry of the
country, (a history more important than that of its mere
politics,) we must bear in mind that America was a colonial
possession, and that the growth 'and welfare of the mother
country was the avowed object of colonial policy. Great
Britain, if she wished America to prosper, wished it to be on
he principles, not of national, but of colonial prosperity ; to
fumish her such agricultural products as she did not raise
herself, to employ her shipping, and to consume her manufac
tures. As it. soon appisared that the Dutch, at that time the
most expert navigators in Europe, were getting possession
of no small part of the carrying trade of the world, and pur
suing a profitable commerce with a part of the colonial
possessions of Great Britain, the navigation law of 1650 was
passed, under the auspices of Cromwell. It Avas among the
few laws of the commonwealth which were reenacted at the
restoration. The object of this laAV — in the opinion of Sir
Wflliam Blackstone "the most beneficial for the trade and
commerce of these kingdoms" — was, in the words of the
same accomplished jurist, "to mortify our sugar islands,
which were disaffected to the Parliament, and still held out
for Charles II. , by stopping the gainful trade which they then
caiTied on with the Dutch, and at the same time to clip the
* Winthrop's Journal, Savage's edition. Vol. II, p. 213.
VOL. n. 11

82 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
wings of these our opulent and aspiring neighbors."*
Although aimed particularly at the West Indies, this law of
course extended its provisions to all the other British colonies,
and among them to those established on the American coast.
By them, however, it was generally resisted as an encroach
ment on their rights. Ineffectual attempts were made for a
century to enforce it ; and in this struggle were sowed the
seeds of the revolution.
Nor did the humble attempts of the colonies in manufac
tures fail to awaken the jealousy of the mother country.
Sir Josiah Chfld, although a more liberal politician than many
of his countrymen, in his discourse on trade, published in
1670, pronounces New England " the most prejudicial planta
tion of Great Britain ; " and gives for this opinion the singu
lar reason, that they are a people " whose frugality, industry,
and temperance, and the happiness of whose laws and insti
tutions, promise to them long life, and a wonderful increase
of people, riches, and power."
In the speech from the throne to the British Parliament,
on the nineteenth of October, 1721, it is observed that "the
supplying ourselves with naval stores upon terms the most
easy and least precarious, seems highly to deserve the care
and attention of Parliament. Our plantations in America
naturally abound with most of the proper materials for this
necessary and essential part of our trade and maritime
strength ; and if, by due encouragement, we could be fur
nished from thence with naval stores, which we are now
obliged to purchase and bring from foreign countries, it
would not only greatly contribute to the riches, influence, and
power of this nation, but, by employing our own colonies in
this useful and advantageous service, divert them from setting
up and carrying on manufactures Avhich directly interfere
with those of Great Britain."
These suggestions show the opinions entertained by the
government at that time. After many fruitless attempts on
the part of the ministry to keep down the enterprise of the
* Blackstone's Commentaries, Vol. I. p. 418,

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 83
colonies in those branches of industry which were disallowed
by the laws of trade, the House of Commons took up the
subject, and in 1731 called upon the Board of Trade and
Plantations to make a report " with respect to any laws made,
manufactures set up, or trade carried on in the colonies, detri
mental to the trade, navigation, emd manufactures of Great
Britam." In the result of this inquiry it appeared, that
among other branches of manufacture for domestic supply,
hats were made in the colonies in considerable quantities;
and had even been exported to foreign countries. In conse
quence of this alarming discovery, the law of 5 George II.
c. 22, was passed, forbidding hats or felts to be exported from
the colonies, or even " to be loaded on a horse, cart, or other
carriage for transportation from one plantation to another."
Nor was this aU r in 1760, a law was passed by the Parlia
ment of Great Britain, which I must needs call a disgrace to
the legislation of a civflized country. It prohibited "the
erection or continuance of any mill or other engine for slit
ting or rolling iron, or any plating forge, to work with a tilt
hammer, or any f&mace for making steel, in the colonies,
under penalty of two hundred pounds." Every such mfll,
engine, forge, or furnace was declared a common nuisance
which the governors of the provinces, on information, were
bound to abate, under penalty of five hundred pounds, within
thirty days ! *
It has been, within a few years, stated by Mr Huskisson,
and with truth, that the real causes of the revolution are tb
be found, not in the irritating measures thaf followed Mr
Grenvflle's plan of taxation, but in the long-cherished dis
content of the colonies, at this system of legislative oppres
sion. Accordingly, the first measures of the patriots aimed
to establish their independence, on the basis of the productive
industry and the laborious arts of the country. They began
with a non-importation agreement, nearly two years before
the declaration of independence. This agreement, with the

• For these and other interesting facts on the same subject, see Pitkin'a
Political and Civil History of the United States, Vol.-L p. 100, &c.

84 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
exception of the addresses to the people of America and
Great Britain, was the only positive act of the first Congress
that met at Phfladelphia in 1774, and it is signed by every
member of that body. The details to which it descends are
full of instruction. The seventh article provides that " we
wfll use our utmost endeavors to improve the breed of sheep,
and increase their numbers to the greatest extent ; " and the
eighth, that "we wfll, in our several statiqns, encourage
frugality, economy, and industry, and promote agriculture,
arts, and the manufactures of this country, especially those
of wool." * Such were the measures thought important by
our fathers at that critical and solemn moment of preparation
for the establishment of an independent government.
The policy indicated by these resolutions was, of course,
favored by a state of war. All regular commercial inter
course with Great Britain was interrupted, and the supply of
prize goods, which took its place, was casual and uncertain.
We had as yet formed no connections in trade, with other
countries ; nor, if we had, could their manufactures have
found their way across the ocean, amidst the cruisers of the
enemy, at any other than high prices. Fresh impulse was
accordingly given to what few manufactures existed before
the revolution, and new ones of various kinds were attempted
with success. One of the earliest of these was the manu
facture of nails, upon which Lord Chatham had placed his
memorable prohibition. It is within the memory of man,
that the first attempt to manufacture cut nails, in New Eng
land, was made in the southern part of Massachusetts, in the
revolutionary war, with old iron hoops for the material, and
a pair of shears for the machine. Since that period, besides
supplying the consumption of the United States, — estimated
at from eighty to one hundred mfllions of pounds, and at a
price not much exceeding the duty, — machines of American
invention for the manufacture of nails have been introduced
into England ; and I find, by the Treasury Report just pub
lished, that one and a half mfllions of pounds of nafls were
• Joumals of the Old Congress, Vol, I. p. 33, edition of 1800.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 85
exported from the United States to foreign countries during
the past year.
On the return of peace, in 1783, the influx of foreign
goods, in many respects prejudicial to the country,, pro ved in
the highest degree disastrous to its mechanical and manufac
turing industry. The want of one national government, and
the division of the powers of government among thirteen
sovereignties, made it impossible, by a uniform revenue sys
tem, to remedy the evfl. The states generally attempted, by
their separate navigation laws, to secure their trade to their
own vessels ; but the rivalry and selfish policy of some states
counteracted the efforts of others, and eventually threw
almost the whole navigation of the country into foreign
hands. So low had it sunk in Boston, that in 1788, it was
thought expedient, on grounds of patriotism, to get up a sub
scription to build three ships; and this incident, proving
nothing but the poverty and depression of the town, was
hailed as one which would give renewed activity to the
industry of the tradespeople and mechanics of Boston!
The same class of citizens and the manufacturers in general
in the state of Massachusetts, petitioned the government of
that state to protect their industry by bounties, imposts, and
prohibitions. This prayer was granted, and a tariff of duties
laid, which in reference to some articles — that of coarse
cottons, for instance — was higher than any duty laid by
Congress before the war of 1812.
But the state of the country rendered these laws of little
avail. Binding in Boston, they were of no validity in
Rhode Island ; and what was subject to duty in New York
might be imported free into Connecticut and New Jer
sey. The industry of the country was brought down to a
point of distress unknown in the midnight of the revolution.
The shipping had dwindled to nothing. The manufacturing
establishments were kept up by bounties and by patriotic
associations and subscriptions, and even the common trades
were threatened with ruin. It was plain, for instance, that,
in the comparative condition of the United States and Great
Britain, not a hatter, a boot or shoe maker, a saddler, or a

86 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
brass founder, could carry on his business, except in the
coarsest and most ordinary productions of their various trades,
under the pressure of foreign competflion. Thus was pre
sented the extraordinary and calamitous spectacle of a
successful revolution wholly fafling of its ultimate object.
The people of America had gone to war, not for names, but
for things. It was not merely to change a government
administered by kings and ministers, for a government
administered by presidents, and secretaries, and members of
Congress. It was to redress real grievances, to improve their
condition, to throw off the burden which the colonial system
laid on their industry. To attain these objects, they endured
incredible hardships, and* bore and suffered almost beyond
the measure of humanity. And when their independence was
attained, they found it was but a piece of parchment. The
arm which had struck for it in the field, was palsied in the
workshop ; the industry which had been burdened in the col
onies, was crushed in the free states ; and, at the close of the
revolution, the mechanics and manufacturers of the country
found themselves, in the bitterness of their hearts, independ
ent — and ruined.
They looked round them in despair. They cast about for
means of relief, and found none, but in a plan of a voluntary
association throughout the continent, and an appeal to the
patriotism of their fellow-citizens. Such an association was
formed in Boston, in 1787 or 1788, and a circular letter was
addressed by them to their brethren throughout the Union.
The proposal was favorably received, and in some of the
cities zealously acted upon ; but, unsupported by a general
legislation, its effects must at best have been partial and
inadequate. But before the inefficiency of this measure had been discov
ered by experience, a new and unhoped for remedy for their
suffermgs had been devised. The daystar of the constitution
arose ; and of all the classes of the people of America, to
whose hearts it came as the harbinger of blessings long
hoped for and long despaired of, most unquestionably the
tradesmen, mechanics, and manufacturers hafled it with the

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 87
warmest welcome. It had in fact grown out of the all-
pervading inefficiency and wretchedness of the revenue sys
tem, which had been felt in ruin by them, more than by any
other class. The feelings with which it was regarded by
the "tradesmen and manufacturers of New York," will
appear from their letter, in reply to the circular of the asso
ciation in Boston, to which I have already alluded. The
following sentence may be quoted as an expression of their
views : —
" The legislature of our state, (New York,) convinced of
the propriety of cherishing our manufactures in their early
growth, have made some provisions for that purpose. We
have no doubt that more comprehensive and decisive meas
ures wfll in time be taken by them. But on. the confederated
exertions of our brethren, and especiaUy on the patronage
and protection of the general govei-nment, we rest our most
flattering hopes of success.
" In order to support and improve the union and harmony
of the American manufacturers, and to render as systematic
and uniform as possible their designs for the common benefit,
we perfectly concur with you on the propriety of establish
ing a reciprocal and unreserved communication. When our
views, like our interests, are combined and concentred, our
petitions to the federal legislature will assume the tone and
complexion of the public wishes, and will have a proportion
able weight and influence." *
Such were the feelings and hopes, with which the laboring
classes of the country in general, particularly the manufac
turers and mechanics, looked forward to the adoption of the
federal constitution. In the state of Massachusetts, it is
admitted, that the question of adoption was decided, under
the influence of the association of tradesmen and manufac
turers already mentioned. In the convention of that state,
the encouragement of manufactures, by protecting laws, was
declared in debate to be a leading and avowed object of the
* This interesting document, which bears date 17 Nov., 1788, and
which has not been quoted, so far as I am aware, in the present discussions
of the subject, may be found in Carey's .American Museum,, Vol. V. p. 4.

88 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
constitution.* As it was successively adopted in other statesj
triumphant processions of the tradesmen, mechanics, and
manufacturers, with the banners of their industry, and mot-
tos expressive of their reliance on the new constitution for
protection, evinced, in the most imposing form, and in the
presence of vast multitudes, the principles and the expecta
tions of the industrious classes of the community. Proces
sions of this kind were had in Portsmouth, in Boston, in New
York, in Philadelphia, in Baltimore, and in Charleston ; .and
the sentiment which animated and inspired them all, was
expressed in the motto inscribed upon the banners of the
manufacturers in Philadelphia: "May the Union Govm-n-
ment protect the Manufactures of America ! "
Forty-three years have since passed, and it is now earnestly
maintained, and that by intelligent persons, that the federal
constitution thus adopted, under the influence of the mechan
ics and manufacturers, (who knew that by the new govern
ment the power of protecting their pursuits was taken from
the individual states, who had before held and exercised it,)
confers no power on Congress to protect the- labor of the
country, and that the exercise of such power is unconstitu
tional. When we consider the control over public sentiment
possessed by the associated mechanics and manufacturers of
our large towns, and the slender majorities by which, in some
states, the constitution was adopted, it is not too much to
say, that if such a conception of its powers had then pre
vaded, it never would have been ratified, f
A quorum of the House of Representatives, under the new
constitution, was formed, for the first time, on April first,
1789. In one week from that day, Mr Madison brought for
ward the subject of the revenue system, as the most impor-
^nt which required the attention of the national legislature.
* See note A, at the end.
t The constitution was ratified —
By Pennsylvania on the 13th Dec. 1787, by a vote of 46 to 23.
" Massachusetts . . 6th Feb. 1788, .... 187 " 168.
" New Hampshire . 21st June "  57 " 46.
" New York . . . 26th July « - . . . 30 « 25.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 89
Pending the discussion of this subject, and three days after
it commenced, a memorial was presented " from the trades
men, manufacturers, and others of the town of Baltimore, in
the state of Maryland, praying an imposition of such duties
on all foreign articles, which can be made in America, as
will give a just and decided preference to the labors of the
petitioners, and that there may be granted to them, in com
mon with the other manufacturers and mechanics of the
United States, such relief as to the wisdom of Congress may
seem proper."* This was followed up, the next day, by a
petition from the shipwrights of Charleston, South Carolina,
stating " the distress they were in, from the decline of that
branch of the business, and the present situation of the trade
of the United States, and praying that the wisdom and policy
of the national legislature may be directed to such measures,
in a general regulation of trade, and the establishment of a
proper navigation act, as will relieve the particular distresses
of the petitioners, in common with those of their fellow-
shipwrights, throughout the Union."
Thus the first two memorials presented to the Congress of
the United States were for protecting duties on American
Industry ; and of these memorials, one was from Baltimore,
and the other from Charleston, South Carolina !
A few days after, a simflar memorial came in from New
York, " setting forth that, in the present deplorable state of
commerce and manufactures, they look with confidence to
the operations of the new government, for a restoration of
both, and that relief which they have so long and so ardently
desired ; that they have subjoined a list of such articles as
can be manufactured in New York, and humbly pray the
countenance and attention of the national legislature thereto."
Numerous other petitions of like purport were shortly after
presented, and in pursuance of their prayers, as well as from
the crying demands of the public service, the first impost law
was passed, at an early period of the session. It was, with
* See note E, at the end
VOL. II. 12

90 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
the exception of the law prescribing the oaths of office, tho
first law which was passed under the new government. In
the long debate which arose, at different stages of its progress,
the idea was advanced, by members from every part of the
country, that Congress was bound to lay duties that would
encourage its manufacturing industry ; and I do not recollect
that a suggestion appears in the reported debates that they
did not constitutionally possess the power. Mr Madison thus
expressed himself on the subject : " The states that are
most advanced in population, and ripe for manufactures,
ought to have their particular interest attended to in some
degree. Whfle these states retained the power of making
regulations of trade, they had the power to protect and
cherish such institutions. By adopting the present constitu
tion, they have thrown the exercise of this power into other
hands. They must have done this with the expectation that
those interests would not be neglected here." And again,
" Duties laid on imported articles may have an effect which
comes within the idea of national prudence. It may happen
that materials for manufactures may grow up without any
encouragement for this piirpose. It has been the case in
some of the states. But in others, regulations have been
provided, and have succeeded, in producing some establish
ments, which ought not to be allowed to perish from the
alteration which has taken place. It would be cruel to
neglect them, and turn their industry to other channels ; for
it is not possible for the hand of man to shift from one
employment to another without being injured by the change.
There may be some manufactures which, being once formed,
can advance towards perfection without any adventitious aid ;
while others, for want of the fostering hand of government,
will be unable to go on at all. Legislative attention wfll be,
therefore, necessary to collect the proper objects for this pur
pose." * Such were the principles on which this law was
supported ; and when it finafly passed, it was stated, in the
• Lloyd's Debates, Vol. L pp, 24 and 86.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 91
preamble, to be "for the support of government, the dis
charge of the debts of the United States, and the encourage
ment and protection of manufactures."
The benefit of the protecting principle of the law was not
confined to the manufactures of the Middle and Northern
States, but was fully extended to the agricultural products of
the south. A heavy duty was laid on the foreign manufac
tures of tobacco, (the only form in which that article could
compete with American tobacco,) and it was supported by
Roger Sherman, on the ground that the importation of such
an article ought to be prohibited. This was a tax on the
labor employed in the manufacture and on the consumption
of the article for the benefit of the planter. The same is
true of the duty laid on indigo, then a prominent article of
southern produce, and still heavily burdened with a tax,
which falls upon the consumers and manufacturers of cloth.
A high duty was laid on hemp, an article of prime necessity
to the navigating states ; and, in favor of such a duty, it was
alleged, by southern members of Congress, " that their lands
were well adapted to the growth of hemp, and that its cul
ture would no doubt be practised with attention." But the
most interesting case of these protecting duties is that of the
duty laid on cotton, for the sake of introducing its culture
into the United States. This is a subject on which I have
lately dwelt at some length, in a debate in Congress, but
which is too important to be omitted here.
The household manufacture of cotton at the north was, as
¦we have seen, almost coeval with the settl§<nent of the
country ; but the manufacture on a large scale, and by
improved machinery, did not take place till shortly before
the adoption of the constitution. At that period, cotton mills
were erected in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and other
places, and considerable duties were laid by the legislatures
of some of the states for the encouragement of this new and
highly important branch of industry. The cotton used for
these establishments was all imported, principally from the
West Indies. Though it had been raised for a long time in
the Southern States, it seems to have been exclusively con-

92 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
sunied in domestic use, and none was exported.* No sus
picions were entertained that the soil and climate of the
Southern States were particularly adapted to the culture of
this beautiful staple. When a little cotton had found its
way to Liverpool, in a vessel from the United States, in
1784, it was there considered as an unla-wful importation, on
the ground that it could not have been the growth of the
United States. When the law imposing duties on imports,
to which we have alluded, passed the House of Representa
tives, certain articles, especially some of the raw materials
of manufactures, were left duty free, and among them cotton.
In the Senate, a duty of three cents per pound was laid on
this article, not to encourage and protect, but to create, the
culture of it in the United States, as appears from the lan
guage of one of the members from South Carolina, in the
House of Representatives, on the same subject, who declared
that " cotton was in contemplation," as an article of produce,
by the planters of South Carolina and Georgia, " and that if
good seed could be procured, he hoped it might succeed." f
On this hope the duty was imposed ; and a tax, amounting
probably to eight or ten per centum, was laid upon the raw
material of the infant manufacture at the same time that the
duties laid on the imported fabric, by some of the state laws,
were reduced. On the fifth of December, 1791, General
Hamflton, by order of the House of Representatives, made
his famous report on manufactures, in which he states, " that
the present duty of three cents per pound on the foreign raw
material was undoubtedly a very serious impediment to the
manufactures of cotton ; " and that " a repeal of it is indis
pensable " for the prosperity of the manufacturers.^ It was,
nevertheless, not repealed. Thus, in the infancy of this
important manufacture in the Northern and Middle States,
struggling as it was, under a reduced duty, against the
* Kalm states, in his travels, that cotton seed was imported from the
south to Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and attempts made to cultivate it
in the latter states.
t Mr Burke. Lloyd's Debates, Vol. I. p. 79.
t Report on Manufactures, pp. 72 and 73, edit of 1827.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 93
machinery of Ark^wright and Watt, a heavy burden was laid
upon the raw material, to enable the planters of the Southern
States to explore the tropics, from the West Indies to the
Phflippines, in search of a species of cotton seed which
would thrive in their climate. For four or five years this
duty pressed on the manufactures of the Northern and Middle
States, both household and by machinery. There was not
a pound of cotton spun — - no, not for candlewicks to afford
light to the humble industry of the cottage — that did not
pay this duty to the southern planter for four or five years.
In 1794, when Mr Jay negotiated the treaty with Great
Britain, it does not seem to have been known to that distin
guished statesman that cotton was raised for exportation in
the United States, and he accordingly admitted it among the
articles not to be exported from the United States in Ameri
can bottoms. Even as late as 1796, I find in the journals of
Congress that a petition from the proprietors of a cotton mill,
on the Brandywine, who prayed for the repeal of the duty
on the raw material, and the increase of that on cotton
goods, was rejected by the committee of commerce and
manufactures, on the grounds that the existing duty afforded
sufficient protection, and that "to repeal the duty on raw
cotton imported would be to damp the growth of cotton in
our own country." *
I would not be understood as ascribing the prodigious ex
tension of the cotton culture to the imposition of this duty.
I quote the facts of the laying of that duty, the reasons
assigned for it, the neglect to repeal it when the repeal was
declared indispensable, and the grounds stated for its continu
ance, for the purpose of showing the opinions entertained by
southern members of congress, on the subject of protecting
duties. I know very well that the vast extension of the
cotton culture is owing to other causes, — to the newly-
* The committee who made this report consisted of the following gen
tlemen: MrSwanwick, (of Pennsylvania,) Mr Smith, (of South Carolina,)
Mr Coit, (of Connecticut,) Mr Blount, (of North Carolina,) Mr SewaU, (of
Massachusetts,) Mr Parker, (of Virginia,) Mr Dent, (of Maryland.) — .^men-
con Senator, Vol. I. p. 315.

94 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
in'vented machinery for spinning and weaving, and to the
vast quantity of fertile land brought under cultivation in the
Southern and South-western States.* Tfll the invention of
the saw-gin, however, the duty was strictly a protecting
duty ; and such, I am inclined to think, it has again become.
It is now a duty of from twenty to forty per centum on the
cheap and common cottons. The most ordinary and the
finest qualities are imported into -Great Britain from other
countries than the United States, and form from a fifth to a
fourth of their consumption. There is nothing but the pro
tecting duty which prevents the same being done in this
country ; where, even under tbis duty, some foreign cotton
is imported and wrought up.
I have gone over these few facts in the history of our in
dustry, in order to illustrate the positions that the chief
practical evil of our former political dependence on Great
Britain was the restraint imposed upon the labor of the coun
try by the colonial system ; and that the first thought and
effort of our fathers, in organizing an independent govern
ment, was to encourage and protect the mechanical arts and
manufactures of the country ; which the rather needed en
couragement and protection, as it was these which had borne
the full weight of the colonial yoke. Our commerce and
navigation had been subject, indeed, to the restraints of the
navigation law, which, however, — partially enforced as it
was, — allowed a considerable scope to the commercial enter
prise of our citizens. Our fisheries were the wonder of
Europe ; our trade in lumber and naval stores important.'
Our agriculture was, in some branches, even the object of
bounty on the part of private associations and of the crown.
Liberal premiums were awarded for the exportation to Eng
land of sflk, indigo, and other southern staples. The culti
vation of tobacco was forbidden in England, by highly penal
enactments, for the sake of securing a monopoly of that
article to the southern eolonies.f It was against the manu
facturing and mechanical arts of the Northern and Middle
* See note B, at the end. f See note C, at the end.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 95
States that the decree went forth. These were proscribed
from the outset.
The present manufacturing system of the United States
may be considered, pai-tly as the result of the revenue laws
of 1789, which remained without essential changes till the
embargo of 1807, and partly as the effect of that and the
other restrictive measures, and of the war which followed
them. Those branches of industry, which are commonly
called the mechanic arts, received, for the most part, though
not without exception, an ample protection under the former
laws : manufactures on a large scale, requiring great capital
and skill, ow6d their existence to the total interruption of
commerce. In the combined result, a very large amount of
American capital was, at the- peace of 1815, found invested
in manufactures. It was the prevalent opinion of the states
men of that day, and those of the south among the foremost,
that this capital ought to be protected ; and the success which
had attended some of the manufactures, on a large scale, had
produced some change in the public opinion, as to the capaci
ty of the country to support them. At this period, however,
and for several years after, it is well known that the current
of opinion ran strongly against the protection of manufac
tures, by high duties, in the commercial parts of the Union.
By slow degrees, the manufacturing system has won its way
to greatly increased favor, even in those parts of the country
where our commerce principally centres.
The question, both as one of principle and fact, is better
understood by the lights of experience. It is now recol
lected, that our navigation, at the moment of its extreme
depression, was raised up under a system of protecting duties.
The obligation of protecting capital, invested under the
pledge of the public faith, against foreign legislation and the
ruinous fluctuations of the foreign market, is felt. Every
evil predicted as likely or certain to follow from the manu
facturing system has failed td take place. High prices were
foretold. The acquisition of skfll, and the perfection of
machinery, have enabled the manufacturer to afford his fab
rics at greatly reduced, but not unprofitable, prices. A defal-

96 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
cation of the revenue was predicted. The revenue, instead
of falling off, has steadfly sustained itself; and instead of
being obliged to resort to direct taxes, which it was supposed,
as late as 1824, both by friend and foe, we should have to do,
we are now threatened with a national crisis, proceeding from
an overflowing treasury. Our manufacturing establishments,
instead of proving seminaries of vice, as was apprehended,
are honorably distinguished for order and morality, as I know
from my own observation of the largest in the United States.
It was said that the grass would grow up between the pavuig
stones of our principal commercial cities. It is not so in
Boston. You best know how it is in Pearl' Street, Wall
Street, and Broadway. Our commerce and navigation have
suffered no diminution. Our ship-yards are in a state of. the
most profitable activity ; our coasting trade and internal com
merce have greatly increased, and a general prosperity per
vades the country.
One drawback only, and that much to be regretted, exists
to the general satisfaction which this state of things is calcu
lated to inspire ; I allude, of course, to the dissatisfaction
pervading a portion of the planting states, in which the laws
passed for the protection of American industry are deemed
unconstitutional, and severely oppressive upon their interests.
I certainly shall not at this hour engage in a constitutional
argument ; but I may observe that, under a written constitu
tion of government, almost every measure is likely to be
represented, by its opponents, as unconstitutional. Few
prominent measures of the government, from its organization,
have failed to be so considered, by those opposed to them.
The funding system and the assumption of the state debts ;
the Bank of the United States ; the British treaty ; the alien
and sedition laws ; the purchase of Louisiana ; the embargo ;
the use of the mflitia in time of war ; the system of internal
improvements ; the provisions of the judiciary act ; and the
protection of manufactures, have been successively opposed
as unconstitutional. It is, however, an important fact, that
this last measure — the protection of manufactures — has but
of late years been opposed, on that ground. By the first Con-

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 97
gress, and many succeeding Congresses, I have proved above
that it was not so regarded ; and I have already attempted
to show that, but for the firm belief and ardent hope that
the federal constitution would protect and encourage the
manufactures of the United States,\it would never have been
adopted. With the opinion, however, which now prevails at the
south, that the application of the revenue system to the en
couragement of manufactures is unconstitutional, it is natural
that it should be viewed with particular hostility, as the
supposed cause of the depression that exists in a portion of
the south. That it is not the real cause of this depression,
I firmly believe ; and such is asserted to be the fact by some
of the most intelligent citizens of the Southern States. But
it would be gratifying to find reasons to believe, that, as a
whole, the planting interest in the country is not excluded
from a participation in its general prosperity ; and such, I am
strongly inclined to believe, as well as hope, is the fact.
Such is certainly the inference which we should draw from
the last census. The state of Louisiana, whose industry is
divided between the great staples of cotton and sugar,* regards
the present modification of the revenue system as the source
of her prosperity, and has lately been asserted by the best
authority to be in a very prosperous condition. Georgia has,
within a year or two, been declared, on equal authority, to
be in a state of almost unexampled prosperity. The state of
Tennessee has within a few days been pronounced, by her
chief magistrate, in a condition of "eminent prosperity."
" At no former period," says he, " has the general welfare of
our citizens been more obvious and satisfactory." The de
pression which for some years has fallen upon the staple of
cotton, has not, it is believed, extended to that of rice ; a
proof, as it would seem, that it cannot be the effect of the
tariff, which would operate on rice as unfavorably as on cot
ton ; and even th^ culture of cotton itself, low as the price
• What would be the effect on the cotton-planting interest, if, by a
repeal of the tariff, the capital and labor employed on sugar should be
turned into cotton?
VOL. II. 13

98 AMERICAN MANUFACTURES.
has sunk, there is good reason to think, is stfll, with thrift
and economy, a profitable branch of industry.*
But it is high time to draw these reflections to a close;
which I cannot do, without reverting to the agreeable occa
sion which has called us together. If any one had before
doubted of the efficacy of a system of legislative protection,
it would seem that he might be convinced, by this display
of the perfection of the American arts, not one of which, in
some stages of its progress, could have sustained itself against
the competition of Europe. And should any political catas
trophe, now inconceivable, replace the state of things which
existed before the revolution, the consequences of such a
downfall would be chiefly visited on this healthful industry
and these productive arts. In that calamitous event, the cul
ture of our southern staples would again, if necessary, be
stimulated by premiums and bounties. Our fisheries would
be encouraged, as a nursery of seamen for the navies of the
mother country. Our navigation would again be allowed to
roam, discontented and daring, between the Antflles and
Cape Finisterre ; whfle the iron arm of the colonial system
would fall on our mechanics and manufacturers. The hum of
business in our workshops would cease ; the tilt-hammer
and the furnace — where you are daily forging the mute
giants which Labor has harnessed to her cars — would be
broken down as nuisances ; the walls of our capacious facto
ries be left tenantless to crumble ; and the soil of the villages
which support them, and which they support, — Iflce the soil
of captured Jerusalem, — would be turned with the plough
share, and sowed with salt.
Every part of the country would, of course, be involved
in the wide-spread ruin ; but none so soon, and none so utter
ly, as this magnificent metropolis, — this vast centre of the
commerce, the manufactures, and the agriculture of the
country, — this mighty heart, where the great pulses of its
industry beat, — to which the life blood of two thhds of the
Union flows up by a thousand channels, to be again propelled
* See note D, at the end.

AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 99
to the farthest villages in the west. New York was not
always what it is now. The revolution found your city
small, and almost stationary. The return of peace cut off
the only existing resource, that of the subsistence of the
forces of the enemy, which occupied it. The influx of for
eign fabrics, and the navigation laws of Europe, confirmed
its depression. The mechanics and manufacturers of New
York grasped at a general government with the eagerness of
desperation. In the federal and state conventions, which
framed and adopted the constitution, they were heard by one
of the most persuasive voices that ever spoke through the lips
of man — the voice of the illustrious Hamilton, the first great
champion of American manufactures. With the adoption of
the constitution, the breath of life was breathed into the in
dustry of New York ; and we have beheld her since, with
equal pride and admiration, starting up, with a new principle
of existence, and making but one bound to the throne of the
western commercial world. There may she long sit — firm,
enlightened, and liberal ; not forgetting, in the season of
her wealth and power, the arts by which her infancy was
nourished.

NOTES.

Note A, p. 88.
" Our manufactures are another great subject, which has received no en
couragement by national duties on foreign manufactures, and they never ean
by any authority in the old confederation. The very face of our country leads
to manufactures. Our numerous falls of water and places for mUls, where
paper, snuff, gunpowder, iron works, and numerous other articles, are pre
pared, these wUl save us immense sums of money, that would otherwise go
to Europe. The question is, Have these been encouraged J Has Congress
been able, by national laws, to prevent the importation of such foreign com
modities, as are made from such raw materials as we ourselves raise ? It is
aUeged that the citizens of the United States have contracted debts, within
the last three years, ¦with the subjects of Great Britain, for the amount of near
six miUions of doUars, and that consequently our lands are mortgaged for that
sum. So Corsica was once mortgaged to the Genoese merchants for articles
which her inhabitants did not want, or which they could have made for
themselves ; and she was afterwards sold to a foreign power. If we wish to
encourage our own manufactures, to preserve our own commerce, to raise the
value of our lands, we must give Congress the powers in question." — Judge
Dawes's Speech in the Massachusetts Convention, which adopted the Constitution.
Elliot's Debates, Vol. I. p. 76.

Note B, p. 94.
The cotton saw gin is thus mentioned in the Report of a committee of
the House of Representatives, at the first session of the 12th Congress,
Junel2, 1812: —
" We need not abandon our country to seek for examples, where a nation
has been benefited and enriched by the genius of her citizens. "We could
specify many instances of the kind. On this occasion, however, we will con
tent ourselves with a consideration of that of Mr EU Whitney, a native of
the state of Massachusetts. It is to his cotton gin that many of the United
States owe their wealth and comforts ; and but for this, or some equivalent
instrument, poverty, barrenness, and waste would infest an extensive and val
uable portion of the country. The opimon of Judge Johnson, an inhabitant
of South Carolina, is too appropriate to be omitted. In deciding the case
(100)

NOTES. 101
of Whitney vs Carter, he proceeded : ' With regard to the utiUty of this dis
covery, the court ¦would deem it a waste of time to dweU long upon this topic.
Is there a man who hears us, that has not experienced its utility ? The whole
interior of the Southem States was languishing, and its inhabitants emigrating,
for want of some object to engage their attention and employ their industry,
when the invention of this machine at once opened views to them which set
the whole country in active motion. From chUdhood to age, it has presented
us a lucrative employment. Individuals, who were depressed with poverty
and sunk in idleness, have suddenly risen to wealth and respectabUity. Our
debts have been paid off; our capitals increased, and our lands trebled in
value. We cannot express the weight of obUgatiou which the country owes
to this invention ; the extent of it cannot now be seen.' "

Note C, p. 94
" The growth of one colonial staple in Britain was, it seems, dreaded with
more appearance of reason, by the friends of the colonists. The ciUtivation
of tobacco was rapidly increasing ; and lest the planters of Maryland and Vir
ginia might be forced to turn their industry &om this to some other employ
ment, the statute 15 Car. II. c. 7, commonly called the Navigation Act, con
firmed and increased the penalties which had beeu imposed upon this culture
by 12 Csir. II. c. 24. In spite of the tax of £10 per rood, the trade of tobacco
planting was found to be sufficiently profitable. So the legislature, in order
to show clearly that the law was intended to be prohibitory, and not fiscal,
gave the justices of the peace 'power to pluck up and utterly destroy aU
tobacco planted in England and Ireland,' by 22 and 23 Car. II. u. 26." —
Brougham's Colonial Policy, Vol. I. p. 242.

Note D, p. 98.
Confirmation of the opinion expressed in the text may be found in the
following authorities : —
1. "And what, sir, is the oppression we feel? As far as I can judge, we
are more prosperous and happy than any other nation on earth. We are at
peace with aU the world. Our commerce, we are told by our own governor,
(Governor HamUton,) is increasing ; ' that old channels have been widened, aud
new ones opened to our trade.' TThe planter procures for his cotton the Liver
pool prices, after deducting costs and charges. Our great staples are as high
as they were prior to the tariff law of 1824. The most deluded do not pre
tend that the Liverpool market has been affected by our tariff." — Speech of
Hon. D. E. Huger, in the House of Representatives of South Carolina, in Decem
ber, 1830.
2. " There is at this time an uncommon degree of prosperity in our country.
Wherever I have been, throughout the Northem, Middle, and Westem States,
labor, capital, and skUl are now employed with the greatest activity and enter
prise in all the channels of industry. Every where we meet the external and
visible signs of the influence they diffuse. It affords me great pleasure to be

102 NOTES.
able to congratulate you on the condition of our own state. I speak partie*
ulariy now bf the cotton region of Louisiana.
" We have suffered a great depression in the price of our staple ; one of the
most extraordinary revolutions of property, and one of the severest trials.
Within a short period, cotton has faUeu to one third of its former price, — yet
you have sustained the shock. There has been, in consequence of your fore
sight and prudence, no distress or sacrifice ; your fortunes have steadily ad
vanced, capital is stUl productive, property in demand, money abundant, and
credit and confidence unlimited.
" I am much surprised at this, after having heard and read so much of the
distress in the Southem States. How is this, that two countries very similar, unth
like productions, with the same people, and living under the same laws, present such
different results f Have we a kinder soil, a more genial sun, greater enterprise,
or more industry, or more economy ? They have indeed some advantages ;
they are nearer the markets, nearer the sources of supply, labor cheaper, and
the price of the staple article higher by the difference of freight. How is it
that they are sinking in utter and irretrievable ruin, while we [in Louisiana] are in
a comparatively flourishing condition t
" The depression iu the south has been ascribed to the operation of the
tariff ; but those laws act equaUy upon us ; aud we cannot comprehend how
they exert the mysterious and extraordinary influence attributed to them.
The decUiie in the price was for a time imputed to the tariff. It was supposed
to be effected by some indirect means, beyond the reach of common observa
tion. But this, I beUeve, is now abandoned. It is known that the price feU
¦with the increasing production : it was the excess of supply pressing on the
demand for consumption ; it was the natural effect of a redundant market.
" We have heard also of a new theory, by which it is maintained that the
producers, and not the consumers, pay aU the duties, and that therefore the
cotton interest is taxed with two thirds of all the revenue ! This struck us
at first by its boldness and originality. It had the merit of being a cause
which, if true in principle, would adequately account for all the evils, whether
real or imaginEtry, ascribed to the tariff; but the fact not being true, the theory
has been exploded ; and we have returned to the old opinion, that in reaUty
the consumer, whoever he is, aud wherever he may be, pays all the duties
levied upon all the articles he buys, and that therefore they fall very equaUy
upon all ; and consequently the duties of twenty raUUons, paid to the govern
ment, are levied upon all the people, and drawn irom. aU the labor of the
country, amounting to many hundred mUUons ; and not upon the mere pro
ducers of the articles that enter into foreign commerce, which do not exceed
sixty mUlions.
"But it has been said, the tariff is most unjust and oppressive, and is pro
ducing the most fatal effects upon the south. Let us see how this stands with
us. The price of cotton has faUen ; but so has every thing else, and from the
same cause. The taxes are necessarUy high, to de&ay the expenses of gov
ernment, and discharge a heavy pubUo debt ; but then aU contribute accord
ing to their means.
" In regard to ourselves, we know that the whole expenses of our planta
tions do not exceed one third of the value of the crops ; that is, less than
three cents a pound, and that the residue is profit upon the capital employed.
Th^t half of this amount of ex-pe^es is for articles made in the United States, and

NOTES. 103
not included in the tariff, and not in any way affected by ii. The other half is
composed of articles that are embraced by it, and furnish a fair example of
the general operation of those laws. The whole of them have fallen, since
the tariff of 1824, from 25 to 50 per centum in value ; some of them, especiaUy
cotton goods, are cheaper than in England, and fairly compete with thera. Oth
ers, such as cotton bagging, which constitutes a considerable item of expense, is now
made in the Westem States, of a quality superior io the foreign, at sixteen cents, and
to which it is reduced by our own competition. This article, together with the cord
age, is now so low that it fully Reimburses the planter, by the weight, for aU
the cost. Upon the remainder of the articles we may perhaps pay 25 per
centum; but the prices are continually faUing. We must contribute our quota
to the government in some form ; could we expect to pay less upon the
amount of our property or our revenue, or could we pay it in a more conve
nient form ? Or can we complain when we look to the protection ii affords, and
the effect of that security upon tlie value of our labor and our property f Besides,
in the present regulated state, we are secure &om great fluctuations, as the
market is weU suppUed, at a fair and steady price, which wiU not be mate
riaUy affected during a war." — Speech of the Hon. J. S. Johnston, Senator of
the United States from Louisiana.
3. " In casting a glance at the present condition of our state, it is gratify
ing to observe its eminent prosperity. The rapidity of its recent growth, the
important relative position it has attained among its sister states, the fertUity
of its soil, and the industry and enterprise of its citizens, afford abundant
cause for grateful reflection and mutual congratulation, At no former period
has the general weKare of our citizens been more obvious and satisfactory.
With a rich profusion of the necessaries and comforts of life, the hand of
labor is now uniformly rewarded with an adequate return. Poverty and dis
tress are unknown, except as the result of indolence or crime, or of some
pecuUar casualty, from the effects of which relief is almost instantly attaina
ble." — Message of Governor Carroll to ihe Legislature of Tennessee, 19th Sep
tember, 1831.
4. " An inteUigent citizen of Charleston, who has had considerable oppor
tunities of- ascertaining the real situation of the state, and has made minute
inquiries on the subject, ¦writes me as foUows : —
" 'The distress, said to be prevalent in South CaroUna, has, as far as I can
leam, been very much exaggerated, and the opinions expressed by several
highly respectable gentlemen, with whom I have conversed on the subject,
would induce a belief that it does not exist to any great extent. The planters
in the upper section of the state, by pursuing a wise system of economy, have,
I am informed, got out of debt, and are thriving and prosperous ; and although
in what is termed the low country, appearances are not quite so flattering, ihis
has been occasioned by circumstatices wholly unconnected unth ihe tariff.' " • — New
OUve Branch, No. XXV. New Series, No. XUI.
The governor of South Carolina, in a speech to " the State Rights and
Free Trade Association," on the 1st of August of the present year, names
a gentleman in South Carolina, " whose patrimonial wealth has been vastly
augmented by his own improvements in the culture of one of our staples, the
results of which have proved a common benefit to us all."

104

NOTES.

5. As far as the relative increase of the population in the different parts
of the country is a test of then: comparative prosperity, the following table
shows that there is no foundation for the opimon, that the Northem and
Middle States are "fattening on the spoils" of the Southern.

INCREASE PER CENT. OF THE POPULATION OP THE DIFFERENT
STATES FROM 1820 TO 1830. 15.657
, 61.47222.056
, 62.04461.998
132.087 81.033
185.403 40.665
110.380 141.574
250.001 113.273

Maine .

33.898

South Carolina

New Hampshire

. 10.391

Georgia

Massachusetts

16,575

Kentucky

Rhode Island .

. 17.157

Tennessee .

Connecticut .

8.161

Ohio .

Vermont .

.- 19.005

Indiana

New York .

39,386

Mississippi .

New Jersey

. 15.563

Illinois

Pennsylvania

28.416

Louisiana

Delaware .

. 5.487

Missouri .

Maryland

9.712

Alabama

District of Columbia

. 20.639

Michigan .

Virginia

13.069

Arkansas

North CaroUna .

. 15.692

Florida

Average per c

entum

.

32.392.

Note E, p. 89.
The following is the memorial from Baltimore, referred to page 98, and
being the first memorial presented to Congress, under the new constitution,
I have thought it worth copying in extenso: —
" To the President and Congress of ihe United States, the Petition of the Trades
men, Mechanics, and others, of ihe Town of Baltimore, humbly showeih, —
" That since the close of the late war, and the completion of the revolution,
your petitioners have observed, with serious regret, the manufacturing and
trading interests of the country rapidly decUning, whUe the wealth of the
people hath been prodigally expended in the purchase of those articles, from
foreigners, which our citizens, if properly encouraged, were fuUy competent
to furnish.
" To check this growing evU, applications were made, by petitions, to some
of the state legislatures : these guardians of the people in several of the
states interposed their authority ; laws were by them enacted, with the view
of subduing, or at least diminishing, the rage for foreign, and of encouraging
domestic manufactures ; but the event hath clearly demonstrated, to aU ranks
oi men, that no effectual provision could reasonably be expected, untU one
^miojrca. efficient government should pervade this wide- extended country.
"f^he happy period having now arrived when the United States are placed.,
in a n^w situation ; when the adoption of the general government gives one
soverejga legislature the sole and exclusive power of laying duties upon im
ports,; your petitioners rejoice at the prospect this affords them, and America,

NOTES. 105
freed from the commercial shackles which have so long bound her, will see
and pursue her true interest, becoming independent in fact as weU as in
name ; and they confidently hope that the encouragement and protection of
American manufactures wiU claim the earliest attention of the supreme legis
lature of the nation ; as it is a universaUy acknowledged truth, that the
United States contain within their Umits resources amply sufficient to enable
them to become a great manufacturing country, and only want the patronage
and support of a wise, energetic government.
"Your petitioners conceive it unnecessary to multiply arguments to so
enUghtened a body as the one they have now the honor of addressing, to
convince them of the propriety and importance of attending to measures so
obviously necessary, and indeed indispensable, as every member must have
observed and lamented the present melancholy state of his country ; the num
ber of her poor increasing for want of employment ; foreign debts accumulating;
houses and lands depreciating in value ; trade and manufactures languishing
and expiring. This being ti faint sketch of the gloomy picture this country ex
hibits, it is to the supreme legislature of the United States, as the guardians
of the whole empire, that every eye is now directed ; from their united wisdom,
their patriotism, their ardent love of their country, your petitioners expect to
derive that aid and assistance which alone can dissipate their just apprehen
sions, and animate them -with hopes of success in future, by imposing on aU
foreign articles, which can be made in America, such duties as wUl give a
just and decided preference to their labors, and thereby discountenancing that
trade which tends so materiaUy to injure them, and impoverish their country ;
and which may, also, in their consequences, contribute to the discharge of
the national debt, and the due support of govemment.
" Your petitioners take the Uberty to annex a Ust of such articles as are, or
can be, manufactured in this place on moderate terms ; and they humbly
trust that you will fuUy consider their request, and grant them, in common
-with the other mechanics and manufacturers of the United States, that relief
which, in your -wisdom, may appear proper."
Here follows, in the original, a list of articles manufactured in the city
of Baltimore and state of Maryland, which it does not seem necessary to
copy. Just one week after the above petition, another was presented to Congress
from citizens of New York, from which the following is extracted : —
"Your petitioners conceive that their countrymen have been deluded by an
appearance of plenty ; by the profusion of foreign articles which has deluged
the country ; and thus have mistaken excessive importation for a flourishing
trade. To this deception they impute a continuance of that immoderate pre
possession in favor of foreign commodities, which has been the principal
cause of their distresses, and the subject of their complaint.
" Wearied by their fruitless exertions, your petitioners have long looked
forward -with anxiety for the establishment of a government which would
have power to check the growing evil, and extend a protecting hand to the
interests of commerce and the arts. Such a government is now estabhshed.
On the promulgation of the constitution just now commencing its operations,
VOL. II. 14

106 NOTES.
your petitioners discovered in its principles the remedy which they had so
long and so eamestly desired. They embraced it with ardor, and have sup
ported it with persevering attachment. They view with the highest satisfac
tion the prospects now opening and adorning this auspicious period. To
your honorable body the mechanics and manufacturers of New York look up
with confidence, convinced that, as the united voice of America has fiir-
nished you with the means, so your knowledge of the common wants has
given you the spirit to unbind our fetters, and rescue our coimtry fi:om dis
grace and ruin."
A few days afterwards, another petition was presented from the inhab
itants of Boston, of which the following is an extract : —
" Your petitioners need not inform Congress that on the revival of our
mechanical arts and manufactures depend the wealth and prosperity of the
Northern States ; nor can we forbear mentioning to your honors that the cit
izens of these states conceive the object of their independence but half
obtained tiU those national purposes are estabhshed on a permanent and
exteiisive basis by the legislative acts of the federal govemment. Unless
these important branches are supported, we humbly conceive that our agri-
ciUture must greatly decUne, as the impoverished state of our seaports wUl
eventuaUy lessen the demand for the produce of our lands.
"Your petitioners formerly experienced the patronage of this state legisla
ture, in their act laying duties and prohibitions on certain articles of manu
facture, which encourages your petitioners to request that heavy duties may
be laid on such articles as are manufactured by our own citizens, humbly
conceiving that the impost is not solely considered by Congress as an object
of revenue, but, in its operation, intended to exclude such importations, and,
ultimately, estabUsh these several branches of manufacture among our
selves,"

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.*

The Massachusetts Historical Society was founded in the
year 1791. Its declared objects were the "preservation of
books, pamphlets, manuscripts, and records containing his
torical facts, biographical anecdotes, temporary projects, and
beneficial speculations, conducing to mark the genius, deline
ate the manners, and trace the progress of society in the
United States," and " the collection of observations and
descriptions in natural history and topography, together with
specimens of natural and artificial curiosities, and a selection
of every thing which can improve and promote the historical
knowledge of our country, either in a physical or political
point of view." The number of resident members was at
first limited to thirty; but it has since been extended to
sixty. In 1794, the society received an act of incorporation
from the legislature of the commonwealth.
In pursuance of the designs of its foundation, the society
immediately applied itself to the collection of a library and
of a cabinet of natural history, and of objects of art, illus
trative of the history and antiquities of the country. For
two years after the formation of the society, it held its meet-

* A Lecture delivered before the Massachusetts Historical Society on
the 21st of October, 1833 ; now first published.
For a full and satisfactory account of the Historical Society, see the
accurate memoir of Rev. Dr WiUiam Jenks, in the seventh volume of the
third series of the Collections. See also, for much information on the
history of the society, and a very instructive and eloquent commentary
upon its labors and objects, a discourse on the semi-centennial anniversary
of the incorporation, delivered by Mr John G. Palfrey, 31st October,
1844, Collections, Vol. EX. p. 165, Third Series.
(107)

108 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
ings in the office of Judge Minot, (one of its most active
founders,) in Spring Lane, in Boston, and afterwards succes
sively in an upper room in Faneuil Hall, and in an apartment
of what was originally the " Factory," a large building, situ
ated in what is now called Hamilton Place, and at that time
in the occupation of the Massachusetts Bank. After the
erection of Franklin Place, the upper hall over the archway
was liberally placed at the disposal of the society, and there
its library and collections were deposited, and its meetings
held till the last year, when it obtained a permanent and
much more eligible location in the second story of the bufld
ing lately erected by the Savings Bank.
The library contains a collection, not very large, but of
great value, of books, manuscripts, and newspapers. Very
important materials, both for our early and revolutionary
history, are to be found upon its shelves ; and, during the
period of forty years since it commenced its operations, it
has unquestionably rescued from destruction no small portion
of the valuable papers now in its possession. It is the ardent
desire of the society to make it more and more a rich reposi
tory of authentic original materials for the history of the
country ; and it earnestly invites all those who have materials
of that description in their hands to confide them to its care.
In the archives of a public institution they are likely to
escape many of the dangers to which private collections are
exposed, and they may be rendered available to students of
history far more conveniently than while they remain the
property of individuals.
At the close of the revolutionary war, there was a strong
impression upon the minds of many of the intelligent and
public-spirited individuals of that day, that special efforts
ought to be made to acquire and diffuse a knowledge of the
natural history of the country, which had just been intro
duced as a new member into the family of nations. This
object was deemed so important by the elder President
Adams, that he proposed, as an amendment to the draft of
the constitution of the state, a section which, among other
things, makes it the duty " of legislatures and magistrates, in

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 109
all future periods of this commonwealth," to encourage pri
vate societies emd public institutions for the promotion of
" agriculture, arts, sciences, commerce, trades, manufactures,
and a natural history of the country." So much importance
was attached to this amendment by President Adams, that, in
a letter written in the latter part of his life, he expressed the
wish that it might be placed upon his monument as an
epitaph. It was no doubt in conformity with the same
prevalent feeling, that the founders of the Historical Society,
of whom President Adams was one, made provision for the
department of natural history as one of the objects of the
society. It was of course soon found, by experience, that
there is no close connection between the political and the
natured history of the country ; and the latter branch of
inquiry has not been cultivated by the members of the
society as such.
In order to diffuse the knowledge of the materials collected
for. the history of the country, and to put them effectually
beyond the reach of accident, the society, on its first estab
lishment, commenced the publication of a monthly historical
magazine, which, however, was soon changed, in its form,
to that of a volume, appearing at irregular intervals, but
avereiging, from the commencement of the series, more than
a volume every two years. Of this publication, twenty-three
volumes have appeared.* Their contents are of a miscella
neous character, — historical, biographical, and topographical,
— fllustrative of the history, both of the aborigines and
civflized inhabitants of the country, from the earliest periods
to the present time. They contain a great amount and
variety of materials of much value, and they are absolutely
indispensable to the student of American history. I regret
to add, that this unassuming and highly meritorious publica
tion has received little or no patronage from the general read
ing community.
Among the members of the society, who have passed from
• The thirtieth volume was published in the course of the past year
(1849.1

110 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
the stage, there are severed who have, in separate publications,
made important contributions to the history of the country.
President Adams's Defence of the American Constitutions,
published before the formation of the society, is one of the
most important of the works connected with the political
history of the United States. Governor Sullivan wrote a
valuable History of Maine, and offered it to the public " as a
testimonial of his ardent desire that the Historical Society "
(of which he was an original member) " might fulfil the
objects of its institution." Judge Minot published two inter
esting volumes of a continuation of the History of Massachu
setts, the first of which appeared in 1798, the last not till
after his decease in 1802. He also wrote a history of Shays'
insurrection. Dr John Eliot, besides numerous contributions
to the society's Collections, has left a permanent memorial of
his researches in local history, in the "Biographical Dictionary
of New England. From the elegant pen of Mr Wflliam
Tudor, the founder of the North American Review, we have
a very valuable Life of James Otis, in addition to other pro
ductions of historical interest. But I presume that, among
the deceased members of the society, who have distinguished
themselves as writers of history, the first place will, by gen
eral consent, be awarded to Dr Jeremy Belknap, one of the
most efficient of the founders of the society, its first secretary,
and, for a long time, one of the most diligent contributors to
its Collections. Besides the American Biography, and other
smaller works, the History of New Hampshire, by this
amiable, intelligent, and patriotic writer, is inferior to none
of our local histories.
It would be, for obvious reasons of delicacy, improper to
comment upon the works of living members of the society.
I cannot, however, forbear to allude to the American Annals
of the Rev. Dr Holmes, (of which the first edition appeared
in 1805, and a second in 1829, and which had, in the interval,
been reprinted in England;) to the edition of Winthrop's
Journal, by Mr James Savage; of Morton's Memorial, by
Tudge Davis ; of Prince's Chronology, by Mr Nathan Hale ;

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. Ill
and to several important works, connected with the history
of the country, by Mr Jared Sparks.*
With a view to promote the original objects of the institu
tion, £md in the hope of doing something to gratify the pre
vailing taste for the study of our local history, the society
has undertaken the experiment of a course of lectures, to be
delivered by its members the ensuing season. The nature
of the case excludes any attempt at unity of plan, except
that the lectures will have for a common object the history
and antiquities of the country. We make the attempt
from a sense of duty, as members of a society consecrated
by its institution to the preservation and transmission of the
memory of the past. We do it in the feeling that the fond
ness for this kind of knowledge rests in some of the best and
deepest of our moral sentiments. There is no man of any
cultivation who does not take some interest in what was
done by his forefathers ; who does not desire to obtain some
knowledge of what took place in former times, on the spot
where he was born ; and to trace the fortunes of the race to
which he belongs, and of the races which preceded it, and
with which his own is in any way connected. This feeling
is not the exclusive growth of civilized life. The aboriginal
tribes of our continent, who have no monuments to guide
their minds in looking back to the history of the past, — to
give precision and life to their recollections, — manifest a
strong attachment to the spot where they and their ancestors
have for generations been seated, though it is but an opening
in the woods, or a carrying place round the falls of a river.
All their rude learning, if it can claim that title, consists of
vague traditions of the tribe ; and where some progress has
been made towards a written record, as in the historical paint
ings of the Aztecs, simflar traditions are almost the only
thing attempted to be thus embodied in a sensible form.
This interest in- the lives, characters, and exploits of our
smcestors forms no small part of the sentiment of patriotism.
It is natural, generous, and unselfish. It is not only pardon-
* See note at the end.

112 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
able, but it is our duty to indulge it. We should defraud the
good men of other times of the best part of their reward,
and we should thus take away one of the strongest incentives
to good conduct, if we did not, on every suitable occasion,
take a pride and a pleasure in commemorating them. If we
neglect this duty, we war against the strong instinct of our
nature, to which I have alluded, and which is the great
moral compensation for contemporary prejudice and injustice.
Horace has but enunciated a law of human societies, when
he tells us that the legendary heroes of Rome and of Greece
"Ploravere suis non respondere favorem
Speratum meritis."
But time and a dutiful posterity redress the wrong. Ex-
tinctus amabitur. There is no jealousy nor envy in death.
In fact, nothing but time can fully develop all the value of
great deeds, and unfold the strength of great characters. The
interest of events which have come to pass in any quarter, in
one generation, depends much upon the consequences that
may flow from them on the same spot in after times. An
illustrious posterity throws its light backward upon small
beginnings, and makes them significant and honorable. The
sea-beaten rock of 1620 becomes, in two centuries, an altar
of patriotic Avorship.
This attachment and veneration for the past is a very im
portant element in the life and fortunes of a people. The
last few years have witnessed a most striking example of its
practical influence in the world. We behold even now, in
progress, the organization of a civilized and Christian gov
ernment in Greece. This part of Europe had been, for four
centuries, surrendered to the yoke of a semi-barbarous des
potism ; a political slavery of the most degrading and intoler
able character. Within the last ten years that yoke has been
broken. The Greeks, by the simple force of this patriotic
enthusiasm, encouraged and sustained by the sympathy of
the civflized nations of the world, — a sympathy resting
itself on no other foundation than the recollections of the
glorious past, — raised up a more successful opposition to the

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 113
Ottoman power than the colossal empire of Russia had done
for a century ; and has succeeded at last in compelling the
great powers of Europe, somewhat against their own will,
and notwithstanding the most deplorable misconduct and
imprudences on the part of the Greeks themselves, to estab
lish a constitutional government in Greece, under a Christian
prince. But it would take me far from the object of this address to
extend these remarks into a dissertation on- the importance
and reasonableness of what may be called the historical sen
timent. My only wish in making them is to throw out a
passing justification of the zeal with which our local history
has been cultivated for the last generation ; and to intimate
an apology beforehand for what I fear you will think the
somewhat insignificant character of some of the topics of
the present lecture, the remainder of which will be devoted
to some miscellaneous anecdotes of our early history.
The name given to our native state by the founders of the
colony — Massachusetts Bay — is worthy a few moments'
consideration. The. first company of emigrants to New
England — the founders of Plymouth — landed, it is true, in
what we should call Massachusetts Bay; but th^ name at
that time was taken in a narrower, though rather indefinite,
application. Captain John Smith, whose romantic adven
tures form so interesting a chapter in the early history of the
country, had passed along the north-eastern coast in 1614,
and learned the names given by the Indians to some impor
tant tracts of country and conspicuous objects along the
shore. But in preparing maps of the coast for the published
account of his voyage, as far as New England is concerned,
he drew upon his own taste and fancy. Of Indian names I
think there axe none. Some of the names proposed Tby Smith
were highly grotesque. Cape Ann received from hira the
rather unmusical name of Cape Tragabigsanda, in honor of
a Turkish lady to whom the gallant captain, having been
taken prisoner of war, had been sold, and under whom he
half intimates his slavery passed into a "captivity of a gentler
VOL. II. 15

114 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
kind. Prince Charles changed this uncouth name into Cape
Anna, in honor of his mother.
Of that part of the coast which was occupied by the
Indians, called the Massachusetts, Captain Smith thus speaks :
" The country of the Massachusits, which is the paradice of
all those parts, for here are many fles planted with corne,
groues, mulberries, salvage gardens, and good harbors ; the
coast is, for the most part, high clayie sandy clifts ; the sea--
coast, as you pass, shews you all a lorig, large corne fields,
and great troupes of well-proportioned people." * In 1621,
the company established the year before, at Plymouth, was
Edarmed at some reports of hostilities meditated against them
by the Massachusetts Indians, and sent up a party to explore
the bay. They came to anchor, it is supposed, at the foot
of Copps' Hfll, in Boston, and were so much pleased with
the appearance of the country, that Governor Bradford closes
his account of the expedition with the remark, " They came
safely home before noon the day following, with a consider
able quantity of beaver, and a good report of the place, wish
ing we had been seated there." f In a year or two afterwards,
a commencement was made of a settlement in this region ;
and when the next great effort took place for the establish
ment of a colony in this part of America, Massachusetts
Bat was selected for its site.J
This name was derived from the tribe of Indians which
occupied the shores of the inner bay. They were one of the
five prmcipal tribes found by the English in that portion of
the continent which lies east of Connecticut River, and south
of the Merrunack. These five tribes were the Pequots, the
Narragansetts, the Pokanokets, the Massachusetts, and the
Pawtuckets. The ancient historian of the Indians, Gookin,
describes the Massachusetts in the following terms : 
* Smith's General History, Vol. IL p. 194, Richmond Ed.
t Prince's Chronology, Hale's edition, p. 198.
X See, in the first volume of this collection, the Address delivered in
commemoration of Governor Winthrop's landing, on the subject of the
Massachusetts generaUy. See Drake's Book of the Indians, Book XL chap-
tor iL and iiL

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 116
" The Massachusetts being the next great people northward, inhabited
principally about that place in Massachusetts Bay, where the body of the
English now- dwell. These were a numerous and great people. Their
chief sachem held dominion over many other pe.tty governors, as those of
Wessagussett, (Weymouth,) Neponset, (Quincy,) Punkapog, (Stoughton,)
Nonantumjj|Newton,) Nashua, (Lancaster,) and some of tiie Nipmuck peo
ple, as far as Pokomtacook, (Deerfield,) as the old men of Massachusetts
affirmed. This people could in former times arm for war about three thou
sand men, as the old Indians declare. In anno 1612 and 1613, these people
were also sorely smitten by the hand of God with the same disease before
mentioned, which destroyed the most of them, and made room for the Eng
lish people of Massachusetts colony, which people this country and the
next, caUed Pa-wtticket There are not of this people left Ms day above
three hundred men besides women and children." *
The epidemic which nroved so destructive to the Massa
chusetts Indians, and not less so to the Pokanokets and Paw
tuckets, was naturally regarded by our pious forefathers as a
providential preparation for their arrival. " Thereby," says
the venerable historian of the Indians just cited, ."divine
Providence made way for the quiet and peaceable settlement
of the English in these nations. What this disease was which
so generally and mortally swept away not only these, but
other Indians, their neighbors, I cannot well learn. Doubt
less it was some pestilential disease. I have discoursed with
some old Indiems that were then youths, who say that the
bodies all over were exceedingly yellow (describing it by a
yellow garment they shewed me) both before they died and
afterwards." This account may deserve consideration, in
reference to the controverted question concerning the domestic
or foreign origin of the yellow fever.
I do not kjiow that it is precisely ascertained where the
Massachusetts Indians had their principal station. Hubbard
says, " Att or neare the mouth of Charles River, where used
to be the general rendezvous of all the Indians, both on the
south ^nd north side of the country." f According to Hutch-
* Gookin's Historical Collections of the Indians in New England, first
published from the original manuscript in the first volume of Mass. Histor
ical Collections, pp. 148, et seq. Gookin's dedicatory epistle to Charles II.
bears date 7th December, 1674.
t General History of New England, in Mass. Hist. CoUections, Vol. V.
p. 32, Second Series.

116 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY
inson, their great sachem, who was reverenced by all the
plantations of Indians round about, had his principal seat
upon a small hfll or rising upland, in the midst of a body of
salt marsh in the township of Dorchester, near to a place
called Squantum." * Our conjectures would be better guided
to the spot, in the absence of positive information, a we were
certain of the signification of the word Massachusetts. In
Josiah Cotton's Vocabulary we read, " Massachusetts, an hill
in the form of an arrowhead." This authority is respectable,
but not of the very highest order. His manuscript is dated
1707 and 1708, at which time it may be feared the language
was but little spoken. His father, however, had been a fel
low-laborer of Eliot, in that ever-memorable work of evan
gelical industry, the translation of tMe Bible into the native
language of New England. Chusett (Wachusett) no doubt
signified mountain ; but I am not aware that it appears from
the Vocabularies that Mas or Massa signified arrow. The
only word for arrow in Roger Williams's Key is Cai-quat, the
same word which appears in Eliot's Bible as Kouh-quot.f I
have sometimes been disposed to conjecture that Massachusetts
signified the great hill or hills. The Blue Hflls in Milton
were called, says Hutchinson, " Massachusetts Mount," and
Captain Smith speaks of " the High mountaine of Massachu
setts." The element mss, or mch, variously pronounced with
* Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts Bay, Vol. I. p. 460. What
Smith calls Chevyot Hills on his map had, according to Hutchinson, before
been caUed Massachusetts Mount. They evidently compose what Smith
calls the -'"High mountain of Massachusetts."
t Since this address was delivered, I find the following authority of Roger
Wilhams : " I had leamt that tlie Massachusetts was called so from the
Blue Hills, a little island thereabout" This is from a letter dated 18th June,
1682, in the Collections of the Rhode Island Historical Society, Vol. IV. p.
208. I am indebted for the reference to this passage to Dr Young's learned
and valuable Chronicles of the Pilgrims, p. 224. It is true that, in identify
ing the Massachusetts with the Blue Hills, we do not settle the meaning of the
aboriginal term. But from the extent and broken character of those hills,
it would seem more likely that the word should signify " great or high
hUls" than "hills in the form of an arrow-head." But judicent peritiores.
I may add that the words for arrow in Father Rasles's Vocabulary, and m that
of Zeisberger, bear no resemblance whatever to Mas or Masaa.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORy. 117
all the vowels, signifies great, throughout the entire famfly of
the Dielaware languages.
The original, mode of writing 'the venerable name of our
native state was various. In the charter it is written with
two aliases, the bay being described as " a certayne bay there,
commonly called Massachusetts, alias Mattachusetts, alias
Massatusetts Bay ; " and where the word is used without an
alias, Mattachusetts seems to be the form preferred. The
style of the company is declared to be " the governor and
company of the Mattachusetts Bay in New England." Eliot,
the highest literary authority, writes the ¦word as it is ¦writ
ten at the present day. Roger Williams speaks of the Mas-
sachuseuck. On the silver shillings corned in the colony in
1652, we find Masatusets. But the most singular form of
spelling the word which I have noticed, is found in a letter
of Richard Cromwell, written to the General Court of the
colony during his brief administration, in which he asks their
good offices in favor of " Henry Sewall of Rowley, .in Mes-
sey-Tusick Bay in New England." *
Before quitting the subject of the Massachusetts, it may be
observed that the language of that branch of -the aborigines
of this continent is perhaps better understood than any of the
^mtive dialects. The grammar and several other smaller
works of the apostle Eliot, the Vocabulary of Josiah Cotton,
and, above all, the entire translation of the Bible by Eliot, —
a work of matchless labor and perseverance, — furnish the
means of a thorough acquaintance with the language as
spoken by the aboriginal inhabitants of this part of Massa
chusetts. Roger Williams's Key exhibits the dialect — not
materially different — of the Narragansett tribe. Jonathan
Edwards's Observations on the language of the Muhhekaneew
(Mohegan) Indians present the same language in the form in
which it existed in the interior of New England, and Father
Rasles's Vocabulary- of the l^^orridgwock tribe enables us to
institute a comparison with a dialect of a more distant family.
* Hutchinson, Vol. I. appendix No. XU. The General Court, in an ad
dress to Oliver Cromwell in 1654, call themselves " the General Court of
the Massatusets."

118 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
All these languages are but branches of the Great Delaware
tongue, of the more southern varieties of which there are
numerous vocabularies and translations by the Moravian mis
sionaries. Among all these works of aboriginal literature, —
monuments of races once numerous and powerful, and now
rapidly disappearing from the face of the earth, — Eliots's
Bible stands unapproached for magnitude and value.*
Although the settlements in America were made under
royal charters, and of course with the sanction of the crown,
those of New England were early regarded with an unfavor
able eye at court. The religious opinions of the principal
persons in the colonies of Plymouth and Massachusetts were
sufficient, considering the inseparable connection of religious
and political parties at that day, to make these infant com
munities an object of suspicion and jealousy on the part of
the government. At a time when the kingdom was on the
eve of a revolution, which had its origin, in no small degree,
in the spirit of non-conformity with the church of England,
it was not to be wondered at that an infant republic like
Massachusetts, which was founded by a company of non
conformists, should be an object of dislike. We accord
ingly find that attempts were made to vacate the chart*
almost as soon as it was granted. Governor Winthrop h
not been more than six years in the country, before a writ
of quo warranto was brought against the colony.
The circumstance, however, that the colony was composed
of persons belonging to the unpopular, and for a considerable
* Eliot's Grammar, Dr Edwards's Observations, Roger Williams's Key,
and Cotton's Vocabulary, have all been published, the last named for the first
time, in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. The
works of Eliot, Edwards, and Cotton have been enriched and illustrated by
our learned ELSsociate, Mr John Pickering, who is now (1833) carrying
through the press, under the auspices of the American Academy of Arts
and Sciences, an edition of the hitherto unpublished Vocabulary of Father
•Rasles. Within the past year, (1849,) a very valuable collection of manuscripts,
¦principally in the Delaware language, was presented to the library of Har
vard CoUege by Chief Justice Lane of Ohio. They were obtained by hiin

sbyOI

from the MorajBK Brethren at Gnadenhiitten, in that state.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 119
period the oppressed, party, was in one respect highly favora
ble to its increase. It became, in consequence, a place of
refuge for the great body of the English non-conformists. In
this way the circumstance alluded to was the mainspring of
the prosperity of New England. So great were the hard
ships which the first comers endured, that nothing short of
the compulsion that existed at home would have procured
them any recruits. Had Charles I. been well disposed
towards New England, the embarrassed condition of his gov
ernment would have prevented his doing much for the
encouragement of the colonists. ' Whfle it was really out of
his power to help them materially with kindness, the princi
ples of his government were daily driving very substantial
people to a land where theycould enjoy liberty of conscience.
For the same reason that emigration almost ceased when the
royal government was subverted, it may well be doubted
whether the first adventurers would not have been left to
languish without any reenforcements, had the change taken
place some years sooner.
But it was in the power of Charles I., could he and his
advisers, with prophetic foresight, have anticipated the march
of events, to make the distant and insignificant colonies the
means of averting the great catastrophe at home. The lead
ers of the disaffected party were of course drawn by all their
sympathies towards New England. Without any considera
tion of the struggles of domestic parties, the enterprise of the
founders of the American colonies must have taken strong
hold of the imagination of such men as Cromwell and his
associates. It was the visible extension of the kingdom of
Christ, — a great new realm brought within the fold by the
labor and adventure of friends and brethren. In an age like
that in question, when the minds of men were highly ex
alted on questions of this kind, there ¦would of course be a
strong predisposition on the part of the ardent and enthusias
tic to join in this work, and to abandon the Old England for
the New. In the year 1635, there was a considerable emi-
grtvtion of men of this character to New England, among
them Sir Henry Vane and Hugh Peters, both leaders in the

120 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY,
commonwealth, and eventually victims in its cause. The
early writers have preserved a tradition that many more were
disposed to come of persons of note, but that they were pre
vented by the express orders of the crown, and among them
Pym, Hampden, Haslerigg, and Cromwell himself.
That the crown interfered to prevent the emigration which
was going on in 1637, is certain ; for the royal proclamation
and order in councfl to that effect are preserved. The proc
lamation sets forth that " the king's most excellent majesty
has been informed that great numbers of his subjects have
been and are transported every year into those parts of Amer
ica which have been granted by patent to several persons,
and there settle themselves, some of them with their famflies
and whole estates, among which numbers there are also many
idle and refractory humors, whose only or principal end is to
live as much as they can out of the reach of royal author
ity." The proclamation goes on to forbid all " subsidy-men "
(that is, as I suppose, all tax payers) from emigrating without
leave of the commissioners of the plantations ; and all under
the degree and value of subsidy-men were obliged to take
the oath of supremacy, and procure a certificate from the
parish minister of their conformity to the orders and disci
pline of the Church of England. The next year eight vessels
bound for New England, with many passengers on board,
were arrested by order of the crown, and the passengers re
quired to be landed. Afterwards, on the intercession of the
merchants and owners interested in the vessels, and of the
passengers, they were allowed to proceed. But on the first
of May, 1638, an order of councfl was issued, enforcing the
provisions of the proclamation of the preceding year ; and
assigning as the reason his majesty's knowledge of "the
factious disposition, of a great part of the people of the
plantation of New England, and how unfit and unworthy
they are of any support or countenance from hence, in re
spect of the great disorders and want of government among
them." *
* Hazard's State Papers, Vol. L pp. 421, 422, from Rymer and Ruglj-
worth.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 121
Now, had the king and his council pursued precisely the
opposite course, — had they allowed all the discontented to
emigrate, and strictly forbidden them to return, without per
mission, — what a change might not have followed in the
history of Great Britain ! The heart of Cromwell, in par
ticular, was evidently set upon expatriation. The immediate
foundation of the great civil war and revolution in England
was laid in the Remonstrance of the House of Commons, in
1641, which contained, according to Lord Clarendon, " a very
bitter representation of all the illegal things which had been
done from the fii'st hour of the king's coming to the crown to
that minute ; with all those sharp reflections upon the king
himself, the queen, and council." * This document was, in
fact, intended by the popular leaders as a general appeal to
the country. The debate upon it, in the House of Commons,
began at nine o'clock in the morning, and continued till after
midnight, without interruption, and "with much passion."
" Many," says Clarendon, " withdrew from pure faintness,
and disability to attend the conclusion." When it passed,
it was carried by a majority of only nine. Cromwell, on
going out of the House, at two o'clock in the morning,
said to Lord Falkland, ." that if the remonstrance had been
rejected, he would have sold all he had, the next morning,
and never seen England more ; and he knew there were
many other honest men of the same resolution." Lord
Clarendon, after mentioning this anecdote, observes, " So near
was the poor kingdom at that tirae to its deliverance."* One
of the biographers of Cromwell, repeating this remark, adds,
" Near it, indeed ; for if zeal for the church or duty to the
king coujld have kept ten more of those, who made such
strong prttfessions of both, frora their suppers and their beds
for a few hours, all the consequences of that fatal night had
been prevented." f
After the commonwealth had been established, and' Crom
well, under the name of Protector, had made himself ui
• Clarendon's History of the Rebellion, Vol. I. p. 451, Boston edition.
f Biographia Britannica, art CramweU.
VOL II. 16

122 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
reality a dictator, he retained his favorable opinions and kind
feelings towards New England. He was led, in consequence,
however, to propose a course of policy which, if he had car
ried it through, would have given a severe check to the
prosperity of the settlements here ; if indeed it had not
broken them up. After the conquest of Ireland, in order to
secure the obedience of that country, to hasten its advance
ment in civilization, and facflitate the administration of gov
ernment, the Protector wished to introduce and establish
there a sound and orderly population of the English stock,
on which he could rely ; and for this purpose turned his
thoughts to New England. He was exceedingly desirous
that the people here should emigrate to Ireland ; and the
inhabitants of the New Haven colony, then distinct from
Hartford, were disposed to remove ; but, on further consider
ation, abandoned the project. After the conquest of Jamaica,
Cromwell renewed his instances with great earnestness, and
particularly with the people of Massachusetts, to remove to
that island. He caused a letter to be addressed to the Gen
eral Court of the colony on the subject, and pressed it in
personal conferences with Captain Leverett, a New Englander,
who had been a commissioner in hjs service in Nova Scotia.
Cromwell urged this removal upon them with many specious
arguments. He told Captain Leverett that he " did appre
hend the people of New England had as clear a call to
transport themselves from thence to Jamaica, as they had
from England to New England, in order to bettering their
outward condition, — God having promised that his people
should be the head, and not the tail." The answer of the
General Court to his proposals, dated Boston, twenty-fourth
October, 1656, is preserved. They decline, principally on
the ground of the unhealthiness of the climate ; but with
the strongest professions of duty, they declare that, if they
have no other opportunities of advancing his highness's ser
vice, they shafl never cease to remember him in their prayers.
A few of the principal inhabitants embraced the proposals
of the Protector. Among these was Mr Wflliam Vassali, who
was one of the patentees named in the charter. He laid the

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 123
foundation of several large estates in Jamaica, which have
remained in his family till the present day.
New England was never in a more prosperous condition,
before the revolution, than it was at the period of which I
am now speaking. The civil administration remained uudis-
turbed in the hands of Mr Endecott, as governor, from 1655
to 1660. The trade of the colony to all parts of the world
was unrestricted. The navigation act prohibited foreign
vessels from trading with the colonies ; but not having as yet
provoked a retaliation, on the part of foreign countries, nor
having been applied by the mother country vigorously to
New England, our vessels went not only to the foreign West
India Islands, but to the ports of Holland and France. There
was no- custom-house at home, the expenses of the govern
ment being raised by a direct tax upon the several towns.
The government of Cromwell, as far as the New England
colonies were concerned, was gracious and paternal. It was
the only period, from the first settlement till the revolution,
when every thing, both at home and abroad, may be consid
ered as in a prosperous state.
Among the gratifying proofs of the prosperity of the coun
try, and of the liberal temper of the people, it may not bo
uninteresting to mention that on occasion of the great fire
in London, in 1666, collections were made through the col
ony for the relief of the sufferers. The amount collected in
our own town happens to be on record ; it was one hundred
and five pounds sterling — a sum which, considering the
scantiness of the population and the value of money at that
time, must be allowed to be at least a hundred fold as large
as the same nominal sum at this day. Hutchinson well
remarks upon the magnitude of the contribution, if other
towns gave in the same proportion.
Among the indications, not only of the commercial pros
perity of the colony, but of the reliance which the colonial
government felt in the good will of the ruling powers at
home, we may mention that the colony of Massachusetts
went so far as to establish a mint for the coinage of silver.
There was no currency, before this time, except the Euro-

124 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
peaii coins which may have found their way across the
Atlantic, unless we choose to give the name of currency to
the wampum, or wampumpeage, (as it is more properly
called,) of the Indians. As this actually served the purpose
of coin among some of the native tribes, and the use of it
was borrowed from them by the settlers, it may merit a
moment's notice. This currency appears to have been first
in use among the Indians of the Mohawk and other western
tribes, who were more advanced in civilization than our New
England Indians, who received it from thera. Peage was
the narae of the substance, which was of two kinds — black
and white. Wampum, or wompum, is the Indian word for
white; and as the white kind was the most common, wam
pumpeage got to be the common name of this substance,
which was usually abbreviated into wampum. The black
peage consisted of the small round spot in the inside of the
shell, which is still usually called in this neighborhood by its
Indian name of quahog. These round pieces were broken
away from the rest of the shell, brought to a smooth, and
regular shape, drflled through the centre, and strung on
threads. The white peage was the twisted end of several
small shells, broken off from the main part.* These portions
of shell, thus strung, were worn as bracelets and necklaces,
and wrought into belts of curious workraanship. They thus
possessed an intrinsic value with the natives, for the purposes
of ornament ; and they were readily taken by them in ex
change for their furs. When wrought into belts, they had
an extensive use among the Indian tribes, as presents at the
negotiation of treaties ; and for this purpose they were
wrought in such a way as to furnish a guide to the meraory
in retaining and transraitting the traditions of the tribe.
They were originally, therefore, a mere article of merchan
dise, as, in fact, is also the case with gold and silver ; but
being, for the reasons named, esteemed of value generally by
the Indians, they were made use of by the Dutch, in New

* Gould's Report on the Invertebrata of Massachusetts, art Venus Mar-
venaria, (quahog,) p. 86.

ANECDOTES OP EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 125
York, as a currency. The Indians of Block Island learned
the use of them from the Dutch ; the Narragansetts from the
Block Islanders, and the English settlers from them. As
soon as they began to be used as currency, they acquired a
conventional value. Six of the white beads, or three of the
black ones, made an English penny, and a fathom length
wag rated in the gross at five shfllings sterling. The process
of. coining was, as we have seen, exceedingly simple.
Roger Williams, in describing the quahog, calls it "a little
thick shell-fish, which the Indians wade deep and dive for ;
and after they have eaten the meat there, (in those which
are good,) they break out of the shell about half an inch of
a black part of it, of which they make their Suckauhock or
black money,. which is to thera precious."* This currency
may be compared with the courries, or small shells, used by the
native races of Africa, for the same purpose. When the com
missioners of the United Colonies, in 1645, made peace with
the Narragansetts, they imposed upon them, araong other con
ditions, a fine of two thousand fathoms of wampum. The
Indians considered this as a very heavy burden, and it was
not tfll after the lapse of five years, and sending several times
to demand it, that the whole was paid up.f
It will easily be supposed that money of this kind was
liable to considerable abuse; though one would think it
would be cheaper to manufacture it in an honest way than
to counterfeit it. We have, however, a somewhat curious
document on record, — a petition of Mr Dunster, the presi
dent of the college, to the commissioners of the United Colo
nies, — which wfll show the extent to which the frauds on
this primitive currency were carried : —
" Upon the motion of Mr Dunster, president of the College at Cambridge,
consideration was had upon payments made and received in peage, whether
white or black. The commissioners were informed that the Indians abused
the English with much false, bad, and unfinished peage ; and the English
traders, after it comes to their hands, choose out what fits their market and
* Key into the English Language, Mass. Hist Coll. Vol. Ill p. 224
t Hutchinson's Histc^, Vol. I. p. 134.

126 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
occasions, and leave their refiise to pass to and fro in the colonies ; which
the Indians, who best understand the quality and defect of the peage, will
not willingly take back. Whereupon (though they see not, at present, how
to propound a full reformation in all particulars, without much difficulty and
inconveniency) yet they [the commissioners] commend it to the several
General Courts and planta:tions, within the United Colonies, that no peage,
neither white nor black, be payed or received, but what is strung, and in
some measure strung suitably, not small and great, uncomely and disorderly
mingled, as formerly it hath been. And they further ofier it to the consid
eration of the said General Courts, whether they think not fit to provide, that
if, hereafter, any of the Indians, in payment, be found to ofier peage unto
the English, made of stone or other unallowed matter, or to tender dyed
peage for black, that it be forthwith broken, or some other course taken
to convince them of the deceit, and to suppress it as the said courts shall
think meet" *
This proposition, however, was negatived by the courts.
But this currency was, of course, too rude to answer the
purposes of an extensive commerce. The trade of the New
England colonies was, as I have observed, very considerable
at this period, and especially with the West Indies. A por
tion of the returns was made in bullion. The West India
seas, at this time, also swarmed with pirates or buccaneers ;
and as there was no custom-house, and no Court of Admiralty,
in New England, it is greatly to be feared that sorae part of
the spoils, raade by these freebooters, found a raarket in this
part of the country, in the forra of silver bullion. The
growing trade of the inhabitants, rendering a currency desir
able, and the material being supplied in the manner aUuded
to, the General Court took into their hands, without the least
scruple, this branch of the prerogative, and took order for the
erection of a mint, and the coinage of shiUings, sixpences,
and threepences. At first, it was directed that the coins
should have nothing but the letters N. E. on one side, and
the Roman numerals, XIL, VL, and III., on the other.
But it was soon after ordered, by the General Court, that
the shfllings should have, on one side, a pine-tree, with the
word MASATVSETS around it; and, on the other, the
words, NEW ENGLAND, AN. DOM., running round tho
4
* Hazard's SUte Papers, Vol. IL pp. 124, 135.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 127
exterior; and, in the inn,aM;Jrcle, the year 1652, and the Ro
man numeral XII. Althffl^h this coin continued to be struck
for many years, the date of 1652 was never changed upon
the shiUing. The shfllings of this coinage are occasionally
stfll met with in circulation ; but those of the lower denomi
nations are much more rare. It is probable that, at first, none
but shiUings were struck. I am led to this opinion, by a
petition of the ferrymen, between Charlestown and Boston,
which is preserved on the files of Jhe General Court of the
colony for 1662, in the foUowing words : —
"To the honored magistrates and deputies now assembled in General
Court at Boston, this 8th 3 mo., 1662, the humble petition of Francis Hud
son and John Burrage humbly sheweth: That whereas your petitioners
are, by God's providence and your allowance, employed for the transporting
persons over the ferry, between Boston and Charlestown, do now of late
find great inconvenience and loss to ourselves, viz., in the want of small
money for change, by such persons as do pass over the ferry, so as that
many times we are forced to trust those whom we carry over, and many
times never have our pay, but do our labor for nothing, which is more than
we can bear, and is very uncomfortable in many respects ; therefore, our
humble request is, that you would be pleased to consider of some way, and
give order accordingly for the coining of twopences and fourpences, the
which will be as for us, so for others, upon such occasions, very convenient
change, by which great trouble and loss will be prevented."
The court deemed this request reasonable, and passed the
following order : —
" It is ordered by this court, and the mint-master is hereby, in coining of
the first bulUon that comes to his hands, to coin twopences of silver, in pro
portion according to the just value and alloy of moneys allowed here, to
answer the occasions of the country for exchange ; that is, the first year
fifly pounds, in such small money fbr every hundred pounds by him to be
coined; and for after time, twenty pounds in like money annually, for every
hundred pounds that shall be coined. This order is to continue in force
for seven years, any law to the contrary notwithstanding."
The General Court appear to have been rather improvident
in making their contract with the master of the mint, John
Hull. " He was the son of a poor woman in Boston, but

128' ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
dutiful to and tender of his m^er, which Mr Wflson, his
minister, observing, pronounced mat God would bless him,
and although he was then poor, yet he should raise a great
estate." The General Court contracted with him to coin the
money of the fineness of the new British sterling currency ;
and for all charges of the process, they allowed him to take
fifteen pence out of every twenty shfllings, or six and a
quarter per centum. As this probably was at the expense of
the individuals who took their bullion to the mint, it must
have been a considerable impediment to the coinage. The
court became sensible that they had allowed too rauch, and
offered Mr Hull a sum of money to release them from the
contract, which he declined to do. He left a large personal
property, and one of the best real estates in the country. It
was commonly reported, says Hutchinson, that Mr Samuel
Sewall, who married his only, daughter, received with her,
as her portion, thirty thousand pounds in New England
shillings. An amusing anecdote of this currency is contained in the
memoirs of Thomas Hollis, to the following effect : " Sir
Thomas Temple, brother of Sir Wflliam Temple, resided
several years in New England during the commonwealth.
After the restoration, when he returned to England, the king
sent for him, and discoursed with him on the state of affairs
in the Massachusetts, and discovered great warmth against
that colony. Among other things, he said they had invaded
his prerogative by coining money. Sir Thomas, who was a
real friend to the colony, told his majesty that the colonists
had but little acquaintance with law, and that they thought
it no crime to make money for their own use. In the course
of the conversation, Sir Thomas took some of the money
out of his pocket, and presented it to the king. On one side
of the coin was a pine-tree, of that kind which is thick and
bushy at the top. Charles asked what tree that was. Sir
Thomas informed him it was the royal oak which preserved
his majesty's life. This account of the matter brought the
king into good humor, and disposed him to hear what Sir

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 129
Thomas had to say in their favor, calling thera " a parcel of
honest dogs." * ^
Of the raemorable incidents of the earlier period of the
Massachusetts history, the fatal delusion relative to witch
craft is among the most celebrated. The extent to which
this delusion proceeded in Salem has given a prominence to
the tragical occurrences which took place there ; but what
ever reproach attaches to its prevalence must be shared by
other portions of Massachusetts. In point of fact, it is well
known that no exclusive reproach can with justice be cast
upon any part of New England on account of a delusion
which equally prevailed in the most enlightened countries in
Europe, and received the countenance of the most learned
and intelligent men and upright raagistrates. But the sub
ject of witchcraft, as connected with the Salem trials, as well
as the history of this and kindred superstitions and delusions,
has been so ably treated by Mr Upham, in his lectures on
this subject, that I shall wholly pass over those parts of it
which have fallen under his consideration. It may interest
you, however, to trace the earlier progress of this delusion in
New England.
As early as 1645, the first suspicion of witchcraft arose at
Springfield, on Connecticut River. Several persons were
supposed to be under an evil hand, and, among the rest, two
of the minister's children ; and great pains were taken to
prove the faicts against some persons charged with the crime,
but without success.f The first execution for witchcraft in
New England took place in Charlestown, in 1648. The
name of the sufferer was Margaret Jones. No detafled
account is preserved of her imputed misdemeanors, nor of the
facts by which they were pretended to be proved. Governor
Winthrop informs us, in his Journal, that she was proved to
have such a malignant touch, that whosoever she touched,
* Mass. Hist CoU. Vol. VH. p. 229, First Series. On the whole subject
of the Massachusetts currency, a very learned work was published by
Mr J. B. Pelt, in 1839, being an enlargement of two lectures delivered by
him before the Massachusetts Historical Society.
f Hutchinson, Vol. II. p. 16.
VOL. II. 17

130 ANECDOTES OF EARL-J LOCAL HISTORY.
man, woman, or chfld, with any affection of displeasure, was
presently taken with deafness, vomiting, or other violent
pains or sickness. The poor woraan, it seems, was a medical
practitioner, in a small way, and one of the proofs of her
witchcraft was that, though she used simple raedicines, her
patients got well. Her husband seems to have shared her
bewitching powers. Shortly after her execution, he endeav
ored to procure a passage to Barbadoes, in a vessel of three
hundred tons, which lay at anchor off Charlestown, bound
for that island, with one hundred and eighty tons of ballast
in her hold, and eighty horses on board. The owners of the
vessel refused to take the husband of a witch as a passenger,
and it was immediately observed, that this vessel, without
any visible cause, began to roll, as if, according to the words
of the historian, it would have turned over. This phenome
non, continuing, was reported to the magistrates then sitting
in Boston, and being imputed by them to the diabolical
agency of Jones, a warrant was issued to apprehend him.
As the officer was passing over the ferry with his warrant,
and the vessel was still rolling violently, some one in the
ferry boat jestingly asked the officer whether he, " who could
tame men, could not tame the vessel." He replied that he
had that in his pocket which would perhaps tame the vessel
and keep it quiet, and exhibited the warrant for arresting
Jones. At this moraent, the vessel ceased rolling, and lighted
herself, after having been violently in motion' for twelve
hours. Jones was apprehended and thrown into prison, and
from that time the ship "never moved in that kind any
more." * It does not appear, however, that Jones was exe
cuted. About the same tirae, it is stated that a woman was
executed at Cambridge, and another at Dorchester, for the
crime of witchcraft; but no particulars — not even the
names of the parties — are preserved.
In 1655, a most extraordinary case of imputed witchcraft
occurred in Boston, — the victim, Mrs Ann Hibbins. Her
husband, who died the year before, had been the" colony
* Hubbard, in Mass. Hist. Coll. Vol. VI. p. 530, Second Series.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 131
agent in England ; had for several years filled the office of
assistant, and was a merchant ,of note in Boston. In the
latter part of his life he met with heavy misfortunes, among
others a loss of five hundred pounds, by the carelessness of
a shipmaster. These misfortunes appear to have been felt
with peculiar severity by his wife. According to Hutchinson,
" they uicreased the natural crabbedness of his Avife's tem
per," discomposed her mind, and made her turbulent and
discontented. Her strange and unusual carriage raised a cry
against her. Her behavior brought her under church cen
sures, and caused her to be excoraraunicated ; and this prob
ably not improving the quality of her temper, recorded by
the historian, she fell at last under the suspicion of being a
witch, and as such was brought to trial. The jury found
her guilty ; but the magistrates, who, at that period, acted as
judges, refused to accept the verdict. But the popular fanati
cism was not, in this manner, to be defrauded of its prey.
The case went to the General Court, popular clamor pre-
vafled, she was declared guilty by the deputies, and executed,
— a violation of the forms of justice not less detestable than
of its substance. It is to the credit of the magistrates that
they had rejected the verdict of the jury ; and there were
not wanting others, in the community, who accounted her
mnocent, and- who undertook to trace the marks of an
offended Providence against those who were forward in
bringing her to trial. She was a member of the first church
in Boston ; and though she was excommunicated from its
fellowship, Mr Norton, the minister, appears to have thought
her innocent of witchcraft. He declared at his own table,
some years afterwards, in the presence of a company of
friends, that i' the wife of a magistrate had been hanged as a
witch because she had more wit than her neighbors." On
being asked to explain his meaning, he said that Mrs Hib
bins had seen two persons who had persecuted her, talking
together in the street, and had guessed they were talking of
her. This happened to be the fact, and was set down as a
proof positive that she was in league with the devfl. She

132 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
was confined for some tirae in prison ; raade a will, disposing
of her estate ; appointed some of the principal gentlemen of
the colony the executors of her will, and expressed the hope
that they would see her decently biiried. She was executed
in June, 1656. Other simflar cases occurred between this
period and the year 1692, when the great tragedy was enacted
at Salem, the last occasion on which blood was shed, under
the influence of this cruel fanaticism. But as late as 1720,
an instance of pretended witchcraft occurred at Littleton, in
this state, differing in nothing but the absence of a tragical
close from the Salem delusion. The parties pretending to
be bewitched afterwards removed to Medford, and the whole
fraud was detected and exposed by the confession of the
chief agent, mainly by the sagacious interference of the Rev.
Mr Turell of that place, whose interesting account of it has
been preserved, and is well worth perusal.*
In contemplating this sorrowful page in the history of our
ancestors, we must bear in mind that, as I have already inti
mated, no peculiar reproach attaches to thera. They acted,
on this occasion, upon principles which all professed, and in
which the sincere in all parts of Christendom reposed an
undoubting faith. Circumstances have given to these melan
choly transactions an unfortunate notoriety. It has attracted
the public attention, both in this country and Europe, partly
for the reason that this, and the persecution of the Q,uakers,
stand out in dark relief on the annals of New England. In
the older countries of the world, the most dreadful tragedies
— the horrors of the Inquisition, the Sicilian vespers, the
massacre of St Bartholomew's eve, the fires of Smithfield —
are hardly signalized in the long line of strange emd cruel
incidents which fill the annals of Europe down into the
eighteenth century. For ages, there seems to have been no
sense of the worth of huraan life ; no mercy for human
suffering. Before we undertake, in the self-sufficiency of a
greatly improved age, to reflect upon the errors of our fathers,
» Mass. Hist CoU. Vol. X. p. 6, Second Series.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 133
we should carefully consider in what our superiority over
them in these matters consists, and then inquire from what it
proceeds. In respect to the abstract question of witchcraft and sor
cery, I ara not prepared to say that this enlightened and intel
ligent age, either in this country or Europe, is so rauch in
advance of the New England of the seventeenth century, as
is generally supposed. It does not become us, at a period
when respectable persons frora Boston, Salem, and all the
neighboring country, have been in the habit of resorting in
large numbers to the town of Lynn, to obtain a knowledge
of the future from the bottom of the teacup of the Noma of
High Rock,* to be very uncharitable towards our credulous
ancestors, on account of the witchcraft delusion. The real
difference — and it is an all-iraportant one — lies in the general
intelligence of the age, in that universal and effective diffu
sion of an enlightened common sense, which prevents people
from carrying their abstract opinions of any kind into cruel
and revolting practical operation.
This general good sense and enlightened public opinion, by
which doctrinal notions are kept from a wild and dangerous
interference in the affairs of life, is mainly the fruit of that
system of education for which the first settlers of New Eng
land raade a provision as liberal, considering their scanty
means, as it was novel in the practice of the world. The
very men who allowed these dark clouds to overshadow them,
— whose domestic life was saddened, whose personal char
acters were rendered austere and gloomy, by intolerance and
superstition, — organized that system of school and college
education, from which so much of the general intelligence of
the community in all after time has proceeded ; and to the
final influence of which, — as far as local causes are con
cerned, — we owe it that our domestic and social existence
is not as gloomy as theirs. The year before the first witch
was hung at Charlestown, a law was passed providing for a
public school in every town containing 'fifty famflies, and a
* Le-wis's History of Lynn, p. 2C8.

134 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
grammar school in every town of twice that size ; and Har
vard College was founded ten years earlier.
I have already observed that the period of time to which
the incidents alluded to in this lecture principaUy belong, was,
upon the whole, one of general prosperity. There were trials
and troubles at home and abroad, but the infant colony was
increasing in numbers and wealth.
Among the branches of industry which were prosecuted
most successfully, at an early period, was that of ship-build
ing ; and Medford appears to have been the place where it
first commenced.* This was one of the places first settled
by Governor Winthrop's company. Their original design
was, to build a fortified town on some convenient spot, as the
general place of residence for their party. On becoming ac
quainted with the state of things after their arrival, they
found that this course would be attended with no advantages
in reference to safety against the Indians, and that it would
probably retard the progress of settlement. There were also
difficulties in fixing upon a suitable place for the town. The
design of buflding it was therefore for the present abandoned,
and Governor Winthrop's company, dividing themselves into
smalLparties, settled at'different places within the liraits of
their patent. The Mystic River, rather than the Charles,
appears to have been considered by thera as forming the mid
dle line of their new colony. Governor Winthrop established
himself on the right bank, at the place now called the Ten
Hills, where he undertook to bring a large landed estate into
cultivation ; the property of which, tfll the last generation,
remained in his famfly. The opposite bank of the river, or
that pajt of Medford bordering upon Maiden, was appropri
ated to Matthew Cradock, Esq. This gentleman was one of
the patentees named in the charter. He was an eminent mer
chant in London, and contributed a larger amount of money
towards the furtherance of the enterprise than any other indi
vidual. He was chosen the first governor of the company
* This portion of the present lecture was prepared on occasion of its
delivery before the Medford Lyceum.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 135
early in 1628, and when the royal charter first passed the
seals. At this time, the plan of transferring the charter and
the government to America had not been thought of; and
while Mr Cradock was chosen governor of the company in
London, Mr Endecott was chosen governor of the plantation,
which was commenced the sarae year at Salem. After the
resolution was taken to remove the charter to America, these
two offices were merged in one, and Mr Winthrop was elect
ed governor, both of the company and the plantation. Gov
ernor Cradock never came himself to America, although it
would seem he must have intended to do so. Hutchinson's
reraark relative to the establishraent, which was begun on
his account, is rather obscure. It is in the following terms :
" Medford and Mistick were then distinct places, though not
so at present. At Medford, which I take to have been a small
vfllage at the lower part of Mistick River, (now called a Neck
of Land, where a creek also ran into Charles River,) it was
intended a settlement should be made for Mr Cradock, and
the people he was sending and had sent over. Here, by his
agents, he buflt several vessels of burden." * If, as Hutch
inson states, Medford and Mistic were the names of differ
ent places, the distinction did not last long. Mistic was
probably the name given to Mr Cradock's estate, from the
river upon which it was established ; and Medford — or, as it
was originally written, Meadford — was the name given to the
chief settlement, somewhat farther up, and nearer to the place
where the river was, at that time, passed by fording — the
circumstance which gave it this appellation.
An incident, of itself of a trifling nature, is preserved in
the early historian of New England, which shows the incon
veniences to which our ancestors in Medford were exposed in
consequence of this hazardous manner of crossing the rivers,
before they had been able to build bridges. In the month
of " May, 1644, one Dalkin and his wife, going home to
Medford or Mystick, after the sermon on the Lord's day, and
passing over at a ford, where (the tide not being fallen enough
* Hutchinson, Vol. I. p. 22

136 ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY.
for them corafortably to pass over) the woraan was carried
away by the stream, and crying out, her husband not daring
to help her, the dog in the house near by came running out,
and seeing something stir in the water, swam to it, so as she,
catching hold of his tafl, was thereby drawn to the shore and
saved her life."*
Although Medford was among the first spots which attract
ed the notice of the colonists, it did not for raany years grow
into the iraportance which might have been expected from
its fine natural position. You perceive, from the anecdote
just mentioned, that the inhabitants had to cross the river to
go to church; — probably to Cambridge. There was no
settled clergyman in the place for nearly a century, although
the church had been supplied by candidates for the ministry.
Mr Porter was settled in 1712, and was the first minister or
dained in the town; Mr Turell succeeded him in 1724, and
almost an entire century, from that period, was covered, in
nearly equal portions, by the ministry of Mr Turell and his
late venerable successor, Dr Osgood. In the first tax which
was assessed on the colony, Medford paid three pounds out of
fifty ; which was the same that was paid by Salem. But when,
in 1632, permission was given to the several towns to choose
two members to form a House of Representatives, no men
tion is made of Medford. Wood, an English traveller, who
saw the country in 1633, gives the following interesting ac
count of Mr Cradock's farm, at the lower part of the town.
" Mystic (now "Medford) is seated by the water side very
pleasantly. There are not raany houses as yet. On the west
side of this river the governor hath a farm, [Ten HiUs,] where
he keeps most of his cattle. On the east side is Mr Cradock's
plantation, where he hath a park impaled, and keeps his cattle,
tfll he can store it with deer. Here he likewise is at charge
building ships. The last year one was on the stocks of one
hundred tons ; that being finished, they are to build one of
twice her burden."
The first vessel buflt in New England was also buflt at
* Hubbard, Mass. Hist CoU. Vol. VI. p. 427, Second Series.

ANECDOTES OF EARLY LOCAL HISTORY. 137
Medford. She was buflt for Governor Winthrop; was
launched on the fourth of July, 1631, and was called the
" Blessing of the Bay." Thus early were the banks of the
river, on which Medford stands, selected as an eligible place
for that industry, for which it has never ceased to be distin
guished, and which gives it so high a reputation, at the
present day, throughout the commercial cities of the Union.
In launching his vessel on the fourth of July, Governor
Winthrop had the good fortune to mark, by anticipation, the
anniversary of the greatest event in our political history ; as
he had already signalized the seventeenth of June, by land
ing, for the first time, on that day, within view of the heights
of Charlestown. In calling the first vessel built upon our
waters the " Blessing of the Bay," he seems to have had a
presentiment of the future importance of the navigating in
terest, as a source of the public prosperity. It suggests to
us, as thp proper moral with which I conclude the present
lecture, that the seeds of a thousand blessings, of which we
are reaping the rich fruits, were sowed in that day of small
things, of which we have this evening been recalling a few
of the traditions.
VOL. II. 18

NOTE

See Page 111.
Besides those named in the text, the following members of the Massa
chusetts Historical Society may be mentioned as the authors of valuable
works, principally of an historical nature ; some of which have taken
a place in the standard ^terature of the English language. I ought to
state that there is also a class of members who, by liberal donations to the
society, and by taking an active and inteUigent interest in its business
afiairs, have done much to promote its efficiency.
President John Quincy Adams, Mstorical Discourses on Monroe, Madison,
and Lafayette, and various works connected 'with the constitutional and
political history of the country.
Rev. Timothy Alden, Collection of Epitaphs, 5 vols. 12mo.
James T. Austin, Life of Vice-President Gerry, 2 vols. 8vo.
George Bancroft, History of the Umted States, 3 vols. 8vo.
Rev. William Barry, History of Framingham.
Francis Bowen, editor of the JVorth American Review, author of several
lives in Sparks's American Biography, and of two courses of lectures before
the Lowell Institute, On the Application of Moral and Ethical Science to the
Evidences of Religion, 8vo.
Alden Bradford, History of Massachusetts, 3 vols. 8vo., and other histor
ical works.
Rev. Joseph S. Buckminster, Oration before the Phi Beta Kappa Society in
1809, Sermons, 2 vols. 8vo., and several articles in the Monthly Anthology.
Rev. WiUiam T. Budington, History of the First Church in Charlestown,
8vo. Peleg Chandler, American Criminal Trials, 2 vols. 8vo.
Rufus Choate, Discourse before the JVew England Society in JYew Tork,
and Speeches.
Rev. George E. Ellis, several lives in Sparks's Biography, and History of
the Battle of Bunker HUl.
Rev. William Emerson, History of tlie First Church in Boston, 8vo.
Alexander H. Everett, editor of the JYorth American Review ; author of '
Livesqf Patrick Henry and General Joseph Warren, mS-pur^s Biography ; of
(138)

NOTE. 139
Europe, by a Citizen of the 'United States ; and Amenca, by the Author of
Europe, 2 vols. 8vo. ; and JVeie Ideas on Population, 8vo.
Rev. Joseph B. Felt, a History of the Massachusetts Currency, 8vo. ,
Rev. Dr Francis, History of Watertown, and Life of John Eliot, Apostle to
tlie Indians.
Rev. Dr Freeman, author of a considerable portion of the eighth volume
of the First Series of the Society's Collections, and of a volume of Sa-mon^.
Rev. Dr N. L. Frothingham, several Biographical and other Discourses.
Richard Frothingham, Jun., a History of Charlestown, now in progress,
and a History of the Siege of Boston, 8vo.
Rev. Dr WiUiam Greenwood, History of King's Chapel ; Sermons, 2
vols. 8vo.
Francis C. Gray, Oration on the Hundredth Anniversary of the Birthday
of Washington ; Letter to Govemor Lincoln, in Relation to Harvard University.
Rev. Dr Thaddeus M. Harris, Natural History of tlie Bible ; Tour to the
North-western Territory, 8vo. ; lAfe of Oglethorpe ; and numerous discourses.
Dr Thaddeus W. Harris, Report on the Entomology of Massachusetts, 8vo.
George S. HUlard, Life of Captain John Smith of Virginia^ in Sparks's
Biography. Rev. Dr WilUam Jenks, Comprehensive Commmtary on the Bible, and
other works.
President Kirklahd, lAfe of Fisher Ames ; Memoir of Adams and Jefferson.
Alonzo Lewis, History of Lynn, 8vo.
Solomon Lincoln, History of Hingham.
WUliam Lincoln, History of Worcester, 8vo., and editor of the Joumals of
the Provincial Congress, 8vo.
Nahum MitcheU, History of Bridgewater, 8vo.
Dr John G. Palfi-ey, editor of the North American Review, and author of
several Historical Discourses, j^d Lectures on Jewish Antiquities, 2 vols. 8vo.
Rev. Oliver W. B. Peabody, Memoir of Rev. Dr William O. B. Peabody,
12mo. John Pickering, editor of Father Rasles's Dictionary of the Abnaki Lan
guage, of Eliot's Indian Grammar, of a Memoir on the English Language
in America, of a Greek Lexicon, and other works.
William H. Prescott, History of Ferdinand and Isabella, 3 vols. 8vo. ; of
the Conquest of Mexico, 3 vols. 8vo. ,¦ of the Conquest of Peru, 2 vols. 8vo. ;
Miscellanies, 8vo.
President Josiah Quincy, Memoir of Josiah Quincy, Jun., 8vo. ; History of
Harvard University, 2 vols. 8vo. ; Memoir of Samuel Shaw, 8vo.
Lemuel Shattuck, History of Concord, 8vo. ; Statistics of Boston, Svp.
Dr Caleb Snow, History of Boston, 8vo.
President Jared Sparks, editor of the North American Review, of the
Library of American Biography, and author of several articles in it ; editor
of the Works of Washington, 12 vols. 8vo., and of the Works of FranMin
10 vols. 8vo., with a Life of each ; author of the lAfe of Ledyard.
Mr Justice Story, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States,
3 vols. 8vo., and various other standard legal works.

140 NOTE.
WiUiara Sullivan, Laters on Public Characters, 2 vols. 12mo., and several
other works.
George Ticknor, a History of Spanish Literature, 3 vols. 8vo.
Charies W. Upham, Life of Sir Henry Vane, in Sparks's Biography ; lAfe
of Hugh Peters; History of the Witchcraft Delusion; Memoir of Sir George
Downing ; and several Historical Discourses.
Daniel Webster, Orations and Speeches, 3 vols. 8vo. ; Diplomatic Papers,
8vo. Daniel A. White, Memoir of the Hon. John Pickering, and other public
addresses. Rev. Peter Whitney, History of the County of Worcester.
Robert C. Winthrop, Oration before the New England Society of New
York, other Addresses, and Speeches in Congress.
Joseph E. Worcester,' various works in Geography and Philology, Gazet
teer, 2 vols. 8vo. ; Dictionary of the English Language, 4to.
Rev. Dr Alexander Young, The Chronicles of the Pilgrims, 8vo. ; Chroni
cles of Massachusetts, 8vo.; Discourse on President Kirkland ; Discourse on
Dr Bowditch.
Rev. Dr John Pierce, of Brookline, who died last summer, bequeathed
to the Historical Society his manuscript Diary, in eighteen volumes,
with other valuable manuscripts.
In making out the preceding list of resident members of the Historical
Society, who have appeared before the public as authors, I have had the
friendly assistance of the Rev. Dr Young. It has, however, been prepared
while the foregoing lecture was passing through the press, and is, I fear,
less complete than it ought to be. It may be added, that many of the
persons named in the list have been contributors, some of them frequent
contributors, to the periodical joumals, and to the transactions of the scien
tific and literary societies.
I am unwiUing to close this note without expressing an emphatic opin
ion of the usefulness of the Historical Society, and commending it to the
liberal patronage of the community. The importance of an institution ex
pressly devoted to the preservation of the memorials of the past, cannot be
too strongly stated. The dearest interests of men are in some degree con
nected with its operations. The strength of attachment with which we cher
ish the fundamental principles of our political system, is not without its
dependence upon an enlightened study of their history. The safest practical
basis of civil liberty lies in its intimate union with the whole mass of the
social traditions which make up our existence as a body politic.
But, for the efficient action of an institution like the Historical Society,
ampler pecuniary resources than it now possesses are requisite. The small
annual assessment of three dollars each, paid by its members, is its only
regular income, The sale of the volumes of the Collections, valuable as

NOTE. 141
they are, has never paid the expense of their publication. An occasional
legacy, like that so liberally bequeathed by the late Governor Gore, with
subscriptions solicited in cases of emergency from public-spirited individu
als, have enabled the society thus far to sustain itself, and to become pos
sessed of its present commodious premises. But a moderate fund for the
support of a librarian, and for other incidental expenses, is absolutely ne
cessary. It is unreasonable to expect of any person well qualified for the
office, to discharge gratuitously the confining and laborious duties of libra
rian. No small part of the usefulness of the institution consists in the
facUity of access to its collections. But it is obvious, that, if the doors are
kept open to aU students of history who wish to examine those collections,
(which of late years has been the case,) a moderate provision should be
made for the support of a librarian. It is unjust that the important services
of such an officer should be performed, as they are by the present learned
incumbent, (Rev. Joseph B. Felt,) for a merely nominal compensation.
Neither ought an institution of this kind to be solely dependent on dona
tions for the increase of the library.

THE WESTERN RAILROAD.*

Mk Evekett observed that nothing would have induced
him to present himself, at so late an hour, but his engagement
to the committee charged with the preparations for the present
meeting. The gentlemen who had preceded him had ex
hausted the subject, and his fellow-citizens in this vast assem
bly, satisfied, he was well persuaded, with what they had
heard, were now desirous, by an earnest and unanimous vote,
to prepare for action. But he had been requested to address
them on the subject, and he was sincerely of the opinion that,
next to the great questions of liberty and independence, the
doors of Faneufl Hall were never thrown open on an occa
sion of greater moment to the people of the city and the state.
But, sir, continued Mr E., I do not approach this subject
of an enterprise which promises great benefits to the commu
nity, with feelings of despondency in reference to our present
condition. I would, on the contrary, speak the language of
confidence, hope, and self-assured resource. The people of
Massachusetts, and the citizens of Boston, as the capital of
the commonwealth, have been favored with as large a share
of blessings as ever fell to the lot of any people ; — and the
greatest of all these blessings is the sagacity with which they

* Speech on the subject of the Western RaUroad, dehvered in FaneuU
Hall, 7th October, 1835. The object of the meeting was to take meas
ures to complete the subscription to the capital stock of the railroad, to
the amount of two millions of dollars. The object was efiected ; and in
the course of the ensuing wintei", an act passed the legislature of Mas
sachusetts, authorizing an additional subscription of one million of dol
lars, on behalf of the state. (142)

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 143
are accustomed to perceive what industry, and energy, and
enterprise can do, to supply that which nature leaves to the
cooperation of man. For carrying on the foreign trade and
the fisheries, we have every thing that the heart of man can
desire ; — for agriculture, we have the soil and the climate
best adapted, not to the raising for exportation of the great
agricultural staples, but for the support of a frugal and indus
trious yeomanry ; for manufactures, we are by this last cir
cumstance admirably prepared, as we are, in most other
respects, able to compete, in many branches of manufacturing
industry, with any other people on earth. In short, sir, we
want nothing but what we are able ourselves, with enterprise,
energy, and the wise application of capital, to acquire ; —
and I have greatly mistaken the character of the people of
Massachusetts, town or country, if any such wants remain
long unsupplied. On the contrary, it is their peculiar char
acteristic, by the use of capital, by energy, and enterprise,
not merely to supply what are commonly called natural de
fects, but to open mines of wealth, where others see only the
marks of barrenness.
This trait of our character strikes all observers. It was ob
served by the president of the United States, (General Jack
son,) on his visit to this part of the country a year or two
since, that what struck him most in New England, were the
marks of plenty and corafort on a sofl which, in. some places,
seemed little else than a mass of rocks. It is even so ; and
if (over no sraall part of our beloved native state) Nature,
like an unkind step-dame, when her children ask for bread,
has given them a stone, they have, by their frugality, indus
try, and enterprise, turned the very stones back into bread.
I speak literally. The gentleman from Springfield, before
me, (Hon. George Bliss, president of the Senate,) was good
enough to send rae a paraphlet this morning, frora which it
appears that thousands of tons of fhe raarbles of Berkshire
are sent to Philadelphia, and sold to advantage, although their
own quarries lie within sixteen miles ; and the City Hall in
New York is chiefly buflt from the same Berkshire marble.
In like manner, the granite from the quarries of duincy, by

144 THE WESTERN RAILROAD.
the almost magical virtue of three miles of raflroad, is now
' buflding up the stately pfles of New York, Philadelphia, and
New Orleans. Look at the outside of Cape Ann, — Sandy
Bay, Pigeon Cove, Halibut Point, and Squam, — a region
where the very genius of sterility has taken up his abode, if
there is such a genius, (there ought to be, for nothing so
sharpens the ingenuity of man,) — and behold it converted,
in the same way, through the industry, energy, frugality of
its substantial population, and the judicious application of
capital, into a region of thrift and plenty !
But the great thing wanting to the prosperity of Massachu
setts is COMMUNICATION WITH THE WEST. The internal com
merce of this country is prodigious ; and of all that part
which is accessible to us, on the present system of communi
cation, we have an ample share. With the south we have,
in our freighting and coasting trade, every thing that can be
asked. With the south-west, in reference to all that portion
of commerce which is calculated to seek the route by sea to
New Orleans, we have nothing more to desire ; — and the
intercourse already established, in this way, with the whole
region drained by the Mississippi and its tributaries, is most
extensive, various, and mutually profitable. In ascending
the Mississippi and its tributaries, in 1829, on which occasion
I was successively on board several boats, I continually saw
casks, packages, and bales, containing articles of merchandise
of various kinds from New England. A distinguished gen
tleman of Pittsburg told me there was a regular battle be
tween the Boston nails and the Pittsburg nails, on the Ohio
River ; the Boston nails coming all the way round, and the
Pittsburg made on the spot, from Juniata iron ; and that,
though the Pittsburg nails sometimes fought their way down
the river to Louisvflle, the Bostonians at times had driven
them up as far as Wheeling. I was informed, by a respectable
trading house in Pittsburf , that they had, in the year preceding,
imported two thousand barrels of pickled mackerel; and I
think I did not enter a public house in the west to take a
meal, morning, noon, or night, without seeing a pickled
mackerel on the table. I remember, a year or two ago, that

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 145
one of my neighbors from Charlestown, who had emigrated
to the north-west corner of Arkansas, — a spot not then even
laid out into counties, — told me that in that remote region,
— the last foothold of civflization, where you have but one
more step to make to reach the domain of the wild Indian
and the buffalo, — a settler did not think himself well accou
tred without a Leominster axe. But give him that, give
him, sir, that weapon which has brought a wider realm into
the pale of civflization than the sword of Caesar or the scep
tre of Justinian, give him a narrow Yankee axe, — he'll hew
his way with it to a living, in a season ; though I shrewdly
suspect, without the least disparagement of emigrants frora
other quarters, that after sending the Yankee axe into the
country, the best way to give it full effect would be to send
a little Yankee bone and sinew to facilitate its use.
But, sir, though by the way of New Orleans we have a
considerable trade with the south-west, there is a vast region
which that channel does not reach. A direct coraraunication
is greatly wanted. This is the want, which is daily becom
ing more serious, and must be supplied. The destinies of
the country, if I may use a language which sounds rather
mystical, but which every one, I believe, understands, — the
destinies of the country run east and west. Intercourse
between the mighty interior west and the sea-coast is the
great principle of our comraercial prosperity and political
strength. Nature, in the aggregate, has done every thing
that could be desired to promote this intercourse, and art has
done much to second her ; but as far as the single state of
Massachusetts is concerned, the course of the rivers frora
north to south, and of the raountains between which they
flow, deprives us of the share of the benefits of this inter
course which we should otherwise enjoy. And this opera
tion of natural causes has been aided by several iraportant
works of artificial coraraunication, enumerated in the able
report of the committee. The consequence is, that a very
considerable part of the territory of Massachusetts has its
comraercial interests in one direction, and its political and
social relations in another ; so much so that, as we all, I am
VOL. II. 19

146 THE WESTERN RAILROAD.
sure, heard with pain, from the distinguished gentleman from
Springfield, (Mr Calhoun,) the feeling of State pride, which
ought, of all feelings that end in temporal affairs, to be among
the dearest and deepest in the bosom of a Massachusetts man,
was daily growing weaker among the people of one of the
most intelligent and substantial portions of the state.
This commercial alienation has gone to a length which I
suspect the citizens of Boston are not generally aware of
The entire region west of the hflls of Berkshire communi
cates with New York through the Hudson, and the whole
valley of the Connecticut, in and out of Massachusetts, com
municates with Long Island Sound. I am afraid to say in
how large a part of Massachusetts I think a complete non-
intercourse reigns with the capital ; but I wfll state to you a
fact that lately fell beneath my personal observation. Hav
ing occasion, last week, to go to Deerfield, I took the north
road from Worcester, through Templeton, Athol, and the
country watered by Mfller's River. If there is a spot in
Massachusetts where one would feel hiraself intrenched, shut
up, land-locked, in the very bosora of the comraonwealth,
Athol Green, surrounded with its rising grounds, is that spot.
And what, Mr President, do you think I saw ? We had
scarce driven out of the village, and were raaking our way
along through South Orange and Erving's Grant, when I saw
two wagons straining up a hfll, — the horses' heads to the
east, — the wagons laden with crates, casks, and bales of
foreign merchandise, which had corae frora Liverpool, by the
way of Hartford, frora New York ! I hold that, sir, a little
too much for a Massachusetts raan to conteraplate without
pain. Now, Mr President, this is the matter which we wish to
put to rights. We do not wish to deprive New York of any
portion of her legitimate trade ; but to regain our own.
Such is the object of this meeting : to open a great route of
communication between the East and the West, by means
of a raflroad from Boston to Albany, which, with lateral
routes, afterwards to be constructed, shall replace Boston in
its natural position towards the trade of the interior.

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 147
And here, perhaps, we shall be met by the general vague
objection, that it is impossible, by artificial works, to divert
comraerce from its great natural channels. Abstractions
prove nothing. There are two kinds of natural channels —
one sort made duectly by the hand which made the world ;
the other, constructed by man, in the intelligent exercise of
the powers which his Creator has given him. It is as natural
for a civilized man to make a railway or canal, as for a savage
to descend a river in a bark canoe, or to cross from one
fishing place to another, by a path through the woods.
The city of New York, no doubt, owes much to the noble
river that unites her to Albany ; but she owes vastly more to
her great artificial works of internal communication. The
Hudson and the Mohawk, of themselves, unaided by art, so
far from gathering in the comraerce of the far west, would
not raonopolize that of one half the region west of Albany,
within the state of New York. How far is it from the
head waters of the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, in
Otsego Lake, to the Mohawk? From fifteen to twenty
miles! I have stood on the high grounds, that overlook
Harrisburg in Pennsylvania, at a season of the year before
the Hudson was open, and seen the rafts, the flatboats, the
canoes, the bateaux, the craft of undescribed shapes and un
utterable names, following each other, on the broad bosora
of the Susquehanna, frora raorning to night, bearing the
produce of the interior of New York to a raarket in Chesa
peake Bay ! The same holds of the south-western corner
of New York, which naturaUy is drained by the tributaries
of the Ohio. I recollect that at New Orleans I saw a flat-
bottomed boat, loaded with shingles. I asked its steersman
whence he carae. He answered, from Clean. Perhaps I
ought to be ashamed to confess that, at that time, I did not
know where Clean was. I found, to my astonishment, it
was a settlement in Cattaraugus county. New York, on the
Alleghany River, a hundred and seventy or eighty rafles
north-east of Pittsburg ! But, sir, to bring this wandering
commerce back to herself, New York has constructed her
great artificial works. In this respect, Massachusetts is natu-

148 THE WESTERN RAILROAD.
raUy liltie, if any, worse off than New York. If New York
has a great navigable river, Massachusetts has, what New
York wants, a vast sea-coast. What both wanted was a
great line of artificial coraraunication, running inward to the
West. New York has constructed hers, and has other mighty
works of the same character in progress ; and all that Massa
chusetts needs is, by a work of very moderate extent, not
merely to recover the trade of her own territory, but to ac
quire a fan share, a large, a growing share, of the commerce
of the boundless west.
This, sir, is the object ; to take our share, at sorae seasons
of the year the first share, at all seasons a proportionate share,
of the whole business, not inerely of the interior of the state
of New York, but of that almost interminable region farther
west, which now derives its supplies frora the city of New
York. A great object surely ; to a coramercial eye in this
community, the greatest that can be proposed. This, I re
peat, is the object ; and now what are the means which must
be employed to effect it ? 'What are the means ? What
are we to do ? Are we to construct a canal from Albany to
Buffalo ? No, it is made, and with it the Champlain Canal
to the north, and the numerous lateral works, on either side
of the Erie Canal ; as those which communicate with the
Oneida and Ontario Lakes on the north of the line ; with the
Seneca, the Cayuga, and the Crooked Lakes on the south ;
the Chemung and the Chenango Canals, also on the south,
and designed to rescue the comraerce of that region from the
grasp of the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, and the
extensive artificial works, with which Pennsylvania has
strengthened it. Are we, perhaps, for the more rapid trans
portation of passengers, obliged to construct a raflroad, par
allel to the canal, from Albany to Buffalo ? No, it is done in
part, and the rest is doing.* Are we, by great and expensive
works, to open the far and mighty west beyond Buffalo ?

* It is scarcely necessary to observe, that since this speech was deliv
ered, the Albany and Erie Railroad has been completed, and many lateral
und subsidiary works constructed in the state of New York.

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 149
Not a mfle of it, by land or water. Nature and man have
done, or are doing it all. The great lakes stretch westward,
the grand base line of operations. Then comes in, first, the
Ohio Caned from the mouth of the Scioto to Cleveland,
wholly across the state. A parallel line of communication
in Ohio, by canal and railroad, through the Miami and Mad
River country to Sandusky Bay, comes next ; the canal, to
Dayton, or beyond, is finished, the railroad begun. Indiana,
in the noble tier of the North-western States, comes next,
with her projected canal to connect the Wabash with Lake
Erie ; and Illinois follows, with a simflar coraraunication,
undertaken with the patronage of Congress and the state, to
unite the Illinois River, and through it the Mississippi, with
the southern extreraity of Lake Michigan. All, all is done
or doing. The country, by nature or art, is traversed, crossed,
reticulated, (pardon me, sir, this long word ; the old ones are
too short to describe these prodigious works,) with canals and
raflroads, rivers and lakes. The entire west is moving to
meet us; by water, land, and steam, they ride, they sail,
they drive, they paddle, they whiz, — they do all but fly
down towards us. They are even now gathering at Albany,
a mighty host, with all their goods, looking over into good
old Massachusetts, desirous, eager to come. They have sent
these most respectable gentlemen, as a deputation, to ask if
we wfll take them. They have dug their own canals, built
their own railroads, corae at their own charges ; and there
they are, an overshadowing army, waiting to hear if we are
willing they should make a peaceful crusade, a profitable in-
roEid into our domain, bringing the fruits of their industry,
and taking ours in return. I, for one, sir, am prepared to go
and meet them, and I am sure my fellow-citizens are of the
same mind.
But is there nothing left for us to do ? Next to nothing,
sir. I am almost ashamed to state how little, when I consider
how long the work has remained undone. It is not to open
a raflroad from our western frontier to Albany. That is doing
by the citizens of New York. Charters of incorporation
have been obtained from Albany and from Hudson to West

150 THE WESTERN RAILROAD.
Stockbridge, and the work is, I believe, commenced ; and
another charter is solicited from Troy to the same point.
That piece, therefore, is provided for ; it is about forty miles.
On the other end of the line, frora Boston to Worcester, forty-
two ^rafles, the railroad is in full operation. AU that remains
for us now to do is to complete this little part which lies
between Worcester and Stockbridge. This is the question :
Shall we make this little piece of road for the sake of giving
to Massachusetts, to Berkshire, to Old Hampshire, to Worces
ter, to Middlesex, to Boston, to our whole manufacturing,
commercial, fishing interest, the benefit of a direct connec
tion with the flliraitable west? ShaU we raake these few
mfles of railroad for. the sake of setting down every western
trader, from Lake Erie to the head waters of the Missouri,
who wants a bale of domestic goods in Commercial Street,
Kflby Street, or Liberty Square? Don't talk. of reaching to
Buffalo, sir ; talk of the Falls of St Anthony and the Councfl
Bluffs. Sir, if we had been told that we must construct the
line of artificial communication the whole way, we should
have thought that (coifld we possibly command the capital)
the benefits which would flow frora the expenditure would
well warrant the outlay. New York has practically shown
that she thinks so ; and the western country, which is look
ing to us to take up and complete our sraall part of the work,
may well apply to us the words of the servant of the Syrian
captain, " If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing,
wouldest thou not have done it ? "
Suppose these hundred and eighteen miles (for that is all
which remains) completed, — how shall we stand? Albany,
and every point of the United States west of it, and commu
nicating through it with the Atlantic, are equidistant from
New York city and Boston. Remember that, Mr Chairman :
when we are discouraged by the comparison of natural and
artificial means of communication, let us bear in raind that,
by nature, it is no farther frora Boston to all this field of
business, — this world of population and trade, — than from
New York. Secondly, let us reflect that, the distance being
equal, it wfll be travelled in one case by a river, navigated by

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 161
steamboats ; in the other, by raflroad cars, moved by locomo
tive steam engines. In speed, the advantage in favor of the
latter may be taken at one third, which wfll be decisive as to
passengers, other things being equal. For merchandise, the
river will have an advantage in freight, not overbalancing the
advantage of an additional market, and that the first market
for all that part of business of which Boston is the natural
emporium. This will be the state of things whfle the river
is open. Whfle, for three or four months, at least, of the
year, the river is closed, the railroad wfll raonopolize the
travel and the trade ; emd Boston will be New York. I ara
as far, however, frora thinking, as from wishing, that New
York should be injured. As for destroying the commerce of
New York, it wfll be destroyed when the Atlantic Ocean
evaporates, and the Hudson River dries up. It will be no
detriment to her that the commercial world behind her should
be in full exercise and healthy action in the winter season,
rather than lie dormant and torpid; and with her advan
tageous position, both for foreign and domestic trade, what
soever benefits her neighbors, and particularly whatsoever
benefits the great interior behind her, wfll benefit her. It
would be of no advantage to New York to have Boston
droop and decline. The main centre of trade is always
benefited by the prosperity of every other seat of business.
Sometimes, sir, the best mode of judging of the value of
a work is to ask how we should be affected by its loss, if,
after possessing it, it should be taken away. Suppose we
had at this moment a navigable river frora Boston to Albany,
or a canal, and it should, by some convulsion of nature, sink
or dry up, — would it not be thought the direst of calamities ?
Suppose we had a railway, — a natural railway, — a level
ridge from Boston Bay to the confluence of the Mohawk and
the Hudson, laid down by the hand of Providence, and ready
for use ; and the philosophers had been able, by their tables
and instruments, to predict some great catastrophe which
would destroy it, and had foretold the day when the qarth
would open and swallow it up, — should we not regard it
almost as the day of approaching doom, and be ready to open

152 THE WESTERN RAILROAD.
our churches, and faU on our knees, and iraplore a merciful
Providence to avert the calamity ? And how does the case
differ, sir, in a practical point of view, between the loss of a
great blessiag, proceeding frora an overwhelraing natural
convulsion, and its want, arising from our own neglect and
apathy ?
Sir, I have alraost done. I have trespassed too long on
your patience ; but I will add a few words more on another
aspect of the question ; one to which, in this place, in Faneufl
Hall, although it is a view of the subject remote from finan
cial questions, I raay, in common with the- gentlemen who
have preceded me, with propriety allude. The great political
basis of all our prosperity is union; the great political dan
ger that menaces us is disunion. AU else can be borne if
we can avoid this calamity ; and if this is fated to befall us,
all our other blessings will turn to dust and ashes. The
rapid growth of our country, the prodigious population and
resources of single sections, tend to disunion. I am sorry to
say that, on the floor of Congress, I have heard calculations
of the capacity of individual states to support themselves as
independent govemments. I know of nothing so well
adapted to counteract the centrifugal tendency as to increase
the facilities for intercourse. They will prove not merely
avenues of business, but pathways of intelligence and social
feeling. They will make the distant near, and the many one,
for all the purposes of defence, strength, and good neighbor
hood. It is the great prerogative of science and art, applied
to the business of life, to conquer the obstacles of time and
place ; to redress the wrongs of nature. By promoting the
rapid circulation of knowledge, the prompt coraraunication
of intelligence, we shall carry on and perfect the noble work
HERE begun by men, some of whose portraits are now look
ing down upon us.
No subject, after the liberty of his country, lay nearer to
the heart of Washington than the opening of a great line of
communication between the east and west. It was the
very first subject to which he turned his attention, at the
close of the revolutionary war. I hold in ray hand an ex-

THE WESTERN RAILROAD. 1.53
tract from a letter, written by the father of his country, in
1784. I would not, while the bell is ringing for nine o'clock,
obtrude with any lighter authority on the audience. But
who will not listen to the counsels of Washington, on the
question before us ?
" I have lately," says he, " made a tour through the Lakes
George and Champlain, as far as Crown Point ; then, return
ing to Schenectady, I proceeded up the Mohawk River to
Fort Schuyler, crossed over to Wood Creek, which empties
into Oneida Lake, and affords a water communication with
Ontario. I then traversed the country to the head of the
eastern branch of the Susquehanna, and viewed the Lake of
Otsego, and the portage between that lake and the Mohawk
River at Canojoharie. Prompted by these actual observa
tions, I could not help taking a more contemplative and
extensive view of the vast inland navigation of these United
States, and could not but be struck with the immense diffu
sion and importance of it, and with the goodness of that
Providence which has dealt his favors to us with so profuse
a hand. Would to God we may have wisdom enough to
improve them ! "
Such, sir, is the voice of him whose sagacity in all the
civfl concerns of life was equal to his patriotism in councfl
and conduct in the field; and to this affecting prayer of
Washington, who can deem it irreverent to add. Let all the
people say, Amen !
VOL. II. 20

ANNIVERSARY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF
SPRINGFIELD.*

Mr Everett, after returning his thanks for the honor done
hira by the chair and the corapany, and expressing his grati
fication at learning, from the eloquent orator of the day,
(Judge Morris,) what he was ignorant of before, that a person
of his own name and family (Richard Everett) was one of
the first settlers of Springfield, went on to observe, that he
felt, at all times, a peculiar satisfaction in attending a cele
bration of this character. I rejoice, sir, he remarked, in the
recurrence of these anniversaries, at which the dust is swept
from the sepulchres of past times, the stone rolled away frora
their moss-grown graves, and the venerable forms of the
departed, the dead saints of ancient days, in the eye of a
patriotic imagination, walk forth, in dim procession, like the
ancestral forms of a Roman funeral pageant. We seem to
see reproduced to us the dark and serious visages of the
fathers of the republic, the modest countenances and sober
costume of the matrons, the timid maiden, the bounding,
athletic youth, all in visible presentment, as when they lived
and moved upon the scene of actual existence. I regard
such a celebration as a noble day of recompense for the tribu
lations of other times. Would not WiUiara Pynchon, sir,
on the very day when his book, smitten with the heavy
rebuke of the fathers of church and state, was ignominiously
burned on Boston Coramon, have felt his heart cheered and
his spirit soothed, even under the infliction of that stigma,
could he have foreseen that, when near two centuries should
* Delivered at the public dinner, on the 25th of May, 1836, in commem
oration of the first settlement of Springfield, Mass.
(154)

THE SETTLEMENT OF SPRINGFIELD. 155
have passed, on an occasion like this, amidst thousands of an
admiring posterity, his name would be repeated with respect,
gratitude, and veneration, as the great founder of what we
behold around us ! Could I hope, sir, that, after the lapse of
two hundred years, my humble name would be reraerabered
with kind feelings by those who shall come sifter us, as one
who had sought to promote the public good, I should deem
any labor, care, and sacrifice, as cheaply encountered for such
a recompense. If to the moral interest of the festival which has called us
together, you add the attractions of nature, at this pleasant
season of the year, and in this beautiful region, you will not
wonder, sir, at our readiness to leave the noisy streets and
smoky atmosphere of the city for a visit to the banks of this
most lovely river. A well-known poet, (Joel Barlow,) a
native of our sister state, which bears its name, has ex
claimed, in the most beautiful lines of a long work,
" Thy stream, my Hartford, in its misty robe.
Plays in the sunbeams, belting far the globe ;
No watery glades through richer vaUeys shine,
Nor drinks the sea a loveUer wave than thine!"
I confess, sir, I cannot behold this enchanting prospect, I
could not perform the comraodious, rapid, and agreeable
journey by which it is now approached, without my heart
melting within me at the thought of the trials and sufferings
of our fathers, the hardships of the wilderness, and the perils
of the savage foe which they were called to face, amidst
these to us so peaceful and charming scenes.
Sir, the emigration to the banks of the Connecticut was a
bold and hazardous step. At the time when it was taken, I
believe the learned orator of the day will tell us, that Con-^
cord, in. Middlesex county, was the most western settlement
in Massachusetts, and that was barely commenced. It is
always, of course, dangerous to march in the advance of
civflization; to place yourself on the outposts of society, in
the neighborhood of uncivilized Indians ; but the settlers of
Springfield, by a brave bound, plunged into the midst of a

156 THE SETTLEMENT OF SPRINGFIELD.
savage country. They were but a hundred miles from the
plantations of the coast ; but powerful bands of Indians occu
pied the intermediate space. For all purposes of relief and
succor, they might as well have been at a distance of a
thousand mfles from Boston. Such was the difficulty of
crossing the pathless wilderness which lay between them and
the coast, that a man may now go from Boston to New
Orleans, by way of Pittsburg, (I have done it myself,) a
distance, I presume, of twenty-five hundred mfles, in about
as many days as it took some of the first settlers to reach the
banks of the Connecticut River.
I think we see, in the settlement of this river, an early —
perhaps the earliest — indication of that larger and more
courageous spirit of adventure which characterizes the
country. It was a work of the highest daring to cross the
ocean and settle the Atlantic coast of the continent ; and we
should have thought that this would have been deemed suffi
cient at least for the enterprise of one generation. The com
mencement being made on the coast, it would have seemed
natural — almost necessary — that the colonists should cling
together on the verge of the strange continent, and leave
their little commonwealth to increase by gradual expansion,
planting a village or a hamlet this year a few mfles in ad
vance of last year's boundary. But not so. The worthy
fathers at Dorchester, Newton, and Watertown, soon found
themselves, in their own quaint language, "straitened."
They had heard of the noble river of the west, and of the
fertile regions which stretched beyond it, —
"Sweet fields beyond the sweUing flood
Stand dressed in living green," —
and they gave themselves no rest, night nor day, tiU they
had gone forth to possess them.
The early writers have described to us then pilgrimage
through the wilderness. There are few traits of colonial
adventure to be compared with it. It was not merely the
youthful and vigorous huntsman, breasting his way through

THE SETTLEMENT OF SPRINGFIELD. 157
the tangled forest, scattering wild flowers and dew-drops, as
he broke through the thicket. They went in a company,
the aged and the young, the women and the infants. Their
flocks and their herds yielded them sustenance, and their
weary progress was cheered with the voice of their spiritual
leader, and the melody of anthems resounding through the
solemn aisles of the forest. Sir, even in this little history of '
their journey to the river, we retrace the most important fea
ture of the character of the Pilgrims. I ara persuaded that,
often as our forefathers have been spoken of as religious raen,
full justice has hardly yet been done to the topic. It is not
raerely that in their enterprises, conduct, and the ordinary
business of life, they acted as becoraes religious men. This
raay be affirmed of a portion of mankind, in all ages, and
under every form of civfl society. But there is something,
in the Pilgrim settlers of New England, which lies much
deeper than this. I consider the strong religious sense which
animated them as the true historical basis of the forms and
institutions of civfl society, which they organized and trans
mitted to us. Born the subjects of a monarchy, accustomed
to an hereditary nobility and a splendid hierarchy, they put
every thing at once upon a footing of a broad downright po
litical and religious equality. Why ? under what influences ?
Men do not, like Divine Power, create worlds out of nothing.
They modify the existing, and renovate the ancient. Where
did our fathers find the elements, out of which they con
structed the social edifice ? They found them in the Bible ;
in the spirit of that religion which levels to the dust all hu
man distinctions ; and teaching us that there is no respect of
persons with God, furnishes the great and true basis of a well
understood and honestly applied equality among raen.
It does not, of course, belong to rae, nor to this place, to
enter into a discussion of this or any other subject. I cannot,
however, forbear to observe, that I have lately looked through
the work of an intelligent French traveller, M. de Tocque
viUe, a gentleraan sent by his governraent to explore the con
dition of the penitentiaries in this country. He professes
himself a Catholic, and is consequently not likely to be under

158 THE SETTLEMENT OF SPRINGFIELD.
the influence of any prejudice in favor of the prevafling reli
gious character of the country. But he remarks that it was
this which most arrested his attention; and after studying
our country — its government, its character, its parties, it.s
manners — with more care than any other foreigner with
whose writings I am acquainted, and commenting with much
'freedom and occasional severity upon thera, he comes to the
conclusion that there is a raore widely diffused and operative
sense of religion in the United States than in any other coun
try, and that this is the true basis of their political system.
He states it as an extraordinary contrast, that in most of the
states of Europe, religion, so far as it subsists, is mainly up
held by its alliance with the state, and is considered, in con
sequence, by the mass of the people, as one of their burdens,
and as one of the first things from which a deliverance is to
be sought by means of a revolution ; while in America, on
the other hand, it is found to form the real secret of the firm
ness of the political system ; and that, amidst so many appar
ent tendencies to fluctuation and change, an efficient prin
ciple of stability here exists in the generally diffused influence
of religious belief and religious institutions on the public
mind. I think this discriminating observation of the French trav
eller does us no more than justice. How much of the pre
dominant religious character described by him is to be referred
to the influence and example of our forefathers, — the men
who settled New England, — the men of whom we this day
commemorate some of the most meritorious, — I need not say.
Sir, they were very remarkable men ; men of sterling worth.
They had some faults, principally those of the age in which
they lived ; but take them together, the world has not seen
their superiors among uninspired men. Their work has-stood,
because it was laid on a sound basis. • Sir, it wfll stand yet
for ages, for it was founded on the rock of ages. They have
achieved that which wfll not die. They established princi
ples, they set examples, they founded systems of government,
which wfll serve as models to the end of the world. Tho
race of men has taken hold of this inheritance of liberty, and

THE SETTLEMENT OF SPRINGFIELD. 159
will not let it go. All that now exists may be changed and
subverted : in the eloquent language of the orator. New Eng
land may cease to be the abode of civilized men ; revolutions
may sweep the country, as if yonder river should rise and
swell, and wash away the prosperous settlements it now beau
tifies and enriches ; but it is impossible that what has been
done for the cause of humEm liberty and happiness, by the
fathers of New England, should ever perish. If prostrated
here, it will revive in other regions and happier times. The
plan of a representative republic, which they devised, wfll go
down, with the Scriptures, from which its principles are
drawn, to the latest posterity, as the application, made by the
Pflgrim fathers, of divine wisdom to the political affairs of
men. I beg leave to offer as a closing sentiment, —
Our Fathers — their faults were the faults of the
AGE IN which thet LIVED ; THEIR PIETY, FORTITUDE, AND
LOVE OF LIBERTY WERE THEIR OWN. TlME, WHICH DE
STROYS ALL THINGS, SHALL STRENGTHEN THEIR WORK AND
HALLOW THEIR MEMORY.

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MILITIA.*

Mr Commander:
I AM sensible to the honor done rae by the chair, and the
corapany, and I beg leave to make my grateful acknowledg
ments. The toast just given does me no more than justice, in
anticipating my best efforts for the promotion of the welfare
of the railitia systera. I embrace also with pleasure the op
portunity to declare ray entire sympathy with that feeling of
respect for the work and the memory of our fathers, to which
we owe the perpetuity of the " Ancient and Honorable Artil
lery Company." I have always considered this feeling as
one of the safeguards of the republic ; as one of the best
correctives of the violence of the selfish and party passions
of the day. To cherish and strengthen this respect for the
principles of our fathers, has been one of the chief objects I
have proposed to myself in life ; and one in the accomplish
ment of which I have spared no effort, within my humble
sphere of influence.
Perhaps, sir, there is no subject, in regard to which their
principles are better entitled to respect, than the military de
fence of the country. The raore I turn over the pages of
our early colonial history, the more I am struck with the all-
pervading traces of a sort of pf evidential watchfulness for
the security of civfl liberty, and in nothing more than iu this
important respect. I need not repeat what is so well known
to all who have read the early history of the colony, that it
was left to itself, — a handful of pious adventurers, self-exfled
to- the distant and savage shore, — shut out by the ocean
• Delivered at the anniversary dinner of the Ancient and Honorable
Artillery Company, 6th June, 1836. (160)

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MILITIA. 161
from the civflized world, — open through the fearful path
ways of the forest to the inroads of fierce and remorseless
tribes of savages, spurred forward to the work of destruction
by the subjects of the French monarchy, the hereditary foes
of England. In this state of things, nothing could have
seemed more desirable than the presence of a mflitary force,
a regiment, at least, of British troops, scattered up and down
in New England, to preserve the feeble settlement from de
struction. It might have been thought that our ancestors,
from the instinct of self-preservation, would have importuned
the mother country for some such protection ; especially
under the commonwealth, when the civil and military power
had passed into the hands of men whose religious and politi
cal opinions harmonized with their own. Whether our
fathers desired it or not, it might have been thought that the
governraent of England, royal or republican, would have
looked Eifter its own interests in this quarter. It would have
seemed natural that the king of England would not have
been wholly indifferent to the secure possession of these col
onies, and that Cromwell, after thundering with his fleets
through the West Indies, and capturing Jamaica, should take
measures to hold fast to the continent. We all know what
the colonial system of England in modern times has been.
Wheresoever the British jurisdiction is established, in either
hemisphere, frora the rocky towers of Corfu to the burning
latitudes of Hindostan and Australia, the British flag is its
symbol, and the hiding-place of its power is within dark and
frowning tiers of artfllery. They never pretend to hold a
foreign colony by any other tenure than an ever-present mil
itary force. Their government is as mfld and paternal,
perhaps, as a colonial governraent can be ; but frora the rock
of Gibraltar round to the rock of Quebec, it compasses the
globe with an iron belt of glittering bayonets ; it speaks in
the voice of the morning drum, and stalks with the nightly
sentinel along the battlements of impregnable castles.* ^Vhat
* Although not conscious of intentional plagiarism, I must have been
indebted for these sentences to a well-known soul-stirring passage in one
of Mr Webster's speeches in the Senate of the United States, Vol. IL p. 254.
VOL. II. 21

162 THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MILITIA.
an escape for the British colonies that forra the United States !
Had this system, which seemed equally requiied by the
interest of the raother country and the safety of the colonies,
been introduced here at the foundation, — had a battalion
of English troops been stationed from the first on Boston
Common, — who cannot perceive that the republican spirit
and manners of the country never could have been formed ?
No, sir, we not only grew by the neglect of the mother
country, as Colonel Barre said in the House of Commons, but
such neglect was absolutely necessary to the growth of lib
erty. For this reason, all solicitation of aid frora the raother
country was studiously avoided. They never asked for a
man. A patriotic militia, amounting sometiraes to a draft of
almost every able-bodied man in the comraunity, was the
dependence of our fathers, in peace and in war. With this,
they fought through the Pequot war and King Philip's war.
With this, they went to the aid of the British forces in the
wars on the frontier. With this, they conquered Louisburg,
and shared in the glories of duebec. Thus they grew up, a
really warlike people, wholly unused to standing armies ; so
that, when the British system, after the Seven Years' war,
was changed, when regiments of troops were encamped on
Boston Common, when fourteen ships of war were moored
in Boston Harbor, with springs on their cables, and broad
sides ready to open on the town, — the spectacle carried no
terrors to a brave population, who had learned the secret of
their own power, and readily joined in the appeal to the God
of battles. '
Times are now changed. We have grown up into a great
people. A sum of human interests and blessings of untold
araount, an incalculable moral and social treasure, is com
mitted to our charge. With the advantages of a powerful
state, we have its duties and its exposures. We are subject
to insults from abroad and disorders at home. The cloud of
foreign war has just rolled away. Had it burst, how would
it have found this great and rich metropolis ? Without one
gun mounted for its defence. I suppose it is pretty generaUy
admitted that a foreign enemy, even so polite a one as

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MILITIA. 163
France, would pay but little respect to the white staff of our
sheriff, though he should go with all his constables, and read
the riot act in their hearing. Whether these same peace
ful emblems are adequate to sustain the majesty of the law,
when threatened in moments of popular convulsion, we can
all judge. Then, sir, there are two resources for protection
and safety, in the first outbreaking of war, and in times of
civil commotion. One is, a well-organized, patriotic mflitia,
— ever present, rarely seen, — quartered among us, not in
camps and forts, but at the fireside, in the counting-room,
the workshop, the place of business : this is one. The other
resource is, a standing army, encamped on Boston Common,
or stationed on Castle Island. One or the other we raust
have. And the man who sets himself to ridicule the militia,
to exaggerate the defects of the system, to embarrass its
administration, to bring it into discredit, wishes one of two
things : he either wishes the country to be wholly exposed
to insult from abroad, and a prey at home to anarchy, to mob
law, club law, and a general scramble ; or he wishes to see
a flagstaff planted in front of the State House, a couple of
cannon pointing down State Street ; to hear the morning-
gun at daybreak, and to hold the exercise of his daily rights
as a citizen at the discretion of a military comraander.
In a free country, this is a pretty serious alternative. I
have, sir, for the last six raonths, thought rauch and deeply
upon it. It has been ray duty to do so ; and I have corae to
the conclusion that, if we intend to hand down unirapaired
to our chfldren the inheritance of republican liberty, which
we have received frora our fathers, — if we mean that the
civil shall control the mflitary arm, alike in peace and in war,
in prosperous and adverse times, — the militia must again
receive tJie respect of the comraunity.
I give you, sir, as a toast, —
A Well-organized, Efficient, and Patriotic Militia —
In time of peace, the bulwark of the law ; in war, the
BASIS OF defence: — Mat it be restored to the public
FAVOR.

THE SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE AT CHARLESTOWN.'

After the reading of the sixth regular toast, compli
mentary to Mr Everett, that gentleman rose, and, after
making his acknowledgments to the chair, proceeded to
observe, that the day celebrated was not merely dear and
memorable to the citizens of Charlestown, but to all who
love liberty throughout the world. The position occupied
by Charlestown, in reference to Boston, marked it out as the
theatre of the great and glorious tragedy which has been this
day described, and which was the necessary opening of the
revolution. Boston, in 1775, was the great ^Zace of arms of
the British government in America. The extreme south
being very thinly settled, the political and geographical centre
of the English dominions, from Charleston, S. C, on the
right, to the St Lawrence on the left, was in Massachusetts
Bay. Boston was at that time as large a town as any in
British America ; and may I not add, that the nature of the
surrounding population, and the materials which it afforded
for raising a patriotic army, formed another very strong in
ducement to the British governraent to strengthen themselves
at this point ? Hence .jthe commencement of the revolution
found the beautiful city before us strongly gan-isoned, its
heights frowning with batteries, the island which cpmmands
the inner harbor occupied by a regiraent, and numerous ves
sels of war lying broadside to the town. It seems more like
romance than history, that it is but sixty-one years ago this

» At a public dinner on the 17th of June, 1836, tlie anniversary of
the battle of Bunlter HUl. (164)

SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE AT CHARLESTOWN. 165
day since upon those peaceful waters which now hardly
separate us from the metropolis, crossed as they are by the
busy avenues of comraerce, a hostile ship of war lay moored
between Boston and Charlestown, showering her thunderbolts
on our devoted hfll-tops and streets. But, situated as Charles
town was, the advanced post of the continent, startled into
arms by the events of the nineteenth of April, it becarae .of
necessity the first sternly-contested battle-field.
And here I may observe, that nowhere was the infatuation
which prompted the expedition of the nineteenth of April
more severely regretted than at London. It appears from the
papers appended to one of the volumes of Mr Sparks's inval
uable Collection of the Writings of Washington, that the
British ministry were disgusted at their governor for hav
ing coraraitted the woful raistake of that day, and called
him from his post. But the mistake was committed, — a
mistake like that which the Persians committed at Mar
athon, — one of those mistakes which affect the fortunes
of nations for thousands of years. The royal forces are
driven back to Boston, the country aroused from one
extremity to another, and the head-quarters of an array,
norainally large, but really fluctuating, unarraed, and unpro
vided with munitions, established at Cambridge. It would be
as superfluous and unbecoming, as it would be difficult, to
atterapt to add any thing of essential interest to the narrative
to which you have already listened to-day. But even the
slightest detafls connected with such occurrences are curious.
I received the evening before the last, from the secretary of
state, a few original letters, principally of General Ward, the
commander-in-chief of the army at Cambridge, dated on or
about the seventeenth of June, 1775, just discovered in a
neglected corner of the State House, among the papers in
the public archives, which, by an order of the General Court,
are undergoing a thorough examination. They are of no
great intrinsic importance, but they throw some light on the
state of the army and the incidents of the day.
The first is from General Ward, of the twelfth of June,
(five days before the battle,) and relates to quartering the

166 SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE AT CHARLESTOWN.
troops at Cambridge, the delivery and repair of arms, and the
procuring of horses. The second letter is two days later.
It contains distinct indications of the contemplated move
ment. The third is of the fifteenth of June, and sounds still
more distinctly the note of preparation. It announces the
momentary expectation of action, and relates principally to
the preparations of cartridges. The fourth is frora the secre
tary of General Ward, of the same name. It breathes still
more strongly of the air of Bunker Hfll. It is a requisition
for intrenching tools, and is of the sixteenth of June. Sir,
as I hold this original order in my hand, I can almost fancy
I perceive the fresh earthy smell of those ever memorable
intrenchments ; that I can see Colonel Prescott, in the homely
garb in which he has been described to us, with a three-
cornered hat on his head, and a cane in his hand, tapping
along on the top of that redoubt, at the gray dawn. I can
almost hear the broadside of the Somerset, as it comes boom
ing over the waters, when the morning lifts up the curtain
of darkness and mist which had covered the midnight labors
of the patriotic band.
The next letter is a treasure, for its author's sake. It was
written by Putnam, on the immortal seventeenth ; but writ
ten at Cambridge, and before he went down to the battle.
Here is the veteran's signature, of which I will only say it
is somewhat doubtful whether it was made with a goose-
quill, the point of a cutlass, or the handle of a pickaxe. It
announces the arrival of eighteen barrels of powder from
Connecticut. A letter from the chairman of the committee of safety,
calling for four fleet horses, on the day of the battle, to carry
intelligence from the scene of action to head-quarters at
Cambridge, and two brief letters from General Ward, of the
day after the battle, pressing for " all the ordnance and ord
nance stores that can be obtained by m,an" close the list.
These papers, as I said, sir, are of no great historical value,
but they are authentic relics of the great day ; they are the
work of the men and the bodies of men which controlled its

SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE AT CHARLESTOWN. 167
movements. They throw some light on the condition of the
army, and furnish additional fllustration of the fact, well
understood before, that it was miserabl}'^ deficient in the
means of war. They tend in the same degree to heighten
our veneration for the great and patriotic men, who, thus
destitute, plunged into the contest. But we shall imperfectly
read the lesson of history if we stop here. It is true the
colonies were destitute of the materials of war; but they
possessed, particularly in this part of the country, a great
amount of military experience, acquired in the French war,
which had been brought to a close only twelve years before ;
and, for two or three years previous to the rupture, the militia
of New England had been assuming a high degree of organ
ization, which was at length completed. Let us then learn
a lesson of preparation, as well as gratitude, from the history
of the day. One of the most eminent and experienced
statesmen of the country (Mr John Q,. Adams) has lately
declared, in his place in Congress, that a fourfold contest
with England, Mexico, and the Indian and the African races
at the south, is among possible — nay, among probable —
events. I have no means of measuring this probability not
equally possessed by every person who hears me ; but this I
must plainly say, that if these predicted wars overtake the
country, great and prosperous as it is, they would find it, in
some respects, not so well prepared as the revolution found our
fathers. A longer interval of peace must have diminished
the comparative amount of mflitary experience ; and if this
cloud of manifold war should burst suddenly, it would find
that time-honored institution, the militia of the country,
alraost broken down. Yes, the broad shield which then
covered the land, at the commenceraent of hostilities, is
broken and cast away ! Yes, the raflitia, the once honored,
and now derided, raflitia, — to which we owe the undying
memory of Lexington, and Concord, and Bunker Hfll, and
Bennington, and Saratoga, — is sinking, under an unmerited
weight of opprobrium and ridicule, into the dust. I pray
Heaven, sir, if the dark days must overshadow the country.

68 SEVENTEENTH OF JUNE AT CHARLESTOWN.
we may not in this have cause to regret that we are so very-
much wiser than our fathers. I offer, sir, as a concluding
sentiment, —
The Militia : — Let not the arm of public defence,
WHICH this DAT STRUCK FOR INDEPENDENCE, BE PALSIED BT
THE NEGLECT OF THOSE WHOSE LIBERTIES IT MAINTAINED.

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY;

Friends and Fellow-Students :
It is known to you all that a sudden and highly afflictive
dispensation of Providence has prevented our distinguished
fellow-student, [Harrison Gray Otis,] who had been designat
ed to preside over your festivities, frora occupying this place.
Feeling a double portion of the regret which you all feel at
this sorrowful occurrence, and called unexpectedly to take
the place of one so eminently gifted with all that is adapted
to kindle and promote the spirit of the day, I have no re
source but to throw myself unreservedly upon your kind feel
ings. I derive great satisfaction, as I cast my eye along
the tables and consider the nature of the occasion, from the
reflection, that it never could be of less consequence how the
duties of the chair might be perforraed.
Of the numerous historical festivals of the tirae, I know
of none better calculated than this — few so well — to awak
en a deep interest. We have commeraorated, within a few
years past, the settleraent of Plyraouth and Massachusetts, —
the foundation of towns and cities. We have raade our pfl-
griraage to the plains of Lexington and Concord, and to the
heights of Charlestown, — the scenes of memorable events ;
but we have come up to-day to our intellectual metropolis, —
the beautiful Mount Zion of the mind, — the joy of the
whole land. We come to worship before that pure orb of
moral and mental fllumination, in which the bearas of eternal
* Delivered at the public dinner on the 8th September, 1836, in com
memoration of the close of the second century from the foundation of
the University at Cambridge, Massachusetts.
VOL. II. 22 (169)

170 HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY.
truth were gathered for the guidance of our fathers at the
origin of the colony ; and from which, I trust, they wfll ever
shine out, to lighten and warm our children.
Yes, brethren, it is the birthday of our alma mater, that
happy name with which the chfldren of the university of
Cambridge, in England, — as old Ainsworth tells us, — were
accustomed to designate the place- of their education, and
which our fathers brought over and bestowed on the infant
college they had founded here : —
- " parvam Trojam, simulataque magnis

Pergama, et arentem Xanthi cognomine rivum."
It is the birthday of the genial parent who folded us in her
arms, and carried us in her bosom ; and not us alone, but all
who, for two hundred years, have drawn the pure milk of
intellectual life and truth from her maternal breast.
Brethren, there were some recollections of the early his
tory of the college which I intended to recall to you, but our
worthy president has taken all that ground from beneath me.
He has reaped the field, and left nothing for the gleaner. In
fact, it is an occasion when, oppressed by the multitude of
thick-coraing fancies that crowd upon the mind, one is far
less inclined to speak than to muse. An ingenious Italian
writer * has constructed a kind of phflosophical romance on
the idea, that the whole Roman world of ancient tiraes, the
emperors, consuls, and tribunes, the poets, the orators, the
great and wise of every generation, had appeared to hira, in
shadowy conclave, at the newly discovered sepulchre of the
Scipios, and wandered under his guidance over the ancient
and modern city. As the long procession of the alumni
swept through the academic grounds this morning, extending
frora one extreraity of the time-hallowed preciacts to the
other, one could alraost fancy that he saw also the mighty
congregation, the three thousand, of the departed, (with old
president Dunster at their head, starting from the tomb in
yonder graveyard, in which, as you told us, Mr President, it
* Verri, le notti Romane.

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. 171
was his dying request to be deposited,) returning to take their
station in front of the train. They dwelt in yonder halls,
they walked these pleasant fields, their minds were trained up
under the influences which stfll seem to hover in the very air ;
is it rauch to fancy they had corae back to join us in these
festivities ?
Yes, brethren, but little less than five thousand four hun
dred alumni have received the honors of Harvard College.
It has stood for more than six generations, by far the oldest
institution of this character in the United States. It has
stood unchanged, except to be enlarged and improved, and
has reared its modest head amidst the storms which convulsed
alike the mother country and the colonies. Neither the
straits and perfls of the infant settlement, nor the harassing
Indian and French wars, nor the political vicissitudes, the sec-
tai'ian feuds, the neglect, the indifference, or hostflity of the
parent country towards America, the trials of peace or of war,
essentially obstructed the steady course of its usefulness. It
has adapted itself, in each succeeding period, to the wants and
calls of the age, as they have been felt and understood ; and
has sent out generation after generation, in the various profes
sions, in the active and contemplative callings, in the higher
and the humbler paths of educated life, to serve and adorn
the country. The vfllage schoolmaster, the rural physician,
lawyer, and clergyman, — ministers all of unambitious good,
— not less than those whom Providence calls to the most
arduous and responsible posts, have been trained within its
walls. They have come up here for instruction, have re
ceived it, have gone forth, and have passed away ; the chil
dren have occupied the halls which the fathers occupied before
them, and both have been mingled with the dust ; and here
the college, which guided them all till they were ready to
launch on the ocean of life, stfll stands like a pharos founded
on a sea-girt rock. The moss of tirae gathers on it ; the
waters heave and break upon its base ; the tempest beats upon
its sides ; but in vain. Sometimes its lofty tower is reflected
fathom deep in the glassy summer sea, and sometiraes covered
with the foaming surge, which combs and curls from the

172 HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY.
foundation, and breaks in a vaulting flood over its summit.
Unquenched and steady it shines alike through the tempest
and the zephyr. Convoys sweep by it, guided by its beams
to fortune or disaster, but its light never wavers. The hand
that kindles it fails, but another and another renews its beams.
Useful alike to small and to great, the poor fisherman marks
its friendly ray from afar, as he shoots out at dusk to try the
fortune of a lonely evening hour upon his favorite ledge ; and
the mighty admiral descries it, through the parting thunder
clouds of midnight battle, and fearlessly braces his straining
canvas to the gale.
There is always danger, in the enthusiasm of such an
occasion as this, of making extravagant overstatements. I
desire to avoid the error ; but I think it neither overstated
nor extravagant to say, that we commemorate to-day the first
occasion on which a people ever taxed themselves by law to
found a place of education. I think this is true. Certainly
the ancient world furnishes no precedent, in all its monarchies
or republics. In modern times, both before and for some
time after the reformation, places of education were append
ages to the church, founded and endowed by princes, prel
ates, or benevolent individuals. If there is such a thing as a
precedent of a foundation like that commemorated this day,
it must, of course, be in England. I must appeal to gentle
men around me, better versed than I am in the parliamentary
history of that country, to say, whether, before the year
1636, they know of such a thing as a grant of money by the
British House of Commons, to found or endow a place of
education. I think there is no such grant before that period,
nor till long after ; and I therefore believe it is strictly within
the bounds of truth to say, that the General Court of the
colony of Massachusetts Bay, which met on the eighth of
September, 1636, (the date which has determined the day of
our present celebration,) is the first body in which the peo
ple, by their representatives, ever gave their own money to
found a place of education. I am inclined to think that then
and there this auspicious precedent was established, of mak
ing the support of education a public charge ; and I ask

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. 173
whether, from the days of Lycurgus to the present hour, the
history of government records an incident better worthy of
commeraoration. It was the practice of the ancient historians, in giving an
account of important deliberations, to represent, in the form
of speeches, ascribed to the principal personages, the argu
ments which might have been adduced in favor of, or against,
the measures adopted. The question of an appropriation for
foundiug the college, the event which we this day celebrate,
was for some considerable tirae before the General Court, but
no account has reached us of what was said on either side.
It is not difficult, however, to conceive what would be the
general line of argument of such a man, for instance, as Gov
ernor Winthrop, to whom the president, in his discourse, has
justly assigned the first place in the list of the leaders and
benefactors of the colony. The chief magistracy this year
was intrusted to the youthful stranger. Sir Henry Vane.
Winthrop was the deputy governor, and, as the representa
tives did not occupy a separate chamber till 1644, the vener
able founder of the colony raay be easily supposed, as to the
substance, to have addressed both branches of the priraitive
little legislature somewhat as follows : —
" Men, Brethren, and Fathers : The matter of founding a
coUege is beyond question one of the raost important which
hath engaged our attention since the hand of God conducted
us to these uttermost corners of the earth. Hitherto, what
we have done hath mostly had respect either to the bodily
safety and comfort, or the social ordering, or the spiritual edi
fication of this present generation of planters, that is to say,
of ourselves. But a higher object demandeth our care.
These houses which we have buflded will decay; these
pious teachers that now minister to us, bright and shining
lights though they be, will go down to the dust, and we shall
be gathered by theh side. What, then, shall be the condi
tion of our chfldren, and our chfldren's chfldren, when pastor
and parent are gone, if we fail to provide for their training
up in good learning and the knowledge of God's word ?
" Doth it seem to you, men and brethren, a great work to

174 HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY.
bufld up a house of learning in the midst of these deep for
ests ? I grant it to be so, especially in the present exhausted
condition of this poor colony, and while a war betwixt us
and the heathen is raging. But the parent, though he be
starving, spareth a part of his last loaf, that his hungry babe
may have bread on the morrow ; and yonder poor Indian
woman, whom I discern through the window as I speak to
you, wiU strip the blanket from herself to cover her freezing
child. Let us, of the frugal means which the good God hath
yet left us, lay the foundation, and doubt not that benefactors
will rise up, when they are least looked for. That Being,
whose prophet smote the rock, and raade it flow with a living
stream, is able to open a spring of beneficence, even in this
thirsty wilderness.
" Doth any one deem, that to erect a seat of science is to
go about a work beyond the decency of the day of small
things in which we live, and savoring of the bravery of an
old and abundant state ? It were so, if we thought to rival
the spacious cloisters and lofty towers of our alma m,ater, in
old England ; but not, while we seek only to provide for our
children those modest means of education which beseem an
infant commonwealth. There goeth forth ordinarily, in hu
man affairs, a small beginning, even in the greatest work.
There was a time when Oxford and Cambridge, the twins of
learning at home, were struggling into existence by the care
of our fathers, albeit at that time under the cloud of a cor
rupted church, in ages long past. If we now lay the corner
stone of a college, however hurable, on a right foundation
of piety and truth, now, blessed be God, dispensed araong us
uncorrupt and sincere, think not, raen and brethren, I speak
the language of extravagance, if I foreteU the day, when
stately edifices will rise within the enclosure of our modest
school ; when libraries and cabinets will open their treasures
in these precincts, now scarcely safe from the beasts of the
forest ; when Nature, tortured in our laboratories, shall con
fess her hidden mysteries; when, from the towers of our
academy, the optic tube, lately contrived by the Florentine
philosopher, shall search out the yet undiscovered secrets of

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. 175
the deepest heavens ; when a long line of those here formed
to the service of God and mankind shall stand recorded in
our catalogue. Yea, brethren and fathers, of a truth I can
foresee the day when, after the lapse of centuries, a venerat
ing posterity, on some festival consecrated to the memory of
its founders, shall gather together, and with soleran prayers,
and- grave discourse, and decent festivities, heap blessings on
our names. When that day shall come, though hundreds of
years shall first have passed, the clods shall press more lightly
on my bosom, as I shall rest in mine house of clay.
" Besides, raen, brethren, and fathers, consider, I pray you,
the work we have undertaken. It is to build a pure com
monwealth on the rock of truth, on the foundation of the
prophets and apostles, Jesus Christ himself being the chief
corner stone. We have no mines of gold to tempt adven
turers, as hath befallen in the Spaniard's colonies, southward
of Virginia; neither doth our comraerce, though hopefully
prospering, yield the abundant returns of the Spice Islands.
But there seemeth a well-grounded persuasion, that this our
New England hath, in these last days, been reserved to a
great work. Even certain of the heathen poets appear to
have entertained a foreboding of its discovery ; and Seneca
speaketh of the latter ages, when Oceanus shall loosen his
bonds, and a vast continent be discovered. To that long-
hidden region the hand of God hath guided us, to found a
Christian republic, and establish a pure church. And think
you, brethren, there can be any other foundation laid than
that is laid — the knowledge of all useful truth, and the
apprehension of the word ? Trust me, there cannot ; and
this seat of learning, which you propose to found, is not so
much advisable as necessary. It is the appointed means of
carrying on the great work we were sent hitherto to accom
plish. Your harvests may fafl, and the coming year wfll
supply the want. Fires may consume your dwellings, and
the forest will yield in abundance the materials to replace
them. Even a portion of our young raen may fall beneath
the tomahawk of the savage, and the loss, although most
grievous, (as Pericles justly observeth in the funeral oration

176 HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY.
over the Athenians, who fell in the first year of the Pelopon-
nesian war, and which, in the second book of Thucydides
his History, is ascribed, I know not if truly, to that famous
popular chieftain, ) may yet be restored. But, if the light of
learning shall go out ; if the study of God's word among us
shall perish ; if, as these pious fathers one by one are taken
away, none shall rise up in their stead, — it wfll bring a
slowly creeping distemper upon the land, and will strike a
wound into New England's heart which can never be
healed. " On the other hand, let us found the college now, in the
infancy of the colony ; let no space, no, not for a day, be
interposed, in which ignorance can gain a foothold ; let sound
human learning, and the study of the Scriptures of truth, go
hand in hand with the growth of the state ; and I tell you,
men and brethren, the feeble plant will take root and flour
ish. Though sown in weakness, it shall be raised in
power. A succession of the learned and pious, the great and
the good, shall here be trained up, to make glad the cities and
churches" of the Lord. Prosperous times may follow, and
your sons shall adorn and promote the prosperity of the land.
Dark and adverse days raay succeed, but the prudent coun
seller and the eloquent orator shall not fafl ; and, so long as
New England or Araerica hath a name on the earth's surface,
the fame and fruit of this day's work shall be blessed. Men,
brethren, and fathers, I have done."
Such, however presuraptuous the atterapt to erabody them,
were the motives and the principles on which the college was
founded. It was an institution established by the people's
means for the people's benefit. If, in any other quarter of
the globe, it has been objected to seats of learning, that they
nourish a spirit of dependence on power, such has never been
the reproach of our alma mater. Owing much, at every
period before the revolution, to the munificence of individu
als in the raother country, it never was indebted to the crown
for a dollar or a book. No court favor was ever bestowed,
and no court lesson ever learned. Generation after genera
tion went forth from her lecture-rooms, armed in all the pan-

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. 177
oply of truth, to wage the battles of principle, alike under
the old charter and the new ; and, when the fulness of time
was come, and the great contest approached, the first note of
preparation was sounded from Harvard Hall. Yes, before
the stamp act was passed ; yes, before committees of corre
spondence were established throughout the colonies ; before
Otis had shaken the courts with his forensic thunders ; before
a breath of defiance had whispered along the arches of
Faneuil Hall, — a graduate of Harvard College announced in
his thesis, on commencement day, the whole doctrine of the
revolution. Yes, in the very dawn of independence, while
the lions of the land yet lay slumbering in the long shadows
of the throne, an eaglet, bred in the delicate air of freedom
which fanned the academic groves, had, frora his " coigne of
vantage " on yonder tower, drunk the first rosy sparkle of the
sun of liberty into his calm, undazzled eye, and whetted his
talons for the conflict. Within the short space of twenty-
three years, there were graduated at Harvard College six men,
who exercised an influence over the country's destinies, which
no time shall outlive. Within that brief period, there went
forth frora yonder walls, James Otis, John Hancock, Joseph
Warren, Josiah Q,uincy, — besides Sarauel and John Adams,
"geminos, duofulmina belli."
Yes, fellow-students, if our college had done nothing else
than educate Samuel Adams, who, in 1743, on taking his
second degree, maintained the thesis, that it is lawful to resist
the chief magistrate, if the state cannot otherwise be pre
served ; or James Otis, who, by his argument on writs of
assistance, in the words of one * well authorized to express
an opinion, " first breathed the breath of life into the cause
of American freedom ; " or John Hancock, the patriot mer
chant, who offered his fortune as a sacrifice to the country,
and placed his name first to the Declaration of her independ
ence ; or John Adams, the " colossus who sustained the Dec
laration " in debate ; or Josiah duincy, (your honored father,
Mr President,) who, in 1774, wrote to his countrymen from
* President Adams the elder.
VOL. II. 23

178 HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY.
London, "that they raust seal their testiraony with their
blood ; " or Warren, who, on yonder sacred heights, made
haste to obey that awful injunction ; — had Harvard College
done no more than train up any one of these great men to
the country's service, what title could it need to the world's
gratitude and admiration ? But not on one, or all of these,
does the fame of our alma mater repose. A hundred kindred
spirits in every calling, in every part of the land, in ancient
and modern days, alike assert their claim to her spiritual lin
eage, and form the crown of her glory : —
"Felix prole virdm; queilis Berecynthia mater
Invehitur curru Phrygias turrita per urbes,
Lseta deiim partu, centum complexa nepotes,
Omnes coelicolas, omnes supera alta tenentes."
It is not, brethren, I own, without peculiar emotions that
I join in this happy celebration. A quarter part of a century
is this year closed, since my classmates and myself were dis
missed from these venerable shades. In that period, one third
part, nearly, of our number have closed their mortal career,
and we have all passed that culminating period of life, from
which its end becomes daily, and for the most part rapidly,
more visible. During the whole of this period, with scarce
an interval, it has been ray good fortune to sustain some offi
cial connection, more or less ultimate, with the university,
and to receive the most signal proofs of its confidence. I
deem rayself eminently favored of Providence, on this illus
trious anniversary, that I am permitted, before this great and
enlightened concourse of her chfldren, to lay the honors, with
which the unmerited kindness of ray fellow-citizens has
crowned me, as an offering, at her venerable feet. May God
prosper her in all aftertimes, as she has hitherto been pros
pered ; and a century hence, when we, who now unite in
these high festivities, shall long have passed away, — long
after every tongue heard this day shall be hushed, and every
eye that glistens around me shall be closed, — then may our
chfldren's children come up with joy, and grateful honors,
and stfll warmer devotion, to celebrate another jubilee !

HARVARD CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. 179
I give you, fellow-students, as a toast, —
Our Alma Mater; mature in touth, vigorous in age,
illustrious alwats :
"In freta dum fluvii current, dum montibus umbrse
Lustrabunt convexa, polus dum sidera pascet,
Semper honos nomenque tuum, laudesque manebunt"

THE SETTLEMENT OF DEDHAM:

Mr President and Gentlemen :
I cannot but be sensibly affected by the kind notice you
are pleased to take of me. The occasion is one which must
interest every reflecting mind. No one can witness what we
behold at this moment, or hear what we have heard this day,
without being highly gratified ; but the toast which has been
announced raust prepare you for my saying that, though
personally a stranger to almost all present, I take raore than a
stranger's interest in the celebration. My ancestors, from the
very first foundation of Dedham, in 1636, were established
here, and, like the great majority of the people, in the unam
bitious condition of cultivators of the sofl. The name of the
first of them, who has been so kindly remembered by the
orator of the day, in his most appropriate, eloquent, and in
structive discourse, is found in the list of the original settlers
of the place. In the second generation, I have just perceived
in one of the interesting ancient parchments, which have
passed around the table, that another of the name was one of
the four coraraissioners who, in 1686, received a confirma
tion of the Indian title of the town from the grandson of
Chiakatawbut, of whom it was originally purchased. My
own honored father was born and grew up to manhood here,
in the same humble sphere ; and as I came back to-da^'-, fel
low-citizens, to breathe among you the native air of my race,
I must say that, with the greater experience I have of the
cares and trials of public station, the more ready I am to
* Delivered at the public dinner, 21st September, 1836, the anniversary
of the settlement of Dedham. (180)

THE SETTLEMENT OF DEDHAM. 181
wish that it had been my lot to grow up and pass my life in
harmless obscurity in these peaceful shades, and, after an un
obtrusive career, to be gathered to my sires, in the old Ded
ham graveyard, where
"Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."
But not to dwell any longer on what is raerely personal to
an individual, let me say, sir, that I regard a festival like this
not only as highly interesting, but exceedingly significant
and instructive. It is often said by superficial writers in
Europe, that our systems of government are a mere experi
ment, the mushroom growth of yesterday; and from this
assumed fact of their recent origin, their short-lived duration
is foreboded. To this reproach let the expressive answer be
given, in the golden ciphers blazoned on the front of the
pulpit this day, (1636,) and tastefully wreathed in evergreen
on the arch which adorns yonder lawn. The mushroom
growth of yesterday ! Sir, this is a centennial, a second cen
tennial anniversary. Our institutions, political, civil, and
social, are not of yesterday ; they are substantially two hun
dred years old. Their foundation is not laid on modern
straw or stubble ; it goes down to the lowest stratum, — the
origin of the colony, — the primitive rock. We have, I
trust, in all things where it was needful or practicable, kept
pace with, and even gone beyond, the improvements of the
long intervening period ; but as all the substantial elements
of our rights and liberties were implanted by the fathers, so
in all things there has been a measured progress, and a slow
ripening towards maturity. The federal constitution, and
the constitutions of the states, which have most attracted the
notice of Europe, are indeed the work of the last generation ;
but the great principles on which they are founded are coeval
with the country. You might as well call the great oak-tree
in front of Mr Avery's house, in East Street, the growth of
yesterday, because its broad expanse of foliage has put forth
the present season ; whereas its acorn was deposited genera
tions ago, and its trunk has braved the blasts of two centu-

182 THE SETTLEMENT OF DEDHAM.
ries. The wonderful progress and development which have
taken place in the country in the last forty years, and no
where, perhaps, raore than in Dedhara, are but the spreading
branches, the waving foliage, the ripened fruit from that
germ, which was planted in tribulation and watered with
tears. Here in Massachusetts, raore than two centuries ago,
whfle the people yet abode in those log houses, which
were alluded to by the orator, and constructed by each man
for himself, (for artisans as yet there were none,) with the
Indian in the neighboring swamp, and the wolf at raidnight
before the threshold, there was a solid framework of repre
sentative government, a well-compacted civil society ; there
were laws, and tribunals to enforce them ; there were schools,
and provision for their support ; there was a college, gener
ously endowed by public and private liberality, of which Mr
Allen, your first minister, was one of the first overseers ; and
there was meet provision for the maintenance of public wor
ship, and the dispensation of the gospel. All this is two
hundred years old among us, and I trust in Heaven that be
fore it ceases frora among us it wfll be two thousand.
I derive from the age of these our institutions (and surely
they are the life and soul of the body politic, — that which
gives to outward forms their power and value) an argument in
favor of their permanence. They will not go down with
to-morrow's sun, for they did not spring up yesterday. They
were not reared by our hands, and when we perish they will
survive us. They guided and animated our fathers, and car
ried them through dark and trying times, and I have a cheer
ful hope that, for long generations to come,* they will guide
and direct our children.
Sir, I mean no empty compliment when I say, that, taking
the character of your ancient town as it appears in history,
or even in the instructive summary which the orator has
given us of it, it seems to me an admirable specimen of the
true New England character. We may take a distinction in
this matter. In first breaking the way in the arduous enter
prise of settling a new country, especially under the discour
aging circumstances in which our ancestors were placed, it

THE SETTLEMENT OF DEDHAM. 183
was perhaps unavoidable, that some harsh and repulsive traits
should be found on the part of sorae of the leaders ; and in
point of fact, such traits are found in the characters of sorae
of the chief men at Boston and Salem. But I do not find
them here. The settlers of Dedham appeared — to use a
homely phrase — singularly disposed to keep out of hot water.
They left the harassing controversies of the day to their
brethren at the northern part of the colony. There was but
one topic on which they warmed into passion, and that was
Liberty. When that was in peril, they were wrought to a
noble frenzy. If a poor Q,uaker was to be scourged at the
cart-tafl, as the orator told us, they waited in Dedham for
orders from the metropolis : but when a usurper was to be
prostrated ; when the country people were to rush to town
" in such heat and rage " as to raake the Boston folks trem
ble ; when a bold champion was required, to burst into Mr
Usher's house, to drag forth the tyrant by the collar, to bind
hira, and cast hira into the fort, — then Dedhara is ready with
her intrepid Daniel Fisher, — rthe son of the proscribed
speaker of the sarae narae, — "a second Daniel," as the ora
tor well expressed it, " literally come to judgment ! "
But this was the overflowing of popular feeling at a crisis.
In ordinary times, the name they wished to give their settle
ment, Contentment, though of a somewhat puritanical sound,
well expresses their character. But though they were con
tented with their condition, it was not a stupid contentment.
They had not " the flagrant stupidity" — to use the quaint
combination of ideas which the orator quoted from your revo
lutionary records — to set at nought all efforts at improveraent.
Theirs was a rational contentment, a thoughtful contentment,
pretty busy in trying to better their condition, that they
might have more to be contented with. Not to speak of
the great enterprise of settling Deerfield, they set an exam
ple, in the very infancy of the town, of an enlarged and
liberal policy of improvement, in constructing the canal
which unites the waters of the Charles with those of the
Neponset, and this, as we were told by the orator, as early as
1639. Why, sir, this communication used to be spoken of

184 THE SETTLEMENT OF DEDHAM.
as a wonderful natural phenomenon. It has turned out to be
an artificial work, executed by the order of the town, three
years after the settleraent. Well raay it be called Mother
Brook, first as it is of all the thousand works of internal ira-
proveraent, which have spread their network over the coun
try, bringing art to the aid of nature, and calling science to
minister to the comfort and prosperity of man. It is a
pleasing proof of the good judgment with which the work
Avas projected, that it still serves the purpose for which it was
originally designed, and is the seat of activity, industry, and
productive power, contributing essentially to the prosperity
of Dedham. Without taking up more of your time, sir, I
beg leave to propose as a closing sentiment, —
Our Fathers : — In their piett and humility contented
with a little, may their posterity, to whom they have
beq,ueathed a heritage of the richest blessings, be con
tented and grateful in its enjoyment, and faithful in
its transmission !

THE CATTLE SHOW AT DANVERS.*

After some remarks on the nature and objects of cattle
shows, and the beneficial influence which had been exerted by
them on the state of the husbandry of this part of the coun
try, Mr Everett proceeded substantially as follows : —
The benefit which has accrued to our farmers from these
exhibitions cannot be estiraated in dollars and cents, or meas
ured by the figures employed to state an increase of agricul
tural products. A few more tons of hay from your meadows ;
a few more bushels of corn or potatoes from your tilled lands ;
a better stock of animals for the dairy, the fold, or the pen,
— would add something, it is true, to the public and private
wealth of the country; but if nothing further came of
it, it would be a matter in which neither the patriot nor the
Christian could take a very deep interest.
But when we consider that the class of husbandmen is
numerically the largest in the community, and that on their
condition it has been found, in the experience of the whole
world, that the social, political, and moral character of coun
tries mainly depends, it is self-evident that whatever improves
the situation of the farmer feeds the life-springs of the na
tional character. In proportion as our husbandmen prosper,
they not only enjoy themselves a larger portion of the bless
ings of life, but society is kept in a healthy state, and they
are enabled to make ampler provision for the education and
establishment of their children, and thus leave behind them
a posterity competent not only to preserve and assert, but to
augment and improve, their heritage.
* On the 28th of September, 1836.
VOL. n. 24 (185)

186 THE cattle show AT DANVERS.
It will accordingly be found that the great differences in
the political condition of different countries coincide directly
with the different tenure on which the land is held and culti
vated. It is not that in one country the governraent is ad
ministered by an elective president ; in another by a limited
monarch ; in another by an absolute despot. These things
are not unimportant ; because forms have a tendency to draw
the substance after them. But a far more important question,
in deciding the political condition of different countries, is.
How is the land held 7 The orator has told us what is the
case in many parts of Europe ; but there are countries where
the case is still worse. There are countries where the land
— the whole of it — is claimed to be the property of an ab
solute despot, — rather a chief of brigands than a sovereign, —
who once or twice a year sends out his armed hordes to scour
the territory ; to sweep together, without the shadow of
law or pretence of right, whatever they can lay their hands
on ; leaving the wretched peasant little else than what he
actually grasps with his teeth. Such is the system intro
duced into some parts of Hindostan by their Mahometan
conquerors, and it had the effect of breaking down the civil
ization of countries once refined, learned, wealthy, and pros
perous, into a condition very little better than that of the
-North American savage. Contrast this with the system on
which our lands are held and occupied, in pursuance of which,
as a general rule, it is divided into small farms, the property
of those who tfll them, who have every inducement and facil
ity to better their condition, and who feel themselves on an
equality with their fellow-citizens in every other pursuit. It
is plain that over such a population no government could
exist but one like that beneath which we " live, in which the
people are the direct source of power. Where this. is the
case, it is equally plain that whatever improves and raises
the condition of husbandmen, tends directly to sustain and
fortify the social fabric.
A very celebrated ancient poet exclaimed, " O, too happy
farmers, did you but know your blessings ! " If this could be
said of the farmers of Italy, at the close of the civil wars, —

THE CATTLE SHOW AT DANVERS. 187
subjects of Em absolute prince, and a part of them only the
owners of the land they tilled, — it may well be repeated of
the husbandmen of New England, the proprietors of a sofl
which furnishes a competence of all the good things of life,
and the possessors of an amount of blessings never surpassed,
if ever equalled. Not among the least of these privileges is
the rich birthright of patriotic recollections which has come
down to us from our fathers, and of which no portion of the
country has more to boast than the ancient county of Essex.
It is no flattery to say that the county of Essex is a distin
guished part of the state. It would be easy, within the limits
of this single county, to find, in the history of other times,
bright examples of all the traits of character and conduct
which promote the prosperity and honor of nations in peace
and in war. From the early contests with the Indians and
French, — from the times when the " Flower of Essex "
fell at " Bloody Brook," down to the close of the revolution,
— the fathers and forefathers of those I have the honor to
address, contributed a full share of the counsel and treasure,
the valor and blood, by which the cause of the country was
directed, sustained, and carried through triumphant.
Need I go beyond the limits of the town of Danvers ? Is
it not enough to recall the tirae, not yet beyond the memory, I
am sure, of some whom I see before me, when a regiment of
royal troops was here encamped, a sort of prastorian band, to
guard the residence of the royal governor ? Need I do more
than remind you of the morning of the nineteenth of April,
1775, when your sires, at the sound of the bell in yonder
church, hastened together, a portion of them under the com
mand of your venerable felloAV-citizen near me, (General
Gideon Foster,) and rushed, rather than marched, to the field
of danger, — sixteen miles in four hours, — flying into the
jaws of death, as rapidly as fear commonly lends men wings
to fly frora it ; and contributing, this single town, this one
little town — O, prodigality of noble blood ! — one sixth of
the entire loss of that eventful day. Need I, my friends, for
the raost touching recollections, go beyond the walls of yon
der ancient church, consecrated, as it was, by the strange

188 THE CATTLE SHOW AT DANVERS.
spectacle, (at the memory of which your tears were called
forth afresh, on last year's return of the great anniversary,) —
the sight of four of your brave sons, wrapped in their bloody
shrouds, — the honorable wounds which they had received
in their country's cause stfll freshly flowing ? Could I before
this audience, on such a theme, be wholly mute, would not
the gray hairs of the veteran leader of that heroic band, who
is now before me, (General Foster,) rebuke my silence, and
put a tongue in every echo of this buflding, which would
cry out and shame me !
Yes, fellow-citizens, if any thing could make your native
land, your homes, your firesides more dear to you, it must be
these recollections to the precious blood by which they were
redeemed. If any thing were wanting to inspire you with a
passionate attachment to the blessings you enjoy, it would be
the thought of the inestimable price at which they were
purchased. Nor let us forget, if we have a patriotic ancestry to be
proud of, and if we have privileges to enjoy, we have also
incumbent duties to perform. The great principles of repub
lican liberty are exposed to danger in peace, as well as in war.
Prosperity not less than trial, may sap the foundation of the
social fabric ; and there is at all times less danger from a for
eign foe, than from party passion, individual selfishness, and
general apathy.
It will not, of course, be expected of me to enlarge upon
the duties which devolve upon our husbandmen, with a view
to guard against the dangers of this kind which surround us.
I can but glance at the topic. But I raay say, that the first
and raost important duty of the husbandman is to endeavor
to preserve, and, if it raay be, to strengthen, the broad founda
tion laid by our fathers in a deep religious principle. Surely
there is no class of the community, whose daily pursuits
ought to furnish greater nourishment to the sense of religious
things. The reflecting mind, it is true, beholds traces of a
higher wisdom and goodness in every step of every walk of
life ; but the husbandman, who drops a seemingly lifeless
seed into the cold, damp earth, there in great part to decay.

THE CATTLE SHOW AT DANVERS. 189
— who sees the vital germ in a few days pierce the clod, rise
into the air, drink the sun's rays and the dews of heaven,
shoot upwards and expand, array itself in glories beyond the
royal vesture of Solomon, extract from the same common
earth and air a thousand varieties of the green of the leaf,
the rainbow hues of the petals, the juicy or the solid sub
stance of the fruit, which is to form the food of man and his
dependent animals, — I say, the intelligent husbandman, Who
beholds this, seems to step behind the veil which conceals the
mysteries of creative power, and sit down (ifl dare so speak)
in the laboratory of Omnipotence.
Connected with the cultivation of the religious principle,
and the natural fruit of it, we look to our husbandmen for a
high moral sense. The worst feature in the degradation of
many foreign countries is the moral condition of those who
tfll the soil, showing itself in the extreme of intemperance
and the kindred vices. No man can fully understand this, who
has not witnessed it. In the general moral character of our
population, we are warranted in saying, that it might serve
as an example to the world. I know not the country on
earth in which a concourse could be assembled of a better
character than that which is brought together in this town
to-day, and might be assembled, on any similar occasion, in
any town in Massachusetts. We look to our husbandmen,
by precept and example, to sustain, and, if possible, to elevate
this sound state of morals in the coramunity.
Lastly, that I may say a single word on a subject on which
the orator has preceded me, — it is a great and just boast of
the Pilgrims and their descendants, that they made early and
ample provision for education. Farmers of Essex, hold fast
to that boast. I had rather, for the appearance, — if I must
choose between them, — see the country dotted all over, at its
cross roads, with its plain little vfllage school-houses, than
have the high places of a few large towns crowned with the
most splendid fabrics of Grecian and Roman art. I had
rather, for the strength and defence of the country, — if I
must choose between them, — see the roads that lead to those
school-houses thronged with the children of both sexes, salut-

190 THE CATTLE SHOW AT DANVERS.
ing the traveller as he passes, in the good old New England
way, with their little courtesy or nod, than gaze upon regi
ments of mercenary troops parading upon the ramparts of
impregnable fortresses. Ay, for the honor of the thing, I
had rather have it said of me, that I was, by choice, the hum
blest citizen of the state, making the best provision for the
education of all its children, and that I had the heart to
appreciate this blessing, than sit on a throne of ivory and
gold, the monarch of an ignorant and barbarous erapire on
which the sun never sets. Husbandraen, sow the seed of
instruction in your sons' and daughters' rainds. It will grow
up and bear fruit, though the driving storra scatter the blos
soms of spring, or untimely frost overtake the hopes of au
tumn. Plant the germ of truth in the infant understanding
of your chfldren ; save, stint, spare, scrape, — do any thing
but steal, — in order to nourish that growth ; — and it is not
too much to say, that it will flourish when that overarching
heaven shall pass away like a scroll, and the eternal sun,
which lightens it, shall set in blood !

THE IRISH CHARITABLE SOCIETY.*

Mr President :
I RISE, agreeably to usage, to make my acknowledgments to
yourself and the corapany for their kind notice. I deera it
an honor to have been invited to be present on this occasion,
and I regard it a very auspicious circumstance for Massachu
setts, that a festival like this can be celebrated in her capital,
with such demonstrations of cordial feeling and good will on
the part of such a company as I see around rae. I have
been, in truth, sir, highly interested in the exercises of the
day. I had a general knowledge of your society, from the
reports of the proceedings of former anniversaries ; but I was
ignorant that its existence dated so far back ; covering, in
fact, nearly one half of the entire period since the settlement
of the country. I must own, too, sir, that before hearing
your judicious and eloquent discourse, I had not sufficiently
reflected on the importance of such an institution as this, in
a national point of view. No public man, it is true, in
America, can have fafled to perceive the vast importance of
the subject of emigration, in various aspects. I have ever
thought the condition, circumstances, and wants of those
who land on our shores from Europe, deserving more consid
eration than has been yet paid to them. They not only af
ford scope for the most meritorious efforts of philanthropy,
but they have important bearings on the welfare both of
America and Europe. But I perceive from your discourse,
sir, that this and kindred societies are actually necessary, if I
• Speech made at the public dmner of the Irish Charitable Society of
Boston, on the 17th of March, 1837, being the hundredth anniversary of
that institution. ,

192 THE IRISH CHARITABLE SOCIETY.
may so express myself, to enable the new world to fulfil its
destiny. By the destiny of the new world, I mean the office
assigned it by Providence in promoting the advanceraent of
civilization, the progress of freedom, and the moral improve
ment of our race.
It is justly remarked by the learned historian of the Roman
empire, tliat one of the circumstances which rendered the
condition of its subjects more completely wretched than that
of the victims of tyranny in any other age or country was, that
they had no escape. The empire of the Romans, he observes,
filled the world ; and when that empire fell into the hands
of a single person, the world became one dreary prison for
his enemies. He contrasts this condition of things with that
of the modern world, and regards the division of Europe
into a number of independent states, connected, however,
with each other by a general resemblance of religion, lan
guage, and manners, as productive of the most beneficial
consequences to the liberty of mankind. A modern tyrant
who found no restraint in his own bosom, or from his own
people, would soon find it from the exaraple of his fellow-
rulers, the dread of censure, the advice of his allies, the fear
of his enemies. The objects of his displeasure might fly to
other countries, and there find refuge, new fortunes, perhaps
the means of revenge. I shall not, certainly, question the
truth of these judicious reflections ; but a very limited ac
quaintance with the modern history of Europe will teach us,
that something more is required in order to the full protection
of the victims of oppressive government. The international
system of a considerable part of Europe tends to a sort of
confederacy of monarchies. You cannot travel from one
country to another without a passport. This may be given
or refused at pleasure ; and the minister or consul of every
power resident at any intermediate court, near which the
fugitive has to pass, may refuse to countersign the passport.
In this way a man may be hunted from Archangel to Lisbon.
But besides this, in Europe what is to be gained by change
of place, to any class, except those who possess a great
amount of easfly transferable wealth ? The old world is full

THE IRISH CHARITABLE SOCIETY. 193
of inhabitants, or at least the land is all appropriated ; the
professions and the trades are full, and a hungry competition
keeps out intruders. There are political orders, religious es-
tablishraents, deep-rooted prejudices, national feuds, every
where prevalent ; and a man, jostled or forced out of the
spot where he was originally planted, particularly if known
as a man of liberal opinions, is apt to find elsewhere in
Europe neither place, sympathy, nor good wfll. This checks
all ardent efforts at improveraent against the interest or pleas
ure of the governraents. To afford then, at once, a fuU and
fair scope for the noble principle of our natures which
aspires to improve our condition ; a refuge for those who fail
in the sometiraes perilous attempt ; a spot where good may
be achieved without the painful necessity of puUing down
the bad ; where the blessings of nature and bounties of Prov
idence may be enjoyed without struggling with others for
what they hold by prescription and claim as right, — it
pleased Heaven, at the moraent of the great raoveraent in
Europe, occasioned by the invention of the art of printing,
to rend away the raighty vefl of waters that concealed the
western world.
Hither, at all periods since its discovery, the longing hearts
of the friends of liberty and the victims of oppression have
been turned. The persecuted Puritan found refuge in New
England, and the persecuted Catholic in Maryland, at the
sarae moraent. As perhaps there is no spot on earth which has
suffered more from misgovernment than Ireland, none where
there is more passionate attachment to liberty, so perhaps there
is no country frora which a larger emigration to Araerica has
taken place. It is difficult to say whether the cause of hu
manity and iraprovement is the greatest gainer on the part of
those who emigrate, or of their friends left behind, and still
struggling in the good cause. An imbittered and exasperated
state of public feeling, forever hovering on the verge of rebel
lion, however righteous the cause of warfare, is unfavorable
to human improvement or happiness. But such a state
exists, wherever all outlet and escape are cut off. I am per
suaded that the cause of liberty is much more effectually
VOL. IL 25

194 THE IRISH CHARITABLE SOCIETY.
served in Europe by the reflection back from this country of
the light of liberal institutions, by the spectacle of general
prosperity shared by those who have turned their backs on
the hardships and oppressions of older countries, than it could
possibly have been had the iron wall of the European confeder
acy never been broken down, and the friends of freedom been
heraraed in, to struggle, to suffer, and to sink, without the
possibility of a refuge in case of disaster. You have also
stated to-day, sir, that the progress of reform in your native
country was impeded by the explosion of 1789 ; and it is
beyond question that, if it is to make sure and rapid ad
vances, it must be in the paths of peace, and under the genial
reaction of public sentiment from this country.
But now, sir, comes a practical difficulty. In the prodi
gious extent of emigration which is constantly taking place,
particularly under the circumstances which occasion much of
the emigration from Ireland, there is rauch present suffering,
rauch want of guidance, much need of encouragement. The
emigrant lands on our shores a stranger ; often a friendless,
destitute stranger. You have sketched the picture, sir ; it
needs no attempt at coloring from me. If he does not stoop
to pick up the dollar at his feet, it is not always under the
egregious delusion, of which you told us, that farther
on there is a bag of gold. Sometiraes it is because his heart
is sick at the thought of those at home, who struggle in vain
for a shilling to procure their daily bread. He has come to
a land of promise, and of performance, too ; but the perform
ance comes later, and promises will not always buoy up the
wounded spirit. I know what it is, as well as you, my
friends, to be a stranger in a distant land ; I can catch a
glimpse at the emigrant's feelings, though, as your worthy
president told us, to be realized in all their force they must
be felt. I can conceive that, of all mortal raen, he most
needs protection, counsel, and aid. He is a stranger on a
remote shore; he has separated himself from his native
home, and has not yet acquired a new one in the land of
his adoption ; its opportunities and its blessings exist but in
vision ; its strangeness is heavy upon him. He cannot, at

THE IRISH CHARITABLE SOCIETY. 195
the first bound, lay hold of the promised advantages. He
thinks not yet of acquiring blessings for himself; his first
thought is to implore an exile's blessing "on the land of
his forefathers." The language of his bosom is —
"Buried and cold, while my heart chills its motion.
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean ;
And thy harp-stringing bards sing aloud with devotion,
Erin, mavourneen, Erin go brah!"
I do not pretend, sir, to speak the native dialect of your
country — the venerable relic of the great Celtic language;
I fear my pronunciation wounds the ears of the company,
but I perceive, from their response, that it has touched their
hearts. Now, sir, in this state of the emigrant's feelings, an asso
ciation like this steps in ; spreads out its wings over the stran
ger ; extends to him, possibly, some little pecuniary aid, if
circumstances require and admit it ; cheers hira with the
voice of syrapathy ; points out to his inexperience the safe
path ; and sends hira on his way encouraged and rejoicing.
It would be as unnecessary as it would be in me intrusive,
to go more particularly into the subject of the agency of
such societies ; but I hope I have not wholly failed to ex
plain my meaning, when I stated that I deemed thera actu
ally necessary to enable the new world to fulfil its destiny.
I wfll no longer intrude upon the politeness of the company,
except to offer, with your permission, the following senti
ment : —
Our Fellow-Citizens of Irish Birth and Parentage : —
May the advantages which they enjoy in this country
soon BE shared BY THEIR BRETHREN BEYOND THE SEA.

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE.'

I RISE, Mr President, in compliance with the request made
to me on behalf of the society, that I would say a fe,w words
on this occasion. Much rather would I leave the exalted
strain of devotional poetry which has just been sung, — the
prisoner's hymn, as it raight well be called ; much rather
would I leave the statements of the reverend chaplain, who has
iramediately preceded me, and particularly the touching letter
with which he closed, to produce their effect upon the audi
ence, uninterrupted by any remarks of mine. But having
promised to take some part in these exercises, I must throw
myself, for a short time, on your indulgence, in submitting a
few remarks on the following resolution : —
" Resolved, That the improvements in prison discipline are justly to be
considered among the most interesting achievements of Christian phUan
thropy in modem times ; that this society is entitled to the thanks of every
friend of humanity for its successful eflTorts in the cause ; and that unabated
exertions ought to be made still further to mitigate the severity of the penal
law, as far as is consistent with the ends of pubUc justice."
The resolution, sir, covers a part of the ground so ably
occupied by the reverend chaplain of the prison, and the chair
man of the board of inspectors on my right, (Mr Adan,) in
his highly instructive address ; and to avoid repeating what
has been so pertinently said by those gentlemen, I shall con
fine myself chiefly to principles of a general nature, but such
as lie at the foundation of the Prison Discipline Society.
* Remarks made at the annual meeting of the Prison Discipline So
ciety in Boston, 30th May, 1837. (196)

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 197
Before I proceed, however, sir, I beg leave to say a word
m reference to the condition of the state's prison at Charles
town. However great our interest in the general subject of
prison discipline, we must naturally have peculiarly at heart
the institution in our iraraediate neighborhood. I listened
with great satisfaction to the very handsome manner in which
this institution was spoken of in the report of the secretary.
No one is better qualified to give an opinion ; from no one is
a favorable opinion more valuable. I believe it is not im
proper for me to say, in this place, that all the official oppor
tunities I have had to become acquainted with the state and
management of the prison, have led me to the same results.
It is known to the public that a rigid and searching inquiry
was instituted into the state of the prison last winter, by the
legislature, and that their report was entirely satisfactory to
its friends. I believe its management, in all respects, to be
excellent ; and that its prosperous condition, as set forth in
the report of our secretary, is owing to the fidelity and intel
ligence, the mingled resolution and tenderness, of the warden,
giving a character to the entire administration of the disci
pline by himself and his associates ; to the devoted labors of
the chaplain ; to the wisdom and vigilance of the board of
inspectors, to whom the commonwealth is under great obliga
tions, and whose respected chairman has already enchained
the attention of the present audience. Considerable improve
ments are much needed in some of the prison buddings ; but
with the manageraent of the institution, the public have
reason to be raore than satisfied.
The resolution I have had the honor to send to the chair
speaks of the iraprovements which have taken place in prison
discipline, as among the most interesting achievements of
Christian benevolence in modern tiraes. To justify this re
mark, we need but to reflect a moment on what prisons were,
before these reforms were introduced. I think it may be said,
without exaggeration, that within the walls of many of them,
the capacity of the human victira to endure suffering was
put to its severest test. What prisons in many places must
have been, cannot better be inferred than frora the just re-

198 IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE.
mark which fell from the chairman of the board of inspectors,
in reference to the state's prison at Charlestown ; that only
nine years ago, that prison, situated as it is in the very heart
of Massachusetts, within the circle of the metropolis of New
England, within the daily sight of so many intelligent, hu
mane, and conscientious persons, was nevertheless a spot
where the eneray of mankind seemed to have erected his
throne, and to rule with unresisted sway. If this was the
condition of our prison only nine years ago, what must pris
ons have been before the modern reforms had any where been
proposed ? in foreign countries, less favored than our own in
the general intelligence of the people ? and under despotic
governraents, accustomed to regard the prison mainly as an
instruraent of the police, or of political power ? The best
thing, perhaps, that could be said of the old prisons was, that
they were not much relied on as places of punishment for the
more ordinary crimes. Except for political offences, they
were principally employed as places of detention before trial ;
although in this capacity, owing to the tardy pace of justice,
they served, to a deplorable extent, as schools of corruption
and vice.
The researches and writings of Howard first awakened the
attention of the civilized world to this subject. Suggestions
were made by hira, tending to most of the reforms which
have since been adopted ; but no improved system was con
trived, and little done by any government to effect an im
provement in prisons, upon principle. About the same time,
however, that the researches of Howard were made, a strong
disposition evinced itself in many parts of Christendom to
mitigate the severity of the penal code, to lessen the frequency
of capital punishments, and to dispense with cruel inflictions
on the person. This disposition was encouraged in England,
by the practice of transporting convicts to penal colonies.
All this formed a preparation in the public mind for the infi
nitely raore iraportant step in the march of iraprovement,
that of converting prisons into places of raoral reform — into
what is implied in the name of penitentiaries. It has been
well said that words are things. In this single word peniten-

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCli-LINE. 199
tiary, applied to prisons, a great revolution, a physical and
a moral revolution, was effected. A physical revolution, be
cause the idea of a reform in the character of the convict,
required that the place of confinement, instead of being, as it
was formerly, a pestiferous den of guilt and shame, not more
dangerous to morals than to life and health, should becorae a
corafortable abode for a human being. Accordingly this is
the first feature of the new system which strikes the observer :
and I appeal to you, Mr Secretary, whose means of observa
tion are so ample, whether, in the case of three fourths of the
himates of our improved state's prisons, they do not probably,
for the first time in their lives, on entering the walls, pass a
night on a clean bed, in a well-ventilated apartment, perfectly
sheltered from the elements, cool in summer and warm in
winter, well clad, with plenty of wholesome food, and if ill,
kindly nursed and skilfully attended. All this has been
effected without burdensome expense to the state ; on the
contrary, at a vastly less expense, as was so well shown by the
secretary in the case of the Wethersfield prison, than that at
which the old prisons were supported. It has been effected
without irapairing the security of prisons as places of confine
ment ; on the contrary, they have become much more secure ;
and it has been effected, also, (what would seem at first para
doxical,) without diminishing the terror with which they were
regarded as places of punishment. Thus, without sacrificing
any other object, a vast amount of huraan suffering has been
relieved, by iraproving the physical condition of prisons.
But the raoral revolution was the great object. On this
subject I wish to speak without exaggeration ; for overstate
ments are apt to be made, under the influence of a too san
guine benevolence. But if we would avoid extravagance on
the one side, we must be reasonable in our expectations on
the other. Let a parent or guardian undertake to reform a
child or ward, who, but for a year or two, has been led astray,
and he will probably learn from experience how rauch can
reasonably be expected, in the way of reformation, from such
persons as usually fill our prisons. But a negative reforma
tion, if I may so express myself, must, at all events, for tho

200 IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE.
time, take place in the penitentiary. Its inmates are cut off
from vicious courses ; they are withdrawn frora the great pro
ducing sources of crime, — intemperance, temptation, want,
and bad example ; they are employed in steady labor, and
they are subjected to every moral and religious influence
which the nature of things admits. An external change of
life takes place. If nothing better can be said, the tune
passed in prison is redeemed from further progress in corrup
tion, and all the outward indications of an altered man are
frequently exhibited. Whether the reform extends to a rad
ical change of the heart. He who searches the heart alone
can say. I have no doubt it soraetimes does. I have heard
of such cases ; I think I have seen thera. I have no doubt
there are instances of entire reform, of total renovation of the
character. But after what has been said by the worthy chap
lain of the prison at Charlestown on this subject, I need not
enlarge upon it.
This, then, is the glory of the modern prison discipline.
An awful waste of life — of human blood — has been pre
vented. The tortures of the former modes of punishments
are disused. The aggravated corruption which badly man
aged prisons unavoidably produced is succeeded by a purify
ing moral influence, and, in numerous well-attested cases,
character has been retrieved. Human benevolence can make
no nearer approach to an imitation of divine benevolence.
It is good — good of the highest order. If — not thousands
— if but a few fellow-men, who would have been left bleed
ing, scarred, and exasperated from the scourge, the branding-
iron, and the cropping-knife, have been stopped in their
downward course ; if — not thousands — if a single ac
countable being, who would have been dragged from the
jail to the scaffold, and hurried from the scaffold, without a
season of repentance, into the presence of his Maker, has, by
the divine blessing on these means of reformation, been re
stored, it is worth all the time, labor, and money which have
been bestowed on the cause in Europe and America. Yes,
sir, in the presence of this audience, and of the Being in
whose house we are assembled, it may with truth be declared,

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 201
that to redeem one such fellow-creature, body and soul, for
time and for eternity, is a more noble achievement than any
deed of mere human fame that was ever performed by states-
man,- monarch, or conqueror.
In these great triumphs of humanity, the Prison Discipline
Society has borne a conspicuous part. The rapid progress
of reform in this country is coeval with it. It has served as
a bond of union and a mediura of coraraunication to the
philanthropists of the United States, and, in sorae respects,
to those of other countries. Its reports, as was well stated
by the chairman of the inspectors, have been received abroad
as text-books. Their annual appearance has been the great
agency by which reform has been effected. By it improve
ments have becorae known, and held up to iraitation, defects
exposed to notice, facts recorded, experience ascertained, zeal
encouraged. I look to thera as the raeans of carrying on the
great work of reform in our prisons ; and they are so re
garded, I am sure, by the benevolent public.
Nor is the merit of our country less acknowledged abroad
in reference to this great cause. The raost enlightened Eu
ropean govemments have sent commissions to examine the
prisons in the United States. France deserves particular
mention for the humane zeal she has exhibited. Not content
•with the raission of Messrs De Beaumont and De Tocque
viUe, whose instructive report is well known to the public,
the French government has, within a few months, sent an
other commission, of three intelligent gentlemen, charged
with an inquiry into every matter of practical detail, directed
to raake plans, measurements, and drawings, and collect all
the information necessary to construct and put in operation a
penitentiary on tho American systera. The Prussian gov
ernment has also sent a commissioner, Dr Julius, deeply
versed in the subject of prison discipline, to examine the
institutions of this country. Inquiries of this kind, candidly
pursued and communicated, are of the most beneficial ten
dency. They diffuse abroad the knowledge of all that has
been successfully attempted here for the improvement of
VOL. II. 26

202 IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE.
prisons, whfle the comments of intelligent and candid for
eigners afford us the best opportunity of becoming acquainted
with those defects of our establishments and systems to which
national partiality raight blind us.
It is for this reason I particularly regret the prevafling tone
of thfe report of Mr William Crawford to the British govern
ment, on the penitentiaries of the United States. I am not
disposed to detract from the credit to which I understand that
gentleman is entitled for his efforts to improve the prisons of
his own country. I wish it had been accompanied with a
less apparent wish to disparage ours. Commendation, on most
points, is reluctantly bestowed, and censure promptly award
ed, throughout his report. The peculiar merits of our peni
tentiary discipline are nowhere placed in relief; and pains
are taken to inculcate the idea, that the reforms in prison
discipline practised in the United States are of European
origin. The 'Philadelphia system " was borrowed frora
Gloucester and Glasgow," and the Auburn discipline is that
" which has been, with a few periods of intermission, for
many years pursued at the Maison de Force at Ghent." A
note adds to this information the further fact, that " this strict
discipline at Ghent has not, of late, been maintained." On
this singular state of facts, Mr Crawford insists upon calling
it the "Ghent discipline." *
Most certainly it is of little matter where a great moral
reform has had its origin. Wherever it originated, most
assuredly this system was first extensively and notoriously
applied in the United States. I am not aware, that, while it
existed at Ghent alone, (if, with any reason, it can be said it
ever did so exist,) it attracted general attention, or was any
where imitated in Europe. I have never heard of corarais
sioners sent from all the civilized governments of Europe to
study it there ; but if our brethren in England prefer to claim
for Europe the credit of this germ of reform, although never
flourishing till transplanted to an American soil, rather than
* Report, pp. 18, 20.

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 203
admit that it is here indigenous, the point is not worth con
testing. I pass to higher considerations.
Wherever the credit of the past belongs, enough remains
to be done to task all the powers and means of the friends of
humanity. Let our only rivalry, as individuals or nations,
be in this field. It was remarked by the first French com
missioners, that " the worst as well as the best prisons are in
America." "Among the worst," may be admitted, however
we must regret the fact ; " the very worst," I think ought
not to be insisted upon ; for certainly I have read of prisons
abroad — nay, have seen thera — as bad as any thing can
be this side of the great prison. But we have prisons among
us, and in great nurabers, bad enough. Let us aim at their
reform. Let all our county jails and municipal prisons be
remodelled on the plan of our best state penitentiaries. No
cause, not even a regard for econoray, can be pleaded for
neglect to do this ; for it is a proved fact, that a prison on
the reformed plan can support itself, which no other prison
ever did. Sorae further improvements, no doubt, may be
made even in our best institutions. The great reform of
erecting asylums for poor lunatics must be carried through
the Union ; and imprisonment for debt is not yet wholly
done away with. Even in this comraonwealth, though
nominally abolished by law, it exists to an extent incon
sistent with humanity and justice. But I need not go farther
in this detafl of those objects to which the zealous efforts of
this society should be directed. The report of the managers
will present them in proper light to the country. The great
object, above all others, must be to increase the power of the
moral influences applied to the subjects of prison discipline,
and thereby to multiply the cases of real reform. In this way,
alone, can we hope to win over those parts of the community
which have not yet been brought to admit the defects of the
ancient penal code. It is but yesterday that I read in the
newspaper a detailed report of a case in one of our sister
states, in which the old punishment of the pfllory and the
scourge was inflicted on a hardened offender. It was urged,

204 IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE.
by the writer of the report, that the state of Delaware must
see proof that the modern discipline is a real improve ment,
(which she had not yet done,) before she abandoned the old
punishments. These prejudices can be eradicated only by
the slow, patient, but finaUy all-powerful teachings of ex
perience. I ara aware that this is not the most inviting department
of benevolent labor. Its subjects may seem calculated rather
to repel than to invite sympathy ; but if the history of every
convict were written by the pen of truth over the door of
his cell, I believe the only emotion it would excite would be
pity, profound pity. I never heard one of them, whether I
gave full credit or not to his account of himself, with any
other emotion. The greater part of them are always the
children of friendless ignorance and early destitution. I
agree with the chaplain, that a portion of the convicts are
men who have had early means of education ; but with the
great majority the case is otherwise. And what should any
of us have been, if, in our early years, instead of being
faithfully watched, tenderly nursed, never trusted out of a
pair of careful arms, it had been our lot, as it was that of
many of these unfortunate persons, as soon as we were old
enough to walk, to be driven with curses into the streets by
the wretched authors of our being ? I speak to parents.
Have you not, as you have walked through the workshops
of a prison, or seen its inmates, with the badges of their
shame upon them, perhaps with guilt stamped upon their
countenances, silently passing to their cells, — have you not
often reflected, that these repulsive objects were once inno
cent, unconscious children, like your beloved ones ? But not
favored, like yours, at the season of life when the seeds of
character are sown, returning from school every day, with
blooming cheeks, and, perhaps, the testiraonials of diligence
in their hands ; not, like yours, safely gathered at night to a
corafortable meal and a peaceful couch, — these poor creatures
were never sent to any school but that of corrupting example
in the streets by day, and at night in the dens of guflty excess

IMPROVEMENTS IN PRISON DISCIPLINE. 205
and squalid want. But I forbear, sir. I cannot, after the
reverend chaplain, presume to tread this ground.
It is not necessary. I speak in the hearing of Christian
men and women, who do not need to be taught that the
humblest and most degraded of our race are our equals in
the sight of Heaven.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.

Gentlemen of the Adelphic Union:
I FEEL scarcely warranted, at this late hour, in taking up
much of your time. The day belongs properly to those who,
having completed their academic course, have presented
themselves upon the public stage, in the presence of kindred,
friends, and a gratified audience, to be dismissed with colle
giate honors to the active duties of life, or to the more imme
diate preparation for professional pursuits. I have scarce a
right to take to myself any portion of the precious time
to which they have the first claim. Besides, I feel too deeply
interested in the scene as a spectator, to desire a more active
part in the duties of the day. It recalls to me, fresh as yes
terday, the time, now more than a quarter of a century past,
when, like you, young gentlemen, who are about to take your
degrees, I also stood upon the threshold of life, full of the
hopes, the visions, the enthusiasm of youth. These scholas
tic exercises, these learned tongues, these academic forms,
touch a chord of sympathy in my bosora. Personally a
stranger to raost of those whom I have the honor to address,
I feel as if, on literary ground, (and I ara sure that no one, on
this occasion, can expect me to occupy any other,) I may
come as an acquaintance, as a friend ; that I raay even
"Claim kindred there, and have the claim aUowed."
Nature seems to breathe peace, in concert with the charac
ter of the day ; and within these quiet valleys, shut out by
" An Address delivered before the Adelphic Union Society of Williams
College, on Commencement Day, 16th August, 1837.
(206)

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 207
the perpetual hflls from the struggling world, she invites us,
with her most soothing voice, to kind feeling, to cheerful
discourse, and to calm thought.
Nor are the historical recollections around us of ordinary
interest. The pleasant village where we are assembled con
tains, within view of the spot where we stand, the site of
Fort Hoosac, and a mile or two east of us stood Fort Massa
chusetts. The plough has passed over its rude lines ; but
what scenes of humble heroism and almost forgotten valor
are associated with its name I It was the bulwark of the
frontier, in the days of its infancy. The trembling mother
on the banks of the Connecticut, and in the heart of Worces
ter county, clasped her babes closer, at an idle rumor that
Fort Massachusetts had given way. A hundred villages re
posed in the strength of this stout guardian of New England's
Thermopylae, through which, for two generations, the French
and Canadian foe strove to burst into the colonies. These
are recollections of an early day. A few mfles to the north
of us lies that famous field of Bennington, to which, sixty
years ago this day and this hour, your fathers poured, from
every village in the neighborhood, at the summons of Stark.
While we meet together, to enjoy in peace the blessings for
which they shed their blood, let us pour out upon the aca
demic altar one libation of grateful feeling to their memory.
But, though I would most willingly have continued a lis
tener, my engagements to you, gentlemen of the Adelphic
Union, require that I should trespass, for a short time, upon
the patience of the audience, even at this late hour, with the
utterance of some thoughts on that subject which, upon an
anniversary like this, may be regarded as the only peculiarly
appropriate topic of discourse. I mean the subject* of educa
tion. I know it is a worn theme ; as old as the first dawn
ings of imparted knowledge in the infancy of the world, and
familiar to the contemplation of every succeeding age, even
to the present time. But it stfll reraains, for us, a topic of
unabated and ever-urgent interest. Although it is a subject
on which philosophers of every age have largely discoursed,
so far from being exhausted, it probably never presented itself

208 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
to the human mind under so many new and important aspects
as at the present day, and I raay add, in these United States.
I may safely appeal to every person who hears rae, and who
is in the habit of reflecting at all on the character of the age
in which we live, whether, next to what directly concerns
the eternal welfare of raan, there is any subject which he
deeras of raore vital iraportance than the great problem, how
the whole people can be best educated. If the answer of
the patriot and statesman to this appeal were doubtful, I
might stfll more safely inquire of every considerate parent
who hears me, whether the education of his children, their
education for time and eternity, (for, as far as human means
are concerned, these objects are intimately connected,) is not
among the things which are first, last, and most anxiously
upon his mind.
It is not, however, my purpose to engage in a general dis
cussion of the subject. I could not do so without repeating
what I have advanced on former similar occasions, and what
I cannot deem of sufficient importance to be said over again.
Indeed, if I wished to express raost forcibly the iraportance,
the dignity, and the obligation of the great work of educa
tion, I believe it might best be done by taking our stand, at
once, on the simple enunciation of the spiritual and immortal
nature of the thing to be educated — the raind of man.
Then, if we wished to give life and distinctness to the ideas
of the importance of education, which result from this con
templation, we might do so by a single glance at the number
and importance of the branches of knowledge to which edu
cation furnishes the key. I might allude to the adrairable
properties of language, which it is the first business of educa
tion to irapart ; the wonders of the written and -spoken
tongue, as the instrument of thought — wonders which dafly
use scarcely divests of their almost miraculous character. I
might glance at that which is usually next taught to the un
folding mind — the astonishing power of the science of
numbers, with which, on the one hand, we regulate the
humblest detafls of domestic econoray, and, on the other,
compute the swiftness of the solar beam, and survey, and, as

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 209
it were, stake out, from constellation to constellation, the
great railroad of the heavens, on which the comet comes
blazing upward frorn the depths of the universe. I might
proceed with the branches of knowledge to which education
introduces us, and ask of geography to marshal before us the
living nations ; and of history to rehearse the fortunes of the
elder world. I raight call on natural science to open the
volumes in which she has not merely written down the
names, the forms, and the qualities of the various subjects of
the animal, vegetable, and mineral world, now in existence, —
the vast census, if I raay so express it, of the three kingdoms
of nature, — but where she has also recorded the catalogues
of her perished chfldren, races of the animal and vegetable
world, buried beneath the everlasting rocks.
The discoveries recently raade in the science of geology
are of a truly wonderful character. Winged creatures,
twenty feet in height, whose footsteps have lately been dis
covered, iraprinted in sandstone, on the banks of Connecticut
River; enorraous mammoths and mastodons, of which no
living type has existed since the flood, brought to light from
blocks of Siberian ice, or dug up in the raorasses of our own
continent ; petrified skeletons of crocodiles and raegatheria,
seventy feet in length, covered with scales like the armadillo,
and which for ages on ages have been extinct, — have, by
the creative power of educated mind, been made to start, as
it were, out of the solid rock. Sandstone and gypsum have
" oped their ponderous and marble jaws," and a host of mon
strous forms have risen into day, the recovered monuraents
of a world of lost giants.
The description which Professor Buckland has given us
of the fossil plants found in the coal strata at Swina, near
Prague, in Boheraia, is one of the most instructive and beau
tiful to be found in the whole range of science. He speaks
as an eye-witness.
" The most elaborate imitations of living foliage, upon the painted ceil
ings of Italian palaces, bear no comparison with the beauteous profusion
of extinct vegetable forms, with which the galleries of these instructive
coal mines are overhung. The roof is covered, as with a canopy of gor-
voL. II. 27

210 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
geous tapestry, enriched with festoons of most graceful foliage, flung, b.
wild, irregular profusion, over every portion of its surface. The efieet is
heightened by the contrast of the coal-black color of these vegetables with
the light groundwork of the rock to which they are attached. The specta
tor feels himself transported, as if by enchantment, into the forests of
another world ; he beholds trees, of forms and characters now unknown
upon the surface of the earth, presented to his senses, almost in the beauty
and vigor of their primeval life ; their scaly stems and bending branches,
with their delicate apparatus of foliage, are all spread forth before him,
little impaired by the lapse of countless ages, and hearing faithful records
of extinct systems of vegetation, which began and terminated in times of
which (hese relics are the infallible historians." *
Nor is the account given by Cuvier of his discoveries of
fossil remains of animals less striking. It is owing more,
perhaps, to the sagacity of this philosopher, than to that of
any other individual, that our views of a primitive world
have assumed the form of a science. The gypsum quarries,
in the neighborhood of Paris, abound with fossil bones. The
museums and cabinets in that city were filled with them ;
but no attempt had been ma ^e to arrange them mto forms,
or give them the names of the particular animals to which
they belonged. A cursory survey satisfied Cuvier that many
of them belonged to races no longer in existence. " I at
length found myself," says he, " as if placed in a charnel-
house, surrounded by mutilated fragments of many hundred
skeletons, of more than twenty kinds of animals, pfled con
fusedly around me : the task assigned me was, to restore thera
all to their original position. At the voice of comparative
anatomy, every bone and fragment of a bone resumed its
place." f
But leaving, with these transient glances, all attempt to
magnify the work of education, by pointing out the astonish
ing results to which it guides the well-trained mind, a much
* Buckland's Bridgewater Treatise, Vol. I. pp. 344, 345.
t This striking sentence is given as it appears in Dr Buckland's Bridge-
water Treatise, Vol. L p. 72, where Cuvier, Ossemens FossUes, Tom. III. p.
34, edition 1812, is cited. It reads somewhat differently in the original, in
the edition of 1825, Tom. II. part 2, p. 284. See also Griflith's Abridgment
ol" Cuvier, Vol. I. p. 110.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 211
shorter method might be pursued with one who needed to be
impressed with its importance. I would take such an. one to
a place of instruction, to a school, to a chfld's school, (for
there is no step in the process more important than the first,)
and I would say, in those faint sparks of intelligence just
brightening over the rudiments of learning. You behold the
germ of so many rational and iraraortal spirits. In a few
years, you and I, and all now on the stage, shall have passed
away; and there, on those little seats, primer in hand, are
arranged our successors. Yes, when the volume of natural
science, and Nature with it, shall have vanished, — when the
longest periods of human history shall have run together to
a point, — those infant chfldren will have ripened into im
mortal beings, looking back from the mansions of eternity,
with joy or sorrow, on the direction given to their intellectual
and moral natures in the dawn of their existence I If there
is any one not deeply impressed, by this single reflection,
with the importance of education, he is beyond the reach of
any thing that can be urged, by way either of illustration or
argument. What, then, is the business of education ?
It is to assist the growth of our spiritual nature ; to dispose
of the circumstances that affect it in such a way as best to
promote the harmonious development of all the faculties.
The raind of man, like his body, has its laws of growth,
belonging to the constitution which the Creator has given it,
mysterious and faintly apprehended in their inner nature, but
not imperfectly visible in theh outward working. In the
operation of these laws, as a certain kind of aliment, clothing,
and exercise, are most favorable to the development of the
natural organs and the health of the physical man, so a cer
tain course of discipline and instruction is most favorable to
the well-proportioned formation and healthy action of the
V£u-ious mental powers, and of the whole intellectual nature.
How much, in the aggregate, has been and dafly is effected
by education, in the most comprehensive sense of the word,
may be satisfactorily estimated by any one who will compare

212 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
together the attainments of men in a barbarous and highly
civflized state. I could not enter into this comparison with
out passing the limits of this occasion ; but, without an enu
meration of particulars, it wfll occur to every one who hears
me, that the difference between the best specimens of edu
cated, and the worst of uneducated, man, is almost as great
as that between different orders of being.
Assembled, as we are, under the auspices of a highly-
respected collegiate institution, it is obvious to remark, that
there are two offices to be perforraed by education, of har
monious character and tendency, but of different sphere and
mode of operation. One regards the discipline and training
of mind to the highest point of intellectual excellence, and
the other regards the diffusion of useful knowledge among
the community at large, and the consequent elevation of the
general character.
I. With respect to the first-named view of education, it is
an inquiry well calculated to stir the curiosity of the thought
ful student of the nature of the human mind, whether it be
possible, by the wisest system of education, most faithfully
applied, to produce higher degrees of intellectual power and
excellence than have ever been witnessed among men. We
are accustomed to think that there have appeared individuals
who have carried our common intellectual nature to the
highest point of huraan perfection ; and it may seem pre
sumptuous to express the opinion that it can be possible, by
any agency of raeans which can be planned out and put in
operation, to form minds superior to some of those which,
from time to time, have commanded the admiration of the
world. It may even seem idle, in connection with education,
to speak at all of such rainds, since, in tracing their personal
history, it is often found that, so far frora owing their emi
nence over the rest of mankind to superior advantages of
instruction, they were born and reared in want, and became
great by the power of genius, unaided by favorable circum
stances. I do not now recollect one, among the master
minds of our race, for whom a kind and judicious father

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 213
would have prescribed, from first to last, that course of edu
cation and life which, as the event proved, was prescribed by
Providence. Horaer, the father of poetry, the one bard to whora all
aftertimes have accorded the first place, was a wandering
minstrel, in a semi-barbarous age, perhaps a blind mendicant.
Who would have thought that the " wisest of men " should
have been a poor, barefooted soldier; the standing butt, on
the Atheiiian stage, of the most tremendous of satirists ; the
victim of an untamable shrew, sacrificed, at last, to a tyranny
as base as it was cruel ? Or who would have predicted that
the prince of Grecian eloquence should have been found in a
stammering orphan, of feeble lungs and ungainly carriage,
deprived of education by avaricious guardians, and con
demned to struggle for his life amidst the infuriated contests
of rival political factions ? The greatest rainds of Rome, so
far from being placed in circumstances seemingly favorable
to their formation, lived, almost all of them, in exceedingly
critical, perflous, and degenerate days ; many of them under
a despotism so frightful that one would think it must have
produced a general intellectual catalepsy.
If we look to the modern world, how few of the greatest
minds seem to have been trained under circumstances which
would have been deemed, beforehand, friendly to the improve
ment of genius ! Dante was tossed, by the stormy feuds of
the Italian republics, from city to city, banished, and sen
tenced to be burned alive, if found in the land which he has
iraraortal ized by his fame. The madhouse of St Anne was
the conservatory in which Tasso's genius ripened. Columbus
was, for years, an all but heart-broken suitor to royal stocks
and stones. Luther, at the age when the perraanent bias is
usually given to the raind, was the shorn and sleek inmate
of a monk's cell. Of the great raen who forra the glory
of English literature, not one, I think, was so situated as to
enjoy the best advantages for education which his country,
at the time, afforded; least of all was this the case with the
greatest of them, — Shakspeare. Not one of the most illus
trious intellects, from Homer down, — the giant minds, who,

214 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
the language of Machiavelli, rise above the level of their
fellow-men, and stretch out their hands to each other, across
the interval of ages, transmitting to each succeeding genera
tion the torch of science, poetry, and art, — not one of them,
taking all things together, was placed even in as favorable
circumstances as the times admitted for the training of his
faculties. I readily admit, that rainds of the first order furnish uo
rule for the average of intellect ; and I can well conceive,
that they raay, in the inscrutable connection of cause and
effect, in some cases, have owed a part of their power and
eminence to the operation of those seemingly untoward cir
cumstances against which human prudence would, if possi
ble, have guarded them. But I hope it will not be deemed
rash to say, that I can imagine that each and all of these
great raen, to whora I have alluded, raight, under more favor
able influences, have been greater, wiser, and better. With
a reverence as deep as honesty or manliness permits for the
master geniuses of our race, — a reverence nourished by the
fond and never intermitted study of their works, — I may
say that I catch, frora this very study of their writings and
characters, a conception, that, high as they rose, they might
have risen higher. I can sometiraes behold the sofl of the
world upon their snow-white robes, and the rust of human
passion upon the glittering edge of their wit. It was long
ago said by Horace, that the good Homer soraetimes nods ;
and Shakspeare, the most brilliant example, unquestionably,
of a triumph over the defects of education, mental and moral,
too often exhibits traces of both. As he floats, on eagle's
wings, along what he nobly calls " the brightest heaven of
invention," he is sometimes borne, by an unchastened taste,
into a misty region, where the understanding endeavors in
vain to follow hira ; and sometimes, as he skims with the
swallow's ease and swiftness along the ground, too confident
of his power to soar, when he will, up to the rosy gates of
the morning, he stoops, and stoops, and stoops, till the tips
of his graceful pinions are sadly daggled in the mire.
If there is any justice in these reflections, it may be ad-

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 215
mitted that the most eminent minds might, by a happier
course of life and education, have been redeeraed frora their
faults, and have attained a higher degree of excellence. If
this be granted, what raay not reasonably be expected from
a great increase in the means, and improveraent in the raeth-
ods, of education ; from the consequent increase in the number
of minds submitted to its action ; from the progress of general
intelligence, the discovery of new truths and facts, and the
splendid generalizations buflt upon thera ; frora the purer
tone of public sentiment, and higher standard of morals,
which cannot fail to result from the joint operation of the
social, intellectual, aud religious influences now at work ?
Under the action of these causes, daily growing more intense,
it seems to me not improbable that some minds, as happily
endowed by Nature as any that have yet appeared, will arise
in circumstances more favorable to the fullest^ development
and highest cultivation of their powers.
I ara aware that it is a prevalent notion, that, to sorae
efforts of genius, an advanced state of cultivation is un
friendly ; that the infancy of science is more congenial with
poetry ; and that, in general, the period of critical learning is
unfavorable to the development of strongly-marked original
talent. I am inclined, however, to believe this a mistaken
opinion ; an erroneous inference frora'facts that may otherwise
be explained. If all that is meant be,' that the character of
poetical composition will vary with the state of civilization,
and the general intellectual state of the age, it is, of course,
strictly true. In conditions of the world so different as that
of Greece in the heroic period, of the Augustan age of
Rome, that of Italy in the middle ages, and of the time of
the commonwealth, in England, it must be expected that
poetry, and every other manifestation of mind, will exhibit
different forms, as we see they have done in Horaer, VirgU,
Dante, and Mflton. But I deem the notion, that the first age
was necessarfly the best, to be a mere prejudice ; and the
idea, that a partially improved age and a limited degree of
knowledge are in themselves and essentially more favorable
to the exercise of original genius, in any form, appears to me
to be a proposition as degrading as it is unsound.

216 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
On the contrary, I believe that truth is the great inspirefj
the knowledge of truth the aliment and the instrument of
mind, the material of thought, feeling, and fancy. I do not
mean that there is no beauty in poetical language founded
on scientific error ; that it is not, for instance, consistent with
poetry to speak of the rising sun, or the arch of heaven.
Poetry delights in these sensible images and assimflations
of ideas, in themselves distinct. From the imperfection
of human language, it wfll, perhaps, always be necessary to
describe many things in the material, and stfll more in the
moral and metaphysical, world, under similitudes which fall
greatly beneath their reality.
Thus, in Shakspeare, —
 " the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold."
In Spenser's " Faerie Q,ueene," —
" The sacred fire, which bumeth mightily
In Uving breasts, was kindled first above.
Among the eternal spheres and lampy heavens."
In " Paradise Lost," the moon divides her empire
" With thousand thousand stars, that then appeared
Spangling the universe."
Now, though these images, separately weighed, at the
present day, may seem beneath the dignity of the subject to
which they are applied, they are poetical and pleasing, (with
the exception, possibly, of lampy ;) nor do I know that, in
any state of science, however advanced, such language will
cease to please.
But what I maintain is tliis ; that, as knowledge extends,
the range of all imagery is enlarged, poetical language is
drawn frora a wider circle, and, what is far more important,
that the conception kindles by the contemplation of higher
objects. Let us fllustrate this point still further, in reference to the

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 217
effect on poetry of the sublime discoveries of modern astron
omy. The ancients, as we all know, formed but humble
conceptions of the material universe. The earth was the
centre ; the sun, moon, and five planets were shining bodies,
revolving about it, to give it light ; and the stars were lumi
naries, hung up as lamps in a vaulted sky. This philosophy
not only lies at the foundation of the imagery under which
Homer represents the heavens, but it prevailed so long, and
falls in so entirely with the impressions made upon the eye,
that it has given a character to the traditionary language of
poetry, even to the present day. Shakspeare, and Spenser,
andMilton, as we have just seen, in this respect, drew their
images from the same source as Virgil, Homer, and Hesiod.
Now, I cannot but think that, when the sublime discoveries
of modern astronoray shall have becorae as thoroughly wrought
into the vocabulary and the intelligence of the coraraunity as
the humble and erroneous conceptions of the ancients, the
great and creative minds will derive from them a vastly
grander range of poetical iUustration. I cannot but think
that, by the study of this one science alone, thought, speech,
and literature, will be wonderfully exalted. This is not, in
reference to poetry, a mere matter of poetical imagery. The
ideas formed of divine wisdom and power, of infinite space,
of stupendous magnitude and force, and of the grandeur and
harmony of the material universe, are among the highest
materials of thought, and the most prolific elements of poet
ical conception. For this reason, in the same proportion in
which the apparent circuit of the heavens has been enlarged,
and the science of astronomy extended, by the telescope, the
province of imagination and thought must be immeasurably
extended also. The soul becomes great by the habitual con
templation of great objects. As the discovery of a new con
tinent upon the surface of the globe, by Columbus, gave a
most powerful impulse to the minds of men in every depart
ment, it is impossible that the discovery of worlds and sys
tems of worlds in the iramensity of space, should not won
derfully quicken the well-instructed genius. As the ambition,
the avarice, the adventure, the legion host of human passions
VOL. II. 28

218 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
rushed out from the old world upon the new, so the fancy
must wing its way, with unwonted boldness, into the new
found universe, —
"Beyond the solar walk or milky way."
In "Paradise Lost," there is a struggle between the old
and new phdosophy. The telescope was known, but had not
yet revolutionized the science of astronomy. Even Lord
Bacon had not adopted the Copernican system, and Galfleo's
wonderful instrument had produced scarce any result, beyond
the discovery of the satellites of Jupiter, and a more distinct
conception of the magnitudes of the heavenly bodies. But
it is pleasing to remark with what promptness Mflton seizes
upon this last new topic of poetical illustration. In his first
description of the arch-fiend, we are told of
-"his ponderous shield,

Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round.
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders, like the moon, whose orb,
Through optic glass, the Tuscan artist views.
At evening from the top of Fesol6,
Or in Valdamo, to descry new lands.
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe."
Grand and sublime as is this imagery, it is borrowed from
the lowest order of the wonders unfolded by the telescope.
I cannot but think, if the whole circle of modern astronomy
had been disclosed to the mind of Mflton, that it would have
filled his soul with stfll brighter visions. Could he have
learned from the lips of its great discoverer the organic law
which regulates the entire motions of the heavens ; could he
have witnessed the predicted return of a comet, and been
taught that, of these mysterious bodies, seven millions are
supposed to run their wfld career within the orbit of the planet
Uranus ; and that, by estimation, one hundred millions of
stars, each probably the centre of a system as vast as our own,
— multitudes of them combined into raighty systems of suns
wondrously complicated with each other, — are distributed

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 219
throughout space, — would these stupendous views have been
lost on his mind ? I can never believe that truth, the great
quickener and inspirer, revealed in such majestic glimpses,
would have fallen inoperative on such an intellect. He would
have awaked to a new existence, in the light of such a phi
losophy. Escaping from the wholly false -and the partly
false, "the utter and the middle darkness" of the Ptolemaic
system, he would have felt the " sovereign vital lamp " of
pure science, in his inmost soul. He would have borrowed
from La Place the wings of the boldest analysis, and would
have flown to the uttermost parts of creation, where he could
have seen through the telescope the bands of Orion loosened,
and the gems of his glittering belt blazing out into empyreal
suns, while crowded galaxies, " powdered with stars," rushed
asunder into flliraitable systems. He would have soared with
the Herschels, father and son, to the outer regions of space,
and drawn from every part of the Newtonian phflosophy new
ornaments for his immortal verse.
But, sublime and inspiring as are these glimpses, imparted
to us by modern science, of the upper heavens, we have much
reason to thmk that they are but glimpses ; that they awaken
but faint conceptions of a glorious reality, as yet uniraagined.
We do literally but look through a glass, darkly, at these rayr-
iads of worlds. The remark of Newton, that his sublime
discoveries seemed to hira but as so many pebbles or shells,
picked up on the shore of the great undiscovered ocean of
truth, is well calculated to make our hearts burn within us.
It may hereafter appear that size, motion, light, and heat, are
the lowest attributes of the heavenly bodies ; that they are
the abodes of mind. All profane literature is pervaded with
the sentiment, that the heavenly bodies are the seats of orders
of intelligence, kindred or superior to our own ; and the
Scriptures tell us, how the raorning stars sang together, and
the sons of God shouted for joy." The united testimony
of poetry and inspiration may well be believed : —
"There's not the smallest orb that tliou behold'st
But, in his motion, like an angel sings,

220 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins,
Such harmony is in immortal souls :
But, while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it."
It may be, that the laws of the material universe, gravita
tion itself, may be resolved into the intelligent action of the
minds by which it is inhabited and controlled, — empowered
to this high function by the supreme intellect. It may be
that, at some advanced stage of huraan science, the contem
plative and pious genius wfll be enabled to lift the veil which
now hangs between spirit and sense. An intense desire to
pass this barrier characterizes the boldest efforts of creative
mind, in the present state of our knowledge. Should it ever
be broken down ; should mortal but living man ever pen
etrate that mysterious temple of the Infinite, in whose vesti
bule the purest offerings of the rapt soul have ever been made,
— phflosophy, poetry, art, eloquence, and music, will speak
with new voices ; and all that has hitherto charmed the taste,
or satisfied the reason, or stirred the depths of the heart, wiU
be as nursery tales.
If such an anticipation ever be realized, it will be through
the joint influence of intellectual and moral culture, diffused
by education, till a new mental atmosphere is created. It is
painful to reflect, that, of the few great minds, to whora the
superiority over all others is conceded, one half, at least, lived
in the darkness of heathenism, and in a very imperfect state
of civilization.
Not a ray of pure spiritual fllumination shines through the
sweet visions of the father of poetry. The light of his
genius, like that of the moon, as he describes it in the eighth
Iliad,* is serene, transparent, and heavenly fair ; it streams
into the deepest glades, and settles on the mountain tops of
the material and social world ; but, for all that concerns the
spiritual nature, it is cold, watery, and unquickening. The
great test of the elevation of the poet's mind, and of the
refinement of the age in which he lives, is the distinctness,
* Homer's Iliad, VIII. 551.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 221
power, and purity, with which he conceives the spiritual
world. In all else, he may be the observer, the recorder, the
painter ; but in this dread sphere, he must assume the prov
ince which his narae iraports ; he must be the maker : creating
his own spiritual world by the highest action of his mind,
upon all the external and internal raaterials of thought. If
ever there was a poetical vision, calculated, not to- purify and
to exalt, but to abase and to sadden, it is the visit of Ulysses
to the lower regions.* The ghosts of the illustrious departed
are drawn before him, by the reeking fumes of the recent
sacrifice ; and the hero stands guard, with his drawn sword,
to drive away the shade of his own raother frora the gory
trench, over which she hovers, hankering after the raw blood.
Does it require an essay on the laws of the human mind, to
show that the inteUect, which contemplates the great mystery
of our being, under this ghastly and frivolous imagery, has
never been born to a spiritual life, nor caught a glimpse of
the highest heaven of poetry? Virgil's spiritual world was
not essentially superior to Homer's ; but the Roman poet lived
in a civilized age, and his visions of the departed are marked
with a decorum and grace which form the appropriate coun
terpart of the Homeric grossness.
In Dante, for the first time in an uninspired bard, the dawn
of a spiritual day breaks upon us. Although the shadows of
superstition rested upon him, yet the strains of the prophets
were in his ears, and the light of divine truth, strong though
clouded, was in his soul. As we stand with him on the
threshold of the world of sorrows, and read the awful in
scription over the portal, a chill, from the dark valley of the
shadow of death, comes over the heart. The compass of
poetry contains no image which surpasses this dismal inscrip
tion in soleran grandeur ; nor is there, any where, a more
delicious strain of tender poetic beauty, than that of the dis
tant vesper bell, "which seems to mourn for the departing day,
as it is heard by the traveller just leaving his home.f But
Dante lived in an age when Christianity, if I may so speak,
• Odyssey, XI. f Del Purgatorio, Canto VHL

222 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
was paganized. Much of his poera, substance as well as
ornaraent, is heathen. Too rauch of his inspiration is drawn
from the stormy passions of life. The warmth with which
he glowed is too often the kindling of scorn and indignation,
burning under a sense of intolerable wrong. The holiest
muse raay string his lyre, but it is too often the incensed
partisan that sweeps the strings. The "Divine Comedy,"
as his wonderful work is called, is much of it mere mortal
satire. In " Paradise Lost," we feel as if we were admitted to the
outer courts of the Infinite. In that all-glorious temple of
genius inspired by truth, we catch the full diapason of the
heavenly organ. With its first choral swell, the soul is lifted
from the earth. In the " Divina Commedia," the raan, the
Florentine, the exiled Ghibelline, stands out, from first to last,
breathing defiance and revenge. Mflton, in some of his
prose works, betrays the partisan also ; but in his poetry, we
see him in the white robes of the minstrel, with upturned
though sightless eyes, rapt in meditation at the feet of the
heavenly muse. Dante, in his dark vision, descends to the
depths of the world of perdition, and, horaeless fugitive as he
is, drags his proud and prosperous enemies down with hira,
and buries them, doubly destroyed, in the flaming sepulchres
of the lowest hell.* Mflton, on the other hand, seeras almost
to have purged off the dross of humanity. Blind, poor,
friendless, in solitude and sorrow, with quite as much reason
as his Italian rival to repine at his fortune and war against
mankind, how calm and unimpassioned is he, in all that con
cerns his own personality ! He deemed too highly of his
divine gift, to make it the instrument of imraortalizing his
hatreds. One cry, alone, of sorrow at his blindness, one pa
thetic lamentation over the evil days on which he had fallen,
bursts from his full heart. There is not a flash of human
wrath in all his pictures of woe. Hating nothing but evil
spirits, in the childlike simplicity of his heart, his pure hands
undefiled with the pitch of the political intrigues in which
* Dell' Inferno, Cantos IX. X.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 223
he had lived, he breathes forth his inexpressibly majestic
strains, the poetry not so much of earth as of heaven.
Can it be hoped that, under the operation of the influences
to which we have alluded, Euiy thing superior to " Paradise
Lost " will ever be produced by man ? It requires a coura
geous feuth in general principles to believe it. I dare not call
it a probable event ; but can we say it is impossible ? If,
out of the wretched intellectual and moral elements of the
commonwealth in England, imparting, as they did, at times,
too much of their contagion to Milton's mind, a poem like
" Paradise Lost " could spring forth, shall no corresponding
fruit of excellence be produced when knowledge shall be
universally diffused, society enlightened, elevated, and equal
ized, and the standard of moral and religious principle, in
public and private affairs, raised far above its present level ?
A continued progress in the intellectual world is consistent
with all that we know of the laws that govern it, and with
all experience. A presentiment of it lies deep in the soul of
man, spark as it is of the divine nature. The craving after
excellence, the thirst for truth and beauty, has never been,
never can be, fully slaked at the fountains which have flowed
beneath the touch of the enchanter's wand. Man listens to
the heavenly strain, and straightway becomes desirous of stfll
loftier melodies. It has nourished and strengthened, instead
of satiating, his taste. Fed by the divine aliment, he can
enjoy more, he can conceive more, he can himself perform
more. Should a poet of loftier muse than Milton hereafter appear,
or, to speak more reverently, when the Milton of a better
age shall arise, there is yet remaining one subject worthy
his powers, — the counterpart of "Paradise Lost." In the
conception of this subject by Milton, then mature in the
experience of his great poem, we have the highest human
judgraent, that this is the one reraaining theme. In his un
completed attempt to achieve it, we have the greatest cause
for the doubt, whether it be not beyond the grasp of the
human mind, in its present state of cultivation. But I am
unwilling to think that this theme, immeasurably the grand-

224 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
est which can be contemplated by the raind of man, will
never receive a poetical fllustration proportioned to its sub
limity. It seems to me impossible that the time, perhaps
far distant, should not eventually arrive, when another Milton,
divorcing his heart 'from the delights of life ; purifying his
bosora from its angry and its selfish passions ; relieved, by
happier fortunes, frora care and s,orrow ; pluming the wings
of his spirit in solitude, by abstinence and prayer, will address
himself to this only remaining theme of a great Christian
epic* II. The fulfilment of anticipations like these, both as to
time and manner, is, of course, wrapped up in the uncertain
future. The province of education, in which we may all
labor, and in which the effects to be immediately hoped for
stand in some assignable proportion to the means employed,
is the improvement of the minds of the mass of the people.
This is the second question to which I alluded in the com
mencement of my remarks. May not a great increase be made
in the number of those who receive a good education, and
may not the education of all be made much better ? I mean
much more thorough and extensive as to the knowledge
acquired, and much more efficacious and productive as to the
training of the raind ? These questions, I am persuaded, must
be answered in the affirmative. It is at once melancholy and
fearful to reflect how much intellect is dafly perishing from
inaction, or worse than perishing from the false direction
given it in the morning of life.
I fear we do not yet fully realize what is meant when we
speak of the iraprovement of the mind. I fear it is not yet
enough considered, by legislators or parents, that there dwells

* Although I do not recollect that the tendency of the progress of
knowledge to produce higher manifestations of genius has been before
distinctly maintained, to the same extent, the doctrine appears to me to
be supported by very high authorities. Longinus, in the 9th chapter of
his Treatise on the Sublime, (ed. Mori, p. 42,) lays down principles leading
directly to this result ; and Cicero, in his Orator, § 34, points still more
plainly to the same conclusion, and in reference to the science from which
the illustration is drawn on p. 255. See also the Spectator, No. 633.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 225
in every rational being an intellect endowed with a portion
of the faculties which forra the glory and happiness of our
nature, and which, developed and exerted, are the source of
all that makes man to differ essentially frora the clod of the
valley. Neglected and uncultivated, deprived of its appro
priate nourishment, denied the discipline which is necessary
to its healthy growth, this divine principle all but expires,
and the man whom it .was sent to enlighten sinks down,
before his natural death, to his kindred dust. Trained and
instructed, strengthened by wise discipline, and guided by
pure principle, it ripens into an intelligence but a little lower
than the angels. This is the work of education. The early
years of life are the period when it must coraraonly be ob
tained ; and, if this opportunity is lost, it is too often a loss
which nothing can repair.
It is usual to compare the culture of the mind to the cul
ture of the earth. If the husbandman relax his labors, and
his field be left untflled, this year or the next, although a
crop or two be lost, the evil may be remedied. The land,
with its productive qualities, remains. If not ploughed and
planted this year, it may be the year after. But if the mind
be wholly neglected during the period mosfc proper for its
cultivation, if it be suffered to reraain dark and uninformed,
its vital power perishes ; for all the purposes of an intellect
ual nature, it is lost. It is as if an earthquake had swallowed
up the uncultivated fallows, or as if a swollen river had
washed away, not merely the standing crop, but the bank on
which it was growing. When the time for education has
gone by, the man must, in ordinary cases, be launched upon
the world a benighted being, scarcely elevated above the
beasts that perish ; and all that he could have been and done
for society and for hiraself, is wholly lost.
Although this utter sacrifice of the inteUectual nature is
rarely made in this part of the country, I fear there exists
even here, a woful waste of mental power, through neglect
of education. Taking our population as a whole, I fear that
there is not nearly time enough passed at school ; that many
of those employed in the business of instruction are incom-
voL. II. 29

226 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
petent to the work ; and that our best teachers are not suffi
ciently furnished with literary apparatus, particularly with
school libraries. If these defects could be supplied, I believe
a few years would witness a wonderful effect upon the com
munity ; that an impulse, not easily conceived ^eforehand,
would be given to individual and social character.
I ara strongly convinced that it behoves our ancient cora-
monwealth to look anxiously to this subject, if she wishes to
maintain her honorable standing in this union of states. I
am not grieved when I behold on the map the enormous di
mensions of some of the new states in the west, as contrasted
with the narrow little strip which comprises the good old
Bay State. They are bone of our bone, and flesh of our
flesh ; their welfare is closely interwoven with ours ; in
every thing that can promote their solid prosperity, I bid
them God speed with all my heart. I hear, without discon
tent, the astonishing accounts of their fertflity ; that their
vast prairies are covered with more feet of rich vegetable
mould than our soil, on an average, can boast of inches ; and I
can bear to hear it said, without envy, that their Missouri and
Mississippi, the mighty Abana and Pharpar of the west, are
better than all "the waters of our poor New England Israel.
AU this I can bear ; but I cannot bear that our beloved
native state, whose corner stone was laid upon an intellectual
and moral basis, should deprive itself, by its own neglect, of
the great counterpoise to these physical advantages. Give
the sons of Massachusetts, small and comparatively unfertile
as she is, the means of a good education, and they will stand
against the world. Give me the raeans of educating ray
children, and I will not exchange its thirstiest sands, nor its
barest peak, for the most fertile spot on earth, deprived of
those blessings. I would rather occupy the bleakest nook
of the mountain that towers above us,* with the wild wolf
and the rattlesnake for my nearest neighbors, with a village
school, well kept, at the bottom of the hill, than dwell in a
paradise of fertility, if I raust bring up ray children in lazy,
* Saddle Mountain, between Williamstown and Adams.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 227
pampered, self-sufficient ignorance. A man may protect him
self against the rattle and the venom ; but if he unnecessa-
rfly leaves the mind of his offspring a prey to ignorance, and
the vices that too often follow in its train, he may find, too
late for remedy, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless chUd."
A thankless chfld ! No, I wfll not wrong him. He may
be any thing else that is bad, but he cannot be a thankless
child. What has he to be thankful for ? No ! the man who
unnecessarfly deprives his son of education, and thus know
ingly trains him up in the way he should not go, may have
a perverse, an intractable, a prodigal child, one who will bring
down his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, but a thankless
chfld he cannot have.
As I have said, I think this matter must be looked to.
If the all-important duty of training the young is intrusted
to the cheapest hand that can be hired to do the work, —
to one who is barely able to pass a nominal examination,
by a committee soraetimes more ignorant than hiraself, in
the modicum of learning prescribed by law ; and slender
as the privilege of such" instruction is, if it be enjoyed by
our children but for ten or twelve weeks in the year, as is
the case in too many towns in the comraonwealth, it is plain
to see that they are deprived of the best part of their birth
right. I know it is said that these few weeks, in the depth
of winter, are all of his chfldren's tirae that the frugal hus
bandman can spare. But can it be so ? Can the labors of
the field, or any other labors, be so hotly pressed araong us,
that ten or twelve weeks are all the time for which the labor
of the youth of both sexes can be dispensed with, for five or
six hours a day? I speak with diffidence on the subject;
but such, I apprehend, cannot be the case. I cannot but
think that a majority of the citizens of Massachusetts, of all
pursuits and callings, might, without the least detriment to
their interests, send their children steadily to a good school
seven months in the year, and more or less of the time the other

228 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
five. Without detriment, did I say ? Nay, with incalculable
advantage to their children, to themselves, and to the state.
It would be raore rational to talk about not affording seed-
corn than to talk about not eiffording our chfldren as much
of their time as is necessary for their education. What !
shall a man plant his field, and allow his child's intellect to
run to weeds ? It would be as wise to eat up all the wheat,
and sow the husks and the chaff for next year's crop, as, on
a principle of thrift, to sow ignorance and its attendant help
lessness and prejudices in your children's minds, and expect
to reap an honorable and a happy manhood. It would be
better husbandry to go, in the summer, and clatter with a
hoe in the bare gravel, where nothing was ever sown but the
feathered seed of the Canada thistle, which the west wind
drops from its sweeping wings, and come back, in autumn,
and expect to find a field of yellow grain nodding to the
sickle, than to aUow your son to grow up without useful
knowledge, and expect that he wfll sustain himself with
respectability in life, or (if consideration must be had of self-
interest) prop and comfort your decline. Not spare our chil
dren's time ! Spare it, I might ask you, from what ? Is any
thing more important ? Spare it for what ? Can it be better
employed than in that cultivation of the mind which will
vastly increase the value of every subsequent hour of life ?
And to confine them, in the raorning of their days, to a round
of labor for the meat that perisheth, is it not, when our chil
dren ask for bread, to give them a stone ? when they ask for
a fish, to give them a serpent, which wifl sting our bosoms
as well as theirs ?
Our governments, as well as individuals, have, I must
needs say, a duty to discharge tp the cause of education.
Something has been done — by some of the state govern
ments much has been done — for this cause ; but too rauch,
I fear, reraains undone. In the main, in appropriating the
public funds, we tread too much in the footsteps of European
precedents. I could wish our legislators might be animated
with a purer ambition.. In other parts of the world, the
resources of the state, too often wrung from their rightful

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 229
possessors, are squandered on the luxury of governments,
built up into the walls of stately palaces or massy fortifica
tions, devoured by mighty armies, sunk by overgrown navies
to the bottom of the sea, swallowed up in the eternal wars
of state policy. The treasure expended in a grand campaign
of the armies of the leading states of Europe, would send a
schoolmaster to every hamlet, from Archangel to Lisbon.
The annual expense of supporting the armies and navies of
Great Britain and France, if applied to the relief and educa
tion of the poor in those countries, would change the character
of the age in which we live. Perhaps it is too much to hope
that, in the present condition of the politics of Europe, this
system can be departed from. It seems to be admitted, as a
fundamental maxim of international law among its govern
ments, that the whole energy of their civilization must be
exhausted in preventing them from destroying each other.
With us, on the contrary, while the union of the states is
preserved, (and Heaven grant it may be perpetual ! ) there is
nothing to prevent the appropriation, to moral and intellectual
objects, of a great part of those resources which are elsewhere
lavished on luxury and war.
How devoutly is it to be wished that we could feel the
beauty and dignity of such a policy, and aim at a new
development of national character ! From the earliest period
of history, the mighty power of the association of millions
of men into a people, moved by one political will, has been
applied to objects at which huraanity weeps, and which,
were they not written on every page of the world's experi
ence, would be absolutely incredible. From time to time a
personal gathering is witnessed ; mighty nurabers of the
population assemble en masse. Doubtless it is sorae noble
work which they are going to achieve. Marshalled beneath
gay £md joyous banners, cheered with the soul-stirring strains
of music, honored, admired, behold how they move forward,
the flower of the community, clothed, fed, and paid, at the
public expense, to some grand undertaking ! They go not
empty-handed ; their approach is discerned afar by a forest
of glittering steel above their heads, and the earth groans

230 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
beneath their trains of enginery, of strange forra and super
human power. What errand of love has called them out,
the elected host, to go in person, side by side, and unite the
mighty mass of their physical powers in one vast effort ? Let
the sharp volley that rings along the lines ; let the scarcely
munic thunder which rends the sky ; let the agonizing
shrieks which rise from torn and trampled thousands, — re
turn the answer. Their errand is death. They go, not to
create, but to destroy ; to waste and to slay ; to blast the
works of civilization and peace ; to wrap cities in flames ;
and to cover fertfle fields with bloody ashes.
I cannot, will not, believe that social raan can rise no
higher than- this ; that reason and experience, self-interest
and huraanity, the light of nature, the progress of knowl
edge, and the word of God, will forever prove too feeble for
this monstrous perversion of human energy. I raust believe
that the day will yet dawn -when the great efforts of indi
vidual and social man will be turned to the promotion of the
welfare of his brother man. If this hope is to be realized,
it must be by the joint action of enlightened reason, elevated
morals, and pure religion, brought home, by a liberal and
efficient system of education and the aid of Heaven, to every
fireside and every heart.
Amidst much to awaken solicitude in the condition of
things in our beloved country as respects the progress of im
provement, there is yet many a spot within its borders sacred
to better hopes and higher anticipations. Let us dwell, for a
moment, on the phenomena which have been exhibited on
the spot where we are now assembled: Scarcely eighty
years have elapsed since this village was the site of a small
frontier post. Nothing which could be called settlement had
crossed Connecticut River. The pioneers of civilization
had begun to find their way into Berkshire, but they hardly
ventured beyond the reach of the line of forts which guarded
the frontier. Sheffield and Stockbridge were, I believe, the
only towns incorporated before the old French war ; and be
yond them, westward, commenced the dreary wilderness.
pathless, except as it was threaded by war parties from Can-

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 231
ada and New England, and by bands of wretched captives,
dragged from their homes, at midnight, to a miserable slavery
among the French and Indians. The alternate action of the
two nations who stood at the head of the civflization of the
world, had been felt for a century in these still valleys and
venerable forests ; but it was felt only to add the arts of civ
flized destruction to the horrors of savage warfare. One
century of peaceful improvement and hopeful progress was
blotted from the history of this portion of frontier America.
But the seeds of improvement were sown even in this
bloody sofl. One of those generous spirits who, from tirae
to time, are raised up to accomplish great objects, was sta
tioned in this corner of the comraonwealth, in coramand of
the line of forts erected for border defence. You know that
I allude to the founder of this college. He foresaw, even
then, the probable destinies of the country. He knew that
the dreary forest was not designed forever to encumber the
sofl. He beheld it yielding to the march of civilization. As
he heard the crash of the sturdy trunk, falling beneath the
narrow axe of the settler ; as he saw the log cabins slowly
rising on the edge of the clearing, and beheld the smoke
here and there curling up in the lonely and mysterious woods ;
as he heard the voice of the mountain stream, then babbling
unheeded over the rocks, — his sagacious mind overleaped
the interval of years. He was called, by his intrepid spirit
and his country's voice, to take an active part in the first
sceiies of the war of 1755. A presentiment of his fate
seems to have been upon his mind. Before plunging into
the campaign, he made provision for the appropriation of his
fortune to furnish the means of education to the people
whose struggles, in settling this region, he had witnessed and
shared. His- wfll was made at Albany, on the twenty-second
of July, 1755, bequeathing his property for the foundation
of this institution ; and, on the eighth of September of the
same year, in an engagement with the troops under the Baron
Dieskau, he feU at the head of his reginiient. Eighty years,
only, have passed away. The laudable purposes of your
founder have been more than fulfiUed ; and out of the living

232 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
fountain struck open in the desert by his generous bequest,
abundant streams of piety and learning have flowed and are
flowing. Colonel Williams's character was of no ordinary mould.
At a distance from the seat of his benefaction full justice has
not been done to his memory. A man of the happiest tem-
peraraent, a gentleraan of the true natural stamp, unassuming
and simple, supplying the deficiency of a learned education
by large experience of raen and things, acquired in foreign
travel, in the legislature, and in the array, yet modestly
lamenting what others did not trace, his want of early advan
tages ; without a family, but the patriarch of the frontier set
tlement where he was stationed, — he fell, in the prime of
early manhood, a victim to his patriotic zeal. A brief sketch
of his biography, in one of the early volumes of the Massa
chusetts Historical Collections,* informs us that he witnessed,
with humane' and painful sensations, the daggers, difficulties,
and hardships, which the settlers of these valleys were obliged
to encounter ; and that, to encourage thera,- he was accus-
toraed to intiraate the purpose which was carried into effect
in his wfll. I regret not to have found Colonel Williams's
views on this subject preserved somewhat in detafl. It
would have been exceedingly interesting to see the topic of
education, in reference to the wants of a newly-settled coun
try, as it presented itself to the practical view of a man of
his character, on the eve of a war. As no such record, as far
as I know, has been preserved, you will pardon me for at
tempting to present the subject to you, under the same light
in which he ma}"- have contemplated it.
" My friends," (we may conceive he would say to a group
of settlers, gathered about old Fort Massachusetts, on some
fit occasion, not long before his marching towards the place
of rendezvous,) "your hardships, I am aware, are great. I
have witnessed, I have shared them. The hardships inci
dent to opening a new country are always severe. They are
heightened, in our case, by the constant danger in which we
* First Series, Vol. VIII. p. 47.

SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 233
live from the savage enemy. At present, we are rather en
camped than settled. We live in block-houses ; we lie upon
our arms by night ; and, like the Jews who returned to bufld
Jerusalem,* we go to work, by day, with the irapleraents of
husbandry in one hand and the weapons of war in the other.
Nor is this the worst. We have been bred up in the popu
lous settleraents on the coast, where the school-house and the
church are found at the centre of every village. Here, as
yet, we can have neither. I know these things weigh upon
you. You look upon the dark and irapenetrable forests, in
which you have made an opening, and contrast it with the
pleasant villages where you were born and passed your early
j^ears, where your parents are yet living, or where they
have gone to their rest ; and you cannot suppress a painful
emotion. " You are, more especially, as I perceive, somewhat dis
heartened at the present moraent of impending war. But,
my friends, let not your spirits sink. The prospect is over
cast, but brighter days wfll come. In vision I can plainly
foresee them. The forest disappears ; the cornfield, the pas
ture, takes its place ; the hfll-sides are spotted with flocks ;
the music of the water-wheel sounds in accord with the
dashing stream. Your little groups of log cabins swell into
prosperous vfllages. Schools and churches spring up in the
waste ; institutions for learning arise ; and in what is now a
wild solitude, libraries and cabinets unfold their treasures, and
observatories point their tubes to the heavens. I tell you
that not all the united powers of all the French and Indians
on the St Lawrence, — no, not if backed by all the powers
of darkness which seem, at times, in league with thera to in
fest this howling wflderness, — will long prevent the valleys
of the Hoosac and the Housatonic from becoming the abode
of industry, abundance, and refinement. A century -will not
pass, before the voice of domestic wisdom and fireside inspi
ration, from the vales of Berkshire, will be heard throughout
America and Europe. As for the contest unpending, I am
* Nehemiah iv. 17.
VOL, II. 30

234 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION.
sure we shall conquer ; if I raistake not, it is the first of a
series of events of unutterable raoraent to all America, and
even to mankind. Before it closes, the banner of St George
will float, I am sure, over Cape Diamond ; and the exten
sion of the British power over the whole continent will be
but the first act of a great drama, whose catastrophe I but
dimly foresee.
" I speak of what concerns the whole country ; the fortune.
of individtials is wrapped in the uncertain future. For myself,
I must own that I feel a foreboding at my heart which I can
not throw off. I can only say, if my hour is come, (emd I
think it is not distant,) I ara prepared. I have been able to
do but little ; but if Providence has no further work for rae
to perform, I am ready to be discharged frora the warfare.
It is my purpose, before I am taken from you, to make a dis
position of my property for the benefit of this infant com
munity. My heart's desire is that, in the picture of its
future prosperity, which I behold in mental view, the last
and best of earthly blessings shall not be wanting. I shall
deem my life not spent in vain, though it be cut off to-mor
row, if, at its close, I shall be accepted as the humble instru
ment of promoting the great cause of education.
" My friends, as I am soon to join the army, we meet,
many of us, perhaps, for the last time. I ara a solitary
branch ; I can be spared. I have no wife to feel my loss ;
no children to follow me to the grave. I may fall by the
tomahawk, or in the front of honorable battle ; on the shores
of the stormy lake, or in the infested woods ; and this poor
body may want even a friendly hand to -protect it from uisult.
But I must take the chance of a soldier's life. When I am
gone, you will find sorae proof- that my last thoughts were
with the settlers of Fort Massachusetts ; and perhaps, at some
future day, should my desire to serve you and your children
not be disappointed, my humble name will not be forgotten
ia the public assembly, and posterity will best 3w a tear ou
the memorv of Ephraim Williams."

THE BOSTON SCHOOLS.

Mr President : —
I need not attempt to express my grateful sense of the
honor done me in the last toast. It is praise enough for any
man to be regarded, by such a company as this, as doing no
discredit to the Boston schools. I am sure I owe thera more
than I can ever repay. They were the friends of my friend
less youth and poverty, and gave me a better education than
I had the means of getting in any other way.
Of the numerous public occasions of different kinds to
which the courtesy paid to ray official character calls rae,
there is none which I attend with greater pleasure than this
anniversary. There is, indeed, none in which, whether as
parents or citizens, we should take a stronger interest. The
iraportance of schools is certainly not overlooked in this
coramunity ; but it is not overvalued ; it cannot be. Liberal
provision is raade for their support, but not extravagant pro
vision. No expense which any reasonable raan, or body of
reasonable men, would recommend for such a purpose could
be extravagant. I mean, in a word, that the object is of
almost inestimable importance.
Sir, it is of manifold, and, if I may so express myself,
compound importance. It is important, in and by the im
portance of almost every great and desirable object in life,
towards the attainment of which education furnishes the
means. I do not know that this view of the matter is suffi
ciently familiar ; that it is enough considered that the support
• At the public dinner m Faneuil HaU, on the 23d August, 1837, the
day of the examination of the schools. (235)

236 THE BOSTON SCHOOLS.
of the schools is not a separate interest, which raay be taken
up, provided for, or neglected, and all other things remain the
same. I fear we may, even in this liberal, community, be
disposed to regard it as one only of the items in the year's
estimate, like lighting or paving the streets, erecting public
bufldings, or bringing pure water into the city. In reference
to all such objects, the people, of course, have only to con
sider whether they will or will not provide for any one of
them, dispensing with or enjoying some or all the rest. Thus,
for instance, the people, if they choose, may spend all their
funds, applicable to such objects, in lighting, paving, and
watching the streets, leaving them, as to width and straight-
ness, as they were left by the original surveyors, — said to
be the domestic animals, as they carae horae frora pasture, —
or they raay bestow their surplus raeans on public bufldings,
and content themselves with water as it is medicated in the
laboratory under our feet ; the natural soda, not in all cases
reraarkably sprightly nor of the best flavor.
But, to speak with the seriousness which becoraes the topic,
it is not so with education. This is the one living fountain,
which must water every part of the social garden, or its beauty
withers and fades away. Of course I mean, sir, moral and
religious, as well as mental education. This is the single
avenue, straight and narrow at first, but gradually widening,
which all must tread who would arrive at usefulness and a
good narae. This is the teraple which all raust enter ; like
that which Marcellus erected to Virtue at Rome, through
which lay the only path to the teraple of Honor. Its one
simple portal stands unbarred for the mighty company of emu
lous youth, of whatever object in life. There is room for
all, and when they have entered in, a thousand doors fly open
before them, leading to every hall of prosperity and virtuous
fame. It is, next to religion, the source from which must
flow out the issues of peace to our firesides, — of activity and
enlightened enterprise to our marts of business, — of whole
some respect to our courts and senate-houses. It is the el
emental fire, which must lighten, warra, and cheer us, as men
and citizens. Talk of public bufldings, sir ! Let the plain

THE BOSTON SCHOOLS. 237
brick school-house go down, and though we pile our hill-tops
with structures that surpass the time-defying solidity of
Egyptian Thebes, or the immortal gracefulness of Corinth or
Athens, they wfll but stand the gorgeous monuments of our
shame. Q,uench the beams of education, and though we
should light up our streets like Milton's pandemonium, —
 " with many a row

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light
As from a sky," —
tfll midnight outshone the noontide sun, our children's feet
would still stumble on the dark mountains of ignorance as
black as death.
I speak in strong language, sir, but the truth is stronger. I
have compared education only with other objects that pertain
to the comfort or ornament of this life ! — great objects, I
allow, in the calculations of a temporal economy, and not
unworthy of the care bestowed upon thera in this city ! and
never raore than under its present enlightened and efficient
governraent. But in theraselves, they are, like every thing
else which begins and ends in this life, bustling, unsubstan
tial vanities. What considerate man can enter a school, and
not reflect with awe, that it is a seminary where immortal
minds are training for eternity ? What parent but is, at times,
weighed down with the thought, that there must be laid the
foundations of a building which will stand, when not merely
temple and palace, but the perpetual hills, and adamantine
rocks on which they rest, have melted away ! — that a light
raay there be kindled, which wfll shine, not raerely when
every artificial beam is extinguished, but when the affrighted
sun has fled .away from the heavens ! I can add nothing to
this consideration, sir. I wfll only say in conclusion, —
Education : — When we feed that lamp, we perform the
highest social duty ! if we quench it, I know not where, —
(humanly speaking, for tirae or for eternity, ) —
"I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can its light relume."

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.'

Mr President and Gentlemen:
I BEG leave to congratulate you on the success of your
efforts to establish the first Fair of the Massachusetts Chari
table Mechanic Association. Under circumstances somewhat
unfavorable, you have produced an exhibition which, I am
persuaded, has fully answered the public expectation. More
than fifteen thousand articles, in almost every department of
art, have been displayed in the halls. Speciraens of raa-
chinery and fabrics, reflecting great credit on their inventors,
iraprovers, and manufacturers, many of them affording prom
ise of the highest utility, and unitedly bearing a very satis
factory testimony to the state of the arts in this country,
and particularly in this comraunity, have been subraitted to
the public inspection. The exhibitors have already, in the
aggregate, been rewarded with the general approbation of the
crowds of our fellow-citizens who have witnessed the dis
play. It wfll be the business of your coraraittees, after a
critical examination of the articles exhibited, to award endur
ing testimonials of merit. But the best reward will be the
consciousness of having contributed to the coraraon stock of
the public welfare, by the successful cultivation of the arts,
so iraportant to the improvement of society and the happiness
of life.
I feel gratified at being invited to act as the organ of your
Association in this general expression of its sentiments on so
* An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic
Association, on the 20th of September, 1837, on occasion of their first Exhi
bition and Fair. (238)

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 239
interesting an occasion. It would be a pleasing eraployraent
to attempt an enumeration and description of some of the
most important of the articles exhibited. But it would be
impossible to accomplish this object, to any valuable purpose,
within reasonable limits. It would require a condensing ap
paratus raore efficient than any which has yet been contrived,
to bring even a descriptive catalogue of the articles exhibited
within the corapass of a public address ; to give a full ac
count of the raost iraportant of thgra would deraand no sraall
portion of the knowledge and skfll required for their fabrica
tion. The nature of this occasion prescribes a much simpler
character to the remarks I shall submit to your indulgence.
It will be my sole object to establish, by a few obvious illus
trations, the vast iraportance of the mechanic arts. In pur
suing this end, the greatest difficulty to be overcome is, that
the point to be established is too certain to be proved, and
too generally admitted to need a formal assertion.
Man, as a rational being, is endowed by his Creator with
two great prerogatives. One is, the control over matter and
inferior animals, which is physical power; the other, the
control over kindred mind, which is moral power, and which,
in its lower forms, is foften produced by the control over mat
ter; so that power ovpr the material world is, practically
speaking, a most important element of power in the social,
intellectual, and moral world. Mind, all the time, is the
great mover ; but, surrounded, encased as it is with matter,
acting by material organs, treading a material earth, incor
porated and mingled up with matter, I do not know that
there is any thing but pure, inward thought which is not de
pendent upon it : and even the capacity of the mind for pure
thought is essentially affected by the condition of the mate
rial body, and by external circumstances acting upon it.
¦ This control of raind over matter is principally effected
through the medium of the mechanic arts, taking that term
in its widest acceptation. The natural faculties of the huraan
frarae, unaided by artificial means, are certainly great and
wonderful ; but they sink to nothing, compared with the
power which accrues from the skilful use of tools, raachines.

240 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
engines, and other material agents. Man, with his un
aided strength, can lift but one or two hundred weight,
and that but for a moment ; with his pulleys and windlasses
he sets an obelisk upon its base, a shaft of solid granite, a
hundred feet high. The dome of St Peters is one hundred
and twenty feet in diaraeter ; its sides are twenty-two feet in
thickness ; it is suspended in the air at an elevation of three
hundred and twenty feet frora the ground ; and it was raised
by hands as feeble as these.^ The unaided force of the mus
cles of the human hand is insufficient to break a fragment of
marble of any size in pieces ; but on a recent visit to the
beautiful quarries in Sheffield, frora which the columns of
the Girard College, at Phfladelphia, are taken, I saw masses
of hundreds of tons, which had been cleft from the quarry
by a very simple process. Three miles an hour, for any con
siderable space of time, and with ample intervals for recrea
tion, food, and sleep, are the extreme limit of the locomotive
capacity of the strongest frame, and this confined to the land.
The arts step in : by the application of one portion of them
to the purposes of navigation, man is wafted, night and day,
waking and sleeping, at the rate of eight or ten miles an
hour, over the unfathoraed ocean ; and, by the combination
of another portion of the arts, he flies over the land at the
rate of fifteen or twenty miles an hour, and, if need be, with
twice that rapidity, without raoving a rauscle.
The capacity of iraparting thought, by intelligible signs, to
the minds of other men, — the capacity which lies at the
foundation of all our social iraprovements, — '^rhile unaided
by art, was confined within the liraits of oral communication
and memory. The voice of wisdom perished, not merely
with the sage by whom it was uttered; but with the very
breath of air on which it was borne. Art came to the aid of
the natural capacity; and, after a long series of successive
improvements, passing through the stages of pictorial and
symbolical representations of things, the different steps of
hieroglyphical writing, (each occupying, no doubt, long peri
ods of time for its discovery and application,) it devised a
method of imprinting on a material substance an inteUigible

IMPORTANCE OP THE MECHANIC ARTS. 241
sign, not of things, but of sounds forming the names of
things ; in other words, it invented the alphabet. With this
simple invention, and the mechanical contrivances with which
it is carried into effect, the mind of man was, I had almost
said, re-created. The day before it was invented, the voice
of man, in its utmost stretch, could be heard but by a few
thousands, intently listening, for an hour or two, during
which, alone, his strength would enable him to utter a suc
cession of sounds. The day after the art of writing was
invented, he was able to impress his thoughts on a roll of
parchment, and send them to every city and hanilet of the
largest empire. The day before this invention, the mind of
one country was estranged from the mind of all other coun
tries, and for almost all the purposes of intercourse, the families
of man raight as well not have belonged to one race. The
day after it, wisdom was endued with the gift of tongues,
and spoke, by her interpreters, to all the tribes of kindred
raen. The day before this invention, and nothing but a fad
ing tradition, constantly becoming fainter, could be preserved
by the memory of all that was spoken or acted by the great
est and wisest of men. The day after it, thought was
imperishable ; it sprung to an earthly imraortality ; it seized
the new-found instruments of record and coraraeraoration,
and, deserting the body, as it sunk ¦with its vocal organs into
the dust, it carved on the very gravestone, " The mind of
man shall live forever."
It would be easy to multiply these illustrations of the im-l
portance of the aid rendered by the arts to the natural facuM
ties of man. They present themselves to the reflecting
mind in every direction; and they. lead the way to the con
clusion, that the mechanical arts are the great instruments of
human civilization. We have some means of judging what
man was, before any of the useful arts were discovered, be
cause there exist on the surface of the globe many tribes and
races, nearly or quite destitute of them ; as, for instance, the
native inhabitants of this continent. We know not with
certainty, it is true, whether these and other savage races are
VOL. II. 31

242 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
specimens of humanity disjoined from the parent stock
before any great progress had been made in civilization, or
broken down and degenerate fragments of nations once cul
tivated, and retaining, even in their present degraded condi
tion, some remnants of primitive improveraent. There are
sorae circumstances which favor the latter opinion, and con
sequently they do not afford us a perfect specimen of what
man would be before the discovery of any of the useful arts
of life. But we may see enough in them to learn how much
of all our civflization resides in these arts ; that, in fact, civ
ilization may almost be considered another word for their
aggregate existence and application. For it is a somewhat
humfliating reflection that, in many things dependent on the
human organs and senses, unaided by the arts, the savage
greatly excels the raost iraproved civilized raan. Thus
man, with one set of glasses, penetrates the secret organiza
tion of the minutest insect or plant ; marks the rise of the
sap in the capfllaries of a blade of grass ; counts the pulsa
tions of the heart in an animalcule many times smaller
than the head of a pin ; whfle, with another set of glasses,
he fills the heavens with a hundred millions of stars, invisi
ble to the naked eye. To the savage, the wonders of the
microscope and the telescope are unknown ; but he can, by
traces which elude our keenest vision, tell whether it is the
foot of friend or enemy which has passed over the grass be
fore his tent in the silence of night ; and he can find his way
through the pathless and tangled forest without a guide.
Civilized man, with his wheels and his steam, runs a race
with the winds ; but, left to the natural force of his members,
soon sinks frora fatigue. The indefatigable savage, ignorant
of artificial conveyance, outtires on foot the hound and the
horse ; and, whfle the famished chfld of civflized life faints
at the delay of his periodical meal, a three days' fast
makes no impression on the iron frame of the poor Indian.
Civilized man, although surrounded by his arts with enjoy
ments that seem to render life a hundred fold more precious,
lies drenched in sleep one third of his precious hours, and

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 243
may well envy the physical training which enables his hardy
brother of the forest, when occasion requires, to bid defiance,
night after night, to the approach of weariness.
But this superiority which the savage possesses over civil
ized man, in the discipline of some of the natural capacities
of our frarae, is turned to little account of human improve
raent and happiness, for want of those arts which create,
corabine, and perpetuate the powers and agents by which our
wants are supplied. Even the few comforts of which his
forlorn condition is susceptible are mostly derived, not frora
this superior training of his natural faculties and senses, but
frora his possession of some few imperfect arts. The savage,
needy at best, without his moccasins, his snow-shoes, his
dressed buffalo skin, his hollowed tree or bark canoe, his bow
and arrow, his tent, and his fishing gear, would be a rauch
more abject being. These simple inventions, and the tools
and skill required by them, no doubt occupied a considerable
period in the early history of our race. But the great differ
ence between savage and civilized life consists in the want
of those more improved arts, the products of which we have
been contemplating, by which no inconsiderable quantity of
human power and skill can be transferred to inanimate tools
and machinery, and perpetuated in them ; the arts whereby
the grasp of the hand, which soon wearies, can be transferred
to the iron gripe of the vice, the clamp, and the bolt, that
never tire ; the arts by which stone, and metal, and leather,
and wood may be made to perform the offices of poor flesh
and bone. The savage, when he has parched his corn, puts
it in a rude mortar, which, with infinite toil, he has scooped
out of a rock, and laboriously pounds it into meal. It is
much, if, in this way, he can prepare food enough to keep
him alive whfle he is preparing it. The civflized man, when
he has raised his corn, buflds a mfll, with a water-wheel, and
sets the indefatigable stream to grinding his grain. There
are now two or three laborers at work ; one, it is true, with
forces which soon weary, and which can only be kept up by
consuming a part of the corn as fast as it can be made into
food, but endowed with an untiring and inexhaustible inven-

244 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
tion ; the other patient fellow-laborers of wood and iron,
the stream, the wheel, and the mfllstone, without capacity
for headwork, are willing to grind corn all day, and not ask
a mouthful back, by way of sustenance. Civilization is kept
up by storing the products of the labor thus economized,
and iraparting a share of it to those engaged in sorae other
pursuit, who give a portion of its products in exchange for
food. Take another fllustration in the arts eraployed in furnishing
the clothing of man. The savage, when he has killed a
buffalo, and dried his skin, prepares it, with the manual labor
of several Aveeks, for a garment, a substantial and sightly
garment ; but it has taken him a long time, and he has made
but one. The civflized man, having a world of business on
his hands, has contrived a variety of machines, which per
form almost all the work required for his clothing. He cuts
a mass of curled wool from the sheep's back, a confused,
irregular heap of fibrous threads, which would seem to defy
the skfll and industry of the artificer. How long will it not
take the busiest pair of fingers to piece those fibres together,
end to end, to lay them side by side, so as to give them sub
stance, coherence, dimensions, — to convert them into a cov
ering and defence, excluding cold and wet I The savage,
in taking the skin, seems to have made the wiser choice.
Nature has done the spinning and weaving to his hand. But
wait a moment : there is a group of iron-fingered artificers
in yonder mfll, who wfll show you a wonder. They will,
with a rapidity scarcely conceivable, convert this uncouth,
fibrous heap into a uniform mass ; they will draw out its
short, curly fibres into long, even threads, lay them side by
side, and curiously cross them over and under with magical
dexterity, tfll they form a compact tissue, covered with a soft
down and a glossy lustre, smooth, impervious, flexible, in
quantity sufficient to clothe a famfly for a year, with less
expense of human labor than would be required to dress a
single skin.
Consider the steam engme. It is computed that the steam
power of Great Britain, not including the labor economized

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 245
by the enginery it puts in motion, annually performs the work
of a million of men. In other words, the steam engine adds
to the human population of Great Britain another population,
one miUion strong. Strong it may well be called. What a
population I so curiously organized, that they need neitht.
luxuries nor coraforts ; that they have neither vices nor sor
rows ; subject to an absolute' control, without despotism ;
laboring ^ight and day for their owners, without the crimes
£md woes of slavery ; a frugal population, that wastes noth-
'15 T^nd f^ons'imps nnthing nnprnrlnp.tiYRly ; an nrdprly pnpn-
lation. to which mobs and riots are unknown ; araong which
the peace is kept without police, courts, prisons, or bayonets ;
and annually lavishing the product of one million pairs of
hands, to increase the comforts of the fifteen or twenty mil
lions of the human population. And yet the steam engine,
which makes this mighty addition to the resources of civil
ization, is but a piece of machinery^ You have all seen it,
both in rainiature and on a working scale, at the halls. In
the miniature model, (constructed by Mr Newcorab, of
Salera,) it can be raoved by the breath of the most delicate
pair of lips in this assembly ; and it could easfly be con
structed of a size and power which would rend these walls
from their foundation, and pfle the roof in ruins upon us.
And yet it is but a machine. There is a cylinder and a pis
ton ; there are tubes, valves, and pumps, water, and a vessel
to boil it in. This is the whole of that enginery with which
the skfll and industry of the present age are working their
wonders. This is the whole of the agency which has en
dowed modem art with its superhuman capacities, and sent
it out, to traverse the continent and the ocean, with those
capacities which Romance has attributed to her unearthly
beings : — " Tramp, tramp, along the land they ride,
Splash, splash, across the sea."
It is whoUy impossible to calculate the quantity of labor
economized by all the machinery which the steam engine
puts in motion. Mr Baines states, that the spinning ma-

246 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
chinery of Great Britain, tended by one hundred and fifty
thousand workmen, " produces as much yarn as could have
been produced by forty millions of men, with the one-
thread wheel ! " * Dr Buckland remarks, that it has been
supposed that " the amount of work now done by inachinery,
in England, is equivalent to that of between three and four
hundred millions of men by direct labor." f
Thi§ prodigious economy and accumulation of power,
effected by the mechanic arts, are devoted to supplying the
wants and promoting the comfort of man. When, therefore,
the ingenious artisan raakes an improvement in a useful ma
chine, he economizes labor, creates power, accumulates use
fulness, and promotes the progress of civflization. I doubt
not, if it were possible to write the secret history of the
mechanic arts, (if I may so express myself;) to trace the
most important manufactures and machines, through their
various stages, to their origin ; to show how, by the addition
of a spring here, a cog there, a knee-joint in this place, a
perpetual screw in that, or a system of these powers, the
most complicated engines have been brought from the hum
blest beginnings to their present condition, — it would ap
pear that a single mechanical iraprovement had often had the
effect of adding thousands and tens of thousands of horse
power and raan power to the productive energy of the com
munity. The astonishment and admiration with which we
should survey the wonders of modern machinery are impaired
by not knowing, raore generally than the mass of men can
know, the stages through which it has passed, and the mental
efforts which have been expended in improving it. There is
an untold, probably an uniraagined, amount of human talent,
of high raental power, locked up araong the wheels and
springs of the machinist ; a force of intellect of the loftiest
character has been required, to make this department of
human pursuit what it is. This stunning din, this monoto
nous rattle, this tremendous power, and the quiet, steady
* Raines's History of the Cotton Manufacture, p. 362.
7 Buckland's Geology and Mineralogy, Vol. I. p 400

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 247
force of these humble, useful, famfliar arts, result from efforts
of the mind kindred with those which have charmed or in
structed the world with the richest strains of poetry, eloquence,
and phflosophy.
These improvements have sometimes been long delayed,
and art, for ages, has been stationary ; and then, by the happy
development of some mechanical contrivance, it has made
boundless progress in a life time It is not yet, I believe, more
than two or three centuries since the only mode of spinning
known was by the rock and spindle. The simple spinning-
wheel, moved by the hand, and which was thought, in the
times of our grandparents, to show a graceful form and a well-
turned arm to nearly as great advantage as a harp at the pres
ent day, and to raake a music alraost as cheerful, is at once
an obsolete and a modern invention. The Greeks and
Romans are said to have been unacquainted with the spin
ning-wheel. The monarch's heavy purple and the nymph's
airy tissue were alike manufactured by twirling the distaff,
and drawing out a thread with the fingers ; ' and no improve
ment was made on this tedious process, in Great Britain,
before the fifteenth century. It is evident, that rauch more
labor raust have been requisite with this rude machinery, to
supply the indispensable article of clothing, than with the
modern improvements. The introduction of the spinning-
wheel produced a great econoray of this labor ; but the intro
duction of the spinning and weaving machinery of the last
century, has pushed this economy to an extent at which it is
in vain to attempt to calculate it. This economy operates,
first, to multiply the comforts of the existing population, and
then, by necessary consequence, to increase the population
capable of subsisting in a given circuit. Yes, the raan who
in the infancy of the arts, invented the saw, or the plane, the
grindstone, the vice, or the handraill ; and those who, in later
periods, have contributed to the wonderful systera of modern
machinery, are entitled to rank high among the benefactors
of mankind, as the fathers of civilization, the creators, I had
almost said, of nations. It is rot the fabulous wand of the

248 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC- ARTS.
enchanter, it is the weaver's beara, and instruraents like it,
which call thousands and tens of thousands into being.
Mind, acting through the useful arts, is the vital principle
of modern civflized society. The mechanician, not the ma
gician, is now the master of life. He kindles the fires of his
steam engine, and the rivers, the lakes, the ocean, are covered
with flying vessels ; mighty chain-pumps descend, clanking
and groaning, to the deepest abysses of the coal mine, and
rid them of their deluge of waters ; and spindles and looms
ply their task, as if instinct with life. It is the necromancy
of the creative machinist. In a moment, a happy thought
crosses his imagination, and an iraprovement is conceived.
Some tedious process can be superseded by a chemical appli
cation, as in the modern art of bleaching. Some necessary
result can be attained in half the time, by a new mechanical
contrivance ; another wheel, a ratchet, or a screw, will effect
the object ; he tries a few experiments ; it will succeed ; it is
done. He stamps his foot, and a hundred thousand raen start
into being ; not, like those which sprang from the fabled
dragon's teeth, armed with the weapons of destruction, but
furnished with every impleraent for the service and comfort
of man. It is stated by James Watt, (before whose time the
steam engine was an imperfect and inefficient machine,) that
the moment the notion of " separate condensation " struck
him, all the other detafls of his improved engine followed, in
rapid and immediate succession, so that, in the course of one
or two days, his invention was so complete that he proceeded
to submit it to experiment.* Could that day be identified, it
would well deserve an anniversary celebration, by the univer
sal tribes of civilized man.
I \ have said that mind, acting through the mechanic arts,
JS the vital principle of modern civilized society. I would
be the last to undervalue the iraportance of moral and intel
lectual influences, or to seem to give undeserved countenance
* See "Pursuit of Knowledge under Difiiculties," Vol. II. p. 254, for
a biographical sketch of Watt, and a notice of his improvements in tho
steam engine.

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 249
to the mechanical tendency of the age. On the contrary, I
look upon the intellectual and moral influence of the useful
arts as the most important aspect in which the subject can
be contemplated. The immediate result of every improve
ment in these arts, as has been already stated, often is, and
always might and should be, by making less labor and time
necessary for the supply of human wants, to raise the standard
of comfortable living, increase the quantity of leisure time
applicable to the culture of the mind, and thus promote the
intellectual and moral progress of the mass of the community.
That this is the general tendency of a progress in the useful
arts, no one can doubt, who compares the present condition
of the world with its condition in the middle ages ; and the
fact is confirmed by the history of single inventions. I have
already spoken of alphabetical writing. This single art was
a step absolutely essential, in the moral and intellectual prog
ress of our race. To speak of the art of printing, in its con
nection with morals and mind, would be as superfluous as it
would be difficult to do justice to the topic. Its history is
not so much an incident as the summary of modern civfliza
tion. Vast as the influence of this art of arts has been, it
may well be doubted whether improvements wfll not yet be
made in the mechanism connected with it which will incal
culably increase its efficiency. If I mistake not, the trumpet
voice of Truth, from this machine, is yet destined to reach to
distances and depths of society which have hitherto remained
unexplored and neglected.
Again, in reference to the intiraate connection of the usefiil
and mechanic arts with inteUectual progress, let us but advert,
for a moment, to the mariner's compass, the telescope, and the
quadrant. For myself, I never reflect upon their influence on
the affairs of man, and remeraber that they are, after all,
merely mechanical contrivances, without emotions of admha
tion bordering upon awe. This sentiment, I know, is so
worn away by habit, that it seems almost to run into senti
mentality. But let us not be ashamed to reproduce the emo
tions that spring from the freshness of truth and nature.
What must have been Galfleo's feelings, when he pointed the
VOL. II. 32

250 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
first telescope to the heavens, and discovered the phases of
Venus and the moons of Jupiter! When I behold the
touched needle trembling to the pole ; when I know that,
beneath the utter blackness of the midnight storm, when
every star in heaven is quenched, and the laboring vessel, in
mid-ocean, reels like a drunken raan, on the crested top of
the mighty waves, that little bar of steel will guide the worn
and staggering helmsman on his way, — I feel that there is a
holy philosophy in the arts of life, which, if I cannot com
prehend, I can reverence.
Consider the influence on the affairs of men, in all their rela
tions, of the invention of the little machine which I hold in my
hand, (a watch,) and the other modern instruments for the
measurement of time, various specimens of which are on ex
hibition in the halls To say nothing of the importance of an
accurate measurement of time in astronomical observations,
nothing of the application of timekeepers to the purposes of
navigation, how vast raust be the aggregate effect, on the
affairs of life, throughout the civflized world, and in the
progress of ages, of a convenient and portable apparatus for
measuring the lapse of time ! Who can calculate, in how
many of those critical junctures, when affairs of weightiest
import hang upon the issue of an hour, prudence and fore
cast have triuraphed over blind casualty, by being enabled to
raeasure, with precision, the flight of time, in its smallest
subdivisions ! Is it not something more than mere mechan
ism, which watches with us by the sick-bed of some dear
friend, through the livelong solitude of night, enables us to
count, in the slackening pulse, nature's trembling steps towards
recovery, and to administer the prescribed remedy at the pre
cise, perhaps the critical, moment of its application ?
By raeans of a watch, punctuality in all his duties, which,
in its perfection, is one of the incoramunicable attributes of
Deity, is brought, in no mean measure, within the reach of
man. He is enabled, if he will be guided by this half-
rational machine, creature of a day as he is, to imitate that
sublime precision which leads the earth, after a circuit of five
hundred mfllions of mfles, back to the solstice at the appointed

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 251
aioment, without the loss of one second, no, not the rafllionth
part of a second, for the ages on ages during which it has
travelled that empyreal road.* What a miracle of art, that a
man can teach a few brass wheels, and a little piece of elas
tic steel, to out-calculate himself; to give hira a rational
answer to one of the raost iraportant questions which a being
travelling towards eternity can ask I What a rairacle, that a
man can put within this little machine a spirit that measures
the flight of time with greater accuracy than the unassisted
intellect of the profoundest philosopher ; which watches and
moves when sleep palsies alike the hand of the maker and
the mind of the contriver, nay, when the last sleep has come
over them both !
I saw, the other day, at Stockbridge, the watch which was
worn on the eighth of September, 1755, by the unfortunate
Baron Dieskau, who received his mortal wound on that day,
near Lake George, at the head of his army of French and
Indians, on the breaking out of the Seven Years' war. This
watch, which marked the fierce, feverish moments of the
battle as calmly as it has done the fourscore years which have
since elapsed, is still going ; but the watchmaker and the
mflitary chieftain have now, for raore than three fourths of a
century, been gone where tirae is no longer counted. Fred
eric the Great was another, and a vastly more important per
sonage of the same war. His watch was carried away from
Potsdam by Napoleon, who, on his rock, in mid-ocean, was
wont to ponder on the hours of alternate disaster and triumph
which filled up the life of his great fellow-destroyer, and had
been equally counted on its dial-plate. The courtiers used
to say that this watch stopped of its own accord when Fred
eric died. Short-sighted adulation ! for if it stopped at his
death, as if tirae was no longer worth measuring, it was
soon put in motion, and went on as if nothing had happened.
Portable watches were probably introduced into England

* It is not, of course, intended that the sidereal year is always of pre
cisely the same length, but that its variations are subject to a fixed law
Bee Sir John Herschel's Astronomy, § 563.

252 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.
in the time of Shakspeare ; and he puts one into the hand
of his fantastic jester as the theme of his morality. In truth,
if we wished to borrow from the arts a solemn monition of
the vanity of human things, the clock might well give it to
us. How often does it occur to the traveller in Europe, as
he hears the hour told from some ancient steeple, — that iron
tongue in the tower of yonder old cathedral, unchanged it
self, has had a voice for every change in the fortune of
nations ! It has chimed monarchs to their thrones, and
knelled thera to their torabs ; and, from its watchtower in
the clouds, has, with the same sonorous and impartial sto
icism, measured out their little hour of sorrow and gladness,
to coronation and funeral, abdication and accession, revolu
tion and restoration; victory, tumult, and fire. And with
like faithfulness, while I speak, the little monitor by my side
warns me back from my digression, and bids me beware lest
I devote too much of ray brief hour even to its own com
mendation. Let me follow the silent monition, sustained, perhaps, by
the impatience of the audience, and hasten to the last topic
of my address. The object of our present exhibition is not
mere show, however innocent and gratifying. It is to make
the comraunity better acquainted with the state of the arts,
by a publie display of their products ; to excite a generous
eraulation by their comparison ; and thus to lead on our in
genious artificers, iraprovers, and inventors, to higher degrees
of excellence. The astonishing progress of the arts in mod
ern times is a subject of the most famfliar remark. It would
require a volume even to enumerate the most considerable
improvements. So numerous are the inventions and discov
eries that have been made, in every department, and to such
perfection have many arts been carried, that we may perhaps
be inclined to think that in the arts, as on the surface of the
globe, after all the brflliant discoveries in navigation, in the
last three centuries, there is nothing left to be found out.
Though it is probable that, in particular things, no further prog
ress can be made, (and even this I would not affirm with any
confidence,) yet, so far from considering invention as ex-

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 253
hausted, or art at a stand, I believe there never was a
moment when greater improvements were to be expected ;
and this for the very reason that so much has already been
done ; that truth, in its nature, is at once boundless and cre
ative ; and that every existing art, invention, and discovery,
is but an instrument of further improveraent. Even when
any particular art or machine seems to have reached the
highest attainable point of excellence, nothing is more likely
than that it wfll, by some wholly unexpected discovery or
improvement, be greatly advanced ; or that, by accidental or
natural association, it will lead to sorae other very important
improvement in a branch of art wholly dissimilar ; or, finally,
that it wfll be superseded by something quite different, but
producing the same result. Take, as an exaraple, the art of
printing. The simple process of printing with movable
types and a press moved by hand, does not seem, in the
lapse of four hundred years, to have undergone any very
material improvement. The introduction of solid plates, and
the application of artificial power to the press, are improve
ments wholly disconnected, in their nature, frora the art of
printing, and yet add incalculably to its efficacy and operative
power. In a word, the products of art are the creations of rational
mind, working, with intelligent and diversified energy, in a
thousand directions ; bounding from the material to the moral
world, and back from speculation to life ; producing the most
wonderful effects on moral and social relations by material
means, and again, in an improved political and mpral condi
tion, finding instruments and encouragement for new im
provements in mechanical art. In this mighty action and
reaction, we are continuaUy borne on to results the most
surprising. Physical and moral causes and effects produce
moral and physical effects and causes, and every thing dis
covered tends to the discovery of something yet unknown.
It rarely, perhaps never, happens, that any discovery or
invention is wholly original ; as rarely, that it is final. As
some portion of its elements lay in previously existing ideas,
so it wiU waken new conceptions in the inventive mind.

254 IMPORTANCE OP THE MECHANIC ARTS.
The raost novel mechanical contrivance contains, within
itself, much that was known before ; and the most seemingly
perfect invention, if we may judge the future by the past,
admits of further improvements. For this reason, the more
that is known, discovered, and contrived, the ampler the ma
terials out of which new discoveries, inventions, and improve
ments may be expected.
Perfect as the steam engine seeras, it is a general persuasion
that we are in the rudiments of its economical uses. The
prodigious advances made in the arts of locomotion teach
nothing more clearly than the probability that they wfll be
rendered vastly more efficient. The circulation of ideas by
means of the press is probably destined to undergo great en
largement. Analytical chemistry has, within the last thirty
years, acquired instruments which enable the philosopher to
unlock mysteries of nature before unconceived of. Machin
ery of all kinds, and for every purpose, is daily simplified and
rendered more efficient. Improved manipulations are intro
duced into all the arts, and each and all of these changes
operate as efficient creative causes of further invention and
discovery. Besides all that may be effected by the diligent
and ingenious use of the materials for improveraent afforded
by the present state of the arts, the progress of science
teaches us to believe that principles, eleraents, and powers are
in existence and operation around us, of which we have a
very iraperfect knowledge, perhaps no knowledge whatever.
Comraencing with the mariner's compass, in the middle ages,
a series of discoveries has been raade, connected with mag
netism, electricity, galvanism, the polarity of light, and the
electro-magnetic phenomena, which are occupying much at
tention at the present day, all of which are raore or less appli
cable to the useful arts, and which may well produce the
conviction that, if in some respects we are at the meridian,
we are, in other respects, in the dawn, of science. In short,
all art, as I have said, is a creation of the raind of man — an
essence of infinite capacity for improvement. And it is of
the nature of every intelligence, endowed with such a capaci
ty, however mature in re,spect to the past, to be at all times,

IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 255
in respect to the future, in a state of hopeful infancy. How
ever vast the space measured behind, the space before is im
measurable ; and, though the mind may estimate the progress
it has made, the boldest stretch of its powers is inadequate
to measure the progress of which it is capable.
Let me say, then, Mr President, and Gentlemen of the
Mechanic Association, persevere. Do any ask what you
have done, and what you are doing, for the public good ?
Send them to your exhibition rooms, and let them see the
walls of the temple of American Liberty (Faneuil Hall) fitly
covered with the products of American art. And while they
gaze with admiration on these creations of the mechanical
arts of the country, bid them remeraber that they are the
productions of a people whose fathers were told by the Brit
ish ministry they should not manufacture a hobnail ! Does
any one ask, in disdain, for the great men who have illus
trated the mechanic arts ? Repeat to him the well-known
names which will dwell in the grateful recollections of pos
terity- when the laurelled destroyers of mankind shall be
reraerabered only with detestation. Mechanics of America !
respect your calling I respect yourselves I The cause of
human improvement has no firmer or more powerful friends.

RECEPTION OF THE SAUKS AND FOXES.

PREFATORY NOTE.

In the autumn of 1837, a numerous delegation of the Sauk and Fox tribes
of Indians went to Washington, on business connected with their boundary.
They were led by their chief, Keokuk, who from motives of prudence brought
with them their late celebrated war chief. Black Hawk, then in disgrace.
Several females and chUdren accompanied the deputation, and Keokuk him
self was attended by his favorite wife, and her son, a child of about ten
years of age. It was deemed expedient by the United States government
that this deputation should visit the cities of the Middle and Eastern States,
and Boston was included in their tour.
In compliance with the wishes of the war department, a public reception
was given to these interesting visitors by the municipal authorities of Boston
and the state executive of Massachusetts. They were received on the
morning of the thirtieth October, 1837, in the hall of the House of Rep
resentatives, where the following speeches were made, in the presence of
a very large assembly. After partaking a collation in the senate chamber,
they exhibited their war dances on the Common in the aftemoon, in the
presence of a vast multitude of spectators from Boston and the neighboring
country. The warriors were dressed and decorated in their national cos
tume and taste, and afibrded the best specimen of the native population of
the continent which has been seen in this part of the country within the
memory of man. Their deportment and conduct were uniformly decorous
and orderly, both in public and at their lodgings, and in the private houses
at which they were entertained.
The ofiicial address made to them by Mr Everett has been included in
this volume, as a memorial of a highly interesting public occasion, of a na
ture not lUiely soon to return. The replies of two or three of the warriors
have been also subjoined, as authentic specimens of native oratory. They
spoke with fiuency, animation, and much natural grace and ease, but their
half-breed interpreter did not appear to be very skilful ; and it is probable,
for thi§ reason, that fuU justice is not done to their speeches in the report.
Dr Jonathan Edwards, in his observations on the language of the Muhhe
kaneew Indians, classes the Saukies and Ottagaumies (Foxes) with the tribes
of the New England and Middle States, as belonging to the great Delaware
(256)

PREFATORY NOTE. 257
family. It was under this impression that the following speech was made.
Further researches render this conclusion somewhat doubtful, except on the
broad ground that all the native races of the American continent, notwith
standing the extraordinary phenomenon of radical diflerences of language,
may be considered as of one stock. See Pickering's edition of Edwards,
pp. 44 et aea.
VOL. II. 33

RECEPTION OF THE SAUKS AND FOXES.

Chiefs and Warriors of the United Sauks and Foxes :
You are welcome to our hall of councfl.
Brothers, you have come a long way from your home to
visit your white brethren; — we rejoice to take you by the
hand. Brothers, we have heard the names of your chiefs and war
riors. Our brethren who have travelled into the west have
told us a great deal about the Sauks and Foxes ; we rejoice
to see you with our own eyes.
Brothers, we are called the Massachusetts. This is the
name of the red men who once lived here. Their wigwams
were scattered on yonder fields ; and their council fire was
kindled on this spot. They were of the same great race as
the Saukies and Misquakuiks.*
Brothers, when our fathers carae over the great water, they
were a small band. The red man stood upon the rock by the
sea-side, and saw our fathers. He might have pushed thera
into the water and drowned them. But he stretched out his
hand to thera, and said, " Welcorae, white men." Our fathers
were hungry, and the red man gave them corn and venison.
They were cold, and the red raan wrapped them up in his
blanket. We are now numerous and powerful, but we
remember the kindness of the red raan to our fathers. Broth
ers, you are welcome ; we are glad to see you.
Brother^ our faces are pate, and your faces are dark ; but
our hearts are alike. The Great Spirit has made his chfldren
of different colors, but he loves them all.
* An ancient name for the Foxes.
(258)

RECEPTION OF THE SAUKS AND FOXES. 259
Brothers, you dwell between the Mississippi and the Mis
souri. They are mighty rivers. They have one branch far
east in the Alleghanies, and another far west in the Rocky
Mountains ; but they flow together at last into one great
stream, and run down into the sea. In like manner the red
man dwells in the west ; and the white man in the east, by
the great water. But they are all one band, — one family.
It has many branphes and one Head.
Brothers, "as you entered our council house, you beheld the
image of our great father, Washington.* It is a cold stone ;
it cannot speak. But he was the friend of the red man, and
bade his children live in friendship with their red brethren.
He is gone to the world of spirits, but his words have made
a very deep print in our hearts, like the step of a strong
buffalo on the soft clay of the prairie.
Brother, (to Ke-o-kuk,) I perceive your little son between
your knees. May the Great Spirit preserve his life, my
brother. He grows up before you, like the tender sapling
by the side of the mighty oak. May they flourish for a
long time together ; and when the mighty oak is fallen on
the ground, may the young tree fill its place in the forest,
and spread out its branches over the tribe.
Brothers, I make you a short talk, and again bid you wel
come to our council hall.
The reply of Ke-o-kuk (Watchful Fox) was as foUows : —
" I am very much gratified to have the pleasure of shaking
hands with the great chief of the state, and the chiefs who
surround him.
" The remark you made just now, that the Great Spirit made
both of us, though your skin is white and mine red, is true.
He made our hearts alike. The only difference is, that
he made you to speak one language, and me another. He
made us hands to take each other by, and eyes to see each
other. * Chantre/s statue.

260 RECEPTION OF THE SAUKS AND FOXES.
" Brothers, I ara very happy to be able to say, before I die,
that I have been to the house where your fathers used to
speak with ours, as we now do with you ; and we hope that
the Good Spirit is pleased with this sight.
" I hope he wfll long keep friendship between the white and
red raen ; and I hope that he sees that our hearts are friendly
to each other.
" My remarks are short, and I shall say no. more ; but I take
all our friends here by the hand, and hope that the Great Spirit
wfll bless them."
After speeches from two other leading chiefs, Po-we-skeek,
(Strawberry,) a principal chief, spoke as follows : —
" You have heard what my chiefs have to say. They are
much gratified by their visit to this town. They were invited
to the council house (Faneuil Hall) of my brother on Satur
day, and to-day they are brought to this great council hall.
" They are rauch pleased with these attentions, and wfll not
forget them. Though I am not now able to reward you for
these kindnesses, I hope the Great Spirit will reward you for
them. " This is the place where our race once lived. I have
often heard my father, and grandfather say that they once
lived by the sea-coast, when the white man first came. I
wish I had a book, and could read in it all these things.
I have been told that is the way you get all your knowl
edge. " As far as I can understand the accounts of the white peo
ple, it appears to me that the Americans have reached a high
place among the nations of the white people ; that very few
could overpower them.
"I too belong to a race that is much respected by all
others ; and though I say it, where I live I am looked up to
by others, and they all respect me. I am very happy that
two great men like you and me should meet and shake hands
together."

RECEPTION OF THE SAUKS AND FOXES. 261
After several other chiefs and braves had spoken, the cele
brated Black Hawk (Mucata-mish-kakaekq *) made the follow
ing speech : —
" I am very glad to hear you talk of the Great Spirit. He
made us both of one heart, though your skin is white and
mine red. When the first white men came upon the island,
we thought they were French. They were our brothers, as
you are. Your heart is white, and so is raine.
" On our journey your white brothers hung round our necks
such medals as the French gave us.
" The Great Spirit is pleased at our talking together to-day.
" I have lived for a long time between the Mississippi and
the Missouri. I like to hear you talk of them. I have got
to be old.
" You are a man, and so am I ; and that is the reason we
talk together as brothers. I cannot shake hands with all my
friends in particular ; but by shaking hands with you I shall
with them."
» At the close of Black Hawk's speech, it was proposed by
one of the warriors that Keokuk should introduce his son
Mu-san-wont (Long-haired Fox) to the governor, which was
done ; and the attorney-general then presented him to Mr
Everett's son, a chfld near his own age. When this was done,
Keokuk said that his son was young, but he had a heart, and
would not forget what passed on this occasion.
* This word is variously written. The orthography of Mr S. G. Drake
ie here followed ; Book of the Indians, Book V. p. 141.

DR BOWDITCH.

At a special meeting of the American Academy of Arts
and Sciences, held March twentieth, 1838, to take due notice
of the decease of their President, the Hon. Nathaniel Bow
ditch, LL. D., F. R. S., the following Resolves were offered
by Mr Edward Everett, and adopted unanimously by the
Fellows of the Academy : —
Whereas it has pleased Divine Providence to remove from this life
Nathaniel Bowditch, President of the American Academy of Arts and
Sciences, the Fellows of the Academy, at a special meeting called for the
purpose of taking due notice of this melancTioly event, unanimously adopt
the following resolutions, expressive of their feelings on this sorrowful
occasion : — »
Resolved, That the Fellows of the American Academy of Arts and Sci
ences entertain the liveliest sense of the exalted talents and extraordinary
attainments of their late President, who stood preeminent among the men
of science in the United States, and who, by universal consent, has long
been regarded as one of the most distinguished mathematicians and astron
omers of the age ; that we consider his reputation as one of the most
precious treasures of our common country ; that we deeply deplore his loss
in the fulness of his intellectual power ; and that we esteem it our sacred
duty to cherish his memory.
Resolved, That in addition to the loss which they have sustained, as mem
bers of this scientific body, in being deprived of their distinguished asso
ciate and head, whose name has for many years conferred honor on their
institution, and whose communications are among the most valuable con
tents of the volumes of the Academy's Memoirs, the Fellows of the
Academy, as members of the community, lament the loss of a friend and
fellow-citizen, whose services were of the highest value in the active walks
of life ; whose entire influence was given to the cause of good principles ;
whose life was a uniform exhibition of the loftiest virtues ; and who, with
a firmness and energy wliich notliing could shake or subdue, devoted him
self to the most arduous and important duties, and made the profoundest
researches of science subservient to the practical business of life.
(262)

DR BOWDITCH. 263
Resolved, That the Fellows of the Academy deeply sympathize with the
family of their late President m the loss of a faithful, affectionate, and re
vered parent, and that the ofiicers of the Academy be requested to address
to them a letter of respectful condolence.
Resolved, That the officers of the Academy be a committee to procure a
bust in marble of the late President, to be placed in the hall of the Acad
emy, and to adopt and. carry into execution such other measures as they
may deem expedient, in honor of the memory of one, who among living
men of science has left few equals.*
Resolved, That an attested copy of these resolutions be transmitted by
the corresponding secretary to the family of the deceased, and to the vari
ous leamed societies in Europe and America of which he was a member,
and that they be furnished for publication in the papers of the city.
A true copy of record. — Attest,
Daniel Treadwell, Recording Secretary.
Boston, March 91, 1838.
In presenting the foregoing resolutions, the foUowing re
marks were made by Mr Everett : ¦ —
I rise with diffidence, Mr Chairraan, in the presence of
gentlemen older than myself, and entitled on this, as on other
grounds, to take precedence of me. But I rise frora that
irapulse of feeling to which you have alluded, — an ira pulse
which strongly prorapts rae to give utterance to those erao-
tions which, in coramon with every member of the Academy,
I -experience on this occasion. It is no ordinary occasion.
A mind of the highest order, an intellect gifted as are but
few of the human race in the long line of time, a character of
sterling purity, has passed away from among us. That chair,
which he occupied and adorned, will be filled by him no
longer. Our peculiar relations to the departed, as members
of a scientific association of which he had so long been the
chief ornament, as well as the official head, call upon us to
give the first utterance to those feelings which the tidings of

* In virtue of this resolution, the Hon. John Pickering was. appointed
by the committee to deliver a eulogy on their deceased President before
the Academy, at the annual meeting in May. This duty was performed by
Mr Pickering in the most satisfactory manner. A copy of his highly appro
priate, eloquent, and instructive discourse was, by the unanimous vote of
the Academy, requested for publication.

264 DR BOWDITCH.
his loss wiU awaken in the bosoms of all who knew him,
personally, or by reputation, in this country and in Europe.
In rising to address you, however, nothing can be farther
from my purpose than to attempt a studied eulogium of the
character of our lamented President. That task must be ap
proached with an ability to which I can lay no claim ; and,
on the part of the highest abflity, it must be undertaken with
a profound reflection and study, which belong not to these
first moments of bereavement.
This, however, I think I may say, without impropriety,
that I do not fear being charged with exaggeration, in pro
nouncing Dr Bowditch, as a matheraatician and an astrono-
raer, without a superior among those whom he has left behind
him in his own country, perhaps without a superior, in his
peculiar departments, in the world. Not to dwell on his
former published works in support of this estimate of his
character, his communications to the volumes of the Acade
my's Memoirs, and his Practical Navigator, (a work embody
ing in a modest and unpretending form the results of pro
found researches and of methods of procedure original in
him,) his translation and commentary on the Mecanique
Celeste of La Place will probably be considered in after
times as placing his name in the sarae class with the illustri
ous author of that work, the perfebter of the Newtonian
philosophy. I know not whether the fame of Dr Bowditch can be en
hanced by stating that he reached this extraordinary scientific
eminence without the advantages of education ; without an
instructer. Sir, he had the best instructor ; he was self-
taught. The best, of course, I mean for a mind like his.
The advantages of early education, inestimable as they are
to the majority of men, are of little moraent compared with
the forereaching sagacity, the irresistible struggle towards
truth, the intuitive perceptions of a mind like that of our
departed President. I will not deny that some advantages of
education are necessary to help even such a mind over the
first difficulties of scientific acquisition ; (and most assuredly
his advantages were of the slenderest kind ; ) but once helped

DR BOWDITCH. 265
over these difficulties, an intellect like his mounts upward
towards the highest heaven of reflection and discovery, with
a keenness of vision and a strength of wing, which the aid
of other intellects, or the want of such aid, can do little to
assist or to retard.
But it is not my purpose, sir, with sounding, phrases, to
attempt to set forth his praise. Such an effort would be sin
gularly out of keeping, with his character, which was marked
far more by utflity than display. No small part of the labor
of his scientific life was bestowed by hira on the preparation
of a manual for the navigator. What ocean so wide, what
coast or island so remote and inaccessible, that is not more
boldly crossed and more s^ely approached in consequence of
the stores of science locked up in the tables of that volume ?
But how unpretending its form !
In the midst of the profoundest researches of science, he
was eminently endowed with aptitude for the manageraent
of affairs and the active duties of life. You, Mr Chairman,
(President duincy.) and the honorable friend at ray side,
(Mr Justice Story,) can amply attest the truth ofthis remark.
For several years you have been associated with him, as a
most active and efficient member of the corporation of the
university. The building in which we are assembled* has for
years been the witness of the assiduity with which he devoted
himself to duties to which, in the outset, few but himself
were equal ; which required a mind like his, but which to
such a raind could have presented little of science, but the
drudgery of its raechanical processes.
For raany years he had been crowned with that pure fame
which is the best earthly reward of meritorious effort. He
stood at the head of the men of science of his oww country,
and was enrolled as the associate of the most distinguished
literary societies of Europe. How meekly he bore these
honors we are all the witnesses. They in no degree cor
rupted the severe simplicity of his charactei. He wore
*- That of the Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance Company, of which
institution Dr Bowditch was the first actuary.
VOL. II. 34

266 DR BOWDITCH.
them with that unconscious ease which is the test of
true worth.
His moral and personal qualities formed the proper com-
pleraent of his publie and scientific character. Unaffected
plainness of manners stamped him with its authentic seal,
the real great raan. The virtues and charities of domestic
life, softening and shading down the energy of his intellect,
while they derived from it their own consistency and force,
united to render him an object of equal affection, admiration,
and reverence.
To such a life, career, and fame, one thing only was want
ing — the death of the Christian phflosopher. It seems
scarcely possible to conceive of the close of a life more in
harmony with the character displayed in its progress, or bet
ter calculated to put his principles to the test. Nothing but
such a death could add lustre to such a life.
For a month, at least, before his departure, he was steadily
sinking under the advances of a painful and mortal disease.
He was called for days and weeks to behold the king of ter
rors face to face ; but he beheld the dreadful spectacle un
moved. Not a murmur nor a sigh escaped him. As far as
physical weakness would permit, he continued his official
duties, and even his scientific studies, without a word or a
look which evinced surprise or dismay. Never has it been
my fortune to witness a brighter display of Christian patience,
resignation, and fortitude. About ten days before his death,
I enjoyed the privilege of an interview with him of consid
erable duration. The memory of this interview will never
be effaced from ray mind. I saw one of the brightest intel
lects that ever adorned huraanity, sinking without a cloud,
like the florious luminary whose laws and influences it had
been accustomed to explore. He was sitting in his library,
the field of his labors and his fame. As I took my seat by
his side, he said, " You see me near my journey's end. It
would be pleasant to me to stay longer. I have enjoyed life,
I have enjoyed my friends ; but I am prepared to go. I have
made all my arrangements for my departure, and now wait
for my summons."

DR BOWDITCH. 267
Having thus spoken of himself with a composure which
must be learned, not in the schools of human science, but in
that of Christian hope, with greater composure than I was
able then or am able now to command, he minutely described
the nature of his disease. He then spoke, in an animated
strain, on subjects of interest and importance, on his great
work" of which he had that morning corrected part of a proof
sheet, on the general course of his life, and on several
important topics of public concern. Araong other subjects,
I cannot deny rayself the raelancholy gratification of stating,
that he spoke in terms of the warmest approbation of an act
of painful official duty, which, by the advice of the execu
tive council of the commonwealth, I had recently been called
to perform. He deeraed it to be imperatively required for
the vindication of the violated majesty of the law, and for
the protection of the public order and peace. He assured me
it was an act which my conscience would approve to the latest
hour of my life. Evidently drawing near the close of his
own, in a condition in which the prejudices and passions of
the day were less likely than ever to cloud his pure and lofty
judgment, I own that I could not receive this testimony of
approbation from that voice of wisdom, which I was to hear
no raore on earth, without eraotions of sorro-wful satisfaction,
mingled with reverence and awe.
But I crave your indulgence, Mr Chairman, for the length
to which my remarks have extended. I rose, not to express
any feelings personal to myself, but to give utterance to those
which I share with every member of the Academy. Allow
me, in taking my seat, to send to the Chair the di-.ft of cer
tain resolutions appropriate to the occasion, which I submit
to the disposal of the Academy.

FOURTH OF JULY, 1838.*

Mr Everett made his acknowledgments for a compli
mentary toast as follows : I rise, Mr Mayor, to thank you for
the kind notice you have been pleased to take of me in the
toast just offered. To that portion of it which rendered a
just tribute to the renown of our ancient commonwealth, I
may be permitted myself to respond ; and for that part which
conveyed, a personal compliment, greatly indebted for it as I
am to your kindness, I cannot but express ray heartfelt thanks.
You have observed, sir, that this is the first occasion in
which the city, in its corporate capacity, has, in this manner,
celebrated the fourth of July. I agree with you, that it is
an occasion worthy of such a celebration. It was foretold
by him whose name we behold on yonder wall, (John
Adams,) and who was declared by his comjatriot, the author
of the Declaration of Independence, (Mr Jefferson,) to have
been " the colossus who sustained it on the floor of Con
gress," — it was foretold by him, that this daiV would be
celebrated, with every demonstration of joy, to the end of
time. It pught to be so celebrated. " It has been sometimes
said, that the interest of the occasion has expired, and that it
is time the celebration were discontinued. I think not so.
If, indeed, the celebration were to begin and end, as I am
sorry to say it has sometimes done, in mere empty merry
making, in barren acclamations, in festive excess, and, still
worse, in exciting base party passion, I agree that it could not be
top soon discontinued. But when, in this old New England
fashion, it is observed, under the sanc|ion of our respected
* Made at the municipal celebration in Faneuil Hall.
(268)

FOURTH OF JULY, 1838. 269
municipal fathers, with fervent prayers to the Most High,
with sound addresses and earnest appeals to the understand
ing and the heart, and with rational and temperate festivity,
I trust the celebration will never cease while Americans
remember what they owe to their ancestors.
Who has forgotten the patriotic feeling which was diffused
through the whole country, twelve years ago, when the two
most prominent agents in proclaiming our independence were
gathered to their fathers, upon this anniversary ? Who did
not feel that, by that solemn circumstance, Providence had,
as It were, stamped the day with a sacred character.? It
would be well to celebrate it, if it were only to perpetuate
that serious and salutary feeling, and to transmit to posterity
their neunes, with those of their associates emblazoned on
these walls, and which seem almost at this moment to send
down a benediction upon us. We must depend on this an
niversary to keep up the recollection of the days and deeds
of the revolution, of the times that tried men's souls, and of
the men whose souls were tried. Far different, sir, were
those times frora ours. The genius of American Liberty
had not then, as in the symbolical figure before you, put on
her bravery and her beauty, with stars upon her garraents,
and garlands upon her head. Her path was known by the
blood-stained footmarks of her retreating armies over wintry
snows. This hall was not, as we now behold it, decorated
with rose-buds and banners, echoing with cheerful voices and'
strains of joyous music. Alas ! no. In yonder galleries
were seen the stern and darkening countenances of our fa
thers, whose all of right and liberty was at stake, and whose
voices, firm and resolute, echoed from all its arches. Were
it but to perpetuate their memory, the celebration of the
fourth of July ought not to be abandoned.
The day would be well spent, did it produce no other effect
than that of furnishing us public occasion, once in the year,
to contemplate the character of Washington, the great cham
pion of our independence, whose -principles and example are
a precious legacy, not merely to Americans, but to the world.
For one, sir, I am desirous, on the highest public grounds, to

270 FOURTH OF JULY, 1838.
perpetuate the tradition of his personal influence — that influ
ence which was the salvation of his country, in peace and in
war, in its darkest hours. This tradition, with the lapse of
tirae, must necessarily grow fainter and fainter. The bond
which unites him, in his earliest labors and sacrifices for the
country, to the generations of the living, is alraost severed.
^It happened (by what afterwards proved to be an extraordi
nary coincidence) that Washington, then a colonel in the
British provincial service, was compelled, on the fourth of
July, 1754, after a painful capitulation to a superior force of
Frencji and Indians, to march his troops out of Fort Ne-
¦ cessity, a little work which he had thrown up in the valley
of the Monongahela. This was Washmgton's first inauspi
cious observance of the fourth of July. It may be doubted
whether there now lives a man who shared the sufferings of
that day, which Providence so richly repaid by its after* glo
ries. In the following year, 1755, and in the month of July,
Washington was present, as the aid of the ill-starred Brad
dock, in the fatal battle which bears his name ; and there is
living, in the state of Massachusetts, an individual who was
also in the battle. He remerabers the appearance . of the
COLONEL, as he calls hira. He saw him as he rode, for three
long hours, through the storm of fire and steel which beat
on that disastrous plain ; leaping from horse 'to horse, as two
were successively shot under him, the constant mark of the
Indian warriors, as" they afterwards told him, but preserved
like the pious chfldren of Israel, " on whose bodies the fire
had no power." Not like them, indeed, in all respects; for
it is recorded, that " neither were their coats changed, nor the
smell of fire had passed on them." The garments of Wash
ington were pierced with bullets in four places ; but he was
preserved through the fiery trial, to be the savior of his coun
try. The aged person to whora I have aUuded, living, as I
believe, in Manchester, in the county of Essex, is probably
the sole surviving eye-witness of the scene.
Even of the Washington of the revolution, how few are
now the surviving associates ! I would yet, awhfle, at least,
celebrate the fourth of July as the day which brings them

FOURTH OF JULY, 1838. 271
together. We have seen some of them in the procession to
day. It is the only day when one is sure that he can readfly
take the hand which has been grasped by the hand of Wash
ington. This day we can still do it. I remember, sir, that,
on the last fourth of July, I had the honor to be present at
dinner with the Society of Cincinnati. It was a touching
sight to behold the venerable men. One decrepit veteran,
tottering towards a seat, had, in the times long past, when he
could wield something more formidable than a crutch, been
one of the body-guard of the commander-in-chief at Brandy
wine or Germantown. Another at his side recollected the
unearthly terrors of the countenance of Washington, as he
encountered Lee in full retreat at Monmouth. Within a
twelvemonth, a venerable citizen of a neighboring state,
(Hon. Paine Wingate,) who is said to have been the last sur
vivor of those who were received at the table of Washing
ton, on the day of his first inauguration as President of the
United States, has passed frora the stage. They are depart
ing — rather let us say, are departed. A generation has arisen
who knew not Joseph, but to whora his narae and memory,
loaded with the benedictions of the world, have descended,
as the most precious portion of their political inheritance.
Yes, sir, I do not think I go too far in saying the best por
tion of our political inheritance. Whfle man remains as he
is, example is the great teacher. It is in vain for books to
proclaim that arabition ought to be sacrificed to patriotisra,
and that serving, or even saving, the country gives no title
to enslave it. So long as the current of all experience runs
in the opposite direction, and no one possessed of power,
capable of being abused, raisses the opportunity, maxiras like
those which I have named are regarded as a kind of monastic
morality, which hypocrites preach, and simpletons believe.
Alexander, Caesar, and Napoleon have done more to pervert
opinion, and corrupt the judgment of mankind, than mere
huraan inculcations of principle can ever undo. But when
a character like Washington arises, truth is vindicated, and
patriotisra is personified. The coramon sense and inborn
feelings of men. for ages trampled down by prosperous mad-

272 FOURTH OF JULY, 1838.
men and vfllains, are asserted and take courage. The world
begins to believe that virtue, truth, and sincerity are living,
real things, and not names, as the dying martyr of Phflippi
pronounced them. So long as the meraory of Washington-
endures, it will be our just boast to the world, not that we
have taught the theory of free governraent, but that we have
held up its living representative and exemplar in the career
of Washington. I will propose, sir, with your permission, —
The Memory of Washington and his Associates m
COUNCIL AND THE FIELD.

EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND.*

I TRUST, Mr President, that I shall not be thought an in
truder, in rising to take some part in this interesting debate.
It is made the duty of the Board of Education, of which I
have the honor to be officially a member, to promote, as far
as practicable, the objects for which the board was estab
lished, by a participation in these meetings. Even if no such
call of duty warranted me in thus presenting myself before
you at this time, I am persuaded that this is a cause ih which
you would not reject the services of a volunteer, however
hurable. But I do not rise, sir, to attempt to convey any information
on the great subject of education. I speak m the presence
of many practical persons, before whom it would be arro
gant, in rae, to atterapt to use the language of authority on
this subject. There is, however, a single illustration of the
nature of education, which constantly presents itself to my
mind, and which I deem so iraportant as to warrant me in
dwelling for a few moments upon it, however obvious and
trite the general proposition which I would endeavor to
establish. 'The point, sir, to which I refer, is the importance of edu
cation as the raeans by which the raind of raan, or rather, let
me say, by which man himself, considered as an intellectual
and moral existence, attains his formation and growth.
There are many very striking truths which, on account of

* Substance of remarks made at the county convention of the friends
of education, held at Tisbury, on the island of Martha's Vineyard, on the
16th ef August, 1838.
VOL. II. 35 (273)

274 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND.
their famfliarity, fail to affect us as powerfully as they ought.
What is unusual and irregular awakens our attention ; the
habitual passes before us, surrounds us, dwells within us, and
we do not notice it, do not reflect upon it. The multitude
runs to gaze' at any departure from the laws of nature, but
casts a vacant eye on the wonder and beauty of its daily
miracles. How little are we affected by the divine faculty
of vision, by which the entire external world is successively
pictured, as it were, upon the ever-changing tapestry which
hangs around the inner chambers of the soul ! But if it is
reported that an individual can see with the back of his head
or the pit of his stomach, the community is alive at the
tidings. Men who have been blessed all then lives with the
glorious gift of speech ; who have been accustomed, without
reflection, by a few slight movements of the lips and tongue,
to give a vibration to the air, which carries intelligence, ex
presses "frhe finest shades of thought, awakens sympathy and
kindles passion in other rainds ; men who have seen their
little children, they know not how, without books and with
out a teacher, acquire this heavenly endowment of articulate
speech, — will travel miles to behold the perforraance of a
ventriloquist, and think they have made a good bargain when
they have paid a half dollar to hear him throw a voice into
a chest of drawers.
I am not disposed, sir, to play the austere censor, and to
quarrel with this eager passion for novelty. It leads, I ara
aware, if well directed, to improvement. It nourishes the
spirit of observation. But I would have it accorapanied with
the habit of sober and thoughtful reflection on the world of
greater wonders, which surrounds us, which we carry about
within us, in the frame of our being and the constitutiofi of
our nature. The truly wonderful is not that which breaks
out into astonishing novelties and fantastic peculiarities ; it
is the inimitable contrivance, and the miraculous proportion,
resource, and harmony of our existence. Imagination and
romance, in their wildest freaks, — credulit}'', in its greediest
cravings for excitement, — have never caught at any thing
of monstrous or fairy creation which parallels those .^uiet

EDUCATION THE NURftJUE OF THE MIND. 275
mysteries of our nature which make up the dafly round
of- life.
The most iraportant of these mysteries (humanly speaking)
is, the formation and growth of the mind of man, considered
as a real, substantive being ; and the point of view in which
I have wished to present the subject of education to you on
this occasion is, that of being, in ordinary cases, the appointed
means of the formation and growth of this invisible and
mysterious thing which we call the mind ; that formless es
sence which gives life to all the forms of huraanity ; that
unseen power which, through the aniraated eye, beholds all
the qualities of external nature ; that undying life which,
with perishable organs, and fafling lirabs, and fainting senses,
erects its perennial raonuments on earth, and climbs the paths
of an imraortality which shall endure when the earth, and
all that encurabers and adorns it, shall pass away. In a word,
I could wish, were it possible for me to do it, to present to
the understandings of those whom I have the honor to ad
dress, the impression which dwells upon my own, of the
nature and importance of education, considered as the name
we give to the care and nourishment of our minds.
What labor and pains are not bestowed to clothe, and feed,
and shelter the body ; to shield it from blight and disease ;
to rear it up into a healthy and well-proportioned frarae of
vigorous humanity ! Now, suppose it were possible, (and to
some extent it is possible,) that it were even quite easy, with
out actually starving a human creature to death, to keep him
in being for the usual term of existence without that supply
of accustomed food which is necessary for health, strength,
and comeliness. Suppose there was such a thing as a cora
munity of men, capable of subsisting and continuing their
race, but who, from poverty, indolence, or the act of God, —
for want of means, or knowledge to use them, — should pass
through life without any development of the great vital
powers ; should just be alive, and no more ; who should, in
the language of Scripture, have eyes but see not, ears but
hear not ; their senses all torpid ; their limbs feeble, nerve
less, incapable of muscular movement ; the entire system

276 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND
languid, pining, cataleptic ; all but lifeless, and yet alive.
What should we think of such bodies, of such existence, of
such beings ? What should we think of such fatuity and
madness, if they knowingly and designedly reduced them
selves and kept themselves in such a state, living as they do
on the fertfle earth, lords of the subject animals, and able, if
they were pleased, to seat themselves, every day, at the boun
tiful table of Providence, and receive nourishment, and health,
and strength, frora its liberal supplies ?
Now, sir, I ara coraing to the point which I wish to illus
trate ; and it is this : What none but a raadman would know
ingly do to his body ; what no known community of men,
raised abovethe abjectest level of savage life, and placed on
a soil and in a climate that yield a competent supply of
wholesome food, has ever done to the perishing corporeal
frame ; what no parent, in whose bosom the last drop of the
milk of huraan kindness and natural love was not dried up,
would do to his chfld, — that is done, and permitted to be
done, without scruple and without rebuke, to the immortal
intellect ; and this in enlightened lands and in Christian com
munities, composed of men who know that they have not
only minds to enlighten, but souls to save. I say the mon
strous and unnatural cruelty, never practised to hiraself or
another, as far as the body is concerned, unless by an idiot or
a savage, is daily, constantly, remorselessly, practised upon
that which excels the body, by all the difference between
mind and matter, spirit and clay, heaven and earth.
The body is not starved, except in cases of cruel necessity.
Not starved? It is nourished and pampered by whatever can
provoke or satisfy the appetite ; the healthy child is nursed
and nourished up into the healthy man ; the tiny fingers,
which now weary with the weight of the rattle, wfll be
trained up to a grasp of steel; the little limb? wfll learn
to stretch, unfatigued, over plain and mountain ; whfle the
inward intellectual being wfll be aUowed to reraain unnour-
ished, neglected, and stinted. A reason, capable of being
nurtured into the vigorous apprehension of all truth, wfll
remain uninformed and torpid, at the mercy of low prejudice

EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND. 277
and error. A capacity, which might have explored nature,
mastered its secrets, and weighed the orbs of heaven in the
golden scales of science, shall pass through life, clouded with
superstition, ignorant of the most familiar truth, unconscious
of its own heavenly nature. There is the body of a man,
sound, athletic, well-proportioned ; but the mind within is
puny, dwarfed, and starved. Could we perceive it with our
bodily sight, we should pity it. Could the natural eye meas
ure the contrast between a fully-developed and harmoniously-
proportioned intellect, on the one hand, and a blighted,
stinted, distorted, sickly understanding, on the other, even as
it compares a diseased and shrivelled forra with the manly
expansion and vigorous development of health, we should be
moved with compassion ; but, so completely do we allow our
selves to be the slaves of material sense, that many a parent,
who would feel himself incapable of depriving a child of a
single meal, wfll let him grow up, without ever approaching
the banquet of useful, quickening knowledge.
I know, sir, these are figures of speech. The mind does
not grow by food, nor languish for the want of it ; but these
similitudes are the only raeans we have of discoursing of the
intellectual nature. I know not to what else we can better
liken the strong appetence of the raind for iraprovement, than
to a hunger and thirst after knowledge and truth ; nor how
we can better describe the province of education, than to say,
it does that for the inteUect, which is done for the body, when
it receives the care and nourishment which are necessary for
its growth, health, and strength. From this comparison, I
think I derive new views of the importance of education. It
is now a soleran duty, a tender, sacred trust. What I sir,
feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger! pamper his
limbs, and starve his faculties ! Plant the earth, cover a
thousand hflls with your droves of cattle, pursue the fish to
their hiding-places in the sea, and spread out your wheat
fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants of that
body, which will soon be as cold and as senseless as their
poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within you,
with all its glorious capacities for improvement, languish and

278 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND.
pine ! What ! bufld factories, turn in rivers upon the water-
wheels, unchain the imprisoned spirits of steam, to weave -a
garment for the body, and let the soul remain unadorned and
naked ! What ! send out your vessels to the farthest ocean,
and make battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to
obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and work
shops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat that
perisheth, and permit that vital spark, which God has kin
dled, which He has intrusted to our care, to be fanned into a
bright and heavenly flame, ^— permit it, I- say, to languish and
go out I
I ara aware that I utter these sentiments before an inteUi
gent audience ; in the hearing of those who feel the impor
tance of education, and who have exerted themselves to pro
mote it. I wonder not that such should be the case with the
inhabitants of this beautiful region. You have continuaUy
before your eyes, on your sea-girt isle, a standing memorial
of the importance of education, taken in its most compre
hensive sense, in the now feeble remnant of the race which
once covered the island and the main, and ruled and roamed
over the continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Where
are all the powerful and warlike tribes that occupied the ter
ritory of Massachusetts, and, under the guidance of their
brave and intelligent chieftains, waged, at times, a perilous,
not to say a doubtful, war with our fathers ? One full moiety
of their posterity is comprised in those poor remains, which
still find shelter in a corner of Martha's Vineyard, and the
neighboring islet.* Well may the civflized man, at the pres
ent day, inquire, " What maketh thee to differ ? " Why has
the red man fafled, and the white man waxed strong ? Why
have we multiplied by thousands and hundreds of thousands,
while they have disappeared from plain and hill-side ? Why
is their light canoe no longer seen, at daybreak, flitting over
the waters? Why does the deer no longer bound before
them, hardly outstripping them, in the chase ? Why are their

* One or two of the Gay Head Indians were present in the church,
where these remarks were made.

EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND. 279
dusky forms no longer seen gathering at the falls of the riv
ers, at the season when the salmon and the shad ascend the
streams ? I know no answer to be given to these questions,
but that which is suggested by the train of reflection which
I have submitted to you. In most of the capacities and
powers of the physical man, they not only equalled, but ex
celled, the European race. The Indian was trained to uncom
mon bodUy hardihood ; to an eye of fire and a frame of iron.
In physical vigor and endurance, he was_ an overmatch for his
pale-faced rival. But
"His soul proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way."
His mind was untutored, ignorant of naturcj ignorant of him
self. He wanted the arts, and especially the art of arts, which
gives an image to thought, and a record to knowledge. He
wanted an alphabetical character, by which he could receive
and transmit the accumulated treasures of science ; and by
which the discoveries and attainments of every man, and of
every age, are made the coraraon property of every other
man in every other period of time.
This the natives of the continent wanted ; and, wanting
this, their physical endowments were of no avail. Nature, in
her terrors and smiles, was the same to thera as to us ; but
they could not interpret either. The same sun rose upon
them as upon us. But to thera it was a ball of fire, rolling
through the sky, and sinking in the sea ; while to us it is a
glorious lurainary, the source of light and raotion to the sys
tera of -worlds of which it is the head, whose places and
motions, observed by the eye of Science, serve as guides to
direct the vessels of the white raan across the widest sea.
The parent earth contained the same deposits and stores for
them as for us ; but they were untaught to bring cultivation
in aid of its productive qualities ; untaught to melt the
ploughshare and the axe from its solid rocks. They needed,
for their preservation, not walls and bulwarks, but the ele
ments of useful knowiledge; and had Massasoit, or King
Philip, and their tribes, possessed those means and instruments

280 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND.
of iraproveraent which are in the hands of your children at
school, I know not why they might not have perpetuated
their national existence, and borrowed the improvements of
our civilization, without sinking under the superiority of our
arts and arras. If Providence has been pleased to write the
chapter of their destiny in other and darker characters, let us,
at least, (while we do all in our power to alleviate their con
dition,) cherish and respect those means of improvement, to
which we owe our happier lot.

FESTIVAL AT EXETER.'

Mr Chairman :
I rise to second the motion submitted by the gentleman
who spoke last, (the Rev. Professor Ware, Jr,) that the report
of the committee be accepted. I do so, sir, with great satis
faction ; and I desire, at the same time, to express my thanks
to the committee for the judicious arrangements made by
thera for this interesting occasion. I scarcely feel it necessary
to enlarge on the several topics embraced in the report. This
has been done with such abflity by the chairman in present
ing it, (His Honor L. Saltonstall, the mayor of the city of
Salem,) that I feel there is little occasion for me to add any
thing to his statement. It seems to rae that a raore interest
ing occasion than the present cannot easfly be iraagined. Our
revered preceptor has devoted a very long period to his ai'du-
•ous duties as a guide of youth — a period equal to one fourth
part of the time since the settleraent of New England. He
now proposes — Emeritus in the highest sense of the word
— to retire, in his green and vigorous old age, and pass the
honored evening of a useful life in tranquil repose frora its
labors, and philosophical enjoyment of its blessings ; and
we, his pupils, have come.afor a second tirae, to take an affec
tionate leave of him. O^rormer occasions, he dismissed us
to higher seminaries of education, or to the walks of active
life : we are assembled, on this occasion, to take a respectful
notice of his retreat ; to dismiss him, if I may so express it,
to his well-merited retirement.
* This festival was celebrated at Exeter, on the 23d of August, 1838, in
honor of Dr Abbot, who on that day resigned the place of Principal
of Phillips Exeter Academy, which he had fiUed for fifty years.
VOL, n. 36 (281)

'282 FESTIVAL AT EXETER.
When we parted from him before, the minds of most of us
effervescing with the spirits of youth ; busy, and filled with
the thoughts of the untried scenes opening upon us ; ignorant
of life, ignorant of ourselves, — we were scarcely in a state
to reflect with calmness on the nature and extent of the obli
gations of a pupil to a faithful instructer. Tirae and events
have passed. We have reaped, or are reaping, the harvest
which was sown under his care ; the experience of our lives
has shown the benefits of the paternal encouragements and.
the gentle restraints of our youthful days; and we now
come, a sort of living posterity, with the deliberate acknowl
edgments, with the reasoning gratitude, which one generation
pays to the services of another which precedes it. The kind
Providence which has continued the life and usefulness of
our revered preceptor, enables ms to pay, and him to receive,
those grateful honors which, in the course of nature, are
generally breathed over the graves of the departed. It is in
some degree as if the coining generations could be hastened
forward, and made to pass, not in the shadowy vision of the
mystic glass, but living and substantial, in long procession,
with offerings of gratitude to a public benefactor. Happy
are we both in the tender and the reception of these offices
of gratitude ; and late be the day when they shall be suc
ceeded by any others !
I have already intiraated, Mr Chairraan, that the meas
ures adopted and proposed for testifying our respect and
affection towards our revered and beloved preceptor, on this
interesting occasion, have my entire approbation and con
currence. The first was to procure his portrait by a distin
guished artist. This has beeiijjgne: you, sir, have been
pleased to submit to this meeting the correspondence which
has passed on this subject between the trustees of the Acad
emy and a committee of which I had the honor to be a
member. The trustees have kindly acceded to our request,
that this portrait — among the most successful efforts of the
distinguished artist (Mr Harding) by whom it was executed
— should be hung up in the hall of the Academy. It strikes
me, I own, sir, as a peculiarly appropriate manifestation of

FESTIVAL AT EXETER. 283
respect, now that the time has arrived Avheii the presence
of our preceptor •will no longer be given in these apart
ments, — the scene of his fifty years' labors, the scene of
the early studies of nearly two thousand alumni, whose feel
ings, I am sure, are truly represented by the goodly proportion
of them here assembled, — that this portrait should be sus
pended on their walls. There, sir, whether seen by us, who
in tiraes past have often gazed on the original with respect,
but henceforward, in all probability, shall, the most of us,
see his face no raore ; or whether, in after times, contemplated
by future generations, who shall occupy these halls when we
and our respected teachers shall alike have passed away, — it
will be regarded, I am confident, as a deserved tribute to solid
worth, and prove, I trust, an incentive to like fidelity.
Hanging as it does directly opposite to the portrait of the hon
ored founder of this institution, (John Phillips,) it will speak
volumes of instruction to the youth of other times.
There is a passage in that Roman history in which we
were wont to be here so faithfully taught, that was recalled
to my raind as I cast my eye this morning from one to the
other of these interesting portraits. In the expiring days of
the Roman republic, there were two distinguished men, the
leaders of a band like-minded with theraselves, who sought
by a bold and bloody stroke to retard the accelerated down
fall of Roman liberty. They did but delay this downfall for
a moraent. A Hydra race of oppressors- sprung frorn the
blood of hira they had cut off ; and after two generations, the
day arrived (so dark and jealous was the tyranny of the
tiraes) that their iraages were not permitted to be borne
through the streets at the funeral of Junia. But not thus
was the memory of the illustrious deceased to be banished
from the minds of raen. " Prasfiflgebant," says Tacitus, (if we
may quote Latin in the open air ; and why not speak the lan
guage in the open acaderay of heaven which we were taught
in yonder hall ? ) — " Prasfiflgebant Cassius atque Brutus,
eo ipso, quod effigies eorura non visebantur." In the days of
the agony of American independence, when the blood-red
star of her liberties was rising through cold and dubious

284 FESTIVAL AT EXETER.
clouds, the founder of our Academy, Avith that generous fore
cast into futurity which he possessed in common with the
other merabers of his famfly, was determined that jointly
with the torch of civfl and political freedom, the light of in
tellectual and moral culture should also be kindled. At a
trying time, when desolation and impending ruin stalked
through the land, and when the most natural thought of the
raan of property would be to secure it in sorae safe invest-
raent for the benefit of himself and family, our founder chose
to invest the fruits of his industry and frugality in the culti
vation of the intellect of the rising generation. There, sir,
he safely invested it; and without a glance at the future, —
looking only to the past, — raay we not say that a return has
already been realized, which will endure when all the forras
and investments of property in earthly things shall have
passed away ? His donation has already yielded an interest
of two thousand iraraortal souls trained in their early years
to learning and virtue ; and now, as at the close of two
generations we behold the portrait of this distinguished ben
efactor of society hung up in the hall of the institution he
founded, and smiling upon that of the man whom he selected
to carry on this glorious work, and who for fifty years has
done it with assiduity never for one moment abated, who
would not prefer the pure fame of these real friends of hu
manity to the doubtful renown of a whole gallery of heroes ?
Never will come the day when the light of their unenvied
greatness will need to be concealed ; never will the portraits
of our founder and preceptor require to be hidden frora sight ;
and as long as they are seen, to the end of time, they will
recall the memory of men, whose wealth and talents, whose
purposes and lives, were consecrated to the improvement of
their race.
Not less appropriate, sir, as it seeras to me, is the next
measure proposed by the committee — that of raising a fund
by subscription, among the alumni, adequate to endow a
scholarship at Harvard College, to be called the Abbot schol
arship, and to be always filled by some worthy pupil of Phil
lips Exgter Academy. No inpde of perpetuating the memory

FESTIVAL AT EXETER. 285
of a distinguished instructer can be imagined, more in keep
ing with the nature of his desert ; and never could such a
tribute be more fitly paid. We need but cast our eye over the
catalogue — the telltale * catalogue — just published, to per
ceive the great numbers of pupils prepared at this institution
for the various places of collegiate education. Among thera
are sorae of the naraes of which the country has most reason
to be proud. The honorable chairman has spoken of some
of them, and in particular has paid the tribute which the
hearts of all who knew hira will never cease to pay,
to the memory of Buckminster, one who, cut off in the
morning of his days, gave an impulse to literature in the
community in which he lived, which in an ordinary case
would have been deemed a proud result of a long life of
well-directed effort. Nor would I be thought to dis
parage the importance of the course of studies in the Acad
emy, by which, without preparation for college, so raany have
been trained to usefulness and distinction in life. The narae
of one who represents the country with distinction abroad
(Governor Cass) has already been mentioned. He is far dis
tant, but his heart is with us. I shall ask permission to place
an extract from a letter lately received from him among the
memorials of this day's proceedings.
But fully appreciating the importance of either department
of the Academy, the foundation of a scholarship at the uni
versity, to bear his name, will be regarded as an appropriate
tribute of respect to one who has directed the preparatory
course of so many of the students of that and other collegi
ate institutions. In this way his services wfll be, in sorae
sense, continued in his retirement from the Academy, and
even after his retirement from life. Somewhat of the salu
tary influence of our beloved preceptor wfll even then be felt.
" Non omnis morietur." Yes, sir, I rejoice in the anticipa
tion, that to the end of time, so long as America shall subsist
in the family of nations, and while one stone of Harvard
shall be left upon another, this foundation — consecrated to
• The catalogue gave the ages of those educated at the Academy.

286 FESTIVAL AT EXETER.
the memory and bearing the name of our preceptor — will
continue, in some measure, to do what he has ever doUe — to
encourage the minds of ingenuous jrouth in the acquisition
of useful knowledge and the pursuit of pure fame.
Lastly, sir, as we assemble under the influence of an asso
ciation which unites us all, however otherwise disconnected,
in one kind feeling ; as we meet together for" the first and the
last time in life, many of us to take a last farewell of our
revered preceptor, — it has seemed meet that we should break
the noontide bread together, and invite him also to meet us
at the social board, there to pass the last hour that we shall
ever all pass together on earth, in the interchange of kind feel
ing with each other and with him. There, sir, whether we
pledge his health in the rosy or the limpid cup, the dews of
Castalia I am sure will sweeten its brim, and the balm of
good fellowship give a flavor to the draught. The occasion
will there also be taken of offering to our respected teacher
a slight but permanent token of respect, of a domestic char
acter, which will preserve at the fireside of his family, in
aftertimes, the recollection of this day's transactions.
Here, sir, I raight with prudence pause ; but eraotions
crowd upon ray raind, which I find it equally difficult to sup
press and to utter. I have read of an individual who was
released from the Bastile after a confinement of more than
thirty years. He sought for - his famfly and the friends of
his youth, and they were gone. The house in which he had
lived had passed into the possession of strangers, and he de
sired to go back to the prison in which he had so long been
immured. I can catch a glimpse of his feelings, as I wander
about these scenes, famfliar to me in boyhood, and which I
have but once or twice revisited, and that long ago, in the
interval of raore than thirty years since I was a pupil at the
Acaderay. It was my good fortune to pass here but a portion
of the year before I entered college ; but I can truly say that
even in that short time I contracted a debt of gratitude, which
I have felt throughout my life. I return to these endeared
scenes with mingled emotion. I find thera changed ; dwell
ing-places are no more on the same spots ; old edifices have

FESTIVAL AT EXETER. 287
disappeared ; new ones, both public and private, have been
erected. Some of the respected heads of society whom I
knew, though as a child, are gone. The seats in the Acad
emy-room are otherwise arranged than formerly, and even
there the places that once knew me know me no more.
Where the objects themselves are unaltered, the changed eye
and the changed mind see them differently. The streets
seem narrower and shorter, the distances less considerable ;
this play-ground before us, which I remeraber as most spa
cious, seems sadly contracted. But all, sir, is not changed,
either in appearance or reality. The countenance of our
revered preceptor has undergone no change to ray eye. It
still expresses that suaviter in modo mentioned by the gentle
man last up, (Rev. Professor Ware, Jun.,) with nothing of
the sternness of the other principle. It is thus I remember
it ; it was always sunshine to me. Nature, in the larger
features of the landscape, is unchanged ; the river stfll flows, the
woods yield their shade as pleasantly as they did thirty years
ago, doubly grateful for the contrast they afford to the dusty
walks of active life ; for the solace they yield in an escape,
however brief, from its burdens and cares. As I stood in the
hall of the Academy, last eve'ning, and saw from its windows
the river winding through the valley, and the gentle slope
rising from its opposite bank, and caught the cool breeze that
was scattering freshness after the sultry summer's day, I
could feel the poetry of Gray, on revisiting, in a like man
ner, the scenes of his schoolboy days —
"Ah, happy hUls! ah, pleasing shade!
Ab, fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless chUdhood strayed,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss below,
As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And,' redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring."

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.

In compliance with your request, gentlemen, I appear be
fore you this evening, to take a part in the observance of the
eighteenth anniversary of the Mercantile Library Association.
This meritorious institution was founded for the purpose of
promoting mental improvement among the young men of the
city engaged in commercial pursuits. Its objects were, to
forra a library, well furnished with books best adapted to
their use ; to lay the foundation of scientific collections ; to
raake provision for occasional or stated courses of instructive
lectures ; and to furnish opportunity for exercises in literary
composition and debate. It would be superfluous to offer any
labored commendation of an institution of this description.
It needs only to be named, in a commercial community, to
be regarded with favor. It has already been approved by its
good fruits, in the experience of many who have enjoyed its
advantages ; and has received the most favorable notice from
distinguished gentlemen, who, on former anniversaries, have
performed the duty which, on the present occasion, has de
volved upon me.
Supposing, then, that the usefulness of such an institution
is a point too well established to need iUustration, I have
thought we should pass our time more profitably this evening,
by devoting our attention to the discussion of a few of the ele^
mentary topics connected with commerce, in reference to which
there are some prevafling errors, and on which it is impor-
* An Address delivered before the Mercantile Library Association, at
the Odeon, in Boston, 13th September, 1838.
(288)

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 289
tant to form correct judgments. These topics are, accumula
tion, property, capital, and credit ; the simple enunciation of
which, as the heads of my address, will satisfy this most
respectable audience that, without aiming at display, it is my
object to assist those before whom I have the honor to appear,
in forming right notions on important practical questions. I
may also add, that the views presented in a single discourse,
on topics so extensive and important, must necessarily be of
the most general character.
I. Some attempts have been made, of late years, to insti
tute a compai-ison between what have been called the produ
cing, and the accumulating classes, to the disadvantage of the
latter. This view I regard as entirely erroneous. Accumu
lation is as necessary to further production, as production is to
accumulation; and especially is accumulation the basis of
commerce. If every man produced, from day to day, just so
much as was needed for the day's consumption, there would,
of course, be nothing to exchange ; in other words, there
would be no commerce. Such a state of things implies the
absence of all civilization. Some degree of accumulation
was the dictate of the eariiest necessity; the instinctive
struggle of man, to protect himself frora the elements and
from want. He soon found, — such is the exuberance of Na
ture, such the activity of her productivB powers, and such the
rapid development of human skill, — that a vast deal more
might be accumulated than was needed for bare subsistence.
This, however, alone, did not create comraerce. If aU
men accumulated equally, and accumulated the same things,
there would still be no exchanges. But it soon appeared, in
the progress of social man, that no two individuals had pre
cisely the^ same tastes, powers, and skill. One excelled in one
pursuit, one in another. One was more expert as a hunts
man, another as a fisherman ; and all found that, by. making
a business of some one occupation, they attained a higher
degree of excellence than was practicable while each one
endeavored to do every thing for himself. With this discov
ery commerce began. The Indian who has made two bows,
or dressed two bear-skins, exchanges one of them for a bun-
voL, II. 37

290 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
die of dried fish, or a pair of snow-shoes. These exchanges
between individuals extend to communities. The tribes on
the sea-shore exchange the products of their fishing for the
game or the horses of the plains and hills. Each barters what
it has in excess for that which it cannot itself so well pro
duce, and which its neighbors possess in abundance. As indi
viduals differ in their capacities, countries differ in soil and
climate; and this difference leads to an infinite variety of
fabrics and productions, artificial and natural. Commerce
perceives this diversity, and organizes a boundless system of
exchanges, the object of which is, to supply the greatest
possible amount of want and desire, and to effect the widest
possible diffusion of useful and convenient products.
The extent to which this exchange of products is carried,
in highly civilized countries, is truly wonderful. There are
probably few individuals in this assembly, who took their
morning's meal this day, without the use of articles brought
from alraost every part of the world. The table on which it
was served may have been made from a tree which grew on
the Spanish Main, or one of the West India Islands, and
covered "with a table-cloth from St Petersburg or Archangel.
The tea was from China ; the coffee .perhaps from Java ; the
sugar from Cuba or Louisiana ; the spoons from Mexico, Peru,
or Chili ; the cups and saucers from England or France.
Each of these articles was purchased by an exchange of other
products, the growth of our own or foreign countries, col
lected and distributed by a succession of voyages, often to
the farthest corners of the globe. Without cultivating a rood
of ground, we taste the richest fruits of every sofl. Without "
stirring from our fireside, we collect on our tables the growth
of every region. In the midst of winter, we are served with
fruits that ripened in a tropical sun ; and struggling monsters
are dragged from the depths of the Pacific Ocean to lighten
our dweUings.
As all commerce rests upon accumulation, so the accumu
lation of every individual is made by the exchanges of com
merce to benefit every other. Until he exchanges it, it is of
no actual value to him. The tfller of a hundred fields can

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 291
eat no more, the proprietor of a cloth factory can wear no
more, and the owner of a coal mine can sit by no hotter a
fire, than his neighbors. He must exchange his grain, his
cloth, and his coal, for some articles of their production, or for
money, which is the representative of all other articles, before
his accumulation is of service to him. The system is one of
mutual accommodation. No man can proraote his own inter
est, without proraoting that of othei's. As, in the systera of
the universe, every particle of matter is attracted by every
other particle, and it is not possible that a mote in a sunbeam
should be displaced, without producing an effect on the orbit
of Saturn, so the minutest excess or defect in the supply of
any one article of human want, produces a proportionate effect
on the exchanges of all other articles. In this way, that
Providence which educes the harmonious system of the
heavens out of the adjusted motions and balanced masses of
its shining orbs, with equal benevolence and care furnishes to
the countless millions of the human family, through an inter
minable succession of exchanges, the supply ©f their diversi
fied and innumerable wants.
II. In order to carry on this system of exchanges, it is
necessary that the articles accumulated should be safe in the
hands of their owners. The laws of society, for the protec
tion of property, were founded upon the early and instinctive
observation of this truth. It was perceived, in the dawn of
civflization, that the only way in which man could elevate
himself from barbarism, and maintain his elevation, was, by
being secured in the possession of that which he had saved
from daily consumption ; this being his resource for a time of
sickness, for old age, and for the wants of those dependent
upon him ; as well as the fund, out of which, by a system
of mutually beneficial exchanges, each could contribute to
the supply df ' the wants of his fellow-men. To strike at the
principle which protects his earnings or his acquisitions ; to
destroy the assurance that the field "which he has enclosed
and planted in his youth, will remain for the support of his
advanced years, that the portion of its fruits which he does
not need for immediate consumption, wfll remain a safe

292 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
deposit, under the protection of the public peace, is to destroy
the lifespring of civflization. The phflosophy that denounces
accumulation, is the philosophy of barbarism. It places man
below the condition of most of the native tribes on this con
tinent. No man will voluntarfly sow, that another may reap.
You may place a man in a paradise of plenty, on this condi
tion ; but its abundance wfll ripen and decay unheeded. At
this moment, the fairest regions of the earth — Sicfly, Tur
key, Africa, the loveliest and most fertfle portions of the East,
the regions that, in ancient times, after feeding their own
numerous and mighty cities, nourished Rome and her armies
— are occupied by oppressed and needy races, whom all the
smiles of heaven and the bounties of the earth cannot tempt
to strike a spade into the soil, further than is requisite for a
scanty supply of necessary food. On the contrary, establish
the principle that property is safe, that a man is secure in the
possession of his accumulated earnings, and he creates a
paradise on a barren heath ; Alpine solitudes echo to the low
ing of his herds ; he builds up his dikes against the ocean,
and cultivates a field beneath the level of its waves ; and
exposes his life fearlessly, in sickly jungles, and among fero
cious savages. Establish the principle that his property is his
own, and he seems almost wflling to sport with its safety.
He will trust it all in a single vessel, and stand calmly by,
whfle she unmoors for a voyage of three years around
the globe. He knows that the sovereignty of his country
accompanies it with a sort of earthly omnipresence, and
guards it as vigflantly on the loneliest island of the Antarctic
Sea, as though it were locked in his coffers at horae. He is
not afraid to send it out upon the common pathway of the
ocean, for he knows that the sheltering wings of the law of
nations will overshadow it there. He sleeps quietly, though
all that he has is borne upon six inches of plankfwn the bosom
of the unfathoraed waters ; for, even if the tempest should
bury it iu the deep, he has assured himself against ruin, by
the agency of those institutions which modern civflization
has devised, for the purpose of averaging the losses of indi
viduals upon the mass.

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY,*CAPITAL, CREDIT. 293
III. It is usual to give the narae of capital to those accu
mulations of property which are employed in carrying on the
commercial as well as the other business operations of the
community. The remarks already made will enable us to
judge, in some degree, of the reasonableness of those preju
dices which are occasionally awakened at the sound of this
word. Capital is property, which a man has acquired by his
industry, or has, under the law of the land, become possessed
of in some other way ; and which is invested by him in that
forra, and eraployed in that raanner, which best suit his edu
cation, ability, and taste. No particular amount of property
constitutes capital. In a highly prosperous community, the
capital of one man, like the late Baron Rothschild, at London,
or of Stephen Girard, at Philadelphia, raay araount to eight or
ten miUions ; the capital of his neighbor may not exceed as
raany dollars. In fact, the last of these two extraordinary
raen, and the father of the first, passed from one extreme to
the other, in this scale of prosperity ; and the same law which
protected their little pittance, at the outset, protected the mil
lions amassed by their perseverance, industry, and talent.
Considering capital as the mainspring of the business op
erations of civflized society, — as that which, diffused in pro
portionate masses, is the material on which enterprise works,
and with which industry performs its wonders, equally and
in the same way necessary for the construction of a row-boat
and an Indiamau, a pair of shoes and a railroad, — I have
been at some loss to account for the odium which, at times,
has been atterapted to be cast on capitalists, as a class ; and
particularly for the contrast in which capital has been placed
with labor, to the advantageous employment of which it is
absolutely essential.
I have supposed that sorae part of this prejudice may arise
from the traditions of other tiraes, and the institutions of
other countries. The roots of opinion run deep into the past.
The great mass of property in Europe, at the present day,
even in England, is landed property. This property was
much of it wrested from its original owners, by the remote
ancestors of its present possessors, who overran the countries

294 ACCUMULATION, P*ROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
with military violence, and despofled the 'inhabitants of their
possessions ; or, still worse, compelled them to labor, as slaveSj
on the land which they had once owned and tilled as free
men. It would seem, that an hereditary bitterness raust have
sprung out of this relation, never to be wholly overcome, par
ticularly, where the political institutions of society remain
upon a feudal basis. We know, from history, that after the
Norman invasion, the Saxon peasantry, reduced to slavery,
were compelled to wear iron collars about their necks, like
dogs, with the names of their masters inscribed upon thera.
At what subsequent period, frora that time to this, has any
thing occurred to alleviate the feelings growing out of these
events ? Such an origin of the great mass of the property
must place its proprietors in some such relation to the rest of
the community, as that which exists between the Turks and
Rayas, in the Ottoman empire, and may have contributed to
produce a traditional hostility, on the part of the poor,
towards the rich, among thousands who know not historically
the origin of the feeling.
It is obvious, that the origin of our political communities,
and the organization of society among us, furnish no basis
for a prejudice of this kind against capital. Wealth, in this
country, may be traced back to industry and frugality ; the
paths which lead to it are open to all ; the laws which protect
it are equal to all ; and such is the joint operation of the law
and the customs of society, that the wheel of fortune is in
constant revolution, and the poor, in one generation, furnish
the rich of the next. The rich man, who treats poverty with
arrogance and contempt, tramples upon the ashes of his father
or his grandfather; the poor man, who nourishes feelings of
unkindness aud bitterness against wealth, makes weu: with
the prospects of his children.
A moment's consideration will show the unreasonableness
of a prejudice against capital ; for it will show that it is the
great instrument of the business movements of society.
Without it, there can be no exercise, on a large scale, of the
mechanic arts, no manufactures, no private improvements, no
putl.ic enterprises of utility, no domestic exchanges, no foreign

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 295
commerce. For all these purposes, a twofold use of cap
ital is needed. It is necessary that a great many persons
should have a portion of capital ; as, for instance, that the
fisherman should have his boat ; the husbandman, his farm,
his buildings, his implements of husbandry, and his cattle ;
the mechanic, his shop and his tools ; the merchant, his stock
in trade. But these small masses of capital are not, alone,
sufficient for the highest degree of prosperity. Larger^accu-
raulations are wanted, to keep the smaller capitals in steady
movement, and to circulate their products. If manufactures
are to flourish, a very great outlay in bufldings, fixtures, ma
chinery, and power, is necessary. If internal intercourse is
to diffuse its inestimable moral, social, and economical bless
ings through the land, canals, railroads, and steamboats, are
to be constructed, at vast expense. To effect these objects,
capital must go forth, like a raighty genius, bidding the moun
tains to bow their heads, and the valleys to rise, the crooked
places to be straight, and the rough places plain. If agricul
ture is to be perfected, costly experiments in husbandry, raust
be instituted, by those who are able to advance, and can
afford to lose, the funds which are required for the purpose.
Coramerce, on a large scale, cannot flourish, without resources
adequate to the construction of large vessels, and their outfit
for long voyages, and the exchange of valuable cargoes.
The eyes of the civilized world are intently fixed upon the
experiments now making to navigate the Atlantic by steam.
It is said that the Great Western was buflt and fitted out at
an expense of near half a mfllion of dollars. The success
of the experiraent will be not raore a triumph of genius and
of art than of capital. The first attempts at the whale fishery
in Massachusetts were made frora the South Shore and the
Island of Nantucket, by persons who went out in small boats,
killed their whale, and returned the same day. This limited
plan of operations was suitable for the small demands of the
infant population of New England. But the whales were
soon driven from the coast ; the population increased ; and
the deraand for the product of the fisheries increased propor
tionably. It became necessary to apply larger capitals to

296 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
the business. Whale ships were now fitted out, at consider
able expense, which pursued this adventurous occupation from
Greenland to Brazil. The enterprise thus manifested awoke
the admiration of Europe, and is imraortalized in the well-
known description by Burke. But the business has grown,
untfl the ancient fishing-grounds have become the first sta
tions, on a modern whaling voyage ; and capitals are now
required sufficient to fit out a vessel for an absence of forty
months, and a voyage of circumnavigation. Fifty thousand
dollars are invested in a single vessel ; she doubles Cape Horn,
ranges from New South Shetland to the coasts of Japan,
enters Behring's Straits, cruises in unexplored latitudes, stops
for refreshment at islands before undiscovered, and on the
basis, perhaps, of the capital of an individual house in New
Bedford, or Nantucket, performs an exploit which, sixty or
seventy years ago, was thought a great object to be effected
by the resources of the British government. In this branch
of business a capital of twelve or fifteen millions of dollars
is invested.* Its object is, to furnish us a cheap and comrao
dious light for our winter evenings. The capitalist, it is
true, desires an adequate interest on his investment ; but he
can only get this by selling his oil at a price at which the
public are able and willing to buy it. The " overgrown cap
italist " employed in this business, is an overgrown lamp
lighter. Before he can pocket his six per centum, he has
trimmed the lamp of the cottager, who borrows an hour from
evening to complete her day's labor, and has lighted the taper
of the pale and thought- worn student, who is " out watching
the Bear " over sorae ancient volurae.
In like manner, the other great investments of capital,
whatever selfish objects their proprietors may have, must,
before that object can be attained, have been the means of
supplying the demand of the people for some great article of
* A writer, who appears to understand the subject thoroughly, in an arti
cle in the North American Review, for January, 1834, calculates tliat a
capital of twelve millions of dollars is employed in carrying on the whale
fishery, and that an amount of seventy millions of dollars is dnectly or
remotely involved in it.

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 297
necessity, convenience, or indulgence. This remark applies
peculiarly to manufactures carried on by machinery. A great
capital is invested in this form, though mostly in sraall
araounts. Its owners, no doubt, seek a profitable return ; but
this they can attain in no other way than by furnishing the
community with a manufactured article of great and exten
sive use. Strike out of being the capital invested in manu
factures, and you lay upon society the burden of doing by
hand all the work which was done by steam and water, by
fire and steel ; or it must forego the use of the articles man
ufactured. Each result would, in some measure, be produced.
A much smaller quantity of manufactuired articles would be
consumed, that is, the community would be deprived of com
forts they now enjoy ; and those used would be produced at
greater cost, by manual labor. In other words, fewer people
would be sustained, and those less comfortably, and at greater
expense. When we hear persons condemning accumulations of cap
ital employed in manufactures, we cannot help saying to our
selves. Is it possible that any rational man can desire to stop
those busy wheels, to paralyze those iron arms, to arrest that
falling stream, which works whfle it babbles ? What is your
object ? Do you wish wholly to deprive society of the fruit
of the industry of these inanimate but untiring laborers ? Or
do you wish to lay on aching human shoulders the burdens
which are so lightly borne by these patient metallic giants ? *
Look at Lowell. Behold the palaces of her industry, side
by side with her churches and her school-houses, the long
lines of her shops and warehouses, her streets filled with the
comfortable abodes of an enterprising, industrious, and intel
ligent population. See her fiery Samsons,f roaring along her
raflroad, with thirty laden cars in their train. Look at her
watery Goliaths, not wielding a weaver's beam, like hira of
* At the time this address was delivered, I was unacquainted with the
•^little work entitled " John Hopkins's Notions on Political Economy," where
the same comparison of machines to giants is very ingeniously pursued.
f Samson and Goliath were at that time names of locomotive engines on
the Lowell RaUroad.
VOL. II. 38

298 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
old, but giving motion to hundreds and thousands of spindles
and looms. Twenty years ago, and two or three poor farms
occupied the entire space within the boundaries of Lowell.
Not more visibly, I had almost said not more rapidly, was the
palace of Aladdin, in the Arabian tales, constructed by the
genius of the lamp, than this noble city of the arts has been
buflt by the genius of capital. This capital, it is true, seeks
a moderate interest on the investment; but it is by furnish
ing, to all who desire it, the cheapest garment ever worn by
civflized man. To denounce the capital which has been the
agent of this wonderful and beneficent creation, to wage war
with a system which has spread and is spreading plenty
throughout the country, — what is it, but to play, in real life,
the part of the malignant sorcerer, in the same Eastern tale,
who, potent only for mischief, utters the baleful spell which
breaks the charm, heaves the mighty pillars of the palace
from their foundation, converts the fruitful gardens back to
their native sterility, and heaps the abodes of life and happi
ness with silent and desolate ruins ?
It is hardly possible to do justice to the effects on huraan
comfort of the application of capital to the arts of life. We
can fully do this only by making sorae inquiry into the raode
of living, in civilized countries, in the raiddle ages. The
foUowing brief notices, frora Mr Hallam's learned and judi
cious work,* may give us sorae distinct ideas on the subject.
Up to the tirae of dueen Elizabeth, in England, the houses
of the farraers in that country consisted of but one story and
one room. They had no chimneys. The fire was kindled
on a hearth of clay, in the centre, and the smoke found its
way out through an aperture in the roof, at the door, and the
openings at the side for air and light. The domestic animals
— even oxen — were housed under the same roof with their
owners. Glftss windows were unknown, except in a few
lordly mansions, and in them they were regarded as movable
furniture. When the Dukes of Northumberland left Alnwick
Castle, to come to London for the winter, the few glass'
* State of Europe during the Middle Ages.

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 299
windows, which formed one of the luxuries of the castle,
were carefully taken out and laid away, perhaps carried to
London, to adorn the city iresidence. The walls of good
houses were neither wainscoted nor plastered. In the houses
of the nobility, the nakedness of the walls was covered by
hangings of coarse cloth. Beds were a rare luxury. A very
wealthy individual would have one or two in his house ;
rugs and skins laid upon the floor were the substitute.
Neither books nor pictures formed any part of the furniture
of a dwelling in the middle ages ; as printing and engraving
were wholly unknown, and painting but little practised. A
few inventories of furniture, dating from the fifteenth cen
tury, are preserved. They afford a striking evidence of the
want of comfort and accommodation in articles accounted by
us among the necessaries of life. In the schedule of the
furniture of a Signor Contarini, a rich Venetian merchant,
living in London, in 1481, no chairs nor looking-glasses are
named. Carpets were unknown at the same period ; their
place was supplied by straw and T-ushes, even in the presence-
chamber of the sovereign. Skipton Castle, the principal
residence of the Earls of Cumberland, was deeraed amply
provided in having eight beds, but had neither chairs, glasses,
nor carpets. The silver plate of Mr Fermor, a wealthy
country gentleman, at Easton, in the sixteenth century, con
sisted of sixteen spoons, and a few goblets and ale-pots.
•Some valuations of stock in trade, in England^ from the
beginning of the fourteenth century, have been preserved.
A carpenter's consisted of five tools, the whole valued at a
shilling ; a tanner's, on the other hand, amounted to near ten
pounds, ten times greater than any other ; tanners being, at
that period, principal tradesmen, as alraost all articles of dress
for raen were raade of leather.
We need but contrast the state of things in our own tirae
with that which' is indicated in these facts, to perceive the
all-iraportant influence on huraan comfort of the accumula
tion of capital, and its eraployraent in the useful arts of life.
As it is out of the question for the government to invest the
public funds in the branches of industry necessary to supply

300 ACCUMULATION, PROPERT"Y, CAPITAL, CREDIT,
the customary wants of men, it follows that this must be
done by private resources and enterprise. The necessary
consequence is, that the large capital required for these oper
ations must be furnished by the contributions of individuals,
each possessing a portion of the stock, or by a single pro
prietor. However furnished, it is plain that the interest of the cap
italist is identical with that of the community. Nobody
hoards ; every thing is invested or employed, and, directly or
indirectly, is the basis of business operations.
It is true that when one raan uses the capital of another,
he is expected to pay something for this privilege. But there
is nothing unjust or unreasonable in this. It is inherent in
the idea of property. It wpuld not be property, if I could
take it frora you, and use it as my own, without compensa
tion. That simple word, it is mine, carries with it the whole
theory of property and its rights. If my neighbor has saved
his earnings and built hira a house, and I ask his leave to go
and live in it, I ought, in jifstice, to pay him for the use of
his house. If, instead of using his money to bufld a house,
in which he permits me to live, he loans me his money, with
which I build a house for myself, it is equally just that I
should pay hira for the use of his raoney. It is his, not mine.
If he allows me to use the fruit of his labor or skill, I ought
to pay him for that use, as I should pay hira if he carae and
wrought for me with his hands. This is the whole doctrine
of interest. In a prosperous community, capital can be made
to produce a greater return than the rate of interest fixed by
law. The merchant, who employs the whole of his capital
in his own enterprises, and takes all the profit to himself, is
commonly regarded as a useful citizen ; and it would seem
unreasonable' to look with a prejudiced eye upon the capital
ist, who aUows all the profits of the business to accrue to
others, asking only legal interest for his money which they
have employed.
Without, however, pursuing this comparison among differ
ent classes of capitalists, let us further'*endeavor, by an exam
ple, to fllustrate the question, whether they ought, in any

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 301
view, to be regarded as exerting an unfriendly influence on
the labors of the community. Take, for instance, such a
case as Mr Stephen Girard, a great capitalist, who united in
his person the merchant and the banker, and who may be
spoken of plainly, as he has passed away, the solitary man,
and left no one to be grieved with the freedoms which are
taken with his meraory. This reraarkable person began life
without a farthing, and left behind him a property whose
actual value amounted, I believe, to seven or eight millions
of dollars, and this acquired in the latter half of his life. He
told me himself that, at the age of forty, his circumstances
were so narrow, that he was emplpyed as the commander of
his own sloop, engaged in the coasting trade between New
York or Phfladelphia and New Orleans ; adding that, on a
certain occasion, he was forty-five days in working his way
up from the Balize to the city. Few persons, I believe,
enjoyed less personal popularity in the community in which
he lived, and to which he bequeathed his princely fortune.
If this proceeded froiri defects of personal character, it is a
topic which we- have no occasion to discuss here. We are
authorized only to speak of the effect upon the public wel
fare of the accumulation of such a fortune in one man's
hands. Whfle I am far from saying that it might not have
been abused, by being made the instrument of a corrupt and
dangerous influence in the comraunity, I have never heard
that it was so abused by Mr Girard. On general princi
ples, it may perhaps be safely said, that the class of men
qualified to amass large fortunes, by perseverance and exclu
sive devotion to business, by frugality and thrift, are not at
all likely to apply their wealth to ambitious or corrupt designs.
As to the effect, in all other points of view, I confess I see
nothing but public benefit in such a, capital, managed with
unrelaxing economy ; one half judiciously employed by the
proprietor himself, in commerce ; the other half loaned to the
business community; What better use could have been made
of. it ? Will it be said, divide it equally among the comrau
nity ; give each individual in the United States a share ? It
would have amounted to half a dollar each for man, woman.

302 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
and child ; and, of course, might as well have been sunk iii
the middle of the sea. Such a distribution would have been
another name for annihUation. How many ships would have
furled theh sails, how many warehouses would have closed
their shutters, how many wheels, heavily laden with the
products of industry, would have stood stfll, how many fam
flies would have been reduced to want, and without any
ndvantage resulting from the distribution I
Let me not be misunderstood. I regard equality of condi
tion and fortune as the happiest state of society, and those
political institutions as immeasurably the wisest and best
which tend to produce it. All laws which have for their
object to perpetuate large estates, and transmit them frora
generation to generation, are at war with the constitution of
man. Providence has enacted a statute of distributions
in the impulses of t-he human heart. My proposition is
only that, in a country like this, where the laws discourage
hereditary transmission, and promote equality of fortune, ac
cumulations of capital made by industry, enterprise, and pru
dence, employed in active investments, without ministering
to extravagance and luxury, are beneficial to the public.
Their possessor becomes, whether he wills, it or not, the
steward of others ; not merely, as in Mr Girard's case, be
cause he may destine a colossal fortune, after his decease, for
public objects, but because, while he lives, every dollar of it
must be employed in giving life to industry and employment
to labor. Had Mr Girard lived in a fashionable part of the
city, in a magnificent house ; had he surrounded himself
with a troop of liveried domestics ; had he dazzled the pass
ers-by with his splendid equipages, and spread a sumptuous
table for his " dear five hundred friends," he would, uo doubt,
have been a more popular man. But in my apprehension, he
appears to far greater advantage, as a citizen and a patriot, in
his modest dwelling and plain garb, appropriating to his per
sonal wants the smallest pittance from his princely income ;
living, to the last, in the dark and narrow street in which he
made his fortune, and, when he died, bequeathing it for the
education of orphan children. For the public, I do not know

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 303
that he could have done better ; of all the men in the world,
he probably derived the least enjoyment frora his property
hiraself IV. I have left myself scarce any room to speak on the
subject of credit. The legitimate province of credit is, to
facflitate and to diffuse the use of capital, and not to create it.
I make this remark with care ; because exaggerated and even
false views prevafl on this subject, which, carried into the
banking system, have done infinite mischief I have no wish
whatever to depreciate the importance of credit. It has done
wonders for this country. It has proraoted public and private
prosperity, built cities, cleared wildernesses, and bound the
reraotest parts of the continent together by chains of iron and
gold. These are wonders, but not miracles; these effects
have not been produced without causes. Trust and confi
dence are not gold and silver ; they command capital, but
they do not increase it. A merchant, in active business, has a
capital of twenty thousand dollars ; his credit is good ; he
borrows as much more ; but let him not think he has doubled
his capital. He has done so only in a very limited sense.
He doubles the sum on which, for a tirae, he trades ; but he
has to pay back the borrowed capital, with interest ; and that
whether his business has been prosperous or adverse. Still,
I am not disposed to deny that, with extreme prudence and
good management, the benefit to the individual, of such an
application of credit, is great ; and when individuals are ben
efited, the public is benefited. But no capital has been cre
ated. Nothing has been added to the preexisting stock. It
was in being, the fruit of former accumulation. If he had
not borrowed it, it might have been used by its owner in some
other way. What the public gains is, the superior activity
that is given to business, by bringing more persons, with a
greater amount and variety of talent, into action.
These benefits, public and private, are not without some
counterbalancing risks ; and, with the enterprising habits and
ardent temperament of our countrymen, I should deem the
formation of sound and sober views, on the subject of credit,
one of the most desirable portions of the young merchant's

304 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
education. The eagerness to accumulate wealth, by trading
on credit, is the disease of the age and. country in which we
live. Something of the solidity of our character, and purity
of our name, has been sacrificed to it. Let us hope that the
recent embarrassraents of the commercial world will have a
salutary influence in repressing this eagerness. The mer
chants of the country have covered themselves with lasting
honor abroad, by the heroic fidelity with which they have, at
vast sacrifices, fulfilled their obligations. Let us hope that,
hereafter, they wfll keep themselves more beyond the reach
of the fluctuations in business, and the vicissitudes of affairs.
But it is time to close these general reflections. We live at
a period, when the comraerce of the world seems touching
a new era ; a development of energies before unconceived.
Columbus discovered a new continent ; modern art has dimin
ished, by one half, its distance frora the old world. The
application of steam to the navigation of the ocean seems
about to put the finishing hand to that systera of accelerated
communication, which began with steamboats along the coast,
and canals and railroads piercing the interior. The immediate
effect of this improvement must be a vast increase of the
intensity of international communication. The ultimate
result can be but dimly foreseen. Let us trust that it will
give renewed vigor to the march of civilization ; that it wfll
increase the comforts of those who now enjoy its blessings,
and extend these blessings to the forlorn children of the
human faraily who are, at present, deprived of them.
Whatever may take place, in this respect ; whether or not
the navigation of the Atlantic Ocean, by steam-vessels, is to
be generally adopted as the mode of communication ; com
merce, no doubt, in virtue of other causes, of ascertained and
unquestioned operation, is on the eve of acquiring an activity
beyond all previous example. As, in all former ages, it has
been one of the most powerful agents in shaping the destinies
of the human race, it is unquestionably reserved for still
higher functions. I confess that I look, myself, for some
great results to be produced by the new forces in motion
around us. When we contemplate the past, we see some o*"

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 305
the most important phenomena in human history, intimately,
I had alraost said mysteriously, connected with comraerce.
In the very dawn of civilization, the art of alphabetical writ
ing sprang up among a commercial people. One can almost
imagine that these wonderfully convenient elements were a
kind of short-hand, which the PhcEuician merchants, under
the spur of necessity, contrived for keeping their accounts ;
for what could they have done with the hieroglyphics of the
Egyptian priesthood, applied to the practical purposes of a
commerce which extended over the known world, arid of
which we have preserved to us such a curious and instructive
description, by the prophet Ezekiel ? * A thousand years
later, and the same commercial race, araong whora this sub-
lirae invention had its origin, performed a not less glorious
part, as the champions of freedom. When the Macedonian
madman commenced his crusade against Asia, the Phoenicians
opposed the only vigorous resistance to his march. The
Tyrian merchants delayed him longer, beneath the walls of
their sea-girt city, than Darius, at the head of all the armies
of the East. In the succeeding centuries, when the dynasties
established by Alexander were crumbling, and the Roraans,
in turn, took up the raarch of universal conquest and dorain-
ion, the coramercial city of Carthage, the daughter of Tyre,
afforded the most efficient check to their progress. But there
was nowhere sufficient security of property, in the old world,
to form the basis of a permanent commercial prosperity. In
the middle ages, the iron yoke of the feudal system was
broken by commerce. The eraancipation of Europe frora
the detestable sway of the barons, began with the privileges
granted to the cities. The wealth acquired in comraerce
afforded the first counterpoise to that of the feudal chiefs,
who raonopolized the land, and, in the space of a century
and a half, gave birth to a new civilization. In the west of
Europe, the Hanse towns, — in the east, the cities of Venice,
Genoa, the ports of Sicily and Naples, Florence, Pisa, and
Leghorn, — begin to swarm with active crowds. The Medi-
* Chapter xxviL
VOL, IL 39

306 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
terranean, deserted for nearly ten centuries, is covered with
vessels. Merchants from the Adriatic explore the farthest
East ; silks, spices, gums, gold, are distributed frora the Italian
cities through Europe ; and the dawn of a general revival
breaks on the world. Nature, at this juncture, discloses
another of those mighty mysteries, which man is permitted,
from age -to age, to read in her awful volume. As the fulness
of time approaches for the new world to be found, it is dis
covered that a piece of steel may be so prepared, that it wfll
point, a steady index, to the pole. After it had led the ad
venturers of Italy, Spain, and Portugal, to the utmost limits
of the old world, from Iceland to the south of Africa, the
iraraortal discoverer, with the snows and the sorrows of near
sixty years upon his head, but with the fire of immortal youth
in his heart, placed himself under the guidance of the mys
terious pilot, bravely followed its mute direction through the
terrors and the dangers of the unknown sea, and called a new
hemisphere into being.
It would be easy to connect with this discovery almost all
the great events of modern history, and, stfll raore, all the
great movements of modern civilization. Even in the coloni
zation of New England; although, more than almost any
other human enterprise^ the offspring of the religious feeling,
commercial adventure opened the way and furnished the
means. As time rolled on, and events hastened to their con
summation, commercial relations suggested the chief topics
in the great controversy for liberty. The British Navigation
Act was the original foundation of the colonial grievances.
There was a "constant struggle to break away from the liraits
of the raonopoly imposed by the mother country. The
American navigators could find no walls nor barriers on the
face of the deep, and they were determined that paper and
parchment should not shut up what God had thrown open.
The moment . the war of independence was over, the com
mercial enterprise of the country went forth like an uncaged
eagle, who, having beaten himself almost to madness against
the bars of his prison, rushes out, at length, to his native ele
ment, and exults, as he bathes his undazzled eye in the sun-

ACCUMULATION, fROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 307
beam, or pillows his breast upon the storm. Our merchants
were far from contenting themselves with treading obsequi
ously in the footsteps even of the great commercial nation from
which we are descended. Ten years had 'not elapsed from
the close of the revolutionary war, before the infant commerce
of Araerica had struck out for herself a circuit, in some
respects, broader and bolder than that of England. Besides
penetrating the remotest haunts of the commerce heretofore
carried on by the trading nations of Europe, — the recesses
of the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the White Seas, — she
displayed the stars and the stripes in distant oceans, where
the lion and the Iflies never floated. She not only engaged
with spirit in the trade with Hindostan and China, which had
been thought to be beyond the grasp of individual capital and
enterprise, but she explored new markets, on islands and
coasts before unapproached by modern comraerce.
Such was the instantaneous expansion of the youthful
coraraerce of America. The belligerent condition of Eu
rope, for a time, favored the enterprise of our merchants ;
wealth began to pour into their coffers ; and they immedi
ately took that place in the coraraunity to which events and
the condition of the country called thera. Independence
found us, in a great raeasure, destitute of public establish
ments ; the eyes of the people were unconsciously turned to
the merchants, as the chief depositaries of large masses of
disposable wealth ; and they promptly stood forth as public
benefactors. It may certainly be said, without adulation, that
the merchants of Massachusetts have sustained this character
as honorably as their fellow-citizens in any part of the Union.
Iii all the great enterprises for public improvement, in all our
establishments for religious, raoral, literary, and charitable
purposes, the genial patronage of coramerce has been steadily
felt. Our merchants have indeed been princes, in the pure
and only republican sense of the word, in bestowing princely
endowments on the public institutions ; and to him who asks
for the monuments of their liberality we may say, as of the
architect of St Paul's, " Look around you." In every part
of the old world, except England, the public establishments,

308 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
the foundations for charity, education, and literary improve
ment, have been mostly endowed by the sovereign ; and
costly private edifices are generally the monuments of an
opulence which had its origin in feudal inequality. If dis
plays of wealth are witnessed in our cities, it is wealth origi
nally obtained by frugality and enterprise, and of which a
handsome share has been appropriated to the endowment of
those charitable and philanthropic institutions which are the
distinguishing glory of modern times.
To understand the character of the commerce of our own
city, we must not look raerely at one point, but at the whole
circuit of country of which it is the business centre. We
must not contemplate it only at this present raoraent of time,
but we must bring before our imaginations, as in the shifting
scenes of a diorama, at least three successive historical and
topographical pictures ; and truly instructive I think it would
be to see them delineated on canvas. We must survey the
first of them in the company of the venerable John Win
throp, the founder of the state. Let us go up with him, on
the day of his landing, the seventeenth of June, 1630, to
the heights of yonder peninsula, as yet without a name.
Landward, stretches a dismal forest ; seaward, a waste of
waters, unspotted with a sail, except that of his own ship.
At the foot of the hill, you see the cabins of Walford and
the Spragues, who, the latter a year before, the former stfll
earlier, had adventured to this spot, untenanted else by any
child of civilization. On the other side of the river lies Mr
Blackstone's farm. It comprises three goodly hflls, converted
by a spring tide into three wood-crowned islets; and it is
mainly valued for a noble spring of fresh water which gushes
from the northern slope of one of these hills, and which fur
nished, in the course of the summer, the motive for transfer
ring the seat of the infant settlement. This shall be the
first picture.
The second shall be conteraplated from the same spot, the
heights of Charlestown, on the same day, the eventful seven
teenth of June, one hundred and forty-five years later, name
ly, in the year 1775. A terrific scene of war rages on the

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 309
top of the hill. Wait for a favorable moment, when the
volumes of fiery smoke roll away, and over the masts of that
sixty-gun ship, whose batteries are blazing upon the hill,
you behold Mr Blackstone's farm changed to an ill-built
town, of about two thousand dwelling-houses, mostly of
wood, with scarce any public buildings but eight or nine
churches, the old State House, and Faneuil Hall ; Roxbury,
beyond, an insignificant village ; a vacant marsh in all the
space now occupied by Cambridgeport and East Cambridge,
by Chelsea and East Boston ; and beneath your feet, the town
of Charlestown, consisting, in the morning, of a line of about
three hundred houses, wrapped in a sheet of flames at noon,
and reduced, at eventide, to a heap of ashes.
But those fires are kindled on the altar of liberty. Ameri
can independence is established. American comraerce smiles
on the spot ; and now, from the top of one of the triple hills
of Mr Blackstone's farm, a stately edifice arises, which seeras
to invite us as to an observatory. As we look down frorii
this lofty structure, we behold the third picture, a crowded,
busy scene. We see beneath us a city, containing eighty or
ninety thousand inhabitants, and mainly built of brick and
granite. Vessels of every description are moored at the
wharfs. Long lines of commodious, and even stately
houses, cover a space which, within the memory of man,
was in a state of nature. Substantial rows of warehouses
have forced their way to the channel. Faneuil Hall itsetf,
the consecrated and unchangeable, has swelled to twice its
original dimensions. Athenasums, hospitals, asylums, and
infirmaries adorn the streets. The school-house rears its
modest front in every quarter of the city, and sixty or seven
ty churches attest that the chfldren are content to walk in
the gpod old ways of their fathers. Connected with the
city by eight bridges, avenues, or ferries, you behold a range
of towns, most of them municipally distinct, but all of thera,
in reality, forraing, with Boston, one vast metropolis, ani
mated by one commercial life. Shading off- frora these, you
see that raost lovely background, a succession of happy
settlements, spotted with villas, farm houses, and cottages ;

310 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT,
united to Boston by a constant intercourse ; sustaining the
capital from their fields and gardens, and prosperous in the
reflux of the city's wealth. Of the social life included with
in this circuit, and of all that in times past has adorned and
ennobled it, commercial industry has been an active element,
and has exalted itself by its intimate association with every
thing else we hold dear.
Within this circuit, what memorials strike the eye ; what
recollections ; what institutions ; what patriotic treasures, and
names that cannot die ! There lie the canonized precincts
of Lexington and Concord ; there rise the sacred heights of
Dorchester and Charlestown ; there is Harvard, the ancient
and venerable foster-child of public and private liberality, in
every part of the state ; to whose existence Charlestown gave
the first impulse ; to whose growth and usefulness the opulence
of Boston has, at all times, ministered with open hand.
Still farther on than the eye can reach, four* lines of com
munication, by raflroad and steam, have, within our own day,
united with the capital, by bands of iron, a still broader cir
cuit of towns and villages. Hark to the voice of life and
business which sounds along the lines! While we speak,
one of them is shooting onward to the illimitable west, and
all are uniting with the other kindred enterprises, to form one
harmonious and prosperous whole, in which town and coun
try, agriculture and raanufactures, labor and capital, art and
filature, — wrought and compacted into one grand system, —
are constantly gathering and diffusing, concentrating and ra
diating, the economical, the social, the moral blessings of a
liberal and diffusive commerce.
In mere prosperity and the wealth it diffuses, there is no
ground for moral approbation ; though, I believe, in any long
period of tirae, it will be found that those coramunities only
are signally prosperous, where virtuous principle is revered
as the rule of conduct. It is the chief glory of our commer
cial community, that the old standard of morals is still kept
up ; that industry and frugality are still held in honorable
* At present, (1850,) eight

ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 311
repute ; that the rage for speculation has not eaten out the
vitals of character ; and that lucky fraud, though plated stiff
with ill-gotten treasure, dare not yet lift up its bold, unblush
ing face, in the presence of the humblest man who eats the
bread of honest industry.
So may it stfll remain ; and let it still be your object, gen
tlemen of the Mercantile Library Association, to uphold this
well-approved character of our ancient metropolis. Never
let the mere acquisition of wealth be an exclusive pursuit.
Consider it of tenfold greater importance, to manifest, in all
the transactions of life, that quick sense of honor, " which feels
a stain like a wound," and that integrity, which the mines of
Peru could not bend from the path of principle. Let wealth
be regarded as the instrument of doing, as well as of enjoying,
good. In a republican government, the mercantile class, in
the natural course of things, is the only one whose members,
generally speaking; can amass fortune ; let it be written on
your hearts, in the morning of life, that wealth is ennobled
only in its uses. Form, frora the first, a large conception of
the character of the liberal and upright merchant. Regard
hira as one to whom the country looks to sustain her honor,
in the hour of trial ; to uphold her public establishments, to
endow her charities, to be the father of her orphans ; as one
whora no success will make ashamed of his vocation ; who
wfll adorn his days of prosperity with moderation and tem
per ; and hold fast his integrity, though fortunes turn to ashes
in his grasp. Improve the opportunities for cultivating your
minds, which this institution presents, never greater than at
this season ; and the still further and peculiar opportunities
for mental improveraent Avhich will shortly be placed within
the reach of the young raen of Boston, in consequence of
the recent munificent bequest of Mr Lowell. The keys of
knowledge are in your hands ; the portals of her teraple are
open to you. On the shelves of her libraries, there are stores
of information, which, besides contributing to your success in
your calling, will give grace to good fortune, and comfort and
resource in disaster.
Above all, while you pursue with spirit the business of

312 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT.
your vocation, and follow the paths of enterprise to the ends
of the earth, let a well-instructed conscience be the compan
ion of your way. Her guidance wfll safely lead you, when
calculation is bewfldered, and prudence is at fault. Though
your hope, in all else, "be blasted, fafl not, my young friends,
to acquire the pearl of great price, that wisdom, whose mer
chandise is better than the merchandise of silver, and the
gain thereof than fine gold.

THE IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A
REPUBLIC*

Mr President :
I rise, at the particular request of the secretary of the
board, and in compliance with the wishes of other respected
friends of education, to express to you the thoughts which
occur to me on the great subject now under our consideration,
and, more especially, on the resolution which has just been
read. I do not come prepared to discuss the proposition
which it contains in a maturely-digested discourse. My
object only is to offer to you, and this large and respected
audience, the thoughts, somewhat desultory, which present
themselves to my mind on the principle advanced in the
resolution ; and, if I can do more, I shall be well contented
with having offered to the convention this public testimony
of the interest I take in the cause.
I will observe, in the first place, that, without designing
any thing like adulation of our native state, we may claim
for it the credit of having raade provision for education from
the earliest period of its settlement. The sraall New Eng
land, republics, and especially Massachusetts, have been, in
point of tirae, far in advance of the older governments of
the world, in systematic provision for the education of the
people at the public expense. In setting this example, we
have certainly paid back to Europe no small part of the debt
* The following remarks, in substance, were made at a county com
mon school convention, held in Taunton, Massachusetts, on the 10th
October, 1838, ivhen a resolution was under consideration which asserted
the connection between pubUc inteUigence and a republican forpi of
govemment. VOL, II. 40 (313)

314 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
of civilization. I regard this hereditary care for education
as a precious portion of our moral birthright ; and I tmst we
shall transmit it, unirapaired, to after ages.
I would gladly believe, nay, I do firmly believe, that this
attention — which, in this country, has never hean withheld
from education, and which, of late, I am rejoiced to say, has
greatly increased — does not manifest itself in an accidental,
far less uncongenial association, with that general interest in
political affairs which also characterizes our communities, and
springs from popular systems of government. On the con
trary, in the view I take of the subject, a country possessed
of such institutions is precisely that where education is most
iraportant ; where alone it is absolutely necessary for carry
ing on the system of government, and keeping up its natural
healthy action. It is, of course, in such a country that Ave
should most expect from the people an enlightened and
vigilant care of education.
There are tAvo simple plans of government, on which,
either pure, and*without -qualification, or with some admix
ture of the two principles, all constitutions are constructed.
One of thera asserts that the people are the rightful source
of power, both ultimate and direct ; the other denies this
proposition. When Charles I. stood upon the scaffold, and
a moment before he laid his head upon the block, so firm
Avas his faith in the last-naraed principle, that he declared,
Avith his dying breath, that " the people's right Avas only to
have their life and their goods their own, a share in the
government being nothing pertaining to them." The other
plan is announced, in clear terras, in the constitution of
Massachusetts : " The people of this comraonwealth have
the sole and exclusive right of governing theraselves, as a
free, sovereign, and independent state."
Now, it might be thought, that, even on the theory of gov
ernment which Charles sealed Avith his blood, education would
be deemed a great popular interest, as teaching the methods,
and furnishing some of the means, of preserving life and
acquiring property, which he admitted to be Avithin the right
of the people. It does not appear, however, that, at that

IMPORTANCE 01; EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC. 315
time, nor till long after, this right was understood as impos
ing any correlative duty on the prince ; consequently, such a
thing as a scheme of popular education, promoted by the
\^tate, was, at that tirae, unthought of It is not, certainly,
my intention to intimate that there was no education in
England, before the revolution of 1688, but such as was
compatible Avith the spirit and policy of a purely arbitrary
government. There was always a temperament of popular
institutions in the British monarchy, inviting and forcing the
minds of men, in various ways, to improvement and progress.
The administration of affairs had never, in practice, for any '
long period of tirae, been brought down to the platform of
Oriental despotism, to which the theory of Charles I. re
duced it.
There were always parliaments, courts of justice, and ju
ries, in the worst of times. The universities were seats of
scholastic learning, and the practice of dispensing religious
instruction frora the pulpit forced upon the church a certain
kind of popular education ; but I suppose it was obtained at
schools and colleges founded by pious and charitable indi
viduals. Nothing resulted from the theory of the govern
ment, but that the prince, and those associated with him,
needed the advantages of education, to fit thera for the ad
ministration of affairs. Accordingly, we find that, with the
popular reforms which have been raade in the government
of England, in modern times, and especially in our own day,
attention has been given, for the first time, to national educa
tion. The best efforts of the Broughams and Wyses, and
other liberal statesmen, have been strenuously made in this
cause ; and I learn, with satisfaction, frora a distinguished
gentleraan frora that country, who is now present with us,
(Mr George Combe, of Edinburgh,) that a greatly-increased
interest in the subject has marked the progress of the politi
cal reforms of a recent date, in the land of our fathers. In
like manner, in France, every thing that has been done for
popular education, by the enlightened zeal and labors of M.
Cousin, and its other distinguished friends in that country,
dates from the period of the political reforms of the govern-

316 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
ment of the country. It reflects lasting credit on the Prus
sian monarchy, that, without admitting the people to an effi
cient share in the government, it has had the wisdom and the
courage tcbestow upon them an admirable system of public
education. But on the system established in the United States, where
the people are not only in theory the source of power, but in
practice are actually called upon, constantly, to take an effi
cient part in constituting and administering the governraent,
it is plain that education is universally and indispensably ne
cessary, to enable thera to exercise their rights and perforra
their duties. This will be put beyond question by consid
ering a fcAv particulars.
I. The first duty, in a popular government, is that which
is attached to the elective franchise ; though I fear it is too
little regarded in this light. It is not merely the right, but
it is the duty, of the citizen, by the exercise of the right of
suffrage, to take a part, at periods recurring after short inter
vals, in organizing the government. This duty cannot be
discharged with rectitude, unless it be discharged with intel
ligence ; and it becomes the duty of the citizen to make up
his own mind on all the great questions which arise in adminis
tering the governraent. How numerous and important these
jquestions are, I need not say. Since you and I, Mr Presi
dent, have been of years to observe the march of affairs, the
people of the United States have been called to make
up a practical judgraent on the following, among other great
questions, — the protectiv,e policy, that is, on the legislation
necessary to introduce and establish an infant branch of man
ufactures ; a question, however easily disposed of by theorists,
on both sides, of infinite practical difficulty ; on internal im
provement, that is, the construction of public works of com
munication between the various parts of the country, at the
expense of the general government ; on the circulating
medium, and how far the currency, which is the representa
tive of value, raust have intrinsic value itself; on the differ
ent families of the human race existing in the country, and
the rights and duties which result from their relation to each

IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC. 317
Other ; on the relations of the country with foreign powers,
in reference to colonial trade, disputed boundaries, and in
demnification for wrongs and spoliations ; on the disposal of
the public domain, and its bearings on the progress of popu
lation and of republican government in the mighty Avest ; on
the nature of our political system, as consisting in the harmo
nious adjustment of the federal and state governments. I
have named only a part of the questions which, within the
last twenty years, have been, sorae of them constantly, before
the community — the turning-points of municipal, state, and
national elections. The good citizen, who is not wflling to^
be the slave of a party because he is a member of it, must
make up his mind for himself on all those great questions,^or
he cannot exercise the right of suffrage with intelligence and
independence. As the majority of the people are well or ill
informed on these subjects, the public policy of the country
will be guided by wisdom and truth, or the reverse.
I do not mean that it is necessary that every citizen should
receive an education which would enable him to argue all
these questions, at length, in a deliberative or popular assem
bly ; but, while it is his right and his duty to give effect to his
judgment at the polls, and while the constitution necessarily
gives as much weight to the vote of the uninformed and
ignorant as to that of the Avell-instructed and inteUigent cit
izen, it is plain that the avenues to information should be as
wide and numerous as possible ; and that the utmost practi
cable extension should be given to a system of education
which Avfll confer on every citizen the capacity of deriving
knoAvledge, Avith readiness and accuracy, from books and doc
uments. The whole energy of the state should be directed
to multiply the nurabers of those capable of forming an in
dependent and rational judgment of their oavu, and to dimin
ish as much as possible the numbers of the opposite class,
who, being blinded by ignorance, are at the mercy of any one
who has an interest and the skill to delude them.
II. But the exercise of the elective franchise is only the
beginning of the duties of the citizen. The constitution
niakes it the right, the laws make it the duty, of all citizens,

318 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
within certain ages, to bear arms. It raay sound strangely
to connect this duty with the subject of education. I hope
no practical demonstration of the connection of the topics
wiU ever arise among us. But this right and this duty, lightly
esteemed in quiet times, may become of fearful import.
Arms are placed in the bands of tbe citizen for the most im
portant purposes ; not for parade and holiday display, but to
defend his country against violence frora abroad ; to main
tain the supremacy of the laws ; to preserve the peace of the
community. Heaven grant that the day may be far distant
when our citizens shall be called to wield them for either
purpose. But if tbe experience of the past warrant an antici
pation of the future, the time may corae when this duty,
also, is to be performed. It wfll not then be a matter of in
difference Avhether the honor and peace of the community
ai'e committed to an ignorant and benighted multitude, like
those which swell the ranks of the mercenary standing arraies
of Europe, or to an educated and intelligent population,
Avhose powers of reflection have been strengthened by exer
cise, and who are able to discrirainate between constitutional
liberty and arbitrary power on the one hand, and anarchy on
the other.
III. There are other civil duties to be performed, for which
education furnishes a still raore direct and appropriate prepa
ration. The law of the land calls the citizen to take a part
in the administration of justice. Twelve men are placed in
the jury-box, to decide on the numberless questions which
arise in the community — questions of character, of property,
and of life. The jury pass6s on your fortune and your
reputation; pronounces whether you live or die. Go into
the courts : are they light matters which those twelve men
are to decide ? Look in tbe anxious faces of those whose
estates, whose good name, whose all, is at stake, hanging on
the intelligence of those twelve men, or any one of them.
What assurance is there, but that which comes from our
schools, that these men Avfll understand and do their duty ?
Those little boys, now sporting in the streets, or conning
their tasks in our town schools, in a few short years wiU be

IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC. 319
summoned, in their turns, to discharge this important trust.
Can we deem it a matter of indifference Avhether or not their
minds have been early accustomed to follow a train ofy
thoughts or a stateraent of facts ? Did not the secretary give
us, this morning, from his own experience, the instance of a
witness who, in a case of slander, Avhere every thing turned
on his testimony, first swore that Avhat he saw, he saAV
through one window, and then through another, and then
through a door ? Woe to the coramunity, where the degree
of stolidity and ignorance, necessary to constitute such a wit
ness, abounds ; and where it must appear, not only on the
stand, but in the jury-box. It appears to me a most impera
tive duty, on the part of a state which calls its citizens to
discharge this momentous office, to do all in its power to
qualify them for it by a general systera of education. Is it
said, there is learned counsel to argue and explain the cause
to a jury, however ignorant ? But there is counsel on both
sides ; the jury must decide after hearing thera both. But
the court will instruct the jury. No doubt, as far as the law
is concerned ; but the court's instructions are addressed to
rainds supposed to be capable of following out an argument,
estimating evidence, and raaking up an independent opinion.
I do not say, that there are not some minds to whom the
best opportunities of education would not impart the requi
site qualifications of an intelligent juror. But I may appeal
to every professional character and magistrate in this conven
tion, that, in an iraportant case, if he Avere to be called on to
select a jury on which he could place full reliance, he would
select men of good coraraon sense, who had received a good
coramon education.
IV. But I have not yet named all the civil duties for which
education is needed, as the preparatory discipline. The vari
ous official trusts in society are to be filled, from a commission
of the peace to the place of chief justice ; from a constable
up to the president of the United States. The sphere of duty
of some of these^ functionaries is narrow ; of others, large
and inexpressibly responsible ; of none, insignificant. Taken
together, they make up the administration of free govern-

320 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
ment — the greatest merely temporal interest of civilized
man. There are threfe courses, between which we must
choose. We must have officers unqualified for their duties ;
or we must educate a privfleged class, to monopolize the hon
ors and emoluments of place ; or we must establish such a
system of general education, as wfll furnish a supply of well-
informed, inteUigent, and respectable citizens, in every part
of the country and in every walk of life, capable of discharg
ing the trusts which the people may devolve upon them.
The topic is of great compass, but I cannot dwell upon it.
It is superfluous to say which of the three courses is most
congenial with the spirit of republicanism.
V. I have thus far spoken of those reasons for promoting
common school education, which spring from the nature of
our government. There are others, derived from the condi
tion of our country. Individual enterprise is every where
stimulated ; the paths of adventure are opened ; the bound
less west prevents the older settlements from being over
stocked, and gives scope for an unexampled development of
energy. Education is wanted, to enlighten and direct those
active, moving powers. Without it, much wild vigor will be
exerted in vain. Energy alone is not enough ; it must be
turned to feasible objects, and work by sound principles.
Again, this spirit of enterprise runs naturally towards the
acquisition of wealth. In this I find no matter of reproach ;
only let it not be a merely Carthaginian prosperity. Let a
taste for reading and reflection be cultivated, as well as prop
erty acquired. Let us give our chfldren the keys of knowl
edge, as well as an establishment in business. Let them, in
youth, form habits and tastes which wfll remain Avith them
in after-life, in old age, and furnish rational entertainraent at
all tiraes. When we collect the little circle, at the family
board and at the fireside, in our long winter evenings, let us
be able to talk of subjects of interest and importance, — the
productions and institutions of our own and foreign countries ;
the history of our venerated fathers ; the wpnders of the ma
terial universe ; the experience of our race ; great moral inter
ests and duties ; — subjects surely as important as dollars and

IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC. 321
cents. Let us, from early years, teach our children to rise
above the dust beneath their feet, to the consideration of the
great spiritual concerns of immortal natures. A mere book
worm is a worthless character ; but a mere money-getter is
no better.
It is a great mistake, to suppose that it is necessary to be a
professional man, in order to have leisure to indulge a taste
for reading. Far otherwise. I believe the mechanic, the
engineer, the husbandman, the trader, have quite as much
leisure as the average of men in the learned professions. I
know sorae raen, busily engaged in these different callings
of active life, whose minds are well stored with various useful
knowledge acquired frora books. There would be raore such
men, if education in our coraraon schools were, as it well
might be, of a higher order ; and if common school libraries,
well furnished, Avere introduced into every district, as I trust,
in due time, they will be. It is surprising, sir, how much may
be effected, even under the raost unfavorable circumstances,
for the improvement of the mind, by a person resolutely
bent on the acquisition of knowledge. A letter has been put
into ray hands, bearing date the sixth of September, so inter
esting- in itself, and so strongly illustrative of this point, that
I will read a portion of it ; though it was written, I am sure,
without the least view to publicity.
" I was the youngest " (says the writer,*) " of many brethren, and my
parents were poor. My means of education were limited to the advantages
of a district school ; and those, again, were circumscribed by my father's
death, which deprived me, at the age of fifteen, of tiiose scanty opportuni
ties which I had previously enjoyed. A few raonths after his decease, I
apprenticed myself to a blacksmith, in my native vUlage. Thither I carried
an indomitable taste for reading, which I had previously acquired through
the medium of the social library ; all the historical works in which I had at
that time perused. At the expiration of a little more than half my appren
ticeship, I suddenly conceived the idea of studying Latin. Through the
assistance of an elder brother, who had himself obtained a collegiate educa
tion by his own exertions, I completed my VirgU during the evenings of
one winter. After some time devoted to Cicero, and a few other Latin
authors, I commenced the Greek. At this time, it was necessary that I
* Mr EUhu Burritt.
VOL. II. 41

322 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
should devote every hour of daylight, and a part of the evening, to the duties
of my apprenticeship. Still, I carried my Greek grammar in my hat, and
often found a moment, when I was heating some large iron, when I could
place my book open before me, against the chimney of my forge, and go
through with tupto, tupteis, iuptei, unperceived by my fellow-apprentices, and,
to my confusion of face, with a detrimental effect to the charge in my fire.
At evening, I sat down, unassisted and alone, to the Iliad of Homer, twenty
books of which measured my progress in that language during the evenings
of another winter. I next tumed to the modern languages, and was much
gratified to leam, that my knowledge of the Latin furnished rae with a key
to the literature of most of the languages of Europe. This circumstance
gave a new impulse to the desire of acquainting myself with the philosophy,
derivation, and affinity, of the different European tongues. I could not be
reconcUed to limit myself, in these investigations, to a few hours, after the
arduous labors of the day. I therefore laid down my hammer, and went to
New Haven, where I recited, to native teachers, in French, Spanish, Ger
man, and Italian. I returned, at the expiration of two years, to the forge,
bringing with me such books, in those languages, as I could procure.
When I had read these books through, I commenced the Hebrew, with an
awakened desire of examining another field ; and, by assiduous application,
I was enabled in a few weeks to read this language with such facility, that
I allotted it to myself as a task, to read two chapters in the Hebrew Bible,
before breakfast, each moming; this, and an hour at noon, being all the
time that I could devote to myself during the day.
" After becoming somewhat familiar with this language, I looked around
me for the means of initiating myself into the fields of Oriental literature,
and, to my deep regret and concern, I found my progress in this direction
hedged up by the want of requisite books. I immediately began to devise
means of obviating this obstacle ; and, after many plans, I concluded to seek
a place, as a sailor, on board some ship bound to Europe, thinking in this
way to have opportunities of collecting, at different ports, such works, in
the modern and Oriental languages, as I found necessary to this object. I
left the forge and my native place, to carry this plan into execution. I
travelled on foot to Boston, a distance of more than a hundred miles, to find
some vessel bound to Europe. In this I was disappointed; and, whUe
revolving in my mind what step next to take, I accidentally heard of the
American Antiquarian Society, in Worcester. I immediately bent my steps
towards this place. I visited the hall of the American Antiquarian Society,
and found there, to my infinite gratification, such a coUection of ancient,
modem, and Oriental languages, as I never before conceived to be collected
in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine ¦with what sentiments of gratitude
I was affected, when, upon evincing a desire to examine some of these rich
and rare works, I was kindly invited to an unlimited participation in all the
benefits of this noble institution. Availing myself of the kindness of the
directors, I spend about three hours, daily, at the hall, which, with an hour
at noon, and about three in the evening, make up the portion of the day
which I appropriate to my studies, the rest being occupied in arduous man-

IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC. 323
nal labor. Through the facUities afforded by this institution, I have been
able to add so much to my previous acquaintance with the ancient, modern,
and Oriental languages, as to be able to read upwards of fifty of them,
with more or less facility."
I trust, Mr President, I shall be pardoned by the author of
this letter, and the gentleman to Avhom it is addressed,* for
the liberty Avhich I have taken, unexpected, I am sure, by
both of them, in thus making it public. It discloses a reso
lute purpose of improvement, under obstacles and difficulties
of no ordinary kind, which excites my admiration, I may
say, my veneration. It is enough to make one who has had
good opportunities for education hang his head in shame.
No leisure, Mr President, for reading ? Is there a man in
the community, of an intelligent mind, and with anj'", the
least, tincture of improvement, derived from education, who,
when coming, at nightfall, from his labor, (I care not how
hard or humble,) if told that, beneath his roof, he would find
Shakspeare, or Milton, or Scott, or Irving, or Channing,
seated in actual presence by his fireside, and waiting to con
verse with him, would talk of Avanting leisure, or of fatigue ?
Would he not bound forward to raeet them, as the panting
hart bounds to the water-brooks? Would not the stars groAV
pale in the sky before he would think of weariness ? Well,
sir, there is not an individual in the community who cannot,
for a few dollars, surround his fireside with- these and kindred
spirits, the lights and guides of humanity ; not in bodily, but in
intellectual presence. They will speak to his understanding,
not through the ear, but through the eye. They will dis
course to him, not in their every-day language, in which the
most gifted do not always greatly excel their felloAVS, but in
the choicest and purest strains to which, by study and medi
tation, and I had almost said, by inspiration, they have ele
vated their thoughts ; and this they will do, not for a hasty
moment, in a brief visit, but again and again, for days and
for years ; yea, until, by long-continued intercourse with the
* W. Lincoln, Esq., of Worcester.

324 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION IN A REPUBLIC.
noblest intellects of our race, his own becomes exalted and
purified. VI. There is one other topic to Avhich I ought to allude,
more important than all others ; but I have only time for a
single remark. Man is a religious being, and, as far as hu
man raeans and influences go, education is the natural basis
of a rational belief It is the peculiarity of Christianity, as
distinguished from other religions, that it addresses the under
standing as weU as the heart. It commands us to search the
Scriptures ; to be ready to give a reason for the hope that is
in us ; and invites us, on the Sabbath, to listen to a discourse,
that is, a connected, well-reasoned address, on its evidence,
duties, hopes, and sanctions. Can this be done, to a good
purpose, (humanly speaking,) without education? The
heathen might offer incense on the altar of Jupiter with a
vacant mind ; he might scrutinize the palpitating viscera of
animals with a grovelling spirit ; he might consult the oracle
at Delphi, and shape his conduct by the response, with a be
nighted understanding. It is but little to say that there
was nothing in his religion that invited the exercise of his
reasoning powers. We are blessed with a faith which caUs
into action the whole intellectual man ; which prescribes a
reasonable service ; challenges the investigation of its evi
dences ; and which, in the doctrine of imraortality, invests the
mind of man with a portion of the dignity of Divine Intel
ligence. In whatever other respects the advantages of edu
cation may be dispensed with, when we consider man as a
religious and immortal being, it is a shocking spectacle to see
him growing up dark and benighted, ignorant of himself, of
his duties, and of his destination.
But this subject is too vast for the occasion. I forbear to
enlarge. I trust, sir, the resolution will be adopted, and that
the people of Massachusetts, of this generation, will show by
their conduct as a powerful commonwealth, not less than as
a community of individuals, that they perceive the intimate
connection between education and the existence and prosper
ity of free institutions of government.

THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.*

Mr President :
I RISE, in obedience to your caU, to respond to the toast
which has just been proposed. I feel gratified that any lan
guage of mine has been thought appropriate to express the
feelings which I am sure are common to us all on this occa
sion, — feelings of veneration and gratitude for our " Pflgrim
Fathers." I ara sure, also, that I express the sentiraents of
every individual of this immense company, when I include
in this tribute of respect and affection those excellent, noble-
hearted Avomen, the mothers of Plymouth and Massachu
setts, who bore their full share of the hardships and afflictions
of the first settlement. The sphere of woman is domestic.
She is not commonly called to the performance of the duties
which figure on the page of history. But who can doubt
that, amidst the wants and dangers of the period we cele
brate ; under the pressure of that extremity of fortune to
which the colonists were reduced, — that grim and gaunt
Poverty which, more than once, like one of the famished
Avolves of the wflderness around them, forced its way over
the threshold of the Pilgrims ; the task which devolved upon
mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters, — the task of making
a destitute home comfortable, and a weary life tolerable, -—
the task of stflling the impatience of chfldren craving food
which could, not always be obtained for them, — the task of
ministering to the sick, and performing the last offices to the
departed, — was to the full as severe as that of the men who
bore the hardships of the field, and faced the savage foe ?
* Delivered at the public table, on the 3d September, 1839, the second
centennial anniversary of the settlement of Barnstable.
(325)

326 THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.
I feel most happy, sir, in being present at this celebration.
I cannot, for myself, it is true, lay claim to a direct relation
ship with any part of the Old Colony. My fathers, from the
first settlement of Massachusetts proper, rest beneath the soil
Avhich they tilled for several generations, in an adjoining
county. But you will not wonder, if, on this occasion, and
especially before a corapany graced by so large an attendance
of the ladies of the Old Colony, I am disposed to boast that
a portion of that pure Cape blood which mantles in so many
fair cheeks around this board flows in the veins of ray better
half at home. If I may presume to go a step further, Mr
President, and, as you have happily called this a famfly party,
be indulged in another aUusion to famfly matters, I would
add, that I have four hopeful scions, partaking of a true, hon
ored Barnstable stock, of which I hope you will not think
the worse for being ingrafted upon a sound though humble
Massachusetts trunk. I shall feel most happy, sir, — proud
as they wfll be of their Old Colony lineage, — if they shall
groAV up to the possession of the sterling virtues which have,
in all times, characterized its sons, and the maidenly charms
and matronly graces of its daughters. Sure I ara, that if, on
the great voyage of life, ray children shall take their departure
from the principles of Plymouth Rock, and steer by the good
old Cape Cod compass of industry and probity, come fair
weather or foul, they will lay a straight course, and, if I
raay, without impropriety, end the figure as I have begun,
come to an anchorage, at last, at the Cape of Good Hope in
the divine mercy.
But, sir, I did not need associations of this kind (though I
value them) to give me a deep sympathy with the feelings
awakened by this occasion. I regard all these historical
celebrations as highly interesting and important. I have
attended many of them, and always with the highest satis
faction. I love to see the talent and patriotic feeling of the
gifted of this generation eraployed, as we have seen them
to-day, like Old Mortality in the romance, in cutting broader
and deeper the inscriptions on their moss-grown raonuments.
I do not know how the faculty of looking before and after.

THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE. 327
which belongs to us as rational beings, can be better eraployed
than in calling up to grateful recollection, on appropriate oc
casions, the toils and sufferings of those to whora, as a cora
munity, we owe our existence. It is a pious office to the
past ; and who is there that can still the fond hope within
him, that, when the sun has again, for a hundred times, per
formed the mighty circuit of the heavens, and each of us in
this thronged and happy assemblage, — from that aged head
Avhose silvery honors demand our veneration, (Dr Thacher,
of Plymouth, was seated near the chair,) to the raost youth
ful of the blooming and heaven-lighted countenances before
me, — shall alike have been for years laid Ioav, like a weary
infant at even-song in its mother's lap, — our children's chil
dren, in returning to rencAV these pious rites at the close of
another century, will retrace with pleasure the record of these
proceedings, and feel grateful to us for this day's tribute to
our common ancestors ?
In the anticipation of that day, sir, and in the desire of
transmitting a slight but not unpleasing memorial of this, I
have taken steps to have a copy of the original compact,
charter, and laws of the Old Colony, recently published by
order of the legislature, together with a copy of the splendid
chart of the capacious harbor where the Mayflower first came
to anchor, lately executed by the engineers of the United
States, suitably prepared for preservation, in the hope that
they will be conteraplated with sorae interest by those who
shall be gathered on this spot at the third centennial celebra
tion. I meant to have had thera in readiness to offer to you,
sir, and, through you, to my fellow-citizens of Barnstable, at
this time ; but I have been disappointed by circumstances
beyond my control. As they will not be wanted till the
third of September, 1939, I suppose there is no great hurry.
We wfll have them ready before the end of the century.
The sentiraent, sir. to which I have been invited to respond,
associates in one retrospect the sufferings of the fathers, both
of the Old Colony and Massachusetts, — the former in the
depth of Avinter, the latter under the scorching heats of June.
All seasons, I fear, are inclement, all seas boisterous, all shores

328- THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.
inhospitable, to the affiicted and heart-stricken fugitive. It
is sad, indeed, to reflect, that, of that portion of Governor
Winthrop's party who passed the suraraer of 1630 in tents
on one of the heights of CharlestOAvn, and of the Plymouth
settlers who were wretchedly housed upon the hfll Avhich
overlooks the harbor of that place, in the dreadful winter of
1620 — 1, the larger half, in the course of the first six months,
sank beneath their sufferings. It would be out of place to
dilate, on this occasion, upon the hardships of the founders
of Massachusetts ; but I think it can be truly said, that, from
the twelfth of July, 1620, when the first settlers of^the Old
Colony passed the night in tears and in prayer at Delft Ha
ven, with Mr Robinson and the brethren who were to remain
at Leyden, down to the ripening of the first crop in 1631,
they endured as great an amount of suffering, bodily and
mental, as was ever borne, in an equal space of time, by the
same number of men, women, and children.
I speak not now of the hardships previously endured in
the persecution, which drove them from their native land,
but of the sufferings of the emigrants. In fact, sir, though
we live upon the soil where our fathers landed ; though we
can trace them, as it were^ every mfle of the way along the
shore'; though we can look out upon the waves which bore
the Mayflower to these uttermost ends of the earth, (as they
were then regarded,) we see not, Ave know not, we compre
hend not, the dreary land and the pathless sea, whose united
perfls struck terror into their hearts. Do you think, sir, as
we repose beneath this splendid pavflion, adorned by the
hand of taste, blooming with festive garlands, wreathed with
the stars and stripes of this great republic, resounding with
strains of heart-stirring music, that, raerely because it stands
upon the sofl of Barnstable, we forra any idea of the spot as
it appeared to Captain Miles Standish and his companions, on
the fifteenth or sixteenth of November, 1620 ? O, no, sir.
To do that we must go up, in imagination, to yonder hifl,
which overlooks the vfllage and the bay, and suppose our
selves standing there, on some bleak, ungenial morning, in
the middle of November of that year. The coast is fringed

THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE. 329
with ice. Dreary forests, interspersed with sandy tracts, fill
the background. Nothing of humanity quickens on the spot,
save a few roaming savages, who, ill-provided with what even
they deem the necessaries of life, are digging with their fin
gers a scanty repast out of the frozen sands. No friendly
lighthouses had, as yet, hung up their cressets upon your
headlands ; no brave pilot-boat was hovering like a sea-bird
on the tops of the waves, beyond the Cape, to guide the
shattered bark to its harbor ; no charts and soundings made
the secret pathways of the deep as plain as a gravelled road
through a laAvn ; no comfortable dwellings along the line of
the shore, and in your well-inhabited streets, spoke a wel
come to the pilgrim ; no steeple poured the music of Sabbath
morn into the ear of the fugitive for conscience's sake.
Primeval wildness and native desolation brooded over sea
and land ; and, from the ninth of November, when, after an
uncomfortable voyage, the Mayflower first came to anchor in
Provincetowu harbor, to the end of December, the entire
male portion of the company Avas occupied, for the greater
part of every day, and often by night as Avell as day, in ex
ploring the coast, and seeking a place of rest, amidst perils
from the savages, frora the unknown shore, and the eleraents,
which it raakes one's heart bleed to think upon.
But this dreary waste, which we thus conteraplate in iraa-
gination, and which they traversed in sad reality, is a chosen
land. It is a theatre upon which an all-glorious draraa is to
be enacted. On this frozen soil, — driven from the ivy-
grown churches of their raother land, — escaped from those
loathsome prisons Avhich were so touchingly described by
the eloquent orator of the day, — the meek fathers of a pure
church will lay the spiritual baseraents of their temple. Here,
on the everlasting rock of liberty, they will establish the
foundation of a free state. Beneath this ungenial, wintry
sky, principles of social right, institutions of civfl govern
ment, shall germinate, in which, what seeraed the Utopian
drearas of visionary sages are to be more than realized.
But let us contemplate, for a moraent, the instruments se
lected by Providence for this political and moral creation.
VOL. II. 42

330 THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.
However unpromising the field of action, the agents must
correspond with the excellence of the work. The time is
truly auspicious. England is Avell supplied with all the mate
rials of a generous enterprise. She is in the full affluence
of her wealth of intellect and character. The age of Eliza
beth has passed, and has garnered up its treasures. The age
of the commonwealth, sflent and unsuspected, is ripening
towards its harvest of great men. The Burleighs and Cecfls
have sounded the depths of statesmanship ; the Drakes and
Raleighs have run the whole round of chivalry and adven
ture ; the Cokes and Bacons are spreading the light of their
master minds through the entire universe of philosophy and
law. Out of a generation, of which men like these are the
guides and lights, it cannot be difficult to select the leaders
of any lofty undertaking ; and through their influence, to
secure to it the protection of royalty. But, alas for New Eng
land, — no, sir, happily for New England, -.— Providence Avorks
not with human instruments. Not many Avise men after the
flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called. The
stars of human greatness, that glitter in a court, are not des
tined to rise on the lowering horizon of the despised colony.
The feeble company of Pflgrims is not to be marshaU ed by
gartered statesmen nor mitred prelates. Fleets will not be
despatched to convoy the little band, nor armies to protect it.
Had there been honors to be worn, or pleasures to be enjoyed,
or plunder to be grasped, hungry courtiers, midsummer
friends, godless adventurers, would have eaten out the heart
of the enterprise. Silken Buckinghams and Somersets woifld
have blasted it with their patronage. But safe amidst their
unenvied perfls, strong in their inoffensive weakness, rich in
their untempting poverty, the patient fugitives are permitted
to pursue unmolested the thorny paths of tribulation ; and
landed at last on the unfriendly shore, the hosts of God, in
the frozen mafl of December, encamp around the dwellings
of the just : "Stern famine guards the solitary coast.
And winter barricades the realms of frost"

THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE. 331
While Bacon is attuning the sweetest strains of his honeyed
eloquence, to soothe the dull ear of a crowned pedant, and
his great rival, only less obsequious, is on his knees to depre
cate the royal displeasure, the future founders of the new
republic beyond the sea, are training up for their illustrious
mission, in obscurity, hardship, and weary exile.
And now, — for the fulness of time is come, — let us go
up once raore in imagination to yonder hfll, and look out
upon the November scene. That single dark speck, just
discernible through the perspective glass, on the waste of
Avaters, is the fated vessel. The storra moans through her
tattered canvas, as she creeps, almost sinking, to her anchorage
in Provincetowu harbor; and there she lies, with all her
treasures, not of silver and gold, (for of these she has none,)
but of courage, of patience, of zeal, of high spiritual daring.
So often as I dwell in imagination on this scene ; when I
consider the condition of the Mayflower, utterly incapable as
she was of living through another gale ; when I survey the
terrible front presented by our coast to the navigator, who,
unacquainted with its channels and roadsteads, should ap
proach it, in the stormy season, — I dare not call it a mere piece
of good fortune, that the general north and south wall of the
shore of New England should be broken by this extraordinary
projection of the Cape, running out into the ocean a hundred
mfles, as if on purpose to receive and encircle the precious
vessel. As I now see her, freighted with the destinies of a
continent, barely escaped from the perils of the deep, ap
proaching the shore precisely Avhere the broad sweep of this
most remarkable headland presents alraost the only point at
which, for hundreds of miles, she could with any ease have
made a harbor, and this perhaps the very best on the sea
board, I feel my spirit raised above the sphere of mere natu
ral agencies. I see the mountains of New England rising
from their rocky thrones. They rush forward into the ocean,
settling down as they advance ; and there they range thera
selves, a mighty bulwark around the heaven-directed vessel.
Yes, the everlasting God himself stretches out the arm of his
mercy and his power in substantial manifestation, and gathers

332 THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.
the meek company of his worshippers as in the hollow of his
hand. Within tha:t poor tempest-tost vessel there lay, on the
eleventh of November, 1620, a raoral treasure, of value wholly
inappreciable ; — faintly conceived of even now by us, its
immediate inheritors, after two hundred years' possession; —
principles of social and moral growth and iraprovement,
which, for ages to come, will not be developed in all their
virtue' and efficacy. There lay, scarcely organized, the ele
ments of a pure democracy. On that day, the first written
cohstitution of popular government was draAvn up and signed,
by the people assembled in convention for that purpose.
Cycles of human history raay pass, before events of equal
importance to humanity shall recur. And what a disaster to
the general cause of freedom and truth, had this vessel and
all she contained been lost ! Embattled navies might con
tend and go doAvn. Foundered galleons raight pave the green
fioors of the ocean with ingots of silver and gold, and the
next generation be neither the poorer nor the weaker for the
loss. But if this weather-beaten Mayflower and her company
had sunk beneath the waves, which so often seemed opening
to ingulf her, (decisive as the event would probably have
been, for an indefinite period, of all further attempts to colo
nize America,) there would have been inflicted a wound which
might never have been healed, on the great cause of civil and
religious freedom.
I meant, sir, to have said a few words on the principles and
institutions of the fathers of the Old Colony, as the direct
sources of those blessings which we have inherited from
thera. I raeant to have spoken briefly of the two great pil
lars on which they rested the teraple of liberty, — freedom
in the churches, as opposed to the domination of a hierarchy,
and freedom in the state, founded on the absence of all he
reditary privileges, on a recurrence to the popular will by fre
quent elections, and on a system of public education in free
schools. This last object early received the attention of the
governraent of Plyraouth Colony. Besides requiring the
towns to support schools, the proceeds of the public fisheries

THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE. 333
were appropriated to their encouragement. But I leave these
fruitful topics to gentlemen around me, who are abundantly
able to do them justice. There is one point, only, which can
never be wholly overlooked, in speaking of the Pilgrims : I
mean their faults. They were men, and, of course, had
faults, upon which those who like the occupation may des-
,cant. I do not, and I am sure there is no one here who
does. This counsel only I would give to any who takes in
hand to rebuke the errors of the fathers of Plymouth or
Massachusetts, — to settle with himself, at the outset, con
sidering what human nature at the best is, whether precisely
the kind of virtues, the unyielding, dauntless, all-enduring,
all-daring spirit, necess£u:y to accomplish the great Avork of
founding a new state under every imaginable discouragement,
could have subsisted, without something of that austerity
and sternness of which it must be admitted there are lament
able meraorials in the Pilgrim annals.
Besides, sir, our poor fathers were pestered with troubles,
and had to provide against evfls, of which, in these latter
days, we know nothing. It seems that it was thought ne
cessary, in the early legislation of the colony, to enact that
" no man shall strike his wife, nor any woraan her husband,
on penalty of such fine, not exceeding ten pounds for one
offence, or such suitable corporal punishraent, as the court
may direct." I see, by the smfling faces of both sexes
around me, that there is no occasion, at the present day, in
the Old Colony, for any such legislation as this ; that, law or
no law, that man is held to be a villain, on Cape Cod, who
raises his hand toward a woman except in kindness; and
that, in return, no man is in danger of being smitten by the
gentler sex with any other weapon than the bright glance
which heals whfle it wounds. Again, the learned and eloquent
orator of the day has reminded us that it was deemed neces
sary to provide, among the first acts of legislation in the Old
Colony, that, " if, now or hereafter, any were elected to the
office of governor, and would not stand to the election, nor
hold and execute the office for his year, that then he should
be amerced in twenty pound sterling fine." All trouble upon

334 THE SETTLEMENT OF BARNSTABLE.
this score, I believe, has disappeared, at least since the happy
period when the Old Colony was united with Massachusetts.
But I cannot answer for it, Mr President, that this will always
be the case if things continue to be managed as they have
been to-day. I must candidly tell you, that, when I found
myself moving along to this pavflion, in solitary grandeur,
excluded from that part of the procession which was honored,
by the presence of the ladies, and when I perceived that my
position here, on this elevated platform, was to be one of like
privation, (to say nothing of the natural misgiving which
may well come over one who finds himself directly in front
of his honor, the chief justice, and the sheriff,) — I say, sir,
when I found that these were the consequences of official
dignity, I had some thoughts of taking advantage of the Old
Colony law, and paying ray fine.
A single sentence more, sk, and in the serious strain which
perhaps better becomes the occasion. In all that concerns
the history and character of the Old Colony, the people of
Barnstable have a peculiar interest. Your shore was pressed
by the feet of the Pflgrims before they rested on Plymouth
Rock. When the good seed raised around that chosen spot
began to be cast abroad, one of the first handfuls fell on
your genial soil ; and, from that tirae to this, through tAvo
centuries of humble beginnings and rich fruits, of trial and
hardship, of success and glory, you have grown up a living,
leading, integral part of that illustrious " Old Colony " with
whose annals commences, if I may so express myself, the
New Testament of Araerican liberty.
With your permission I would say, in taking my seat, —
The Cape : — God bless her. The sons and daughters
of Barnstable are among the fairest jewels in her crown of
honor : wherever dispersed, there is not one of them who
will not exclaim, —
" Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see.
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee."

NORMAL schools:

We are assembled to take a suitable public notice of the
opening of an institution in this place, destined, as we hope,
to exercise a salutary influence on the cause of coraraon
school education. The visitors of the institution have
thought it expedient that a public explanation should be
made, at this tirae, of its nature and objects, and- of the hopes
and expectations with which it is founded ; and they have
requested rae, on their behalf, to appear before you for this
purpose. I have coraplied with their request cheerfully. My
official connection with the Board of Education, which,
under the authority of the legislature, has established the
school, and the deep personal interest I take in the result of
this experiment for the improvement of popular education in
the comraonwealth, (convinced as I ara that the time has
come when it is incumbent on the people of Massachusetts
to do more than has yet been done for the iraproveraent of
their coraraon schools,) are the raotives which have led me,
at considerable personal inconvenience, to undertake the duty
which has been assigned to me on this occasion.
The institution which is now opened in this pleasant and
prosperous village, is devoted to the education of teachers of
coraraon schools, and is called a normal school. The name
normal is derived frora a Latin word, which signifies a rule,
standard, or law. Schools of this character were called nor
mal schools, on their establishment in France, either because

• An Address delivered at the opening of the Normal School at Barre,
Sth September, 1839 ; now first published. (335)

336 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
they were desi*;;ned to serve in themselves as the model or
rule by which other schools should be organized and instruct
ed, or because their object was to teach the rules and methods
of instructing and governing a school. This name has been
adopted to designate the schools for teachers established
in Massachusetts, because it is already in use to denote
simflar institutions in Europe ; because it applies exclusively
to schools of this kind, and prevents their being confounded
with any others ; and because it is short, and of convenient
use. It has been already adopted in England and in our
sister states, in writing and speaking of institutions for the
education of teachers.
Schools of this kind are of comparatively recent date. In
1748, a private school for teachers Avas established by the
Rev. John Julius Hecker, a minister of the gospel at Berlin,
and chief counsellor of the consistory of that place. A doc
ument cited by M. Cousin, in his celebrated report on the
subject of public instruction in Prussia, speaks of Hecker as
" the first individual who undertook to train young men for
the art of teaching."* This little institution was founded at
a very critical period in the history of Prussia, and even of
Europe ; in fact, it was an era of mighty raoveraent
throughout the Avorld. Frederic IL, commonly, and by a
somewhat questionable title, called the Great, was projecting
the plans of aggrandizement by which he aimed to raise
Prussia, before his tirae a secondary state, to the rank of a
leading power in Europe. It would have been happy for his
subjects and raankind if aU his measures had been as wise or
as innocent as those which he adopted for the iraprovement
of education. He seeras early to have coraprehended the
importance of the systematic education of teachers ; and in
* Most of the historical detaUs here given are taken from the document
alluded to in the text, viz., a report of Rev. Dr Striez, director of the pri
mary normal school of Potsdam. Dr Striez's report will be found in M.
Cousin's celebrated Rapport sur F itat de Pinstrudion publique dans quelques
pays de VAUcmagne tt particudihrermnt en Pnisse, II. Partie, p. 185. Profes
sor Stowe, in his valuable essay on Normal Schools, ascribes their
first establishment to Francke, the founder of the Orphan House at Halle,
in 1704. See Biblical Repository for July, 1839, p. 90.

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 337
the year 1754, the private school, established under the aus
pices of Mr Hecker, was raised to the rank of a royal primary
school for the education of schoolmasters and parish clerks.
It was directed, by a royal ordinance of that year, that all
schoolmasters and parish clerks, whose places were in the
gift of the crown, should be appointed from this institution.
It is probable that at the sarae time funds were appropriated
by the government for its support.
Scarcely, however, was this beginning made in the sys
tematic education of teachers, when the dreadful Seven
Years' war carae on ; a war which spread from our western
wflderness, where it broke out, to the bounds of the civilized
world, and the remotest European settlements in India.
Frederic was the hero of this war on the continent of Europe.
He conducted it with a perseverance, skill, and resolution
which astonished mankind, and came out of it with an ex
hausted treasury, shattered health, and a wasted kingdom.
The normal school at Berlin, in common with all the other
institutions of the country, languished under the pressure of
the times. It remained, with the exception of a few incon
siderable establishments of the same character in the city of
Berlin, the only institution for the education of teachers, and
was, of course, wholly inadequate to the Avants of the king
dom. In 1770, a fund of four thousand dollars annually Avas
appropriated by Frederic for the general improvement of the
Prussian schools, and it was expended in raising the salaries
of teachers. A considerable irapulse was given to the cause
of education by this endowraent ; but I do not find any fur
ther notice of the progress of normal schools during the resi
due of his reign.
Shortly after his death, the P^rench revolution began ; and
in the disastrous wars and convulsions to which it gave rise,
the various states of Germany, and none more so than Prus
sia, were trampled to the dust. The effects were felt in all
their institutions ; but, as often happens in human affairs, the
moraent of extremest depression is the moment of commen
cing regeneration. The Prussian monarchy, broken by the
fatal battle of Jena, in 1806, seemed on the verge of dissolu-
voL. II. 43

338 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
tion, and to owe a precarious existence to the clemency of
Napoleon. At this gloomy period, it occurred to some noble
minds to attempt the restoration of affairs by a strong appeal
to the popular mind, and by awakening a powerful sentiment
of patriotism. Every thing was resorted to which could
promote this end. The clergy were appealed to ; the high
schools and universities were agitated ; a secret association,
under the name of the Union of Virtue, (Tugendbund,) was
formed throughout the country ; the ancient German costume
was revived; a jealousy of foreigners inculcated; and, as
an iraportant instruraent towards the end in view, the atten
tion of the government Avas in 1809 again particularly turned
to the subject of the education of teachers. In 1810, the
normal school at Berlin was reorganized ; but before the result
could be seen, the great and final struggle of the northern
powers of Europe with Napoleon took place. The conflict
was for the independence or subjection, the life or death, of
nations. The entire population rose as a raan at the call of
the governments ; the universities *nd academies sent their
young men, scarce able to bear the weight of a musket, to
the war ; and it terminated in the overthrow of the invader.
Frora that raoraent, every thing in Germany seemed
animated with new life. Prussia, in particular, with the es
tablishment of a general peace, bent all the power of the
monarchy upon national education, as the great safeguard of
national independence. The normal school of Berlin was
transferred to Potsdam, as a situation more retired and
favorable for its objects. Simflar schools were proposed
throughout the kingdom, and in other parts of Germany ;
and in the year 1819, the subject of education was referred
to a separate department of the government, under a minister
of state exclusively devoted to its administration. The pres
ent organization of the Prussian system of education dates
from this period, and by the provisions of an ordinance of the
governraent of the same year, a royal normal school is
established in each of the ten provinces of the kingdom, as
an essential part of the system. From these seminaries, with
the aid derived from various local establishments of the same

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 339
character, teachers thoroughly trained in the art of instruc
tion are furnished for all the public schools of Prussia. The
same process has been going on contemporaneously in Sax
ony, in Bavaria, in Wirtemberg, in Baden, and other German
states. The example early spread to France, and more
recently to Holland. One or two institutions of a private
character have, it is believed, been established in England
for the formation of teachers ; and it has been proposed at
the present session of parliament, by a committee of the privy
council of the realm, to found a central normal school in the
city of London.*
The attention of the friends of education in several of the
states of the Union has for some time been turned to this
subject. In New York, some provision has been made by
the legislature for training teachers at the incorporated acad
emies of the state. In some of our own respectable acad
emies, the qualifying of teachers of both sexes has been par
ticularly attended to, and these establishments, in point of fact,
have served as the nurseries from which many of our schools
have been furnished with instructors. In addition to Avhat
has been done in this way, an institution, amply endowed by
private liberality, has existed for some time at Andover, ex
pressly devoted to the education of instructors. Many re
spectable teachers have, it is believed, been formed at this
school. The subject of special provision by public authority for
the education of teachers has at many different times, within
the last few years, been considered by the committees of
education of the two branches of the legislature. Their
establishment has been strongly urged in the reports which,
from time to time, have emanated frora this source. Araong
those who have recomraended such a provision Avith the
greatest zeal and intelligence, it would be unjust not to raen-
tion the narae of a citizen of this county, (Mr Carter, of

* Since the delivery of this address, this and other similar projects have
gone into highly successful operation in England, under the auspices of
the committee of the pri-vy council for education

340 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
Lancaster,) who, both in a separate publication and in official
reports as a member of both branches of the legislature, has
rendered distinguished service in this way.
In the first report of the Board of Education, at the begin
ning of the year 1838, the attention of the legislature was
invited to this subject. In the course of the ensuing session,
the secretary of the board Avas authorized by a friend of edu
cation, whose name was not communicated to the public,* to
inform the legislature that ten thousand dollars would be
furnished by him whenever the same sum should be appro
priated from the public treasury, to be expended under the
direction of the Board of Education in qualifying teachers
for the coraraon schools of Massachusetts. This offer was
promptly accepted by the legislature, and the requisite
appropriation made.
The steps taken by the Board of Education, in discharge
of the important trust thus devolved upon them, are minutely
set forth in their second annual report, which was made to
the legislature at the commencement of the last session. It
wfll be sufficient to observe, on the present occasion, that
after deliberate and anxious reflection, and a careful compar
ison of the claims of various places proposed, in different
parts of the commonwealth, Lexington, in Middlesex county,
and Barre, in Worcester county, have been selected as the
sites of two of the normal schools. A confident expectation
is entertained that a third iiiay shortly be established in some
other part of the state.-f
These institutions are, of course, to sorae extent experi
mental. They are so of necessity. The funds provided for
their support, with all the subsidiary aid which can reason
ably be expected frora the friends of education in the neigh
borhood of the schools, although highly creditable to the
generous spirit by which they are furnished, are quite
inadequate to the endowment of permanent establishments.
* The late Hon. Edmund Dwight
-f Since this address was delivered, a third normal school has been
founded at Bridgewater, and those at Lexington and Barre have been trans
ferred to Newton and Westfield.

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 341
For reasons set forth in the report to which I have alluded,
it was thought proper not to stake the result of the whole
trial on one school ; but to afford to different parts of the
comraonwealth an opportunity of judging for themselves.
It was further considered that three years is the shortest
period which would authorize any safe conclusion as to the
operation of the system. It will readfly be perceived that
when the funds to be disposed of are divided araong three
schools, and distributed over three years, it becoraes neces
sary to adopt the raost frugal scale of expenditure not incon
sistent with the object to be attained. Our situation in this
respect is widely different frora that of foreign countries,
where araple funds for objects of this kind are appropriated
by wealthy governraents ; where buildings, apparatus, libra
ries, and the raaintenance of pupils, are provided for by per
manent dotations ; and as many instructors are supported as
are deemed necessary for the fullest development of the
system. The narrowness of the means from which the experiment of
our normal schools is undertaken may (though we trust it will
not) defeat its success. We hope that so rauc,h good will man
ifestly be done within the range of our resources, that the legis
lature Avill be disposed, and private benefactors encouraged, to
convert our temporary normal schools into permanent founda
tions for the qualification of teachers. Still, however, we
trust, in justice to all concerned, that it will be borne in mind,
that this experiment is conducted under considerable disadvan
tages, independent of the difficulties incident to the organiza
tion of every ucav institution. This consideration, we trust,
will secure us the sympathy and cooperation of the corarau
nity in which the schools are established, and of the public
at large. It is always of great iraportance to a youthful
institution, that it should be kindly regarded in the place
where it is established. We trust that the respected principal
of this school, and all who raay have a joint care with him
in conducting it, aud all who resort to it to qualify them
selves as teachers, will enjoy the good will, and be favored
with the countenance and kind offices, of the reverend clergy

342 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
of all denominations, of the individuals of lead and influence
in the other professions, and of the citizens generally in this
part of the coramonwealth. While no pains Avill be spared
to make the school creditable to the community in which
it is placed, nothing will do more to proraote its prosperity
than the friendly regard of an enlightened public.
This occasion requires a few remarks on the character and
objects of normal schools, and the importance of a systematic
education of teachers. Much has been said and written of
late on this subject. Not to mention foreign publications, it
is discussed at length in the legislative reports to which I
have alluded, and a very valuable essay by Professor Stowe,
on Normal Schools and Teachers' Seminaries, has recently
been given to the public. The necessary liraits of an address
of this kind will require my remarks to be of a very general
character. The office of the teacher, in forming the minds and hearts
of the young, and training up those who are to take our places
in life, is all-important. After all that has been said, in all
ages, on the subject, raore than justice has not been, and never
can be, done to the theme. With no small part of the chfl
dren in the community, the intercourse of the teacher with
the young is scarcely inferior, in closeness and the length of
time for which it is kept up, to that of the parents ; — not at
all inferior, in the importance of the objects to be attained by
it. As soon as the child is old enough to be sent to school,
the teacher is relied upon to furnish occupation for the open
ing faculties of the mind, to direct its efforts in the acquisi
tion of the elements of knowledge, and to suggest the first
distinct ideas on some of the most iraportant questions in
conduct and morals. The child is committed to the teacher's
hands in the very raorning of life, when the character, still
more than the young limbs, is, so to say, still in the gristle.
They have, both limbs and character, acquired some of their
proper consistency and power of resistance ; but to how much
of the intellectual and moral frame are not the first impress and
shaping to be given at school ? Is this a light matter ? If
the teacher was to fashion your chfld's personal proportions,

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 343
or to remould his features, with what jealousy would you
inquire after his qualification for that task ! Is it of less im
portance how he fashions and moulds the features of the
mind ? Is it of small account, whether your chfld's germi
nating faculties — to use a proverbial expression, to which no
rhetoric can add force — shall be " nipped in the bud," a bud
in which seeds of immortal life and heavenly intelligence
have been curiously wrapped by the Creator ? The hushand-
raan can tell us if it is a raatter of little or no consequence
Avhether you eraploy a skilful or an unskilful person to raise a
crop of corn, the growth of a few months, under a simple
process of culture. And yet so much depends on proper
management, that from the same seed you may see, in one
field, the corn towering up, vigorous, swelling with life and
strength, its broad, healthy leaves crackling till the farmer
thinks he can both hear it and see it grow, the graceful tassel
dancing on the summit of the stalk, and dropping its fertiliz
ing powder on the silken fflaments, which force their way
from the top of the husk to receive the vital principle, and
convey it to the ripening ear ; and perhaps on the other side
of the way, in a corner of the sluggard's garden, struggling
with rank weeds for the joint possession of the unenriched
soil, you will see, from the same seed, a scanty, blighted,
sickly crop, yellow as saffron when it ought to be green, and
black when it ought to be yellow, and scarce promising a few
meg.gre stalks for the barn-yard. Whenever I witness such a
contrast in the natural world, I ask myself, with trembling,
whether the mind is a principle so much less delicate than a
blade of grass, — whether the proper care and culture of the
intellect, the raising up and the training up of that unspeak
able mystery on earth, a thinking, reasoning, discoursing,
iraraortal creature, — are so inferior in iraportance, in difficulty,
and in the amount of the consequences involved, that while
we would trust the tillage of our field, the sowing of our
corn, and the gathering of the harvest, only to an expert and
a judicious hand, any one may be trusted to keep our schools
and cultivate the minds of our children ?
These inquiries scarcely need an answer. Every man'?

344 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
reflection who is able to reason on the subject, — every one's
observation Avho has turned his attention to it, — every one's
experience who has had children of his own confided to a
succession of teachers, and still more, who, at any time, has
himself been engaged in the business of instruction, will sat
isfy hira that the teacher's duty is important, complicated, and
arduous. It is not a mere piece of job-work, to which any
one may turn his hand, but a professional calling, which re
quires knowledge, judgment, and experience.
There is scarce such a thing conceivable, as even a solitary
act, consisting of several parts or movements, which does not
admit of every degree of excellence in the manner and suc
cess of the performance. See two raen handle an axe, in
cutting down a tree, one a raw hand, the other a practiced
woodraan. Look at two persons on horseback, of equal
courage and strength, the one for the first tirae in his life in
the saddle, the other an expert rider. One seems to realize
the fable of the Centaur, as if he were himself a part of the
animal on which he is moving ; the other can scarce keep
his seat. Let an inexperienced person go to work with a
handsaw or a paint brush ; or undertake to conduct a piece
of cloth through a power-loom, or to cover a whip-handle
with its mysterious network ; and he will be very sure, for
several times, to fail. I think there are few persons in this
assembly, except those who may have had considerable prac
tice, who can drive a nail straight into a board, without strik
ing their fingers with the hammer. In fact, " to hit a nail
on the head," simple as the operation seems, is in reality one
of so much nicety, that it has become a proverbial expression
for dexterity and skill.
We might cast our eyes over the entire circle of human
pursuit, and find new illustrations of the necessity of diligent
preparation for every calling ; and no one can seriously sup
pose that the office of an instructer makes an exception. But
inasmuch as institutions for the #ducation of teachers are as
yet hardly known by. name araong us, it is a natural question
how teachers in our country have hitherto been able to pre
pare themselves for the discharge of their duties. May not

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 345
the means which have hitherto proved adequate for the supply
of our schools with competent instructers, still suffice for that
purpose ? The question is a fair one, and deserves a candid
answer. Whoever thinks that Ave are favored with an ample supply
of teachers, as well qualified as can be wished, needs no fur
ther answer. Whoever considers that of the teachers in
times past and at the present day in our schools, there are
those possessing all degrees of qualification, from very high
to very low, it will seem a pertinent inquiry, Avhat their
means of preparation have beeu : and such an inquirer Avill
probably be of opinion that we need a more systematic and
efficient preparation for this purpose.
We must assume, then, first, that natural aptitude goes
very far, on the plan hitherto pursued, in deciding the quali
fication of the teacher. This, under all circumstances, will
be an important element. One man will be a better teacher,
with little or no training or experience, than some others, who
pass their lives in the business. This, however, is equally the
case in every pursuit or calling, — in law, physic, and divinity,
in trade, manufactures, and farming, — and is never thought
to supersede the necessity of education. Sorae reraain ineffi
cient and incapable after every iraaginable advantage ; others,
with slender opportunities, bound, as it were, at a single leap,
to the front rank. I have seen a, person, who, from his in
fancy, never knew a want ; whb passed from the arms of a
careful nurse into the care of the best of teachers ; who en
joyed, frora the first, every conceivable aid and encourage-
raent, (except the most efficient of all, the spur of necessi
ty,) the best of masters, the best of books in abundance, and
steady schooling, and, at the close bf his school education,
grossly ignorant in every branch of knowledge ; while an
other, of the same age, educated under the stern discipline
of necessity, with limited means, the ordinary chance of in
structers, the old books which his father wore out before him,
and attendance at school far from steady, has advanced from
one branch to another, raastering each as he goes, with a keen
relish for learning, and an ever-craving appetite for new
VOL. n. 44

346 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
truth. Whatever may be the calling of these two men, one
is destined to eminence, the other to failure. Should cir
cumstances call them to fhe instructor's desk, it is quite evi
dent that he who has learned little will have still less to teach,
while the other will be very likely to exhibit the sarae facility
in the communication as in the acquisition of knowledge.
In the next place, the teacher's fitness, at the present day,
depends very much on the kind of instruction which he re
ceived himself whfle at school. If he was so fortunate as to
be taught by a sound, accurate, and judicious instructer, he
will be not unlikely to exhibit that character himself. A
good degree of the school-keeping capacity, and I raay say,
also, incapacity, are traceable to this source. Our schools
are under a kind of traditionary discipline. To a consider
able extent they are kept by young men and women, who
make a pretty rapid transition from the pupil's bench to the
master's and mistress's chair. Unless they possess strong,
original minds, — which are not very common, — there is not
much likelihood that they wfll rise above the standard of the
schools where they were themselves taught. If these were
A-ery good, they will be more apt to fall below it. Mediocrity
is much more apt to be propagated than excellence. If a
teacher of average capacity keep the school for a foAV years,
he will not be likely to make any improvements, and will do
very well if he hands it over to his successor as good as he
found it. When this state of things prevails in a community
for a long course of years, we behold the painful spectacle
of schools in the rear of every thing else. There is progress
in every thing else, but the schools are stationary, and even
degenerating. I have heard judicious observers express the
doubt, whether the average of our district schools, at the
present day, are better than they Avere thirty years ago. If
the reraark is just, it is a state of things not very creditable
to the commonwealth. To keep pace with the general prog
ress of improvement, they ought to be much better. We
should be ashamed to be quoted hereafter, as a proof that
there is a law in the inteUectual and moral, like that which
has been observed in the natural world, with respect to many

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 347
of the products of the earth — that the fruit which is borne
on the graft runs out with the original stock. Good hus
bandry requires that attention should be constantly given to
the discovery of improved methods, and the introduction of
new varieties raised from the seed. Tradition is closely allied
to degeneracy.
Where the teacher engages in his pursuit for life, a new
source of qualification presents itself of great value ; I raean
experience. He qualifies hiraself But such teachers are not
found, I presume, in many of our common schools. They
rise to higher stations. Besides this, it may happen, when
Experience is the teacher, as with teachers of other kinds, the
pupil is by no means sure to excel his raaster. Self-instruc
tion is not always improving. It depends on the character
of a man's mind, how much advantage he derives from expe
rience. The experience of one man is clear and decisive.
He coramits an error, perceives it, and henceforward avoids it.
He is struck with the advantage of some procedure or method,
traces that advantage to its principle, builds a rule upon it,
and enlarges or amends his practice to the end of life. The
experience of other men yields them no« such fruit. It is
vague and irresolute. They live and act, but have no expe
rience, properly so called. Proceeding Avithout steady prin
ciples of conduct, without the intelligence or the moral apti
tude to profit by their mistakes, the working of one day
counteracts that of another. It is only where order, the first
law of earth, as Avell as Heaven, presides, that day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth forth knowl
edge. Without this guide of conduct, experience may per
plex instead of directing. The mistake of to-day produces
the mistake of to-morrow; and life is exhausted in half-
finished experiments and constantly-repeated blunders, so that
whether a man's experience profit him depends upon whether
it is good experience, which may be either successful expe
rience, or unsuccessful experience wisely heeded ; and it may
often happen that the recorded experience of another more
judicious mind wfll in reality guide a man better than his
own.

348 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
The recorded experience of others, then, — that is, books, —
is another raeans by which the teacher at present qualifies
hiraself for his calling. Unquestionably, the conscientious
instructer may derive the greatest advantages from the careful
study of judicious publications on the subject of his pursuit.
The number of these is greatly multiplied of late years. It
is a branch of literature comparatively of recent growth ; and
without doing injustice to the works of the patriarchs in this
science, of Plato and of Cicero, to the writings of Ascham, of
Milton, of Locke, I am inclined to think that, for practical
views, what has been written within the last fifty years
exceeds, both in araount and value, all that had before been
given to the world on the subject of education. As far as
my acquaintance Avith the subject extends, the works of Miss
Edgeworth are entitled to the credit of having first promul
gated, in the English language at least, sound and judicious
views as to the whole business of education. A person
thoroughly possessed of every thing in her works, would
have but little to learn, as to general principles, (with one
exception,) from other sources. There are, however, many
things, of course, in her publications, not applicable to the
condition of things in this country ; and on one all-important
topic, the subject of religious instruction, there is a deeply to
be lamented deficiency. For the practical purposes of the
American teacher, some good works have appeared in our
own country, of which that of Mr Jacob Abbott appears to
me decidedly the best. No person can peruse it without
gaining new conceptions of the importance of the teacher's
duty, and practical hints as to the best method of discharging
it. Whether a perusal of it will not, in most cases, leave on
the reader's raind a painful impression as to the imperfection
of our schools, in condition and management, is a question
which each must answer for himself
From the various useful works on the business of instruc
tion, the faithful teacher will, under all circumstances, derive
great benefit. But neither in this nor any other calling, will
the solitary study of books effect all that is to be desired, to
say nothing of the objection to this and all the other sources

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 349
of self-instruction, which arises frora the condition of the
schools, whfle the master is endeavoring to improve himself.
Those of our children may do well who have the advantage
of his teaching, after he has qualified himself by experience
in office and the study of good books ; but what is to become
of those who are to get their education whfle this process is
going on, and before it has proceeded to any valuable extent ?
As a general reraark, perhaps it would not be unjust to say,
that most of our teachers retire frora that pursuit about the
tirae they becorae well qualified to carry it on to the greatest
advantage. We are thus brought to the necessity of some specific pre
liminary preparation for the office of teacher — a preparation
which shall fit him in sorae degree beforehand for its duties.
To afford this preparation, is the precise object of a normal
school. Nothing is farther from my purpose than to set up
the pretension that there can be no well-qualified teacher
without such a school ; but that great advantages may be
expected from a regular plan of instruction, in seminaries
devoted to this object ; a plan of instruction to come in aid
of all the other means of improvement, on which the faithful
teacher raust now exclusively depend. To afford this instruc
tion, is the object of the normal schools, now established in
the commonwealth. It is impossible that it should be so
thorough and comprehensive, as the theory of a perfect insti
tution of the kind requires. There are no funds applicable
to the expense of such an establishment ; and our young men
and women could not generally afford the tirae requisite for
a very long course of preparation, because the majority of our
districts do not require, and would not support, teachers Avho,
having been at great expense of time and money in fitting
themselves for their calling, would need a proportionate com
pensation. We suppose that many of those who resort to
these institutions, will, at present, be able only to pass but a
part of one year in the enjoyment of their advantages ; but
while provision is made for the shortest period for which any
individual could reasonably wish to be received, a thorough

350 NORMAL SCHOOLS
course of instruction will also be arranged for those who
desire to devote a longer time to their preparation as
teachers. Such a course of instruction will obviously consist of the
following parts:
1. A careful review of the branches of knowledge required
to be taught in our common schools ; it being, of course, the
first requisite of a teacher that he should himself know well
that which he is to aid others in learning. Such an acquaint
ance with these branches of knowledge is much less common
than may be generafly supposed. The remark raay sound
paradoxical, but I believe it will bear exaraination when I
say, that a teacher thoroughly versed in those branches of
knowledge only which are taught in our coramon schools, is
as difficult to find as a first-rate laAvyer, divine, or physician,
statesman, man of business, or farmer. A good schoolmaster
should be able to read and speak the English language with
propriety, ease, and grace ; and this cannot be done without
a thorough knowledge of its grammar. He should possess,
at the same time, a clear, shapely, and rapid handwriting, and
be well versed in the elemental principles and operations of
numbers. Without going beyond these three branches, —
best designated by the good old-fashioned names of reading,
writing, and arithmetic, — I venture to say that a man who
possesses them thoroughly is as rare as one of corresponding
eminence in any of the learned professions. And yet the
law requires such masters for our district schools. What says
the statute? "In every town containing fifty families or
householders, there shall be kept, in each year, at the charge
of the town, by a teacher or teachers of competent abilities
and good morals, a school for the instruction of children in
orthography, reading, writing, English grammar, geography,
arithmetic, and good behavior."
-How few, even of those considered men of education, are
thoroughly versed even in the branches required by laAV in
our coraraon schools ! How rauch fewer who know them as
a teacher should know them ! for a teacher ought to know

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 351
of every thing much more than the learner can be expected
to acquire. The teacher must know things in a masterly
Avay, curiously, nicely, and in their reasons.
The great mistake in monitorial instruction is, that it sup
poses that the moment the bare knowledge of a fact in its
naked form is attained, it qualifies a person to teach it to
others. The teacher must see the truth under all its aspects,
with its antecedents and consequents, or he cannot present it
in just that shape in which the young mind can apprehend
it. He must, as he holds the diamond up to the sun, turn its
facets round and round, till the pupil catches its lustre. It is
not an uncommon thing to hear it said of a grown person
that he is too learned to teach children ; that he knows too
much, is too far in advance of their minds, to perceive their
difficulties. I imagine the trouble generally to be of the op
posite character. The man of learning either never under-^
stood the raatter thoroughly, or he has forgotten what he
once knew. He has retained enough of his school learning
for the particular calling of life he has chosen ; but he has
not retained a clear recollection of the elemental truths which
it is necessary the learner should comprehend. If in this
state of things he cannot comprehend the schoolboy's diffi
culty, it is not his superior wisdom, but his ignorance, Avhich
is at fault. These remarks apply particularly to the science
of numbers, over which most of our children pass languish
ing days and weeks, vainly striving to raaster a hard " sum "
or a hard rule, which they finally give up in despair, or of
which they content theraselves with some false explanation,
from pure want of capacity on the part of the teacher. A
child of eight or nine years of age, at one of our district
schools, had run through the chief rules of arithraetic, as it
used to be taught, doing all the sums, and setting thera down
in his ciphering book, without the slightest comprehension
of the reason of any one of the operations. At last, after
going for a second or third time through the rule of decimals,
he, for the first tirae, caught a glirapse of the real nature of a
decimal fraction, of which he had been wholly ignorant be
fore, and which, in his simplicity, he thought a discovery of

352 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
his own. It was not till some time afterwards that he
found out that mankind had for a great while been aware
that a decimal is the numerator of a fraction whose denom
inator is a unit with as many ciphers as the numerator has
places. The first object of instruction in a normal school is
as far as possible, in the space of time assigned to its instruc
tions, to go over the circle of branches required to be taught,
and see that the future teacher is thoroughly and minutely
versed in them.
2. The second part of instruction in a normal school is
the art of teaching. To know the matter to be taught, and
to know it thoroughly, are of theraselves, though essential,
not all that is required. There is a peculiar art of teaching.
The detafls of this branch are inexhaustible, but it is hoped
that the raost important principles raay be brought within
such a compass as to afford material benefit to those who
pass even the shortest time at these institutions. The subject
should be taken up at its foundation, in those principles of
our nature on which education depends; the laws which
control the faculties of the youthful mind in the pursuit and
attainment of truth ; and the moral sentiments on the part of
teacher and pupil which must be brought into harmonious
action. The future teacher must be instructed in the most
effectual way of reaching untaught mind ; — a process subtile,
difficult, various. The first thing requisite often will be to
ascertain what has to be unlearned, both as to positive errors
and bad habits of mind. The child who has been accus
tomed to add numbers together by counting on his fingers,
instead of learning a simple addition table by rote at the out
set ; who has formed to himself a sraall, ill-looking, and illegi
ble scrawl, under the name of a running hand, without ever
having learned to shape the letters in bold and fair propor
tions ; or who, under the notion of refinements beyond the
coramon standard, has been taught such barbarisms as "he
shew me the book," " I have began to read it," " had I have
had tirae to go," — such a child, I say, comes into the hands
of the teacher heavfly laden with a cargo, which it must be
the first labor and care to throw overboard.

NORMAL SCHOOLS. . 353
But the art of teaching is not confined to a correction of
the errors, or a reforra of the bad habits, of the raistaught
pupfl. Where nothing of this kind is to be done, the raind
of the learner is stfll to be guided, aided, and encouraged in
its progress. The perfection of the art of teaching consists
in hitting the precise point between that which the stu
dious pupil must do for hiraself, and that which the in
structer may do with him and for hira. It is not enough, in
teaching a child to read, to correct with a harsh voice sorae
gross error which he may make in reading a verse or two in
the New Testament or the National Reader. The teacher
must himself, patiently, kindly, and with a gentle voice, read
the passage over repeatedly, and see that the learner under
stands the meaning df every Avord, and of the whole sen
tence. It is peculiar to arithraetic, that though there are
degrees of readiness in performing its operations, there are no
degrees of clearness and certainty in the knowledge of its
principles. The incredible vexation which attends the study
of this branch with many children, generally arises from the
unskilfulness of the teacher, in not taking care that the
learner, as he goes along, understands thoroughly each suc
cessive step. If this be done, the child of ten years old will
know what he knows at- all as well as Sir Isaac Newton.
Some simple schoolboy muse, in former times, has recorded
its sorrowful experience on this subject in the following
plaintive and, in my day, very popular strain -^
"Multiplication is vexation, -\ ,,
Division is as bad, , 'V'
The rule of three doth puzzle me, ' ' ^
And practice makes me mad." ]
But if proper care be taken that every step be thoroughly
understood before advancing to the next, multiplication and
division will be found as simple as addition or subtraction ;
while the rule of three and practice have been shown, in the
recent and best school books, to be wholly unnecessary, inas
much as all questions usually performed by their aid can be
more readily performed by simpler processes.
VOL. II. 45

354 • NORMAL SCHOOLS.
One thing is certain ; that though there can be no difference
in the average capacity of equal numbers of the children in
two schools in the same comraunity, there is often a vast dif
ference in the average scholarship, after the sarae araount of
schooling. To what can the difference be ascribed, but to the
different degrees of skill on the part of teachers ? It is not an
uncommon thing to find children Avho, after having been
months, and even years, employed either on the lower elements
or on the higher branches of learning, leave school, at last,
knowing nothing thoroughly, and not much superficiaUy.
They cannot read with fluency, force, and intelligence, to say
nothing of grace and beauty ; they write a poor, unsteady, hier
oglyphical hand ; they have no clear notions of grammatical
construction, and are awkward and incorrect in the use of
numbers." Perhaps this is the description of nearly half the
children who leave school in town or country. The little
that is learned of Latin and Greek is equally inaccurate and
shallow. The fault is commonly laid at the pupil's door,
especially if he has had what is usually called schooling
enough. I think, however, generally, that the fault is with
the teacher, who is frequently not thoroughly versed himself
in what, he undertakes to teach — more frequently unskilled
in the art of teaching. The astonishing difference some
times noticed in the progress of the same school under differ
ent teachers, in successive seasons, shows how much is justly
attributable to this cause.
Besides the general art of teaching, there are peculiar
methods, applicable to each branch of knowledge, which
should be unfolded in the instructions of a normal school ;
but this is a topic in which my limits do not permit me to
engage. I hasten to
3. The third branch of instruction to be imparted iu
an institution, which concerns the important subject of
the government of the school, and which might perhaps
more justly have been named the first. The best method of
governing a school — that is, of exercising such a raoral influ
ence in it as is raost favorable to the iraprovement of tho
•pupils — wfll form a very important part of the course of

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 355
instruction designed to qualify teachers for their calling. It
is this part of their duty which is probably least considered
by themselves or their employers ; for the reason, perhaps,
that qualification in this respect is least capable of being
estimated by an external standard. But how rauch is not
implied in the words " to govern a school " ! For several
hours in the day, the teacher is to exercise the authority of a
parent over fifty or sixty, perhaps over ninety or a hundred
children. Parents can form an opinion whether this is a task
to be executed without system, without principles, and as a
matter of course : or whether it is not that in which the
youthful teacher will raost stand in need of all the prepara
tion which it is possible to acquire. Without the aid of that
instinct of natural affection which fortifies parental author
ity, he is expected, with a parent's power, to control alike the
docfle and the obstinate, the sullen and the gay. While his
entire intercourse with his pupils is that of, constraint and
requisition, he must acquire an absolute control over many a
youthful spirit, which has already been irritated by caprice,
soured by tyranny, or spoiled by indulgence at home. And
he is to do this not by violence . and storm, but by wisely
threading the maze of that living labyrinth, the affections of
the youthful heart. In this department perhaps greater im
provement has taken place of late years than in any other ;
there has been a general call for moral influence, instead of
physical power. I do not say that this last should never be
resorted to, but I trust the day is wholly past for that fero
cious warfare between master and pupfl which Avas once so
general, and with no other effect than that of turning the
teacher's office into a hateful tyranny, and the happy season
of chfldhood into a long martyrdora. Dr Johnson, in com
posing a legal argument to be used by another person, puts
into his mouth the sentiraent, " that a school can be governed
only by fear." It would, I think, have been rauch nearer the
truth to say, that a school can be governed only by patient,
enlightened. Christian love, the raaster principle of our
natures. It softens the Iferocity of the savage ; it melts the
felon in his cell. In the management of chfldren it is .the

356 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
great source of influence ; and the teacher of y6uth, though
his mind be a storehouse of knowledge, is ignorant of the
first principles of his art, if he has not embraced this as an
elemental maxira.
But let it not be thought that these are smooth sayings,
and that moral discipline is unattended with difficulty, and
preferred by an indolent age for its comparative ease. The
reverse is nearer the truth. To walk the rounds of the
school with a ratan in the hand, to be bestowed as liberally
on the thoughtless exuberance of youthful spirits, on the
restlessness of the little urchin unused to his confinement,
and on the mistakes of mere inadvertence or absolute igno
rance, as on hardened perversity and resolute disobedience, is
a rauch easier task than to graduate each of these cases on
the scale of moral demerit, and to treat thera accordingly.
It is related of the late Dr Bowditch, that he very early raan-
ifested that skill in numbers which afterwards raised hira to
the level of the first mathematicians of the day. While
quite a child at school, he performed a difficult sum in arith
metic with astonishing readiness. His schoolmaster was at
once so ignorant of the mode of governing a school, and had
so little acquainted himself with the powers of his pupfl's
mind, that he thought it impossible the task should have
been performed without assistance, and asked who had helped
hira. On being told by young Bowditch that he had done
it himself, the coarse tyrant severely chastised him for false
hood — a treatment well calculated to subvert the entire raoral
frarae of a sensitive lad, but rauch raore simple than it would
have been for an understanding such as this raaster possessed
to enter into a careful analysis of the capacities of his for
ward pupil.
The instruction of the normal school will therefore dwell
on the governraent of youth as of paramount iraportance ;
as that part of the teacher's duty which demands the rarest
union of qualities, which most tries the temper, and I will
add, when faithfully and judiciously performed, is raost im
portant in its results. Give me the child whose heart has
embraced without violence the gentle lore of obedience, in

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 357
whom the sprightliness of youth has not encroached on defer
ence for authority, and I would rather have hira for my son,
though at the age of twelve he should have his alphabet to
learn, than be compelled to struggle with the caprice of a
self-willed, obstinate youth, whose bosom has become a
viper's nest of the unamiable passions, although in early
attainraents he may be the wonder of the day.
There are many other topics connected with the teacher's
duty, on which it raay be expected that instruction wfll be
afforded in the normal school. Among these is the all-im
portant subject of direct instruction in morals and religion,
the relations of teachers and parents, of teachers and the
higher school authorities, and the duties of teachers to each
other and to the community, and of the community to them,
as the merabers of a respectable profession. I ara necessarily
prevented by the limits of the occasion from entering upon
any of these subjects.
4. In the last place, it is to be observed, that in aid of all
the instruction and exercises within the limits of the normal
school, properly so called, there is to be established a common
or district school, as a school of practice, in which, under the
direction of the principal of the normal school, the young
teacher may have the benefit of actual exercise in the busi
ness of instruction. This, of course, is a very interesting
portion of the system ; but I am obliged to dismiss it with
this simple mention.
Such then, briefly, are the nature and objects of a normal
school, and such the manner in which it proposes to qualify
teachers. We do not expect that it will work miracles^- Ave
shall be satisfied if it does good ; and of this only we feel a
reasonable degree of confidence, that no young man or
young woman can pass even three months in the institution
without leaving it better qualified for the business of instruc
tion. We trust the result will be such as eventually to con
tribute to the improvement of our schools. We have spared
no pains, with the means at our command, to secure in
advance the confidence of an enlightened public. The
talent, the services, and the distinguished character of the

358

NORMAL SCHOOLS.

gentlemen to whom the schools already founded have been
intrusted, are a pledge to the coramunity of what may be
expected from their labors in this cause. Among the funda
mental principles laid down by the Board of Education for
the government of the normal schools, it has been provided
that a portion of Scripture shall be daily read ; and it is their
devout hope that a fervent spirit of prayer, pervading the
heart of both principal and pupfls, may draAv dowh the
divine blessing on their pursuits.
I cannot forbear, sir,* to express to you, on this occasion,
the deep sense which is felt by the Board of Education of
the importance of the trust which they have confided to
your hands. I have the pleasure to assure you that all their
proceedings in reference to the school, and your own connec
tion with it, have been entirely unanimous, and that a large
measure of confidence is reposed both in your abflity and
disposition to fulfil their expectations. The reputation which
you bring to this place, acquired by a long course of faithful
labor in a highly responsible station elsewhere, (Bowdoin
College,) is a sufficient guaranty to the public of the services
which may be expected from you in this new and untried
position. On you and the highly respected principal of the
normal school at Lexington, (Mr Cyrus Peirce,) it will de
pend at present, in no small degree, whether institutions of
this description shall win the public favor, and be- incorpo
rated into our system of common school education. We are
sensible of the deep responsibility which this consideration
devolves upon you, and shall, at all times, extend to you, to
the utmost of bur power, the support and encouragement you
may need.' Should this effort succeed to improve our schools
by the increased qualifications of our teachers, you wfll have
the satisfaction of being the first in our country to engage in
an enterprise of the most eminent usefulness. Ages may
pass away before an opportunity will present itself of work
ing greater good than will be effected by those in this gener
ation, who shall lay the foundations of decided improvements
* Professor S. P. Newman,

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 359
in popular education. We commend you, sir, to the support
of this enlightened comlnunity, and the "care of a watchful
Providence. To you, ray young friends of either sex, who have entered
yourselves as pupils of the normal school, we would say that
the eyes of the friends of education, in all parts of the cora
monwealth, will be anxiously fixed upon you, and those who,
with you, raay be among the first to take advantage of the
means of improveraent which this institution affords. You
are about to prepare yourselves, under great advantages, for
the iraportant office of instruction. This raomentous trust,
which hitherto, alraost without exception, in this country, has
been assumed without specific preparation, will be approached
by you, after having had its principles carefully unfolded to
you, with some opportunity of putting thera to practice, in the
model school, which will form a part of the institution.
When you shall engage in the business of instruction, the
comraunity wfll reasonably expect of you that you should
exhibit unusual fitness for the work. Let this thought en
gage you to enter upon your studies with redoubled zeal. A
failure on your part to meet the public expectation, will have
an injurious effect, for some time, on this attempt to improve
the qualifications of teachers, in institutions expressly devoted
to that object. On the other hand, your spirit and devotion
to the object you are pursuing, and your visible improvement
in the noble skfll of aiding in the development of mind and
the formation of character, while they will put you upon the
path of acknowledged usefulness and prosperity, wfll contrib
ute essentially to the permanent adoption of normal schools,
as a part of the Massachusetts system of public education.
May a higher motive than human approbation animate your
conduct, and the divine blessing crown your studies with
success. Permit me, feUow-citizens and friends, in bringing this
address to a plose, to congratulate you on the establishment,
in the bosom of this community, of an institution, destined,
we trust, to be an instrument of great good. We place it
under the protection of an intelligent public. Its organiza-

360 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
tion is simple ; its action will be wholly free from parade and
display ; its fruits, we trust, will be seen in raising the stan
dard of common school education. This object, we confess,
we regard as one of paramount importance, — second to no
other not immediately connected with the spiritual concerns
of man. If there be any persons to whora the words " com
mon schools " and " coramon school education " convey an
idea of disparagement and insignificance, such persons are
ignorant, not merely of the true character of our pd'litical
system, but of the nature of man. I certainly intend noth
ing derogatory to our higher seminaries of education, in
town or in country. They are recognized by the constitu
tion of the state. It is raade the duty of all raagistrates to
encourage and proraote thera, and they are justly strong in
the public favor. But whether we consider the numbers who
enjoy their benefit, the relative importance to the state of an
entire well-educated population, and of the services of those
who receive the advantages of an education at the higher
seminaries, taken in connection with the fact that a liberal
education may be had elsewhere, but that a coraraon school
education raust be had at horae or not at all, no rational raan,
as it seems to me, can fafl to perceive the superior importance
of the common schools. They give the keys of knowledge
to the mass of the people. The child learns more by his
fourth year, than the philosopher at any subsequent period of
his life ; he learns to affix an intelligible sign to every out
ward object and inward emotion, by a gentle impulse imparted
from his lips to the air. In like manner, I think it may with
truth be said, that the branches of knowledge taught in our
common schools, when taught in a finished, masterly raanner,
— reading, in which I include the spelling of our language,
— a firra, sightly, legible handwriting, and the elemental rules
of arithmetic, are of greater value than all the rest which
is taught at school. I am far from saying that nothing else
can be taught at our district schools ; but the young person
who brings these from school can himself, in his winter even
ings, range over the entire field of useful knowledge. Our
common schools are important in the same way as the com-

NORMAL SCHOOLS. 361
mon air, the common sunshine, the common rain, invaluable
for their commonness. They are the corner stone of that
municipal organization which is the characteristic feature of
our social systera ; they are the fountain of that wide-spread
intelligence, Avhich, like a raoral life, pervades the country ;
they are the nursery of that inquiring spirit to which we are
indebted for the preservation of the blessings of an inquiring,
Protestant, spiritual faith. Established as they were by
special legislation in the infancy of the colony, whfle they
are kept up and supported with a liberality corresponding
with the growth of the country, no serious evil can befall us.
Whatsoever other calaraities, external or internal, raay over
take us, while the schools are supported, they will furnish a
perennial principle of restoration. With her three thousand
district schools, supported at the public expense, nothing but
the irreversible degree of Oranipotence can bring the beara-
ing forehead of Massachusetts to the dust. Vicissitudes may
blight the foliage, but there will be vigor in the trunk, and
life at the root. Talent wfll constantly spring up on her
barren hfll-sides, and in her secluded vales, and find an avenue,
through her schools, to the broad theatre of life, where great
affairs are conducted by able men. Other states may exceed
her in fertility of soil, but the skflful labor of her free citi
zens wfll clothe her plains with plenty. Other states may
greatly outnumber her, but her ingenuity will people her
shafly glens and babbling waterfalls with half-reasoning en
gines, which wiU accomplish the Avork of toiling myriads.
Other states will far surpass her in geographical domain; but
the governraent of cultivated raind is as boundless as the
universe. Wheresoever on the surface of the globe, and in
the long line of coming ages, there is a reasonable being,
there is a legitimate subject of mental influence. Frora the
hurablest village school, there raay go forth a teacher who,
like Newton, shall bind his temples with the stars q|, Orion's
belt, — with Herschel, light up his cell with the bearas of
before undiscovered planets, — with Franklin, grasp the light-
nmg. Columbus, -fortified with a few sound geographical
principles, was. on the deck of his crazy caravel, more titifly
VOL. n. 46

362 NORMAL SCHOOLS.
the monarch of Castile and Arragon, than Ferdinand and Isa
bella, enthroned beneath the golden vaults of the conquered
Alhambra. And Robinson, with the simple training of a
rural pastor in England, when he knelt on the shore of Delft
Haven, and sent his little flock upon their gospel errantry
beyond the world of waters, exercised an influence over the
destinies of the civilized world which wfll last to the end of
time.

OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD.*

Mr President :
My distinguished and much respected friend, who has pre
ceded me on this occasion, (Governor Lincoln,) has been
pleased to allude to that circumstance in a manner Avhich
would be oppressive to my feelings, but for the kindness with
which I knew it was intended. He expressed sorae reluc
tance at preceding me ; but I shall, on every occasion, deera
it a privflege in following him, to have the benefit of his
exaraple. In whatever situation I may be placed, I shall
consider rayself fortunate if, in any humble measure, I may
be able to emulate either his wisdom of counsel or eloquence
of speech.
I rise to address you, sir, and this great company, with real
erabarrassraent. Feelings, eraotions I have, inspired by the
occasion; anticipations, — if you please, visions. But I
never felt less able to throw what is passing in my mind into
the form of a set speech. As an original subscriber, an early
public advocate, and in my official capacity, as far as my consti
tutional competence extends, the promoter of this great work, I
may honestly claim to be, what you have kindly called me,
its steady friend. Now that it is so far advanced towards its
completion, I want language to express all that I feel of its
importance. It is just four years, within three days, since
many here present met, with a raultitude of others, in Faneuil
HaU, to take such measures as might be deemed expedient to
* Dehvered at the public table at Springfield, on the 3d of October,
1839, on occasion of the openmg of the Westem RaUroad, to that place.
See, in the early part of this volume, the speech at FaneuU Hall, on the
7th October, 1835. (363)

364 OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO . SPRINGFIELD.
effect the completion of the original private subscription to
the Western Railroad. It was my fortune, at the request of
the gentlemen charged with the arrangements for the meet
ing, to take some part in its proceedings ; and I then hazarded
the sentiment, " that next to the great questions of liberty
and independence, the doors of Faneufl Hall were never
thrown open on an occasion of greater moment to the people
of the city and the state." That opinion I ventured to ex
press in the distant prospect of this noble work ; and now,
sir, that the first great section of it is completed, I would
emphatically reaffirm the proposition, that next to the days
which gave us a charter of national independence, and a
constitution of republican government, that day will be the
most auspicious in the annals of Massachusetts, when the
western hills and the eastern waves shall be brought together,
and a bond of connection, stronger than the bars of iron that
produce it, — a bond of connection coramercial, political, and
social, — shall bind the extremities of the coramonwealth in
a union never to be dissolved.
I ventured, also, on the above-mentioned occasion, to com
pare the railroad then in contemplation, with a natural chan
nel of communication, such as a navigable river, uniting
Boston and Albany. Might I not say with truth, sir, that,
regarded merely as a medium of conveyance between the two
places, the railroad we have travelled to-day will be of more
importance to Springfield, than if that most beautiful river,
which flows at your feet, were turned round to a right angle,
and made to flow to the sea ? Does this seera extravagant ?
When, since the waters of this noble river first gladdened the
eyes of a civilized being, was it possible to raove upon it, up
streara and down, at the rate of sixteen or eighteen miles an
hour ? to say nothing of the considerable part of the year,
for which, on account of summer's drought and winter's frost,
it ceases to be navigable. It was long ago enthusiastically
observed by a great constructer of canals in England, that
rivers are valuable only as feeders. The rapid progress of
modern art seems to show that they are likely to be super
seded even in that subordinate capacity. I begin to feel com-

OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. 365
puhction for the disparaging manner in which we are inclined
to speak of these noble streams ; and it may be deemed quite
fortunate that, as water happens to be the material of which
steam is manufactured, there is a chance that they wfll not be
voted altogether a nuisance.
But, sir, I do injustice to my present feelings to indulge in
pleasantry, however innocent, on this subject. As I passed
over the noble embankments, and through the grand corri
dors of solid rock, this mornmg, I experienced eraotions
which no language of my own can fully express. In con
sidering a raflroad, most persons, perhaps, dwell upon its
upper portion, and the action of its locomotive appendages.
But I own the first operations of the engineer fill me with
amazement. The rapt prophet, in describing the approaching
glories of the mfllennial age, can select no higher iraagery
than this : " Let every valley be exalted, and every raountain
and hill be brought low ; " and what other process have our
eyes this day beheld, from the ocean to this first resting-place
on the pathway to the west ? Nor has this been effected by
those insane efforts of despotic power, of which we read in
ancient story, such as those by which the walls of Babylon,
or the pyramids of Egypt, were piled to the clouds. No, it
has been by such judicious obedience to the guiding hand of
nature, following the sparkling footsteps of the. river through
the highlands, and-tracing the sidelong slope of the hills, as
to bring the work within reasonable liraits, both as to time
and expense. Then to look at the exterior : Igt us contem
plate the entire railroad, with its cars and engines, as one vast
machine ! What a portent of art ! its fixed portion a hundred
miles long ; its movable portion flying across the state like
a weaver's shuttle ; by the sea-side in the morning, here at
noon, and back in the compass of an autumnal day! And
the power which pute all in movement, — most wondrous, —
a fe'w buckets of water, like that which, while I speak, is
trickling from yonder homely fountain.*
• The tank in the spacious car-house in which the company wa«
assembled.

S66 OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD.
I consider the construction of the railroad from Boston to
Springfield, over an elevation of more than nine hundred feet
above the level of the sea, — to say nothing of what has
been done in other parts of the country, — its construction,
too, at a moderate expense per mile, — not greater than that
of some roads over tracts of country deemed more favorable,
— I consider it as settling a question of great importance on
this subject. I happened, some ten or twelve years ago, to
hold an argument with an intelligent foreigner, (Captain Basil
HaU,) who maintained that it would be found impossible to
establish a railroad connection between the eastern and west
ern portions of the United States, for the reason that the
mountain chains and river courses run frora north to south,
and that it was out of the question, on account both of phys
ical and financial difficulties, to overcome this natural obstacle.
I could, at that time, only argue with him theoretically ; nor
will I now contend that there is no such thing as a raountain
barrier, impassable by railroads ; although while we see the
Alleghanies so easfly surmounted by aid of stationary power,
and when we hear that it is in contemplation to build a rail
road over the Upper Alps, we shall do well not to be too pos
itive ou this point.
But granting that there is a limit, beyond which in practice
we cannot go, — experience shows that great acclivities are
easily overcome ; and reason teaches, that within the proper
limit, it is precisely where these obstacles exist, that artificial
modes of communication must be most needed and most use
ful. This is eminently the case in the United States, settled
as they were, for the most part, under charters granted with
little reference to geographical features ; so that, in many
cases, the state lines run east and west, while the rivers and
hflls tend north and south. Owing to this cause, no small
part of the business connections of Massachusetts are without
the limits of the state ; I mean those connections on which
she depends for the necessary supplies of life ; and precisely
what is wanted is an artificial communication, which shall run
across river and mountain, and unite her distant portions.
That, sir, is the problem which Providence has committed to

OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. 367
US, and I desire to be grateful that we live to witness its
solution. It is a law of our moral natures, that the great
boons of life are to be obtained by a strenuous contest with
natural difficulties. Do not tell rae of being stopped by
mountains and rivers, of being absolutely confined, by the fiat
of Oranipotence, to a raoveraent down the current, or along
the level road at the foot of the hill. I avail myself gladly
of these facilities. I rejoice to take advantage of them in
opening a profitable communication with our sister states.
If I must leave Massachusetts, mosF-willingly will I float
down the stream, or travel the road, that wfll carry me to
the region which is the home of such troops (a corapany of
infantry from Hartford) as we have had the pleasure of see
ing to-day. I raean nothing unsocial, nothing in which I
shall not have the syrapathy of every good citizen of every
other state. But I wish also to cross the hills whose- west
ern descent is the home of my fellow-citizens. I wish to
share the abundance and good fellowship on the other side
of the river. I wish to go and to come, and to tempt my
brethren to come and to go, for the voluntary purposes of
interest and good neighborhood, and not merely in the ne
cessary performance of political duties ; and I rejoice that the
same Providence which deepens the channels of the rivers,
and lifts the blue summits of the mountains to the sky, has
given to raan those inventive faculties, and that capacity
for the creative arts, by which he is enabled to wind his
way through the hills, to span with his proud arches the im
petuous current, to penetrate the mysteries of the elements
of nature, and yoke her fiery agents to the wheels of his
industry. But, sir, I should greatly weaken the cause I wish to
recommend, did I speak of it raerely as calculated to bind
together the remote parts of individual states. This same
principle of connection with the west is as important to
the prosperity of the whole Union as a faraily of states, as it
is to the welfare of the individual membersl* In that point
of view, our Western Railroad becomes of truly incalcu
lable interest. We stand here in Massachusetts on the verge

368 OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD.
of the most stupendous network of intercommunication ever
woven by the hand of man, exerting all the resources of his
art to carry out the beneficent designs of nature. Without
speaking particularly of lateral Avorks, which could not. be
described in detail while yon sun is above the horizon, let us
reflect only that frora Albany to Buffalo there is, in addition
to the Erie Canal, which we were accustomed to .regard as
the wonder of the age, till these greater wonders eclipsed it,
— I say, besides the Erie Canal, and the branches and feelers
which, like the great l^arine polypus, it sends out right and
left, grasping and drawing in the coramerce of every part of
the state, — I learn from a memorandura handed me half an
hour ago by the intelligent gentleman near me on the right,
(Mr Amasa Walker,) that there is already a railroad corarau
nication with Buffalo for about two thirds of the way, with
the prospect of corapleting the residue at no distant period.
Arrived at Buffalo, numerous steamboats are ready to convey
you up the lakes. You step on board one which stops at
Erie, a Pennsylvanian settlement on the lake of that name.
Here you are introduced to the vast system of tre^nsportation
and travel by canal and railroad, constructed in the keystone
state at an expense of twenty-three or twenty-four millions of
dollars. But you hold on your way to the west. At Cleveland
you may enter the Ohio Canal, cross the state, and descend the
noble river which gives it a name ; and the same may be
done farther on, at Sandusky Bay, where another line of cora
raunication begins, which crosses the state by railroad and
canal, and enters the Ohio River at Cincinnati. You proceed
a little farther, Mr President, and are brought to a stand, not
for the want of further facilities of progress, but for the diffi
culty of choosing between several routes. You are at a loss
whether to cross Indiana by the canal frora- the lake to the
Wabash, to proceed to Detroit and traverse the state of Mich
igan by the raflroad there in progress, or to ascend Lake
Huron. Should you decide for the latter route, when you
reach Mackinaw you wfll be strongly tempted to enter Lake
Superior, coast along the pictured rocks, and cross from the
south-western extremity of this new Mediterranean Sea to

OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. 369
the Falls of St Anthony. But if you are resolved to make
every part of this excursion by steam, you must descend
Lake Michigan. At Mflwaukie you will stop, perhaps ; and
while you contemplate with admiration its rapid growth,
examine on the map of Wisconsin the route of the raflroads
and canals projected across that vast territory, from Lake
Michigan to the Mississippi. Proceeding on your voyage,
you reach Chicago, and think yourself for a raoraent at your
journey's end. At its end, Mr President ! rather at its begin
ning ! Here, at last, you are brought into direct contact with
the most extensive internal communication in the world.
You are now on the dividing ridge of the waters, which sev
erally seek the ocean through the St Lawrence and the Mis
sissippi. Here commences a system of travel and transporta
tion by canal, railroad, and river, and raainly the latter
navigated by steara, unparalleled by any thing on the surface
of the globe. Did we live in a poetic age, we have now
reached the region where the genius of steara coraraunication
would be personified and embodied. Here we should be
taught to behold him, a Titanic colossus of iron and of brass,
instinct with elemental life and power, with a gloAving fur
nace for Bis lungs, and streams of fire and smoke for the
breath of his nostrils. With one hand he collects fhe furs of
the arctic circle ; Avith the other he smites the forests of
Western Pennsylvania. He plants his right foot at the source
of the Missouri — his left on the shores of the Gulf of Mex
ico ; and gathers into his bosom the overflowing abundance
of the fairest and richest valley on which the circling sun
looks down.
And now, sir, what separates Boston, — what separates
Springfield, — ay, this identical building in which you sit, —
from a direct artificial communication, for the greater part of
the way by steam power, with the stupendous system I have
faintly sketched, — this world of demand and supply ? What
separates you? Sixty-two mfles and nine tenths of a mile
by railroad, from this place to West Stockbridge ; taking for
granted, as I do, that by the time our road is completed to the
Avestern line of the state, the tract between West Stockbridge
VOL. n. 47

370 OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIEjall.
and Albany wfll also be provided for. When these sixty-two
or sixty-three mfles are completed, Boston and Springfield
will stand connected with this boundless system, natural and
artificial, as intimately as if every foot of the artificial routes
had been planned by our engineers, and paid for out of our
treasury. I name Boston and Springfield, of course,, only
for the sake of brevity ; for an impulse wfll be imparted by
this connection to the industry of every town and village in
the state. Yes, sir ; and for a portion of the year this Mas
sachusetts Western Railroad, from Boston to Albany, will fur
nish the most open and tempting route in all the United
States from the western interior to the sea. Does there live
a Massachusetts man, with the capacity to grasp this subject,
who can be insensible to its importance ?
But, sir, in this imperfect sketch, I have looked only from
Boston westward ; now let us turn our faces to the east.
Have you well reflected, Mr President, that before the valley
of the Pontoosuc shall begin to echo to the hoofs of your
iron coursers, whose necks are clothed with a fiercer thunder
than that of the war-horse when he snuffs the battle, a line
of steam packets, reducing the voyage of the Atlantic to fif
teen days, wfll have commenced running to Boston ? The
European world of business and travel will thus be brought
to our doors. We shall be able to cross the ocean, explore
the English markets, and return to our places of business,
almost before we are missed. Or if we choose to stay, and
have time only for a rapid glance at the old world, we can
cross in a steamer to the continent, pass through Belgium,
ascend the Rhine, strike off to Paris, and even, they tell us,
cross the Alps and the whole length of Lombardy on a rail
road. If we prefer a northern excursion, we may shift the
switch, and run up through the German states and Austria
to the confines of Russia ; for in these regions, also, railroads
are constructed or in progress.* And this is but the begin-
* It is scarcely necessary to say that since these remarks were made, the
railway system, both of Europe and the United States, has been indefinitely
extended. Among the great European works executed within the interval,

• OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. 371
ning of steam communication in Europe. Regular lines of
steam packets, if I am not misinformed, run from Ports
mouth, in England, to Lisbon, Cadiz, Marseilles, Leghorn,
Naples, Sicily, the ports of the Adriatic, the Ionian Isles,
classic Greece, the Archipelago, Troy, Constantinople. From
England or France there is constant steam navigation to the
coast of Africa, to Syria, and to Egypt ; and arrived at Egypt,
you find, in the Isthmus of Suez, the half-way station of
the steam packets from Great Britain to Bombay. Yes, sir,
assuming as certain what I believe is beyond doubt, that Mr
Cunard's steamers wfll begin to run to Boston next spring, it is
an extraordinary fact that the completion of this Western Rail
road frora Springfield to Albany will open a continuous line of
artificial communication, almost wholly by steara, frora the
western shores of Lake Michigan to the eastern coasts of
British India ; a distance of one hundred and sixty degrees
of longitude, including very nearly half the circuit of the
globe, and the whole of its civilized portion.
With these views of this work, which I have no tirae to
trace into their effects upon the prosperity of the state, my
course is clear. I impugn not the motives of others, who,
though they do not impeach the utility of the enterprise, ob
ject to the only mode in which it was possible to effect it —
the grant of the credit of the state in aid of the efforts of
individuals. But with my views of its iraportance, of its
unutterable importance, of its sure connection with the last
ing prosperity of our beloved commonwealth, in whose eco
nomical history it wiU form an era, — better for me, as a public
I may with prbpnety allude to the raUway fi-om St Petersburg to Moscow,
commenced, and nearly finished, under the superintendence of the late
Major "Whistler, the engmeer of- the Western RaUroad of Massachusetts
This lamented officer was invited to construct the first railroad in the em
pire, on the recommendation of commissioners sent from 'Russia to examine
the raUroads of England and the United States. The emperor of Russia,
on a visit to London, spoke of him to me in terms of the highest praise, and
expressed the hope that he should be able to persuade him to remain in
Russia, where he was doing much good by training a class of skilful en
gineers. Since the premature decease of Major "Whistler, his place in
Russia has been supplied by Major Brown, the engmeer of the New York
and Erie Raihoad.

372 OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. ¦
man, that the mountains should fall on me, — better that the
hills of Berkshire should " ope their ponderous and marble
jaws " and swallow me into the core of their everlasting ada
mant, — than that I should lift a finger or breathe a whisper
adverse to this enterprise, or do other or less than help it for
ward with the utmost of my humble energies.
,And here, sir, perhaps I should stop ; but the sight of my
excellent friend, your respected fellow-citizen, on your left,
(Rev. Mr Peabody,) reminds rae of an incident, which,
being sometimes a little superstitious, I have been half
tempted to regard as significant. Indiflge me for a moment
in the weakness. There is a little bird, whose abode is on
the deep. When a vessel is scudding before the gale, and
a wave, which has run mountains high, is just curling over,
and boiling at its summit into a deluge of foam, the sailor
casts his eye upwards to the seething cap of the billow
which seems hanging over him, and there he beholds the
stormy petrel rocking on its crest. I have seen this little
creature, which is said to derive its name from the faint
hearted disciple that could not walk on the waters, walking,
or rather running up the raore than perpendicular sides of
sorae raighty wave, till he was alraost hidden within the
curve of its rolling top. On ray last visit to Springfield, ray
esteemed friend just named, who has labored with so rauch
diligence and success on the ornithology of the state, in
formed me that one of these little sea-birds had left his march
upon the mountain wave, his home upon the deep, and had
been found near the Chicopee River, within the limits of the
town of Springfield, seventy miles, at least, in an air line,
from tide water, and hundreds of miles from his accustomed
range on the seas. What could be the object of the myste
rious little visitant ? Who can tell ? On his native element,
the saflors regard hira with an unfriendly eye ; on shore, by
the rule of contraries, he raay come as the harbinger of good.
Perhaps, sir, he had heard of your railroad, and had come to
try the speed of his pinion with your locomotives. What
ever be his object, I ara disposed to regard his visit as a good
omen. As the bird of land, in the infancy of our race, came

. OPENING OF THE RAILROAD TO SPRINGFIELD. 373
back to the ark, with an olive-leaf in hei: mouth, as a sign
that the waters were abated from off the earth, let us wel
come the little sea-bird, who has come up to the hflls, as the
herald to tell us that the portals of the deep are thrown open,
that chariots of iron and fire are rolling over its waters, and
that henceforth, if never before,
" Seas shall join the regions they divide."
Let me say, sir, in sitting down, —
The East and the West of the Old World and the
New : — United by modern art in bonds of iron, which are
traversed almost with electric speed, may liberal policy and
kind feeling catch, like the electric spark, along the line.

THE SCOTS' CHARITABLE SOCIETY.'

I rise, Mr President, to tender you my sincere thanks for
the flattering notice with which you and the company have
been pleased to honor me. Although I am unconnected by
any national association with this occasion, I have cordially
entered into its spirit. Though I am a republican by princi
ple and feeling, I am not so much of a stoic as not to have
had my sympathies touched, while your national anthem was
sung with such spirit and feeling. It is a beautiful spectacle
to witness this voluntary tribute of respect paid, at the dis
tance of three thousand miles, to the youthful sovereign of
Great Britain, by a company like this, who, though the
children or descendants of Scotland, with few excep
tions, (as was observed by her majesty's consul on my right,)
owe her at present no political allegiance. It would be a
pleasing incident if it stood alone. But it is not your solitary
act. You do but add your voices to a strain which is almost
literally echoing round the globe. On this day, dedicated to
your patron saint, the tribute of respect which you have just
paid to the. maiden majesty of your fatherland, is repeated
by the sons of Scotland, wheresoever their lot is cast, at
home or abroad, from the utmost Orkneys to the Cape of
Good Hope, and from Canada to Hindostan; with no dif
ference but that of time, as the evening star, rising succes
sively on each region of the world-encircling empire of
England, appoints the hour of the social gathering, and
summons the sons of Caledonia to their patriotic vespers.
* Remarks made at the public table, on the 30th of November, 1839, on
occasion of the celebration of the one hundred and eighty -thurd anniver
sary of the Scots' Charitable Society of Boston.
(374)

THE SCOTS' CHARITABLE SOCIETY. 375
I thank you, Mr President, for allowing rae to partake your
hospitality on this occasion. I was not aware, tfll I received
your kind invitation, that there existed araong us an institu
tion like this, coeval almost with the settlement of the
country. It would be doing injustice to a society of this
description, though it may bear a foreign name, to regard it
as an institution of foreigners. Sorae of you, gentleraen,
trace your descent, I presume, from ancestors who carae to
this country with the second, perhaps with the first genera
tion of its settlers. Among the naraes of the original found
ers of the institution, as preserved in one of the ancient
record books, kindly put into my hands by my friend Mr
Gordon, I recognize some which still subsist among us, and
which stand as high in the respect of the comraunity as they
did one hundred and eighty years agb. *
It is a principle deeply wrought into the destinies of Amer
ica, that, settled originally in times of trial and convulsion in
Europe, it should, at all subsequent periods, afford a refuge
to those who might be driven abroad by the storms of fortune,
or who, from a desire of bettering their condition in life,
should go forth from the crowded populations of the elder
world, and follow the guidance of an honest spirit of adven
ture to the new-found continent. Accordingly we find that,
in the higher paths of state, swept as they are by the tem
pests of revolution, regicide judges in ancient times, and in
our own times fugitive kings, have found a safe retreat on
our shores. In the quiet and happier walks of private life,
there has at all times been an active resort from Europe to
America ; and I doubt not that, at this moment, in more than
one foreign country, many a loving and aching heart, waiting
to receive the summons to follow those who have gone before,
is able to respond to the plaintive strain of your immortal
Burns : —
"I turn to the west, when I gae to my rest.
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
For far in the west is he I loe best.
The youth that is dear to my bairn and to me."

376 THE SCOTS' CHARITABLE SOCIETY.
Now, sir, among all those who, coming from every country
in Europe, have brought hither the qualities by which they
are characterized at home, — whether it be the firm and
manly Englishman, the ardent and generous son of Erin, the
polite and mercurial Frenchman, the sedate and industri
ous HoUander or German, — there is none who has proved a
better citizen in his new home, than the punctual, intelligent,
and conscientious Scot. We of New England ought to
give you this credit, for both those who are disposed to pro
nounce our eulogy, and those who make merry with our
foibles, ascribe to us pretty much the same merits and defects
of character. I may say, therefore, — though to this extent a
party interested, yet with so much the greater claim to be be
lieved sincere, — that there is no people in Europe or America
among whom the Scottish emigrant has reason to blush for
his native land. You are not numerous here, sir. I am sorry
for it ; and I hardly know why it is so ; for I suppose Ave
should be linwilling, on either side, to acknowledge the validity
of the reason which has sometimes been assigned for the fact,
namely, that we Yankees are too canny for you.
Your society, sir, as the secretary, in his interesting report,
has informed us, was founded near two hundred years ago.
Scotland was then an independent kuigdom. Not merely
independent, she had, more than half a century before, sent
her sovereign tb sit upon the throne of the sister realms.
Although in the particular year in which the society was
established, in 1657, the raonarch of his proscribed lineage
Avas, perhaps like sorae of your founders, wandering in foreign
lands, dependent on the stranger for protection, yet three years
had scarcely elapsed, before he was triumphantly restored.
At the close of the seventeenth century, however, the sepa
rate sovereignty of Scotland was merged in the union of the
kingdoms ; in consequence of the superior wealth and num
bers of the English, the local sceptre of the ancient monarchy
departed forever ; and the croAvn of Bruce was locked up in
a dusty chest in Holyrood-house, never more to be drawn
forth, but as an object of antiquarian curiosity, or as a melan
choly show.

THE SCOTS' CHARITABLE SOCIETY. 377
But lot not the patriotic son of Scotland lament the change.
The sceptre of mind can never pass away ; she has won for
her brows a diadem, whose lustre can never be obscured. Not
to speak of the worthies of ages long past, — of the Knoxes,
the Buchanans, and the early minstrels of the border, — the
land of your fathers, sir, since it ceased to be a separate king
dora, has, through the intellect of her gifted sons, acquired a
supreraacy over the minds of men raore extensive and more
enduring than that of Alexander or Augustus. It Avould be
impossible to enumerate thera all, — the Blairs of the last
generation, the Chalraerses of this ; the Robertsons and
Humes ; the Smiths, the Reids, the Stewarts, the Browns ; the
Homes, the Mackenzies, the Mackintoshes, the Broughams, the
Jeffreys, with their distinguished corapeers, both in physical
and raoral science. The Marys and the Elizabeths, the Jaraes-
es and the Charleses, will be forgotten before these names will
perish from the meraory of men. And when I add to them those
other illustrious names, — Burns, Campbell, Byron, and Scott,
— may I not truly say, sir, that the throne and the sceptre of
England wfll crumble into dust like those of Scotland, and
Windsor Castle and Westminster Abbey Avill lie in ruins, as
poor and desolate as those of Scone and lona, before the lords
of Scottish song shall cease to reign in the hearts of men.
For myself, sir, I confess that I love Scotland. I have
reason to do so. I have trod the soil of the
"Land of brown heath and shaggy wood.
Land of the mountain and the fiood."
I have looked up to the cloud-capt summit of Ben Lomond ;
have glided among the fairy islets of Loch Katrine ; and
frora the battlements of Stirling Castle have beheld the links
of Forth sparkling in the morning sun. I have done more ;
I have tasted that generous hospitality of Scotland, which
her majesty's consul has so justly commeraorated ; I have
held converse with her raost erainent sons ; I have made my
pilgrimage to Melrose Abbey, in corapany with that modern
magician, who, mightier than the magician of old, that sleeps
beneath the marble floor of its chancel, has hung the garlernds
VOL. II. 48

378 THE SCOTS' CHARITABLE SOCIETY.
of immortal poesy upon its shattered arches, and made its
moss-clad ruins a shrine, to be visited by the votary of the
muse from the remotest corners of the earth, to the end of
time. Yes, sir, musing as I did, iu my youth, over the sep
ulchre of the wizard, once pointed out by the bloody stain
of the cross and the image of the archangel, — standing
within that consecrated enclosure, under the friendly guidance
of him whose genius has made it holy ground, — while every
nerve within me thriUed with excitement, my fancy kindled
with the. inspiration of the spot. I seemed to behold, not the
vision so magnificently described by the minstrel, — the light
which, as the tomb was opened,
-"broke forth so gloriously.

Streamed" upward to the chancel roof,
And through the galleries fer aloof," —
but I could fancy that I beheld, with sensible perception, the
brighter light which had broken forth from the master mind ;
which had streamed from his illumined page ail-gloriously
upward, above the pinnacles of worldly grandeur, till it min
gled its equal beams with that of the brightest constellations
in the intellectual firmament of England.
In taking my seat, sir, I beg leave to renew my thanks for
the honor done me, and to propose as a toast, —
The Scots' Charitable Societt, the prosperity of
the institution, and the welfare of each of its mem
bers.

JOHN LOWELL, JTJN.*

The occasion of our meeting, at this time, is of a charac
ter not less unusual than interesting. By the munificence of
the late Mr Johu Lowell, Jun., a testamentary provision was
made for the establishment of regular courses of public lec
tures, upon the most important branches of natural and moral
science, to be annually delivered in the city of Boston. The
sum generously set apEurt by him for this purpose, and amount
ing nearly to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, is, with
the exception of the bequest of the late Mr Girard of Phfla
delphia, the largest, if I raistake not, which has ever been
appropriated in this country, by a private individual, for the
endowment of any literary institution. The idea of a foun
dation of this kind, on which, unconnected with any place
of education, provision is made, in the midst of a large com
mercial population, for annual courses of instruction by public
lectures, to be delivered gratuitously to all who choose to
attend them, as far as it is practicable within our largest halls,
is, I believe, original with Mr Lowell. I am not aware that,
among aU the munificent establishments of Europe, there is
any thing of this description upon a large scale ; and I can
not but regard it as a conception, eminently adapted to the
character and wants of our community, and promising to be
as beneficial as it is original and generous.
Instmction by public lectures has greatly prevafled of late
years, and obtained a high degree of favor in this and other
parts of the United States. It has been ascertained, that
* This Memoir of Mr John Lowell, Jun., was delivered as the introduc
tion to the lectures on his foundation, in the Odeon, 31st December, 1839,
and repeated in the Marlborough Chapel, Sd January, 1840. (379)

380 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
twenty-six courses were delivered in Boston during the last
season, not including those which consisted of less than
eight lectures; — many of them by lecturers amply qualified
to afford instruction and rational entertainment to an intelli
gent audience. These lectures, it is calculated, were attended,
in the aggregate, by about thirteen thousand five hundred
persons, at an expense of less than twelve thousand dollars.
This is, probably, a greater number of lectures than was ever
delivered in any previous year ; but the number of courses
has been steadfly increasing, from the time of their first com
mencement, on the present footing, about twenty years ago.*
It is not easy to conceive of any plan, by Avhich provision
could be made for the innocent and profitable employment of
a part of the leisure time of so large a portion of the com
munity, at so small an expense.
These facts sufficiently show the vast importance, as well
as the popularity, of this form of public instruction, and they
naturally lead to the question, whether it does not admit of
improveraent in respect to the character of the lectures, and
the basis on which they are delivered. In answer to this
inquiry, it readfly suggests itself, that, notwithstanding the
great and -unquestioned benefit which must accrue to the
community, frora the delivery of so large a nuraber of lec
tures on scientific and literary subjects to voluntary audiences
of both sexes, there are two points, in which the systera is
evidently defective. In the first place, the raeans of the in
stitutions, under whose auspices raost of the public lectures
are delivered, are inadequate to hold out a liberal and certain
reward to men of talent and learning, for the preparation of
well-digested and systematic courses. The compensation
is necessarily limited to a moderate fee, paid from the pro
ceeds of the subscription to the courses. A necessary conse
quence is, that the greater part of the lectures are miscellane
ous essays, delivered by different persons, without reference
* Courses of botanical lectures were delivered in Boston by Professors
Peck and Bigelow, in the year 1813, and of chemical lectures by Dr Gor
ham, about the same time. The statement of the number of lectures in
1839, is derived from the last annual report of the Secretary of the Board
of Education, p. 74.

FOffTTTDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 381
to each other. These essays are often highly creditable to
their Eiuthors as literary efforts ; and in the aggregate, no
doubt, they are the vehicle of a great amount of useful
knowledge. But it cannot be denied that the tendency of
lectures, prepared under these circumstances, is to the discus
sion of popular generalities, for the production of immediate
effect ; and that a succession of such lectures during a season
can never be expected to form a connected series, upon any
branch of useful knowledge. A few instances of continuous
courses, delivered in exception to the foregoing remarks, wfll
not, I presume, be considered as inconsistent with their sub
stantial accuracy.
In another respect the system obviously admits improve
ment. Although the length of time for which these lectures
have been delivered among us, with increasing public favor,
is matter of just surprise, in the absence of all established
funds for theh support ; yet there is just ground for apprehen
sion, that the systera may not prove permanent without fur
ther provision to sustain it. Whatever relies for its support
on retaining the public favor, without a liberal compensation
for the performance of labor, and without the means of with
standing the caprices of fashion and the changes of popular
taste, is in danger of declining, when the attraction of nov
elty is over, and the zeal of a first enterprise is exhausted.
Even if there were no just ground to fear an entire discon
tinuance of the public lectures, it is obvious that the present
systera contains no principle for such a steady iraproveraent
in the character of the instruction they furnish, as is neces
sary to make them a very efficient instruraent of raising the
literary and scientific character of the community.
For each of these evils an ample remedy is found in the
provisions of Mr Lowell's bequest. It holds out the assur
ance of a liberal reward for the regular delivery of systematic
courses of lectures. By the positive regulations of the found
er, these courses will extend to sorae of the moSt important
branches of moral, intellectual, and physical science ; while
the trustee is enabled, in the exercise of the liberal discretion
reposed in him, to make provision for any lectures, which, in

382 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
his judgment, may be most conducive to the public improve
ment. The compensation which is provided by the bequest
is sufficient to reward the lecturers for the elaborate and con
scientious preparation of their courses, and consequently to
command the highest talent and attainment engaged in the
coraraunication of knowledge in this country ; and this, not
for the present season or the present generation, but as long
as it is possible for human wisdom and human laws to give
permanence to any of the purposes of man, for all coraing
time. We may therefore consider it as certain, that all who are
disposed, in this community, (within the limitation, of course,
of the capacity of our largest halls to accomraodate an
audience,) to employ a portion of their leisure time in the
improvement of their minds in this way, will henceforward
enjoy the fullest advantage of regular courses of public lec
tures, delivered without expense to those who hear them, by
persons selected for their ability to impart instruction, and
amply rewarded for the labor of faithful preparation. While
the public are reaping this advantage, the permanent funds
provided by the founder's- bequest will constitute a very im
portant addition to the other existing inducements to the
pursuit of a studious life ; and may in that way be expected
gradually to exert a sensible influence, in elevating the scien
tific and literary character of the country.
It may also 'be observed, that, so far from preventing the
delivery of other courses of lectures on the plan hitherto
pursued, this foundation may be expected to extend its bene
ficial influence to thera. It is physically impossible, that
much more than a tenth part of the whole number of those
estimated to have attended the lectures of the last season,
should be accommodated in any one hall ; and a single repe
tition is all that can be expected of any lecture on the Low
ell foundation. A very great demand for other courses will
therefore continue to exist; and the Lowell Institute, by
causing the preparation and delivery of a steady succession
of lectures, capable of being repeated before other audiences,
will facilitate the supply of this deraand. It wfll no doubt

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 383
become easier than it has heretofore been, for other uistitu-
tions, with the command of limited means, to procure for
their audiences the advantage of systematic cov f ses.
Such is the general character, briefly sketched, of Mr
Lowell's foundation. The first course of hctures is now
about to commence, on the subject of geolci^y, to be deliv
ered by a gentleman, (Professor Silliman oi Yale College.)
whose reputation is too well established i: this department
of science, both in Europe and America, and is too well
knoAvn to the citizens of Boston, to need an attestation on
my part. It would be arrogant in rae to speak further of his
qualifications as a lecturer on this foundation. The great
crowd assembled this evening, consisting as it does of a
moiety only of those who have received tickets of admission
to the course, sufficiently evinces the desire which is felt by
the citizens of Boston again to enjoy the advantage of his
instructions ; whfle it affords a new proof, if further proof were
wanting, that our liberal founder did not mistake the dis
position of the comraunity to avail themselves of the benefitt
of an institution of this character.
As an introduction to this first course of lectures before
the Lowell Institute, I cannot but think it will be deeraed
reasonable and just, by this respectable audience, to devote a
single hour to the coraraeraoration of the munificent founder.
He thought proper to restrict his bequest to objects which he
deemed of direct public utility, forbidding the expenditure
of any part of the fund in bufldings and fixtures, which, in
other foundations, that may be compared to this, usually
serve as sensible raonuments to their founders. He thus
'lunited its application to purposes at once the least ostenta
tious and the best calculated to act immediately on the mind
of the community. It is on this account doubly reasonable
that we should devote at least one evening to a notice of his
brief and somewhat eventful life. I have yielded cheerfully
to the request of the highly respected trustee of Mr Low
ell's foundation,*— the kinsman and friend to whom he
* John Amory Lowell, Esq.

384 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
confided the sole administration of the largest and most im
portant bequest ever raade in this city, — tfiat I would under
take the honorable task of paying this tribute of gratitude to
the memory of our deceased felloAV-citizen and benefactor.
I can only regret that, amidst the engagements devolving
upon me at this season of the year, I have wanted leisure to
prepare rayself in a raanner raore worthy of the subject, and
the attention of this large and inteUigent assembly.
Mr John LoAVell, Jun., bore an honored name among us.
Not to speak of the titles of the living to public respect and
gratitude,* I may be pardoned for dwelling, for a few mo-
raents, on the characters of the departed. He was the grand
son of the late Judge Lowell, whose father, the Rev. John
Lowell, was the first minister of Newburyport. The memory
of Judge Lowell, I am confident, is respectfully cherished by
many persons whom I have now the honor to address. He
was among those who enjoyed the public trust and confidence
in the times which tried men's souls, and bore his part in the
greatest work recorded in the annals of constitutional liberty,
— the American revolution. He was graduated at Harvard
College in 1760. He studied the law under Oxenbridge
Thacher, and was admitted to the practice in 1762. This was
the year following that in which his professional master was
associated with James Otis, in arguing the great cause on
writs of assistance. Educated in this school, it is unneces
sary to state what were his principles on the subject of the
raomentous controversy which had so long been ripening
towards a crisis. He was chosen, in 1776, the representative
of the town of Newburyport, in the provincial assembly of
Massachusetts, being then thirty-three years of age. In the
following year he removed to Boston ; and it is a striking
proof of the confidence reposed in his principles, and in his
abflity to maintain them, that he was immediately elected as
one of the representatives of this town to the General Court.
In 1779, he was chosen a member of the convention for
framing a constitution of state government. He Avas, with
* See note at the end.

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 385
James Bowdoin and John Adams, from the Boston delegation,
placed upon the comraittee of twenty-four, for reporting a
declaration of jrights and the form of a constitution. In the
year 1781, he was chosen a member of the Continental Con
gress, and in the following year was appointed by that body
one of the three judges of the court which had been estab
lished for the trial of appeals from the courts of admiralty in
the several states. In 1784, he was selected as one of the
coraraissioners to establish the boundary between Massachu
setts and New York. "^
On the adoption of the constitution of the United States,
Judge Lowell was appointed by General Washington to the
bench of the District Court of Massachusetts. He filled the
judicial station with eminent ability ; and was, in particular,
well versed in admiralty law, at a time when that branch of
jurisprudence was less familiar at our tribunals than at the
present day. In 1801, he was appointed chief justice of the
Circuit Court for the first circuit, under the new organization
of the judiciary which then took place. He was for eighteen
years a raeraber of the corporation of Harvard College, warmly
attached to its interests, and one of^he most zealous and
efficient of its friends, at a time when^s prosperity was less
securely established than at present. He was distinguished
for his literary taste, and his attainments as a scholar. On
the decease of Governor Bowdoin, president of the Academy
of Arts and Sciences, Judge Lowell was requested by that
Society to deliver his eulogy, which was afterwards pub
lished in one of the volumes of the Academy's Memoirs.
His active benevolence made him an object of affection and
gratitude. The integrity of his official character Avas univer
sally admitted amidst the collisions of party. His personal
intercourse was rendered peculiarly attractive by his brilliant
powers of conversation, and was the delight of all who
enjoyed it.
The maternal grandfather of our founder was the late Jon
athan Jackson, Esq., who weis also one of the most esteemed
and distinguished citizens of Boston. Judge Lowell, though
of the preceding class, had been his chamber-mate and most
VOL. II. 49

386 JOHN LOAVELL, JUN.,
intimate friend at college. This circumstance, probably,
induced Mr Jackson, after leaving college, to transfer his resi
dence to Newburyport. After passing an app^renticeship in
the counting-house of Patrick Tracy, Esq., then one of the
, most prominent merchants of Newburyport, he comraenced
.business in that town. Like his early friend, of whom I
have just spoken, Mr Jackson took a prompt and decided
part with the friends of American independence. After the
removal of Judge Lowell to Boston, Mr Jackson represented
the town of Newburyport in the provincial legislature. He
was a raeraber of the convention which fraraed the state
constitution, and was one of the coraraittee of twenty-four,
above alluded to, by Avhora the plan of that instruraent was
reported. In 1782, he was a meraber of the Congress of the
United States.
Mr Jackson inherited from his father what, in those days,
was considered a large patrimony. Besides bearing his allotted
portion of the public burdens, he made voluntary advances
and contributions for the public service, and at the close of
the war was largely the creditor of the comraonwealth.
At the tirae of Shad's insurrection in 1786, Mr Jackson
was among the mostTOrward to maintain the supremacy of
the laAvs. In the company of volunteers who marched from
Boston to support the sheriff of Middlesex, he was the second
in comraand. Subsequently he went to the western counties
as a volunteer aid to his friend General Lincoln, and remained
with that distinguished sol{|jer and patriot till the insurrection
was suppressed.
On the organization of the federal governraent, he was
appointed the first marshal of Massachusetts. On the intro
duction of the system of internal revenue, he was selected
by President Washington to be inspector of the revenue in
the county of Essex, and, in 1796, was appointed supervisor
of the revenue of the whole state. He lield this last office
till the comraerce of the country became sufficiently extensive
to support the expenses of the government by the duties on
iraports, and the internal revenue ceased to be levied. In the
latter part of his life, he was the treasurer of the common-

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 387
wealth, and of the university at Cambridge. This last office
he held at the time of his death, in the year 1810. On his
appointment as supervisor of the revenue of Massachusetts,
in 1796, Mr Jackson removed to Boston, where he continued
to reside for the remainder of his life. He was one of the most
distinguished members of a circle of patriots, of whom but
one or two survive ; — a class of men who, now that time
has softened the asperities of party feeling, and impaired the
interest of former controversies, Avill be admitted, on all hands,
to have been among the most ardent friends of Araerican
independence, and the raost intelligent and efficient founders
of our constitutions of government. He was the friend and
associate of Ames, of Parsons, and of Cabot, and yielded
neither to them, nor to any one, in sterling patriotism and
Roman integrity, both in private and public life. The various
public trusts and offices which he filled, sufficiently attest the
estimation in which he was held by his conteraporaries ; and
he transmitted, at his decease, a narae, honored in his own
person, to those who have increased its, honors in the highest
walks of professional and active usefulness.
I take great satisfaction in these recollections ; they suggest
a very pleasing combination of ideas. Our lamented founder,
Mr John Lowell, Jun., was of the third generation which
has come upon the stage since the close of the war of 1756,
— the true date of the American revolution. At that time,
the United States were poor and feeble colonies. The gen
eration to which he belonged was the first which carae for
ward into life with rauch transmitted property ; and it will
ever be remembered to his praise, that he has set such a bright
example' of pouring back so much of the ample portion which
had fallen to his share, into the bosom of the public weal.
Such being his personal merit, it is truly gratifying to trace
his descent to those in the first generation, who were araong
the most prominent and effective citizens, in this part of the
country, in establishing and consolidating the liberties of the
country, — the broad basis on which its prosperity has been
reared, — and to a parent in the second generation, Avho was
surpassed by no other in the success of his efforts to bufld on

388 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
that foundation, and to diffuse araong his fellow-citizens the
blessings of productive industry, as the natural result of free
and wise institutions of government ; and thus to lay the
foundation of those accumulations of property, which, liber
ally dispensed, must, in a republic, constitute the great fund
for all enterprises of social improvement.
That parent was Mr Francis C. Lowell, who is still freshly
remembered among us, as one of those who have reflected
the highest honor on the character of the American merchant.
He was distinguished for the originality of his views, the
clearness of his perceptions, the variety and accuracy of his
knowledge, and his power of bringing it to practical results,
and perhaps stfll more for the sterling purity and integrity of
his character. To him, more than to any other individual, is
New England, or rather is America, indebted, for the perma
nent establishment of the cotton manufacture in this country.
The earlier attempts had not gone beyond spinning hy ma
chinery, and had been made with but partial success. Mr
Slater had brought from England, in the year 1789, a knowl
edge of the inventions of Arkwright for spinning cotton ; but
the machinery constructed in this country is believed to have
been originaUy of an imperfect character, and to have re
mained without improvement. Some attempts had been
made, even before the arrival of Mr Slater, to introduce this
branch of industry. Bounties were granted by the state of
Massachusetts, and considerable capital, here and elsewhere,
was invested in the business ; but no extensive or important
results were obtained. The machinery was of an iraperfect
description, and badly constructed ; there was great want of
skill ; commerce was the favorite pursuit with men of capital ;
and the competition of foreign countries was, under these
circumstances, overwhelming. Perhaps an obstacle as serious
as any other, was a prevaihng belief, amounting almost to a
superstition, that it was impossible for this country to engage
to advantage in any branch of manufactures, which had been
long established in foreign countries.
At length, in 1807, the accustomed comraercial intercourse
of the United States with Europe was interrupted by political

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 389
events, which seemed likely to continue to operate for sorae
-tirae. Sagacious observers began to perceive the approach
of a new era in American industry, and capital, to some ex
tent, in the different parts of the country, being necessarfly
withdrawn from commerce, sought investment in various
branches of manufactures. This, however, was more partic
ularly the case in Pennsylvania, and iu reference to the man
ufactures of iron. The demand for cotton goods was, no
doubt, to some extent, supplied, during the interruption of our
intercourse with Europe and India, by American raanufac
tures of that article, but mainly, it is believed, by household
fabrics. •
In 1810, Mr Francis C. Lowell was induced to visit Eng
land with his family, oh account of the state of his health.
The vast importance of manufacturing industry, as a source
of national weeflth, was no doubt impressed with new force
upon his mind in consequence of his observations in that
country, and sorae branches of manufactures were examined
by him with care ; but it is not known that he paid particular
attention to that of cotton. On his return home, and shortly
after the comraenceraent of the war of 1812, Mr Lowell was
so strongly convinced of the practicabflity of establishing
that manufacture in the United States, that he proposed to a
kinsman and friend (Mr Patrick T. Jackson) to make the
experiment on an ample scale. The original project contem
plated only the weaving of cotton by machinery.- The
power loom, although it had been for some time invented in
England, was far less used in that country, in proportion to
the quantity of cotton spun, than al the present day, and was
wholly unknown in the United States. After deliberation,
the enterprise was resolved upon. A model of a coramon
loom was procured by Mr Lowell and his friend, — both
equaUy ignorant of the practical detafls of the mode in which
the power loom was constructed, — and their joint attention
was bestowed on the reinvention of that machine. Satisfied
with the result of their experiments, they proceeded to form
a company among their personal and famfly friends, with a
capital of one hundred thousand doUars, and entered into

390 JOHN LOWELL, JUN ,
contract with Mr Jacob Perkins to superintend the construc
tion of the machinery. Mr Perkins having left this part of
the country before the machinery was constructed or planned,
the late Mr Paul Moody was recommended by him as his
successor in the enterprise ; and no circumstance raore favor
able to its result could have occurred. Mr Moody, possessed
a raechanical genius of the highest order, though at this time
little developed by study or practice. On his first examina
tion of the working model of the power loom whicih had
been constructed by Mr Lowell and Mr Jackson, he enter
tained but little hope of its success. , He lived to see it
become one of the most iraportant agents in promoting the
prosperity of America. The Avinter of 1812 — 1813 was
passed at Waltham, where a water power had been purchased,
in bringing the loom to perfection. On being completed, it
was found to answer the purpose so entirely, as to warrant
the immediate construction, on the same plan, of all the
looms needed for the establishment.
Here, however, an unforeseen difficulty presented itself, in
the trouble and expense of preparing for the loom the thread
obtained from the spinning-mills of the country, and which,
in the original plan of the enterprise at Waltham, was de
pended, on to supply the looms at that place. It was imme
diately determined to extend the undertaking to the entire
manufacture of the article in all its parts. Machinery for
spinning, of the best description known at that time in the
country, was ordered;. but on its erection at Waltham, it was
pronounced by Mr Moody to be worthless, and Avas iramedi
ately removed, at the total sacrifice of what it had cost. It
of course became necessary to supply its place ; and in the
progress of this undertaking, the various portions of the ma
chinery known to be in use in England were reconstructed
at Waltham, without assistance frora models, by a machinist
who had never seen them in operation, with no aid but what
was to be obtained from books, and some drawings of a .por
tion of the works, which had been casually brought from
England at this juncture. It is probable that the extent tb
which Mr Moody and his intelligeiit employers were obliged

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE: 391
to depend upon the resources of their own minds, was, upon
the whole, an advantageous circumstance. Had they operated
with working models of the best. British machinery before
thera, they might have been satisfied with an exact imitation
of thera. As it was, important improvements were introduced
in every part of the machinery, and some original inventions
of great value were made. Among 'the former may be men
tioned the iraprovements of the dressing-table and the warping
machine ; and among the original inveQjions, the method of
spinning the thread directly upon tbe quill, and the double
speeder. Many of these improvements and inventions have
been since introduced into England. The mechanical con
trivance and execution of the machinery was principally the
work of Mr Moody ; the mathematical calculations necessary
for their adjustment were all made by Mr LoweU. The cal
culations connected with the double speeder were submitted
to the late Dr Bowditch, with a view to procure his testimony
on a trial which had arisen as to the patent right, and were
pronounced by him, on that occasion, to be such as few indi
viduals were competent to perform.
Not less than two and a half years were required for these
preparations, in which the whole capital of the company was
expended. Such, however, was the faith repbsed by their
associates in the judgment of Mr Lowell and Mr Jackson,
that when, in the autumn of 1815, it was proposed by these
gentlemen to double the capital of the establishment, the
proposal was promptly acceded to, although not a single
piece of cloth had as yet been delivered from the looms.
Sorae judgment may be formed from the following fact,
which occurred at this period, or shortly after, of the reduc
tion which has been effected in the price of an article, that
enters so extensively into the ordinary consumption of the
people of.the United, States. A considerable quantity of
thread having accumulated in the hands of the company be
yond the capacity of ^ their looms, it Avas distributed among
the hand- weavers in the neighborhood, to be manufactured
into cloth, at a coSf of ten cents per yard for weayipg, The

393 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
entire cost of the same article, including, of course, the raw
material, has been reduced below that sum.
Several months before this enlargement of the capital of
the company, and while the machinery was yet in- progress
of construction, the war was terminated. This circumstance
materiaUy changed the aspect of things in reference to many
of the manufacturing projects in the United States. Much
of the capital which had been invested in different parts of
the Union in manu#icturing establishments, was withdrawn
at a great sacrifice. Mr Lowell and his associates determined
to persevere. The existing interruption of coramerce had
not been lost sight of, as a circumstance favorable to their
undertaking in its infancy, but its continuance as a permanent
state of things had not been depended upon. Although, as
we have seen, they had not yet finished a piece of cloth,
they relied so confidently on their calculations, that they de
termined to risk the experiment of going on with the estab
lishraent; and probably no single purpose of private individ
uals ever involved a greater amount of public interests.
They did not, however, conceal from themselves the fact,
that a great change had taken place in the condition of the
country. That interruption of trade, which was the original
prompting cause of the enterprise, had now ceased to exist.
It Avas in the nature of things that there should be a reaction ;
that the country, after so long an interruption of foreign
commerce, would immediately be inundated from the glutted
markets of Europe and India, pouring their stocks into
the United States, with a profusion inseparable from the
return of peace. The double duties, which were levied for
a year after the war, served as a temporary protection ; and it
Avas determined to make an appeal to the wisdom and patriot
ism of Congress, to devise a system of perraanent security.
The baleful connection of this questjon with party politics
had not then coramenced. Mr Francis C. Lowell repaired to
Washington in the winter of 1816 ; and, in confidential in
tercourse with some of the leading merabers, he fixed their
attention on the importance, the prospects, and the dangers

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 393
of the cotton manufacture, and the policy of shielding it
from foreign competition by legislative protection. Consti
tutional objections, at that time, were unheard of The
Middle States, under the lead of Pennsylvania, Avere strong
in the manufacturing interest. The West Avas about equally
divided. The New England States, attached, frora the set
tleraent of the country, to commercial and navigatuig pur
suits, were less disposed to embark in a new policy, which
was thought adverse to some branches of foreign trade, and
peRticularly to the trade with India, from which the supply
of coarse cotton fabrics was principally derived.
The planting states, and erainentiy South Carolina, then
represented by several gentleraen of distinguished abflity,
held the balance between the rival interests. To the plant
ing interest it was demonstrated by Mr LoweU, that, by the
establishment of the cotton manufacture in the United States,
the southern planter would greatly increase his raarket. He
would furnish the raw raaterial -for all those American fabrics
which should take the place of raanufactures imported from
India, or partly made in England frora India cotton. He
would thus, out of his own produce, be enabled to pay for
all the supplies which he required from the north. This
simple and conclusive view of the subject prevailed, and de
termined a portion of the south to throw its weight into the
scale in favor of a protective tariff. The minimum duty on
cotton fabrics, th"? corner stone of the system, Avas proposed
by Mr Lowell, and is believed to have been an original
conception on his part. It was recommended by Mr
Ijowndes, it was advocated by Mr Calhoun, and Avas incor
porated into the laAv of 1816. To this provision of law, the
fruit of the intelligence and influence of Mr Lowell, New
England owes that branch of industry which has made her
amends for the diminution of her foreign trade : which has
kept her prosperous under the exhausting drain of her popi>
lation to the west ; which has brought a market for his agri
cultural produce to the farmer's door ; and which, while it
has conferred these blessings on this part of the country, has
been productive of good, and nothing but good, to every
' VOL. IL 50

394 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
Other portion of it. For these public benefits, — than which
none, not directly connected with the establishment of our
liberties, are of a higher order, or of a more comprehensive
scope, — the people of the United States are indebted to Mr
Francis C. Lowell ; and, in conferring his name upon the
noble city of the arts in our neighborhood, a monument not
less appropriate than honorable has been reared to his mem
ory. What m^Baorial of a great public benefactor so becom
ing as the bestowal of his name on a prosperous comraunity,
which has started, as it were, from the soil at the touch tf
his wand ? Pyramids and mausoleums may crumble to the
earth, and brass and marble mingle with the dust they cover,
but the pure and well-deserved renown, which is thus incor
porated with the busy life of an intelligent people, will be
remembered, tfll the long lapse of ages, and the vicissi
tudes of fortune, shall reduce all of America to oblivion and
decay. In thus dwelling, for a sh»rt time, on the eminent public
services of his father, I am sure I shall stand in no need of
an excuse with the friends of Mr John Lowell, Jun., the old
est of the four children (three sons and a daughter) who sur
vived him, and inherited from him an honorable independ
ence, — the well-merited reward of the efforts so widely felt
in the prosperity of the country. Mr John Lowell, Jun., was
born on the eleventh of May, 1799, and, after receiving his
earliest education at the schools of his native city, was taken
by his father to Europe, on occasion of the voyage to which
I have already alluded, and placed at the high-school of Ed
inburgh. He retained to the last an affectionate recollection
of the friendships formed by him at this early period ; and
during his travels in the East, towards the close of his life,
he gave the most substantial and munificent proofs of the
strength of the attachments of his childhood. He accom
panied his father on his return to America, and in 1813 was
placed at Harvard College. He had always been remarked
for an inquisitive turn of mind, and for the eagerness with
which he sought to inform himself, both by conversation and
books. He might be said, with truth, to have inlierited a

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 395
thirst for knowledge. His favorite reading was voyages and
travels ; and at this early period of his life, he was more
thoroughly acquainted with geography than most men of fin
ished education. His health did not permit him to complete
his collegiate course, and, after two years' residence at Cam
bridge, he left the university to follow a more active course
of life. In 1816 and 1817, he made two voyages to India,
— the first to Batavia, returning by Holland and England,
the second to Calcutta.
His readiness to engage, in his youth, in these distant voy
ages, without the inducement of necessity, may, no doubt,
be considered as an early indication of that passion for foreign
travel, which afterwards disclosed itself in his character, and
which was unquestionably stimulated by this glirapse of the
remote East. Although circumstances did not permit him
for a long time to gratify his taste in this respect, there is
reason to believe, that he cherished, frora a very early period,
the hope of adding something to the stock Of modern dis
covery. Among his earliest arrangements of business, there
are traces of a plan of a voyage to Africa, and of attempts to
explore the mysteries of the geography of that continent,
which have hitherto resisted the enterprise, the courage,
and the self-devotion of so many intelligent and unfortunate
travellers. From the time of his return frora his second voyage, with
invigorated health, Mr LoweU becarae a diligent student.
He was engaged with success in commercial pursuits, and,
of course, gave to them a sufficient degree of attention. His
operations, however, were principally connected Avith the
East Indies, and did not engross his time. His leisure was
alraost exclusively devoted to reading. He spared no time
for the frivolous pleasures of youth, — less, perhaps, than his
health required for its innocent relaxations, and for exercise.
Few subjects in science or literature escaped his attention :
and an uncommonly retentive memory rendered available,
for future use, the knowledge which he was so diligent in
acquiring. He rapidly formed one of the best selected and
expensive private libraries in the city, and acquired a famil-

396 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
iarity with its contents, not always possessed by the owner
of many books.
He did not, however, allow his love of reading to divert
his thoughts from the political and moral interests of the
comraunity. His time and his property were freely given to
the calls of public and private benevolence. He engaged
with earnestness in the promotion of the various public-
spirited undertakings of the day. He took an active part in
political concerns. Regarding our systems of government as
better adapted than any others to promote the virtue and hap^
piness of the people, he considered it the duty of every good
citizen to bear his part of the burden of sustaining and
administering them. Engaged in lucrative pursuits, which
made much attention to public business a pecuniary sacrifice,
and with a thirst for knowledge which superseded the neces
sity of political excitement, he yet gave himself, on principle,
to the public service. He was repeatedly a member of the
Common Council of the city, and the legislature of the com
monwealth.' In both of these bodies he was distinguished
for his assiduous attention to his duties, and for the practical
and business-like view which he took of every subject of
discussion. Indeed it was his characteristic to do thoroughly
whatever he undertook. His usefulness was, however, more
conspicuous in the coraraittee-roora than at the caucus ; and
as he did not depend upon office for, bread, he dwelt less than
is the fashion of the day in professions of disinterested regard
for the people. Leaving others to flatter them, his own con
science Avas satisfied, when he had served them to the best
of his ability. He was a philosophical student of the genius
of our political systems, and passed the autumn of the year
1829 at Richraond, for the purpose of attending the debates
of the Convention assembled in that city to revise the con
stitution of Virginia., . '
In the years 1830 and 1831, he had the misfortune to lose,
m the course of a few months,» his wife and two daughters,
his only children. This calamity broke up, for a season, afl
his pleasant associations with home, and served to revive the
slumbering passion for foreign travel, of which we have seen

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 397
the early indications. Desirous of extending his acquaint
ance with his own country before going abroad, he passed a
considerable portion of the summer of 1832 in a tour in the
Western- States. He made other preparations, of a more
serious character, for what might befall him abroad, and, as
the event proved, with a spirit foreboding that early termina
tion of his life which Providence had appointed. Bereaved,
by the domestic calamity just alluded to, of all those depend
ent upon him for their support and establishment in life, he
had already conceived and matured the 4)lan of his munificent
foundation. By a will made before leaving his native coun
try, he set aside a large portion of his ample property to be
expended, forever, in the support of those courses of lectures
in the city of Boston, of which the first is now about to
comraence. Although the plan of his travels abroad was not, probablj^,
at this tirae settled, there is evidence that he contemplated a
long absence, and a very extensive tour. He, no doubt, pro
posed to himself, on leaving home, fo penetrate the Eastern
continent as far as practicable. He mentions, in some of his
early letters, his purpose, if possible, to enter the Chinese
empire by the Indian frontier. Alluding to the distant pros
pect of his return home, he uses the striking expression, " I
raust first see the circle of the earth." More than once he
intimates the design of passing from the east of Asia to the
Polynesian Archipelago.
With these vast projects revolving in his mind, — with
feelings not alienated frora horae, but seeking relief frora its
sorrows in the excitement of travel, — with an almost unlira--
ited coraraand of the raeans of gratifying his curiosity, —
with a mind well fitted for instructwe observation by the
possession of a large amount of Various knowledge, —
with those moral qualities of industry, perseverance, and
courage, which are required for advantageous travel in bar
barous countries, — with that elevation of spirit which is
produced by a consciousness that he had raade provision for'
great objects of public utility, to take effect should any dis
aster befall himself, — he sailed for Europe, in November,

398 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
1832, never to return. The following winter and spring
were passed in Paris, and the suraraer and auturan of 1833
in England, Scotland, and Ireland. His project of extensive
travels in Asia was now sufficiently raatured, to be announced
to his friends at home. He began to look on every thing
abroad as it bore upon his preparation for this object. Infor
mation with- respect to the routes was sought in every quar
ter, and instruments of the most perfect kind were procured
by him to be raade by the best artists in London. He omitted
no opportunity of foriping the acquaintance of the few indi
viduals who had preceded him in the regions Avhich he pro
posed to explore. What was of the most material conse
quence, he received from Lord Glenelg. then Mr Grant, the
secretary of state for the colonies, such official recommenda
tions as would have procured him greater facilities in his tour
in the interior of India, than were ever enjoyed by a native
of this country, — probably by any person not a native of
Great Britain. The purpose of visiting the East had by this
time seized upon his souf, with the grasp of a ruling passion.
In one of his letters from London, in November, 1833, in
describing, with great vivacity, the various personages to
whom he had been presented at the hospitable table of Lord
Glenelg, including among them those of the highest political
rank and consideration in the kingdora, he speaks of a young
gentleman, at that time unknown to fame, as being to him
the most interesting person in the company, " the topmost
jewel in a precious diadem." This individual was Lieuten
ant, now, I believe. Sir Alexander Burnes, well known as tbe
author of Travels into Bokhara, and whose acquaintance
with the interior of the Oriental world, acquired by thirteen
years passed in the civil and military service of the Company,
formed an attraction to^lr Lowell, as he says, so engrossing,
" as to lead hira to forget almost every thing else, and to feel,
in a short time, like an intimate acquaintance.
Early in December, 1833, he again passed over to the con
tinent, taking the route of Holland and Belgium to Paris.
His projects for the future course of his travels, as far as they
were digested at that time, may be gathered from a letter to

POUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 399
the charge d'affaires of the United States at London, of the
nineteenth of December, 1833, in reply to a letter of inquiry
from that gentleman.
"I leave Paris," says he, "in five or six days, and proceed rapidly
through France, Italy, and Sicily, resting a few days at some of the princi
pal towns. I expect to reach Malta by the beginning or middle of April.
From Malta we shall endeavor to make a short visit to the Pyramids, by the
way of Alexandria and Cairo, and from thence to go to Jerusalem, by the
way of the Desert of Suez. Taking shipping at some port in Syria or Pal
estine, we shall follow the coast to Smyrna. Should this route be inexpe
dient, on account of want of time, fear of the plague, or political disturb
ance, we shall visit Greece before proceeding to Smyrna. From the last
hamed place we shall proceed to Constantinople, where we intend to arrive
as early as the middle of July or first of August; because it would be very
disagreeable to be overtaken by cold weather in the mountainous regions
of Armenia, Koordistan, or Georgia, In August, we shall proceed from
Constantinople to Trebizond on the Black Sea, probably by water. From
Trebizond we shall start on horseback,- and, placing our baggage on mules,
foUow for a time nearly the route of the ten thousand Greeks under Xeno
phon, and rest a short time at Tefiis, the capital of Georgia. We shall
leave Tefiis as soon as possible, and stop next at Teheran, the cap
ital of Persia. Here I propose to pass two or three months, both because,
in all probabiUty, the season wiU be unfavorable for travelling, and because
I should like to obtain a slight knowledge of the Persian language. From
Teheran we shall cross Persia, passing through Ispahan, the ruins of Per-
sepolis and Shirauz, — the city of gardens, — and Busheer, on the Persian
Gulf. Thence I take shipping for Bombay."
Such, it will be observed, was but the introductory portion
of the tour which Mr Lowell projected, of which the most
important and considerable part was to commence Avith his
arrival on the western coast of the peninsula of Hindostan.
Events, to which I shall have occasion presently to allude,
caused a change in a considerable portion of the route here
sketched out.
After a few days passed in Paris, and an excursion to the
south-western portion of France, he proceeded to Italy, by
the way of Nice and Genoa, and having visited the principal
cities in Lombardy, arrived in Florence in the early part of
February, 1834. The charms of the climate, the beautiful
remains of antiquity, and the wonders of modern art which
have been produced by their contemplation, the all-pervading

400 JOHN LOWELL, JUN., *
interest of the classic soil .of Italy, with the attractions of
society, to which he found access on the most advantageous
footing, detained him in the various cities of Itffly beyond
his calculation. While in P^lorence, he gratified his taste for
the fine arts, by engaging our accomplished fellow-citizen
Greenough to execute a statue for him, on one of the most
graceful subjects of classic mythology, to be presented to the,
Boston Athenasum. At Rome, he made an agreement with
a Swiss artist, highly recommended to him by Horace Vernet,
as an excellent' draftsman and painter, to accompany him, for
the purpose of taking sketches and designs of scenery, ruins,
and costumes throughout the whole of his tour. A consid
erable number of drawings, executed by this artist, have been
received in this country since Mr Lowell's decease.
Having completed the examination of the objects of inter
est in the vicinity of Naples, and visited the beautiful ruins
at Paestum, Mr Lowell crossed to Palermo. Although within
the pale of Europe, some of the peculiar hardships of Orien
tal travelling commence in the Island of Sicily. Except
in the immediate neighborhood of large towns, there
are no roads nor public conveyancesj and no houses for the
reception of travellers. But these circumstances do but give
a zest to travel. Mr Lowell devoted a month to the tour of
the island. He ex,plored the majestic ruins of Agrigentum
and Selinus, — perhaps the most imposing monuraents of
classical antiquity, — visited Syracuse and Catania, and as
cended the raiddle region of Mtna. Nor was his attention
confined to the wonderful remains of ancient art ; he sur
veyed the countries he visited with the eye of a naturalist.
In a letter of the eighth of June, 1834, to the Princess Galit-
zin, (the amiable and accomplished granddaughter of Marshal
Suwarrow,) whose acquaintance he had formed at Florence,
he thus expresses himself on the subject of the tour, which
he had just accomplished in this interesting region : " Clear
and beautiful are the skies in Sicfly, and there is a warmth
of tint about the sunsets unrivalled even in Italy. It resem
bles what one finds under the tropics ; and so does the vege
tation. It is rich and luxuriant. The palm begins to appear ;

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 401
the palmetto, the aloe, and the cactus adorn every roadside ;
the superb oleander bathes its roots in almost every brook ;
the pomegranate and a large species of convolvulus are every
where seen. In short, the variety of flowers is greater than
that of the prairies in the Western States of America, though
I think their number is less. Our Rudbeckia is, I think,
more beautiful than the chrysanthemum coronarium which
you see all over Sicfly; but there are the orange and the
leraon." After a month passed in Sicfly, Mr Lowell crossed to Malta.
Here he had so far altered the original plan of his route, that
he determined to raake the tour of Greece before visiting
Asia Minor. Accordingly, after devoting a few days to this
celebrated rock, he embarked in a Greek vessel for Corfu, and
arrived in that island, after a tedious passage of fifteen days.
When the traveller from Western Europe or Araerica finds
himself sailing along the channel which separates the Ionian
Islands frora the shores of continental Greece, he feels hira
self, at length, arrived in " the bright clime of battle and of
song." In Italy and Sicily, he is still in the modern and the
Western World, although numberless memorials of the past
remain, and a foretaste of Eastern costume and manners pre
sents itself. But he feels, with full consciousness, that he is
indeed on his pilgrimage, when his eyes rest upon those gems
of the deep, which the skfll of the Grecian minstrel has
touched with a spark of iramortality ; — when he can say to
himself, as he passes along, " On this spot was unfolded the
gorgeous web of the Odyssey ; from that cliff Sappho thrcAV
herself into the sea ; on my left hand lay the gardens of Al-
cinoiis, — and the olive, and the grape, and the orange still
cover the soil ; before me rises the embattled citadel Avhich
Virgil describes ; on my right are the infamous Acroceraunian
rocks of Horace; and within that blue mountain barrier,
which bounds the horizon, were concealed the mystic grove
and oracle of Dodona — the cradle of the mythology of
Greece." When to these recollections of antiquity are added
the modern Oriental features of the scene ; — the dress of the
Grecian peasant or boatman, seen as you coast along the
VOL. II. 51

402 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
islands; the report of the musket of the Albanian, — hall-
shepherd, half-bandit, — tending his flocks on the hfll-sides
of the raain land ; the rainaret, the crescent, and the cypress
grove, which mark the cities of the living, and the resting-
place of the dead; — you then feel yourself departed from
the language, the manners, and the faith of Christendom, and
fairly entered within the vestibule of the mysterious East.
After passing a few days at Corfu, the capital of the Ionian
Islands, Mr Lowell crossed the narrow strait which separates
it from the shores of Albania, and Avent up to Yanina, the
residence of the late celebrated Ali Pacha.* The beautiful
little city of Yanina — which, in 1819, lay quietly nestled
upon a promontory extending into a lake of moderate com
pass, half-surrounded by the neighboring heights of Pindus,
and under the protection of its stern master, exhibiting for a
Turkish town an unwonted air of prosperity — was seen by
Mr Lowell, in 1834, just emerging from a destructive war,
which had ended with the life of the aged despot. Having
passed a few days here and in the neighborhood, he pursued
his tour southward, through the passes of the Suliote Moun
tains, apparently by the route which is rendered so familiar to
us by the second canto of Childe Harold. A part of this
region has acquired a melancholy interest, as the theatre of
the exploits and fall of Marco Bozzaris, and other mournful
scenes of the Greek revolution. Visiting Missolonghi, —
where he became acquainted with the remaining members
of the faraily of Bozzaris, — Patras, the Gulf of Lepanto,
the citadel of Corinth, Mycene, Argos, Napoli di Roraania,
Epidaurus, and the Island of Mgina, he arrived about the 1 0th
of July at Athens, — " that venerable, ruined, dirty, little
town," — I use his own words, — " of which the streets are
most narrow and nearly impassable, but the poor remains of
whose ancient taste in the arts exceed in beauty every thing
I have yet seen in either Italy, Sicily, or any other portion
of Greece."
* From his landing on the Albanian shore, Mr Lowell commenced
the daUy "observation of the state of the thermometer, barometer, and
hygrometer, and entered the result with precision in his Joumal.

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 403
But, notwithstanding his keen relish for the beauties of
ancient art, it was no part of his design to make an extensive
Grecian tour. In the first week of September, he took pas
sage for the Island of Syra, which, since the downfall of the
Turkish dominion in Greece, has become the emporium of
the Archipelago. This island was, at that time, the residence
of the Rev. Mr Robertson, a missionary of the Protestant
Episcopal church in the United States, of whose labors, as of
those of the Rev. Messrs King and Hill, at Athens, also
American missionaries, Mr Lowell makes frequent and hon
orable mention in his letters, bearing witness to their visible
agency in proraoting the regeneration of Greece. He also
found, on more than one occasion, in the course of his tour,
that the liberal supplies sent by this country to Greece, in the
time of her extremity m 1827 and 1828, were stfll borne in
grateful recollection, and caused the American name to stand
high in the affections of the people.
After having been detained a considerable time at Syra, by
want of a wind, Mr Lowell took passage for Smyrna, where
he arrived on the twenty-fourth of September, 1834. He had
now reached the region which preceded even classic Greece in
the march of civflization, — the shores of that Ionia where Ho
mer lived and sung, before the light of poetry dawned on Ath
ens. Nor are classic associations its only interest. It abounds
in names that stand prorainent on the mysterious page of the
Apocalypse. In a letter to a friend in America, dated the twen
tieth of October, he observes, " The rich and, in spite of Turk
ish oppression, well-cultivated valley of the Meander, adorned
with cypresses and olive-trees, and filled with fig-trees and
vineyards, is worthy of being compared to the broad interval
lands of an American river. It resembles, in size and fertility,
the Mohawk, and is the second largest river in Asia Minor,
the Halys being the first. Near its banks are the ruins of
Magnesia, Tralles, Nysa, Laodicea, Tripolis, and, above all,
Hierapolis, all of which I visited. I had previously been to
Ephesus and Neapolis, or Scala Nova, one of the large com
mercial towns of the country. I then crossed Mount Messo-
gis in the rain, and descended into the basin of the River

404 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
Hernius, visited Philadelphia, the picturesque site of Sardis,
with its inaccessible citadel, and two solitary but beautiful
Ionic columns ; and in addition to what is sometimes caUed
the house of Croesus, I crossed and drank of the waters of
the Pactolus, forded the Hermus by the help of a Toorkman
girl and a Greek boy, went to Thyatira and Magnesia ad
Sipylum, and crossed the steep pass of the Sipylus into the
smfling plain of Smyrna."
Information of the prevalence of the plague at Constanti
nople, and the lateness of the season at which he had arrived
on the coast of Asia Minor, prevented Mr Lowell from exe
cuting his original purpose of entering the Black Sea, and
crossing by Armenia and Georgia into Persia. It was not till
he had been some tirae at Smyrna, that the plague had so far
abated that he deemed it not unsafe, towards the end of
November, to make a visit of a few days to Constantinople.
Devoting, however, but a very short time to its objects of
curiosity and interest, he hastened his return to Smyrna, in
order to take passage by the earliest opportunity for Alexan
dria, in Egypt. Still desirous to see as much as possible of
the interior of Asia, he proposed, after ascending the Nile as
far as Cairo, to enter Syria by the way of the Desert of Suez,
and crossing to the Euphrates, take passage in the Persian
Gulf for India.
On the ninth of December, he sailed frora Smyrna in a
Greek brig, the Bellerophon, chartered by himself for the con
veyance of his party and baggage. He coasted along the
islands of Mitylene, Samos, Patmos, and Rhodes, making some
stop at the latter island, and, after a voyage of eighteen days,
arrived at Alexandria. From the moment the traveller sets
his foot upon the soil of Egypt, he meets those remains of
antiquity which carry him back to a period that precedes the
dates of authentic history. The obelisk, Avhich bears the idle
name of Cleopatra's Needle, is in sight as he lands. As
he moves up the river, broken remnants of elder days, frag
ments of Norman, Saracenic, Roman, Grecian, and, lastly,
Egyptian architecture, tell the tale of the political vicissitudes
of this iU-fated region ; and when he reaches at length the

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 405
great pyramids of Memphis, he feels himself in the actual
presence of those mysterious dynasties, — which are at once
forgotten and imraortalized by imperishable monuments, —
the ashes of whose sovereigns are laid up in mausoleuras that
will stand till the earth shall pass away, — whose names and
titles are inscribed on obelisks and the walls of temples, from
which three thousand years have not obliterated them, in
characters whose import has even been deciphered by modern
sagacity, but of whose shadowy annals we still strive in vain
to catch the cleW.
Araong Mr LoweU's letters to his friends at this period, is
one written from the summit of the great ,pyramid, on the
twelfth of February, 1835. " The prospect," says he, " is
most beautiful. On the one side, is the boundless desert,
varied only by a few low ridges of limestone hills. Then
you have heaps of sand and a surface of sand, reduced to so
fine a powder, and so easily agitated by the slightest breeze,
that it almost deserves the name of fluid. Then comes the
rich, verdant valley of the Nile, studded with vfllages, adorned
Avith green date-trees, traversed by the Father of Rivers,
with the magnificent city of Cairo on its banks, but far nar
rower than one could wish, as it is bounded, at a distance of
some fifteen miles, by the Arabian Desert and the abrupt cal
careous ridge of Mokattan. Immediately below the spectator,
lies the city of the dead, the innumerable tombs, the smaller
pyramids, the Sphinx, and, still farther off, and on the same
line, to the south, the pyramids of Abou Seer, Sakara, and
Dachoor." After a short sojourn at Cairo, Mr Lowell coramenced the
ascent of the Nile. He had found the temptation to visit
Thebes too strong to be resisted. The universal mode of
travelling in Egypt is in long, narrow boats, with cabins and
awnings, propelled by very large sails, when the wind is
favorable, and poled or drawn along by hand, when it fails or
is adverse. In a boat of this description, at his own disposal,
(being the same which had shortly before been used by Mar
shal Marmont,) Mr Lowell was able to regulate his progress,
with sole reference to the objects of interest by the way. It

¦406 JOHN lowell; jun.,
happened that Mohammed Ali, the sovereign of the country,
was ascending the Nile at the same time. He was overtaken
by Mr Lowell on the eighteenth of February, and granted
him a long private audience in his tent. His inquiries showed
uncommon intelligence and vigor of mind. He sought mi
nute information as to the military and coramercial marine of
the United States, and particularly as to the steam navigation
of our large rivers. Having inquired in what direction Mr
Lowell proposed to pursue his journey to India, he dissuaded
him from attempting to traverse Syria, on the ground of the
unsettled and dangerous state of the country. He advised
him to adopt the route of the Red Sea and Mocha, and ten
dered him his protection up to that point.
Shortly after this interview, the prosperous course of Mr
Lowell's tour, hitherto unbroken by any adverse circumstance,
received an alarming check. In consequence of exposure to
the evening air, and the general effect of the climate, he Avas
severely attacked by intermittent fever. The disease yielded,
at first, to the remedies with which he was provided ; and,
on his arrival at Thebes, he was able to explore a portion of
those stupendous ruins, at all times of extreme interest, and
rendered doubly curious by the discoveries of M. Champol
lion. Establishing his abode on the ruins of a palace at
Luxor, he surveyed and examined, as far as the state of his
health would permit, the remains of those wonderful struc
tures, on which the names, the Avars, and the triumphs of a
long succession of Pharaohs are recorded. Unfortunately, his
recovery had been imperfect, — the season was advancing, —
new exposures brought on a return of his fever, soon com
plicated with other complaints incident to the climate and
region. The state of his health appears to have awakened serious
apprehensions in his mind. The first moment of convales
cence was devoted to the completion of his last will, and to
the formal statement of the principles on which he wished
the important trust created by him to be administered. We
are assembled, this evening, in pursuance of the testamentary
provisions drawn up in the land of Egypt, on the ruins of

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 407
one of the oldest seats of art and civilization of which ruins
remain, — -provisions in which a great and liberal spirit,
bowed down with sickness, in a foreign and a barbarous land,
expressed some of its last aspirations for the Avelfare of his
native city.
While detained' by sickness at Thebes, he employed his
attendants in making a collection of antiquities ; and he
succeeded in possessing himself of as large an amount and
variety of these objects as have, probably, at any time been
acquired by an American. They consist of fragments of
sculpture in granite, basalt, and alabaster, sorae of them with
hieroglyphical inscriptions ; two or three papyrus rolls ;
bronze figures; mummies; and a multitude of utensfls and
other articles illustrating the superstitions, arts, and manners
of the Eg3>'ptians.
A tour in Egypt above the pyramids was not originally
proposed by Mr Lowell ; and when, at length, he launched
on the Nile, it does not appear that he intended to proceed
beyond Thebes. While he was detained at Thebes, how
ever, the appearance of the plague at Cairo made it dangerous
for him to return to that place, on his way to Jerusalem,
which he had determined, at all events, to visit, previous to
embarking for India. • At the same time he fell in with a
young Englishman, who was disposed to undertake a tour to
Upper Nubia. The opportunity of visiting the ruins of
Meroe, — that mystic region, whose site is scarcely identified
by modern curiosity, — the primitive cradle, in the opinion
of sorae writers, of the sombre civilization, which, descend
ing the Nile, rather overshadowed than enlightened Egypt,
— was too attractive to be resisted.
In order to lay in the requisite stores, and raake the neces
sary preparation for his excursion to Nubia, Mr Lowell de
scended the Nile frora Thebes to Syout, the capital of Upper
Egypt. Here he was unfortunately delayed for more than a
month; — a circumstance the more to be lamented, as the
season was already quite too far advanced for the safe prose
cution of a tour within the tropics. During his sojourn at
Syout, he received marked attentions from the Turkish gov-

408 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
ernor of that place. He had also an opportunity of witness
ing an incident of great curiosity to a European or American
traveller. This was the arrival of the great caravan of Dar-
four in Central Africa, which had just reached the oasis of
Khargeh, at the distance frora the Nile of several days' jour
ney across the desert westward. Dar-four is stated by Mr
L. to have been visited but by a single European traveller,
the Englishman BroAvrte, about forty years ago. The great
caravan to the Nile is despatched once in two years, and is
two or three months in crossing the desert. It usually
consists of about six hundred merchants and pilgrims, four
thousand slaves, and six thousand camels, laden with ivory,
tamarinds, ostrich-feathers, and other articles of African mer
chandise, and with provisions for sustenance on the way.
Nothing in the intercourse of life, as we know it, can give
any idea of these caravans. As they afford the only oppor
tunities for communication across the waste of sand, the
whole life and action of the central region, its industry and
trade, its social relations, all its temporal interests, in greater
or less degree, and even its religion, are connected with the
caravan. This alone unites the interior of Africa with the
world; for this alone furnishes the means of crossing the
frightful desert, which insulates its inhabitants frora the rest
of the species.
" The immense number of tall and lank, but powerfiil camels," says Mr
Lowell, in his Journal under this date, " was the first object that attracted
our attention in the caravan. The long and painfiil joumey, besides killing
perhaps a quarter of the original number, had reduced the remainder to the
condition of skeletons, and rendered their natural ugliness still more appall
ing. Their skins were stretched, like moistened parchment scorched by
the fire, over their strong ribs. Their eyes stood out from the shrunken
forehead, and the arched back-bone of the animals rose sharp and prominent
above their sides, like a butcher's cleaver. The fat that usually accompanies
the middle of the back-bone, and forms with it the camel's bunch, had en
tirely disappeared. They had occasion for it, as well as for the reservoir
of water, with which a bountifiil nature has furnished them, to enable them
to undergo the laborious journey, and the painful fasts of the desert Their
sides were gored with the heavy burdens they had carried.
" The sun was setting. The little slaves of the caravan had just driven
in, from their dry pasture of thistles, parched grass, and withered herbage,

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 409
these most patient and obedient animals, so essential to travellers in tha
great deserts, and without which it would be as impossible to cross thera as
to traverse the ocean without vessels. Their conductors made them kneel
down, and gradually poured beans between their lengthened jaws. The
camels, not having been used to this food, did not like it; they would have
greatly preferred a bit of old, worn-out mat, as we have found, to our cost,
in the desert. The most mournful cries, something between the braying
of an ass and the lowing of a cow, assailed our ears in all directions, be
cause these poor creatures were obliged to eat what was not good for them ;
but they ofiered no resistance otherwise. The camels of Dar-four are
much taller than those of Egypt and of the neighboring Bedouins, or Arabs,
as they call themselves ; and I should think them quite as large as those of
Asia Minor. They are said to bear the fatigue of a long journey, in the
desert, better than the Egyptian camels, and even better than those of the
Arabs ; but, when transported to the NUe, it is said that the change of food
and water kills most of them in a little time."
It was June before the preparations of Mr Lowell were
completed, and he was able to resume his journey up the
Nfle. The thermometer now frequently stood at 115 de
grees, and he speaks of the temperature of 87 degrees, as
appearing delightfully cool. On the ninth of June he had
again reached Thebes, and on the eleventh, was at Esneh, on
the Nile. On the evening of that day, he was attacked by the
painful disease of the eyes, which is so prevalent in Egypt,
and by other and more serious complaints incident to tropical
regions. He Avas confined to his bed, by these maladies, for
three weeks, at Phflae, an island situated just above the cata
racts of the Nfle, and four weeks more at Wady Haifa, just
below the second cataract. It is needless .to describe what
he must have endured frora the heat and disease, in ifiidsura-
mer, within the tropics. Thinking the exercise of the saddle
would be beneficial, notwithstanding the prostration of his
health, he left his boat at Wady Haifa, mounted the horse
(an Arabian) which he had brought with him from Asia
Minor, and in that way proceeded into the province of Don
gola. He reached what is supposed to be the neighborhood
of the ancient Meroe, about the middle of September. By
taking a land route, though he avoided the great bend in the
Nile, a considerable part of his journey from Dongola to El
Metemneh lay through a desert.
VOL. II. 62

410 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
He had now penetrated far into Ethiopia. Nothing can
exceed the present desolation and misery of this once favored
region.* Mr Lowell pursued his journey as far as Khartoom,
a modern city, founded by the bey of Egypt, as the capital
of his kingdom of Sennaar, the last of his conquests in this
direction. It lies at the junction of the two great branches
which form the Nile, the Blue and the White Rivers, in the
latitude of 15 degrees, — the latitude of Honduras, the mouth
of the Senegal, and of Goa, — and probably as unhealthy,
to a northern constitution, as any parallel between the equator
and the pole. The city of Khartoom contained about fifteen
thousand inhabitants, when Mr Lowell visited it, and was
the residence of Koorshood Pacha, a Turk of distinction in
the military service of the bey of Egypt, and governor of
the kingdoms or provinces of Dongola and Sennaar. The
kind offices and the protection of this officer Avere of great
service to Mr Lowell, both at Khartoom and on his journey
to the Red Sea.
After a few days' residence at the capital of Sennaar, the
state of his health, and the progress of the season, (it was
now about the middle of November,) warned him that it was
time to shape his course towards India. To this end, it was
necessary again to descend the Nile as far as the city of Ber
ber, in Lower Nubia, to cross the Desert of Nubia frora that
place to Sowakeen, on the Red Sea, and there embark for
Mocha. Koorshood Pacha furnished him with letters to the
governors both of Berber and Sowakeen, without which it
would have been difficult to find the means of transportation.
A detachment of troops was about marching frora Sennaar,
to reenforce the array of the bey of Egypt in Arabia ; and,
as they would proceed by the same route, and cross the Red
Sea at the same place, they would, of course, monopolize
the scanty means of conveyance. But the recommendation
of Koorshood removed all obstacles, and procured Mr Lowell
* The degree of interest taken by Mr Lowell in its antiquities can only
be adequately understood by the inspection of his Journal, which is fiUed
with the result of the minutest observations and measurements, made under
the depressing influence of severe disease and a tropical climate.

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 411
a kind reception from the governor of Berber or El Mek-
heroff ; and a journey from that place of fourteen days, on
camels, across the desert, brought him to Sowakeen, a small
port on the western coast of the Red Sea.
Here, also, in virtue of the powerful influence exerted in
his favor from the capital, he was enabled, without difficulty,
to engage a small vessel navigated by Arabs, to transport
himself, his attendants, and baggage, to Mocha. He em
barked on the sixteenth of December, 1835, and arrived, in
four or five daj^s, at Massowa, another small port on the west
ern coast of the Red Sea, in about 16 degrees north latitude,
where he had agreed to stop, for the convenience of the party
navigating his bark. On the twenty-second of December,
at half past four o'clock in the afternoon, he resumed his
voyage. In the course of the day, the bark struck on a
coral reef ; and it was not without considerable risk of life,
the loss of a portion of his baggage, and the damage of the
rest, that he escaped with his party frora the wreck.*
The foUowing day, Mr Lowell returned to Massowa Avith
his rescued baggage and effects ; and, engaging there a ves
sel for Mocha, reached that place on the first of January,^
exhausted by the effects of long-continued disease, and recent
fatigue and exposure. He was fortunate enough to meet, at
Mocha, with a surgeon attached to the service of the British
East India Company, and, as he thought, derived important
benefit from his professional advice. But the scene was
drawing towards a close. The disease which had hung upon
him for seven or eight months, — the merciless heats of a
Nubian suraraer, — the fatigue of his excursion through the
desert between the Nile and the Red Sea, — with the shock
given to an enfeebled system by his shipwreck, and the want
of rest and medical treatment for a month afterwards, — had
undermined his constitution. The last letters written by
him bear date the seventeenth of January, 1836, at Mocha ;
* I omit with reluctance, for want of room, Mr Lowell's highly interest
ing letter of December 24th, 1835, giving an account of this disaster, and
contained in the original edition of this memoir.

412 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
at which time he Avas in daily expectation of the arrival of
the British steamboat, on her way to Bombay. No further
intelligence was ever received directly from himself, although
his journal is continued till within a few days of his decease.
The steamboat Hugh Lindsay arrived at Mocha, from Suez,
on the twentieth of January ; and on the twenty-third, Mr
Lowell took passage in her for Bombay, which he reached
on the tenth of the following month. No improveraent had
taken place in his health ; and, after feebly struggling with
his disease about three Aveeks, he died, at Bombay, on the
fourth of March, 1836.
, The unadorned narrative, which I have thus attempted,
will supersede the necessity of a labored delineation of his
character. Its prominent traits are conspicuous in the events
of his life. Every one perceives his uncommon energy and
perseverance ; but it is impossible to do full justice to his res
olution and firmness of purpose, without the perusal of his
Letter-books and Journal. Nothing less than an eminent de
gree of these qualities would have enabled hira to pursue his
journey into Upper Nubia, in a state of health which would
have been deeraed by raost persons to require the care and
comforts of home. He not only persevered, under these cir
cumstances, in continuing his journey far within the tropics,
in midsumraer, but explored the natural features of the coun
try through which he passed, and the remains of antiquity
visited by the way, and recorded the resiflt of his observa
tions with a minuteness, which would be thought highly
creditable to the diligence of a person in perfect health.
Many incidents also occurred during his travels in the bar
barous districts of Asia Minor, Egypt, and on occasion of his
shipwreck, in the Red Sea, evincing no common degree of
personal firmness and courage.
From those whose personal acquaintance with Mr Lowell
was raore intiraate than my own, I understand that a modesty
bordering upon diffidence gave to his manners, in general
society, an appearance of coldness and reserve, which raight
lead the stranger to mistake his real character, in which there
was a mixture of great strength and delicacy of feeling. The

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 413
kindness of his disposition, and the Avarmth of his heart,
shone out in the circle of his famfliar friends, and diffused a
genial influence on all around him.
The purity and delicacy of his moral principles were wholly
unimpaired by his large intercourse with the world. Ex
posed, in youth, to the worst examples, on shipboard, and in
foreign countries, he escaped unhurt, and carried forward into
life the innocence of childhbod. To a rigid and punctilious
sense of justice, and a veneration for truth, he added that
lofty sense of honor, which is necessary to the moral heroism
of character.
He Avas a firm believer of the great truths of natural and
revealed religion. The sense .of an overruling and directing
Providence was neVer absent frora his thoughts, and is fre
quently expressed in his letters. The Scriptures were the
companions of his travels ; and, in the specific directions
given for his foundation, a course of lectures upon the evi
dences of Christianity is provided for.
His range of general reading was extensive, and his attain
ments above the common standard of scholarship. They
were greatly extended, on his travels, by a dfligent study of
the languages of the several countries through which he
passed, including the modern Greek and vulgar Arabic. He
devoted himself to the study of mineralogy, while passing
sorae time at Edinburgh, in the summer of 1833. His ob-
, servations of the barometer, of the thermometer, of the
hygrometer, and of the course of the winds, are carefully
recorded, and show familiarity with philosophical instruments.
Barometrical estimates are made of the height of the various
positions on his travels, where such calculations would be of
interest. The state of agriculture, commerce, and particularly
manufactures, seems every where to have received much of
his attention. Valuable information on these subjects is
contained in his Journal. He appears to have inherited a
talent and taste for mathematics. Calculations, of considera
ble extent and intricacy, but in an incomplete and fragmentary
state, apparently designed to ascertain the cubical content of
the larger pyramids, are found araong his notes. It is to be

414 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
remembered, however, that he did not live to enter the field
which was the great object of his undertaking. It is probable
that large stores of knowledge, gathered up in a singularly
retentive memory, were lost, at his decease, without leaving
a trace in the Note-books of his journeyings, for the reason
that he was arrested by the last summons, before he had set
foot upon the region, in reference to which his reading had
been for a long time directed. Notwithstanding this circum
stance, his Letter-books and Journals are, throughout, those
of an acute, sagacious, and well-instructed traveller, and would
form, I am persuaded, in a judicious selection, an acceptable
present to the reading public. The diligence with which his
correspondence was pursued bears witness to the strength of
his domestic attachments, as it is principally addressed to the
members of his famfly. His fortitude and considerateness
are manifested in the infrequence of his allusions to the state
of suffering and danger, in which he had so often occasion to
write. With his first serious fllness in Upper Egypt, he turned his
thoughts to the land of his birth, and the completion of his
testamentary provision for the benefit of his native city.
The object of his bequest, as set forth in his will, is "the
maintenance and support of public lectures, to be delivered
in Boston, upon philosophy, natural history, the arts and sci
ences, or any of them, as the trustee shall, from time to time,
deem expedient for the promotion of the moral, and intellect
ual, and physical instruction or education of the citizens of
Boston." After a partial recovery from a severe attack of
disease, from which he suffered for five weeks, — in a codicil
to his wfll written amidst the ruins of Thebes, frora a place
called Luxor, an Arab village, the whole of which is situated
on the remains of an ancient palace, — Mr Lowell transmits
to his kinsman and trustee his detailed directions for the ad
ministration of his trust. Of these, the most important are
expressed as follows : —
" As tlie most certain and the most important part of true phUosophy
appears to me to be that which shows the connection between God's rev
elations and the knowledge of good and evU implanted by him in our nature.

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 415
T wish a course of lectures to he given on natural religion, showing its con
formity to that of our Savior.
" For the more perfect demonstration of the truth of those moral and
religious precepts, by which alone, as I believe, men can be secure of hap
piness in this world and that to come, I wish a course of lectures to be
delivered on the historical and internal evidences in favor of Christianity. I
wish all disputed points of faith and ceremony to be avoided, and the atten
tion of the lecturers to be directed to the raoral doctrines of the gospel,
stating their opimon, if they wUl, but not engaging in controversy, even on
the subject of the penalty for disobedience.
" As the prosperity of ray native land, New England, which is sterile and
unproductive, must depend hereafter, as it has heretofore depended, first, on
the raoral qualities, and, second, on the inteUigence and information of its
inhabitants, I am desirous of trying to contribute towards this second object
also; — and I wish courses of lectures to be established on physics and
chemistry, with their application to the arts; also on botany, zoology, geol
ogy, and mineralogy, connected with their particular utility to man.
"After the establishraent of these courses of lectures, should disposable
funds reraain, or, in process of time, be accumulated, the trustee may ap
point courses of lectures to be delivered on the literature and eloquence of
our language, and even on those of foreign nations, if he see fit. He may,
also, from time to time establish lectures on any subject that, in his opinion,
the wants and taste of the age may demand."
" As infidel opinions appear to me injurious to society, and easily to insin
uate themselves into a man's dissertations on any subject, however remote
frora religion, no man ought to be appointed a lecturer, who is not wiUing
to declare, and who does not previously declare, his belief in the divine
revelation of the Old and New Testaments, leaving the interpretation
thereof to his own conscience."

Such were the enlightened provisions of Mr Lowell for the
benefit of his native city. Surrounded by the most enduring
raonuments of human grandeur, he felt how little can be
done to elevate the raoral nature of man, by exhausting the
quarry, and piling its blocks of granite to the clouds. As far
as we can judge frora the unparalleled number and gigantic
dimensions of the temples, palaces, gatcAvays, alleys of
sphinxes, and cemeteries, that cover the site and fill up the
environs of Egyptian Thebes, the resources of the monarchs,
who made it their residence, must have exceeded those of the
Roman Caesars, when the world obeyed their sceptre. But
when we inquire after the influence of this raighty monarchy
on the Avelfare of the human race ; when we ask for the

416 JOHN LOWELL, JUN.,
lights of humanity that adorned its annals, — for the teachers
of truth, the discoverers in science, the champions of virtue,
the statesmen, the legislators, the friends of man, — it is all
a dreary blank. Not one bright name is preserved in their
history ; not one great or generous deed, if ever performed,
has escaped from oblivion ; not a word, ever uttered or written
by the myriads of rational beings, the lords or the subjects
of this mighty erapire, has been embalmed in the memory
of mankind. A beam of light from the genius of a modern
French scholar, cast upon the sculptured sides of obelisks
and temples, has redeemed the names and titles of forgotten
Pharaohs from ages of oblivion ; but no moral Champollion
can pour a transforming ray into the essential character of
the Egyptian monarchy, and make it aught else than one un
broken record of superstition, ignorance, and slavery.
Our lamented fellow-citizen, well versed in the history of
ancient times, musing amidst the ruins of this unconsecrated
magnificence, seems, with a yearning heart, whfle the hand
of disease already lay upon him, to have desired, as far as an
individual could effect it, to secure his beloved native land
from the blighting influence of those causes which preyed
upon the vitals of this primal seat of empire. These causes
were well known to him, — known from history, — known
from their existence at the present hour in the same wretched
region. There was no free cultivation of intellect in Egypt,
— no popular education, — no public liberty. The resources
of the monarchy were lavished on the wars and luxury of its
princes. The soul-crushing despotism of mystery checked
all development of the common mind. In consequence of
the slavery of caste, religion — instead of being a source of
light, of social improvement, and happiness — was an addi
tional instrument of subjection. It chiefly eraployed its en
ergies in the disgusting art of preventing the perishing clay
from returning to its kindred dust. Nor was this the worst.
The priesthood made themselves the exclusive depositaries
of learning. If we can trust the accounts of the ancient
writers, the import of those hieroglyphical characters in which
the Egyptian wisdom is recorded, Avas a mystery known only

FOUNDER OF THE LOWELL INSTITUTE. 417
to the priests, and those to whom, in their secluded cells, they
chose to confide it. Well might it have been expected that
the knowledge of it Avould perish. It had no root in the
intelligence of the people ; it was the secret of a caste, and
it died out with the privileged order by which it was en
grossed. The pyraraids themselves could not crumble, —
the sculptured granite, in that mild climate, could not lose
its deeply-graven character ; — but, instead of handing down
an intelligent record of the monarchs who reared their raoun
tain masses, and uoav slumber in their monumental caverns,
they stand but as eternal meraentoes how perishable is all
glory, how fleeting is all duration, but that of the improved
mind. The few sentences penned, with a tired hand, by our fel
low-citizen, on the top of a palace of the Pharaohs, will do
more for huraan iraprovement, than, for aught that appears,
was done by all of that gloomy dynasty that ever reigned.
I scruple not to affirm, that, in the directions given by him
for a course of popular instruction, — illustrative of the great
truths of natural religion and the evidences of Christianity,
and unfolding the stores of natural science and useful knowl
edge, — to be dispensed without restriction to an entire com-
mimity, — there is a better hope that mental activity Avill be
profitably kindled, thought put in salutary motion, the con
nection of truth Avith the uses of life traced out, and the con
dition of man benefited, than in all the councils, rescripts,
exploits, and institutions of Sesostris and his line. I am
persuaded that raore useful knowledge, higher views of the
works of God, deeper and raore searching glimpses into the
mysteries of nature, — will be coraraunicated in the course
of lectures which will commence next Friday, than lie hid
den in the hieroglyphics that cover the Egyptian temples,
from the cataracts to the mouth of the Nile, although every
character, according to M. Arago's suggestion, should be
copied by the daguerreotype, and fully explained by the key
of Champollion. Let the foundation of Mr Lowell stand on
the principles prescribed by him ; let the fidelity Avith Avhich
it is now administered continue to direct it ; and no language
VOL. II. 53

418 JOHN LOAVELL, JUN.
is emphatic enough to do full justice to its importance. It
will be, from generation to generation, a perennial source of
public good, — a dispensation of sound science, of useful
knowledge, of truth in its most important associations with
the destiny of man. These are blessings which cannot die.
They wfll abide, when the sands of the desert shall have
covered what they have hitherto spared of the Egyptian tem
ples ; and they will render the narae of Lowell, in all wise
and raoral estimation, more truly illustrious, than that of any
monarch engraven on their Avails. These belong to the em
pire of the mind, which, alone, of human things, is iraraor
tal, and they will remain as a memorial of his Christian
liberality, when all that is material shall have vanished as
a scroll.

NOTE.

See Page 420.
Since the manuscript of the foregoing Memoir was sent to the press, the
sudden and lamented decease of Mr John Loweli * has removed the rea
sons of delicacy which prevented his being prominently mentioned among
those of his famUy who deserve a high rank araong our public benefactors.
It would not be easy to name an individual, in the last generation, who,
either in public or private life, has made himself as extensively felt in the
community as Mr Lowell, and this by the unaided force of personal
influence. He entered upon the practice of the law before he attained his majority,
and, rising rapidly to the highest rank in the profession, measured himself,
whUe yet a young man, with those who stood at its head in Massachusetts.
Exhausted in a few years by the labors of his profession, and by tho action
of a fervent mind upon a susceptible frame, he was compelled, at the age
of thirty-five, to abandon the pursuit in which he had already acquired
fame and fortune, and to seek the restoration of his health in a foreign
voyage. His letters from Europe, published in the Monthly Anthology,
display the extent and accuracy of his observation, and the vigor of his
style. After three years spent in Europe, he retumed to America, and passed
the residue of his life as a private citizen, without resuming his professional
pursuits, or accepting any public office. He took, however, an active part
in the political controversies of the day, and exercised a powerful influence
over public opinion. Those party divisions which had their origin in the
French revolution, and the various questions touching the foreign relations
of the country that grew out of it, were then at their height Mr Lowell
entered with eamestness into the discussion of these questions in the pub
lic joumals, and, after the decease of Mr Ames, in 1808, possessed a greater
ascendency than any other person in New England, over the minds of those
who were opposed to the national administration. He was, however, as a
political writer, not raore intrepid and uncompromising than he was fair and
honorable. He probably enjoyed as much of the respect of his opponents,
as it was possible to award to one whose opinions were conceived and ex-
* The uncle of the founder of the Lowell Institute.
(419)

420 NOTE.
pressed with equal firmness and ardor. It was universally known, that no
desire for the honors or emoluments of office moved his pen ; that he neither
sought, nor could be induced to accept, any public station whatever. Those
who difiered frora hira in opinion, did justice to the honesty of his purpose,
and the purity of his personal character.
No one witnessed with greater satisfaction than Mr. Lowell the subsi
dence of party spirit which took place, in this country, in consequence of
the general pacification in Europe and America in 1815. From this time
forward, during the quarter of a century which has since elapsed, it is be
lieved that he took no part in the discussion of the various topics of politi
cal interest which successively presented theraselves, and which have
recently formed the basis of a new organization of parties. Dividing the
year between his residence in Boston and his farm in Roxbury, he gave
himself, both in town and country to tho pursuits of private life, and espe
ciaUy to horticulture and agriculture, (which he thoroughly understood, both
in theory and practice,) and to the promotion of the various public, literary,
and charitable institutions. He was, for many years, a most infiuential
member of the Corporation of Harvard College, (a place now filled, in the
third generation, by his son, Mr John Amory Lowell, the sole trustee of the
Lowell Institute ;) he was among the raost active and efficient promoters of
the establishraent of the Massachusetts General Hospital, and of the Prov
ident Institution for Savings in the City of Boston ; he took the lead, about
twenty years ago, in the measures adopted for increasing the usefulness of
the Boston Athenaeum ; and was, for several years, the most prominent
member, and the president of the board of trustees, of the Massachusetts
Agricultural Society. In whatever he engaged, he brought to it his whole
heart ; and wherever his services were given, it was — not by assumption,
but by the necessity of his nature, the energy of his character, and the
willing deference of others — as a leader. Next to his commanding talent
and energy, the great secret of his influence was his entire and unsuspected
disinterestedness. But it was only in social intercourse, and the relations of private and do
mestic life, that the beauty and worth of Mr Lowell's character were fully
displayed. He was animated by the loftiest sense of personal honor ; his
heart was the home of the kindest feelings ; and, without a shade of self
ishness, he considered wealth to be no otherwise valuable but as a power
ful instrument of doing good. His liberality went to the extent of his
means ; and where they stopped, he exercised an almost unlimited control
over the means of others. It was diffic-alt to resist the contagion of his
enthusiasm ; for it was the enthusiasm of a strong, cultivated, and practical
raind. He possessed colloquial powers of the highest order, and a flow of
unstudied eloquence never surpassed, and rarely, as with him, united with
the comraand of an accurate, elegant, and logical pen. It was impossible
for hira to enter into a social circle, however intelligent^ which he was not
able, unconsciously and without forethought, to hold in wiUing attention,
by the charms of his conversation. He had a deep sense of the truths and
hopes of the Christian faith, and never alluded to them, nor countenanced

NOTE. 421
an allusion, but with that gravity and seriousness which belong to the high
est interest of man.
The declining state of his health led him, within the last few years, to
withdraw himself almost wholly frora society. He passed a winter, two
years ago, in the West Indies, highly enjoying the genial climate, studying
with delight the boundless profusion of tlie tropical Flora, but with no sub
stantial improvement of his health. On tlie llth of tlie present month,
(March, 1840,) he died at his fireside in Boston, suddenly, and without pain,
at the age of seventy years.
The last tirae I saw him was at the delivery of the preceding discourse,
on the evening of tlie 2d of January. He was pleased then to express his
kind approval of my hurable efibrt to do justice to the munificent founda
tion of his nephew; and it is with deep sensibUity that I now bring it to a
close, with this feeble tribute to the memory of one of the earliest, kindest,
and most respected of the firiends of my youth.

DR ROBINSON'S MEDAL.*

Mr President and Gentlemen :
I PERFORM a very agreeable duty in appearing as the rep
resentative of my learned and ingenious countryman, Dr
Robinson, to receive this beautiful medal, which the Royal
Geographical Society has been pleased to award to hira for
his late valuable work. I beg leave, on his behalf, to make
to you and to the council of the society those grateful ac
knowledgments which are due for this distinguished honor,
and for the emphatic and discriminating commendation which
you have bestowed on the "Biblical Researches." The fa
vorable opinion of the Royal Geographical Society, expressed
in this public and authentic manner, will give the character
of a standard work to a production which had already been
received Avith no ordinary degree of public favor. I ara sure
that my learned countryman wfll feel himself encouraged and
stimulated, by the society's flattering notice, to the still more
zealous pursuit of the studies and researches, of which he
has already reaped so briUiant a reward.
Permit me to say, sir, as the official representative of the
United States of Araerica in this country, that the circum
stance which has procured me the honor of your kind invita
tion this day, is of the raost gratifying character. It affords
me high satisfaction that a countryman of mine should have
* Reply to the speech of the president of the Royal Geographical
Society, (WiUiam R. HamUton, Esq., F. R. S.,) on occasion of tho award
of the society's gold medal to Rev. Dr Robinson, of New York, for his
" Biblical Researches in Palestine, Mount Sinai, and Arabia Petrsea," on
the 23d May, 1842. (422)

DR ROBINSON'S MEDAL. 423
produced a work deemed worthy of these testimonials of
approbation, in reference to a land which, raore than any other
on the surface of the globe, concentrates the affections of the
Christian, that is, the civilized portion of raankind ; a land
which to the interest of a long series of the most extraordi
nary incidents and revolutions, going back to the dawn of
history, unites, that higher and more sacred interest which
belongs to it as the theatre of events, compared with which
the vicissitudes of human things sink into insignificance.
Allow me, sir, in conclusion, to observe that this act of the
Royal Geographical Society will be viewed with pleasure by
my countrymen at large. They Avfll consider it as a proof
that our two countries, though politically distinct, are regarded
by tbis most respectable association as members of one com
munity of letters ; and that you are disposed to cherish and
strengthen those good feelings which ought to prevail, and, I
trust, ever will prevail, between two nations of coraraon
language and kindred blood. This disposition, let rae say,
sir, is cordially reciprocated by the men of science and liter
ature in America ; and on their behalf, as Avell as that of the
individucd iramediately concerned, I again express ray thanks
for the honor done to him by the society, and the eminently
kind and courteous manner in Avhich you have been pleased,
Mr President, to carry their purpose into effect. I shall lose
no time in conveying their medal to Dr Robinson ; and I am
sure that I haA'e but imperfectly anticipated the grateful
sentiments with which its reception will be acknowledged
by him.

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER.*

Mt Lord and Gentlemen :
I must confess that I rise under some degree of embar
rassment to return you my thanks for the corapliraent you
have been pleased to pay to me. The only circumstance
that at all relieves that embarrassment is, that I cannot but
feel that your kind notice is intended to reach far beyond
myself, — that it is intended mainly for the people whom I
have the honor, however unworthily, to represent. On their
behalf, I raay, without impropriety, accept all your kindness,
as I do, most cordially ; thanking you for them, as well as for
myself, for the reception which you have been pleased to
give me at this time. Such a welcome as this is enough to
make rae feel that I am not a stranger. It is enough to make
me feel, that, in crossing the ocean, I have but corae to
another native country, if I may so call it, — the country
of my fathers, where I can enjoy the charities of hospitality
in exchange for those of horae.
And permit rae to express the opinion that there is some
thing very peculiar in the relation betAveen our two coun
tries, well calculated to forra a basis, as I trust it does and
ever will, of kind feelings between them. The connection
of colony and mother country, which formerly subsisted
between England and the United States, is of course not new
in the world. From the beginning of history, Egypt, Greece,
* Response to a toast given by the president of the British Association
for the Promotion of Science, (Lord Francis Egerton, now the Earl of
Ellesmere,) at the pubUo dinner, 25th May, 1842, on occasion of the
meeting of the Association at Manchester. (424)

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER. 425
and Rome sent out their colonies to relieve a superabundant
population, or in the spirit of commercial enterprise, or to
consolidate their distant conquests ; but there can, in the
nature of things, be no exaraple, in ancient history, of such a
relation as exists between us. Sraall companies of adven
turers, actuated by the highest and noblest feelings that can
influence the heart and govern the conduct of men, traversed
a mighty ocean, which bore them all at once from the mature
arts of civilization to the wildest nature — from the England
of the seventeenth century into a savage wilderness, unknown
till then to the rest of mankind. Here they laid the deep
and broad foundations of free states, destined, under a multi
tude of causes, which it is impossible for me here even to
glance at, in the maturity of time to grow up into a great
famfly of communities, independent politically of the mother
country; but still, in their common language and origin,
forming Avith that mother country one commercial, social,
and intellectual community, destined, I believe; as such, to
fulfil the highest ends in the order of Providence.
Let us look at it for a moment only as a sort of scientific
phenomenon. I chanced this morning to step for a short
time into the geological section, (and I only regret that I
could not stay there longer,) when I heard my excellent friend,
who has just taken his seat, (Professor Sedgwick, of Cam
bridge,) discoursing in that eloquent and fervid manner of
which he has just given us so pleasing a specimen, on the
similarity of the Devonian rocks with the strata which have
been observed on the other side of the Irish Channel. He
said, if I understood him, that he thought it certain that
they were the same, and expressed his " delight " at the cir
cumstance. Suppose, then, that the same similarity were
traced by one of your raerabers between the geological for
mations of our two countries ; suppose that, arriving on the
coast of America, he should find there on landing, the
peculiar strata with the most characteristic fossils of Great
Britain; suppose that my friend, the president of the geo
logical section, at this end of the table, (Mr Murchison,)
should make us a visit in the west, as he has ventured so far

426 BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER.
into the north and east, and be able to add a grand trans
atlantic Sfluria to that domain which his ingenuity has con
quered at home ; to establish beyond doubt, that in the
primeval geological ages, our tAvo countries were part and
parcel of the sarae continent; and that the great ocean
which now separates them is but the reraains of that grand
cataclysm in which the isthmus of coraraunication Avas sub-
raerged ; — Avould not ray worthy friend frora Carabridge also
be "delighted" with this? Would not this be hailed Avith
pleasure, and this splendid generalization be welcomed by
every man of science into the circle of his most favorite
theories ?
Then I ask you, gentlemen, is it a less interesting fact,
that, in crossing this mighty ocean to America, you find there
the traces, not of similar strata of coal and gypsum, not like
forraations of sandstone, and grauwaacke, and granite, but the
traces of kindred famflies of rational beings? Is it not a
delightful fact, that the footprints that you first met there are
not merely those of the fossil animals, whose paradoxical
existence Avas terminated in ages into which history strives in
vain to penetrate even as far as the vestibule, but the footsteps
of men, of kindred men, of men descended from your own
revered ancestry, and called to walk together Avith you over
the great stage of accountable existence, and to engage with
you in the solution of all those grand problems that are task
ing the minds of civflized men in this most important age of
the Avorld?
It has been said by Sir John Herschel (whom I Avish we
had the pleasure of beholding at the table at this tirae, as he
is expected next week) that it is the final object of all science
to expand and elevate the understanding. If this be so, it
seems to rae that there is not one, araong all the topics con
sidered by all the sections this day, which is better calculated
to produce that effect than such a connection betAveen two
great countries. Why, it is only since the reign of James I.
and Charles I., which is but as yesterday in the long line of
British history, that a few adventurers rather stole across the
ocean than navigated it. Two hundred years have passed

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER. 427
away, and out of that little insignificant germ of national
existence, mfllions and millions have groAvn up, and formed
a great and mighty nation, in close connection Avith your
own. And in whatever light we regard each other, — com
mercial, political, literary, social, or moral, — it is destined,
like the dearest connection of domestic life, "for better or
for worse," to exercise an all-powerful influence upon each
other, I believe I may say, without exaggeration, to the end
of time. When America is prosperous, her prosperity is felt
in the hut of the humblest hand-loom weaver in Lancashire ;
when our industry languishes, do not the pulses of your
industry, especially here in this important city of Manchester,
beat proportionaUy feeble and slow ?
It would be improper to consume the tirae necessary to go
through all the fllustrations of the close connection betAveen
our two countries ; I have already taken up raore of your
time than I ought. But there is one - since you encourage
me to go on — which is so curious, and so important in this
great metropolis of the cotton manufacture, that I wfll briefly
advert to it. It is doubtless known to your community, that
the culture of cotton, now so important to us and to you, is
comparatively so recent in the United States, that when the
first parcel of American cotton arrived in Liverpool, — in the
year 1784, I believe, — it was actually seized at the custom
house, in the belief that it could not be the product of the
United States of America, but must have been brought in,
contrary to law, from the British West India Islands. We
have seen, however, in a few years, an enormous extension
of this culture take place. It was alraost indefinitely in
creased, through the operation of the American ¦'nvention
of a machine to separate the seed frora the fibre. What were
the circurastances of the extension of the culture, as con
nected with your country? Why that, precisely at this
period, the ingenuity and the labors of Arkwright and his
successors had made those wonderful improveraents in spin
ning cotton, which created an alraost boundless deraand for
the unlimited supply which was springing up in our coun
try ; eo that it is doubtful which was the most important,

428 BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER.
the unexpected supply of the raAV material in America,
or the immense iraprovements in machinery in England,
in buflding up that branch of manufacturing industry, of
which it has been said by some of your economists, that it
carried England through the wars of the French revolution.
This is an fllustration of our connection, drawn from the
material Avorld, in the period which has elapsed since the date
of our separate political existence. , In the world of science,
I would rather say there has never been a separation between
us. There are no boundary questions in that pacific realm.
The first patron that ever Sir Humphry Davy had — if it be
not a shame to pronounce the word patron in reference to
such a narae — the first individual who had the honor of
helping him into notice was an American citizen ; for under
the somewhat lofty disguise of "Count Rumford" lies con
cealed plain " Benjamin Thompson," the son of a New Eng
land farmer. Dr Franklin was first led to turn his attention
to electricity by experiments exhibited by an itinerant British
lecturer, in the large towns of the then British colonies ; and
he pursued his inquiries in this branch of science with a few
articles of apparatus sent out to him in Philadelphia by his
friend (Mr CoUinson) in London. It is unnecessary to speak
before this company, to Avhich the name of Fulton is as famfliar
as those of Bolton or Watt, of the part alternately performed
by the science of England and America, in bringing about
the use of steara as a locoraotive power, by land and by
Avater — the great mechanical improvement of tbe day. In
more modern times, the merit of our modest and self-taught
mathematician, Bowditch, the Araerican translator and com
mentator of La Place, has nowhere been better knoAvn and
appreciated than in England ; and in reference to science in
general, I Avish it to be constantly borne in mind by every
one engaged in its pursuit in this country, that in fourteen
days after the publication to the scientific Avorld here of his
speculations or discoveries, they will be liberaUy received,
considered, and appreciated according to their merit, by the
only other people on the face of the globe speaking the same
language, and belonging to the same school of civilization. .

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER. 429
In literature, (though I know it is not proper before this
company to wander far beyond the pale of science,) yet I
know you Avill pardon me for saying that it is our boast and
joy that Shakspeare and Milton were the countrymen of our
fathers. We Avorship at the same altars, we reverence the
same canonized names, as you. The great modern names of
your literary Pantheon — the Addisons, Johnsons, and Gold
smiths, of the last century, the Scotts and Byrons of this —
are not more famfliar to you than to us. And may I not say
that the names that adorn the nascent literature of ray own
country, — our Irvings, our Prescotts, our Coopers, our Bry
ants, our Bancrofts, and our Channings, — may I not say,
that they are scarcely better knoAvn to us than to you ?
I know it is thought that a great difference exists betwee '
our political systems, — and certainly it is in some respects
considerable, — and political institutions, of course, have a
great influence on the character of a nation. But all repub
licans as we are, — I have seen something of the continent of
Europe, as well as Great Britain, — and taking our systems
of governraent through and through, I think the candid
observer will admit that there is a much greater similarity
betAveen you and us, even politically speaking, than be
tween England and any of her sister monarchies. I believe
Ave raay boast that Ave are chfldren of the British school
of freedora. Though we are ardently, passionately attached
to liberty, it is liberty enshrined in constitutions, and or
ganized by laws. On your part, if I ara not too presump
tuous as a stranger in expressing an opinion, I think I may
say, that it is your boast, that the pfllars of the state rest on
those principles of representative government by which the
Avill and the affections of the people are brought to the
support of the throne. And do we not, English or Amer
icans, do we not derive our only hope of a name and
praise in the world, politically speaking, from our attachment
to those old British muniments of liberty — trial by jury, the
habeas corpus, freedora of speech, and liberty of the press ?
Do Ave not derive it from that ardent love of self-government,
tem})ered by a nroud submission to the supremacy of the law,
VOL. II.

430 BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT MANCHESTER.
which flowed in the veins of Englishmen for centuries before
America began to be, and will, I trust, flow in the veins of
Englishmen, and their children of America, to the end of
time — " in omne volubilis mvum " ?
Allow me, my lord, before taking my seat, to express to
you my personal thanks for the most kind and flattering man
ner in which you have been pleased to allude to me. Permit
me to say, in speaking of the feelings which I shall bring to
the discharge of my duty in this country, that you have done
me no more than justice. My first duty is, of course, to the
government whose representative I am. After that duty is
perforraed, if it is in my power in any degree to proraote
good will and kind feeling between the two nations, which,
of all others on earth, have it in their power to do most harm
and most good to each other, I should think myself equally
criminal to both, if I fafled to do so.

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.*

Mr VlCE-CHANCEl.LaR, MT LoRDS, AND Gentlemen :
Permit me, on behalf of myself, and my respected col
leagues, whom you have been pleased to associate Avith me,
to return our united and grateful acknowledgments for the
compliment which you hav^e paid us. They are due, sir, on
every account — for the hospitality with which you have
received us, for these academic honors with which you have
clothed us, and doubly so for the kindness and courtesy Avhich
marked the manner in which they were bestowed.
This is an occasion, sir, on which foreign nations may with
propriety be represented in your acaderaic halls. The cause
which brings us together — the cause of science and literature
in their largest extent, of the training of mind, and of the
formation of character, as my worthy coUeague opposite
(Chevalier Bunsen) expressed it — these are not objects
peculiar to you. Though the modes of proraoting them, as
the Lord Chancellor observed, are eminently national, as we
see thera developed in your ancient seminaries, yet the cause
itself, the objects themselves, have an interest wide as the
civilized world.
There is another reason for which foreign nations may
claim to be represented here. The Lord Chancellor alluded
to the great men Avhom your two universities, and this uni-
* In reply to a toast complimentary to the American, and the other for
eign ministers, given by the Vice-Chancellor, (Rev. Dr Archdale,) at the
public dinner at Emmanuel CoUege, on the 4th of July, 1842, on occasion
of the instaUation of the Duke of Northumberland, as chancellor of Uie
university of Cambridge. (431)

432 UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.
versity in particular, have produced in daji-s gone by, — and
justly did he allude to them, — as among the greatest boasts
of your country. But they lived not for you alone ; they
belong not to England alone. Your castles and your towers,
your fleets and your armies, your fertfle fields, your crowded
cities, your wealth, your power, — these belong exclusively
to England ; but your great men, your Bacons, and your
Newtons, — these belong not only to England, but to the
world. May I not say, — as the Vice-Chancellor has been
pleased particiflarly to allude to me, — that they belong, emi
nently, in cemmon with you, to that kindred people beyond
the sea, whose humble representative I am ?
I have said that these great men belong not only to Eng
land, but to the Avorld ; they would belong to the world even
did they cease to belong to England. The Lord Chancelloi
turned our minds back to the foundation of your university :
let us cast a thought in the other direction, and see Avhat, by
possibility, raay happen hereafter. It is possible — though in
the highest degree iraprobable — still it is possible that this
great fabric of modern civilization may be dissolved. I am
not, indeed, one of those who believe in a youth, manhood,
and decline of nations as a necessary condition of humanity.
That idea, as I think, is not drawn from any law of human .
progress, but borrowed from the ill-applied analogy of other
times. I not only trust, but believe, that our present civfli
zation Avill be permanent ; that it is founded on principles
too solid to admit of the overthrow and confusion of the
present faraily of nations, and the return of barbarism. But
if this should unhappily prove otherwise ; if a catastrophe
like that which befell the improved nations of antiquity
awaits the modern European world ; if the existing na
tional families should be dispersed; if this noble English
which we speak should cease to be a vernacular tongue, and
strange dialects arise among strange races, and for a while the
light of Bacon, and Dryden, and Newton, children of Cam
bridge, should here go down, it would but sink to rise again.
That light cannot forever be extinguished. While the laws
of the human raind, yes, while the orbits and attractions of

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, 433
the heavenly lurainaries remain unchanged, these your great
men must be the teachers of their fellow-mortals. Yes, sir,
to borrow the words of your greatest poet, who passed his
academic life in the very next college to that in which we
are now assembled, — and in what language but that of
Milton can I hope to do justice to Bacon and to Newton, —
if their star should ever set in your horizon, it must be to
rise again on other regions with new splendor.
"So sinks the daystar in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and, with new-spangled ore.
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky."
One word more, and that, perhaps, too personal to myself,
and I will relieve your attention. I could not but be struck,
when the long roll of the names of your benefactors was
read yesterday, with the reflection that Ihyself received ray
education at an institution beyond the sea* v "^ose origin is due
to a pupil of this very college, Emmanuel, wh^re we are now
assembled, which, as you are aware, Avas one of the favorite
colleges with the non-conformists. A considerable nuraber
of the New England clergy were educated here. But a very
few years after the first settlement of ray native state, Massa
chusetts, the second in the United States of America, Avhen
all was a savage wflderness around them, the fathers of the
colony made a provision, too small to be named here, but great
for their means and condition, to found a college or school.
This was done in the year 1636. A youthful stranger came
from Old England to New England the following year. He
lived but to make his wiXl, bequeathing half his estate to
endoAV that small school. It rose immediately to the rank
of a college ; its course of studies was modeUed after that
of the English universities ; and its first class was graduated
just two centuries ago, in 1642. Of this class. Sir George
Downing, whose estate, after one or two intervening genera
tions, was bequeathed for the foundation of Downing College,
was a meraber. That stranger was John Harvard, a master
of arts of Emmanuel. The name of the place where the
VOL. II. 55

434 UNiv:gRSiTY of Cambridge.
new coUege was founded, was changed from Newtown to
Cambridge, in honor of this ancient academic city, and the
university thus founded, till the close of the seventeenth cen
tury the only one in the United States, still holds a most dis
tinguished place among its younger sisters. When, there
fore, I enter these halls of the ancient institution, it is with
feelings of respect and love which I want words to express,
and I am ready to bow my head with gratitude, whfle I
exclaim, Salve, magna parens !

MEETING OF THE ROYAL AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY
AT BRISTOL.*

Mr Handlet, mt Lords, and Gentlemen :
I BEG that you will believe me when I tell you, that I am
deeply sensible to the very kind feeling which you have been
pleased to express towards myself and my country. I do not
readily find words for a fitting acknowledgment. To be re
ceived with so much cordiality, in a foreign land, by such a
company, containing so raany persons of the highest position
and distinction, almost overpowers me. Let me say, however,
sir, that there is no part of this great and prosperous country
where such a reception could be more welcorae to me. There
are some associations of very ancient date between the city
of Bristol and the United States. It is a somewhat singular,
and to me, on the present occasion, an interesting circumstance,
that the history of North America, as known to the civilized
world, runs back to this spot. Its very first chapter was writ
ten in the chamber of the " Merchant Venturers' Society "
of Bristol. I am not now alluding to the incident which I
mentioned the day before yesterday, at the dinner of his
Honor the Mayor, that Columbus himself in early life was
engaged as a pflot between this port and Iceland ; although
that fact is certainly one of some curiosity in your history. It
has even been thought to have a connection with the history

* Reply to a complimentary toast given by the president (Mr Handley)
of the Royal Agricultural Society, of England, at the public dinner at
Bristol, on the 14th of July, 1842. (435)

436 MEETING OF THE ROYAL AGRICULTURAL
of the discovery of America.* But I refer at present to the
more important fact that Sebastian Cabot, the discoverer of
North America, Avho, in the year 1497, reached the shores of
Newfoundland, and ran down the coast south-westwardly as
far as Cape Florida, was a native of Bristol, and safled from
this city on his great adventure.
The early associations of this part of England Avith the
discovery and settlement of America, are not confined to the
city of Bristol. It was under the auspices of the Plymouth
Company that the settlement of New England comraenced.
Plymouth was the spot where the Pflgrim Fathers bade adieu
to the Old World. They gave this name to the place where
they began their settlement, and the rock' upon which they
first set foot is called Plymouth Rock to the present day.
The counties that lie between you and the English Channel,
particularly Devonshire and Dorsetshire, contributed largely
to the first emigrations to New England. The father of Wil
liam Penn, the great founder of Pennsylvania, lies buried in
the vaults of St Mary Redcliff. Wflliam Penn himself was
not a native of Bristol, but there is no doubt that while living
here in his youth, he was accustomed to hear the stories of
the navigators frora the western regions, and that his thoughts
were in this way first turned to the project of a settlement in
the new-found hemisphere.
I am glad to find, sir, that it seems to be the purpose of the
merchant venturers of Bristol to keep up, and that in a very
imposing form, the communication with Araerica, which was
originally opened under their auspices. Under the hospitable
guidance of my kind host, (Mr Harford,) I went up this
morning to the tower of Blaise Castle, to conteraplate the
magnificent prospect which it commands. A lovelier pan
orama my eye never rested upon. But there was one object
in the extreme distance which I regarded with peculiar inter
est. I could just discern what I was told were the raasts of
the Great Western ; the noble stearaer which the day after
* See, on this subject, the great work of the Royal Society of Danish
Antiquaries, pref. p. 24, and North American Review, Vol. XIjVI. p. 199.

SOCIETY AT BRISTOL. 437
to-morrow is to sail for New York. I rejoice in this un
mistakable tjken, that the practicability of a regular steara
coraraunication Avith America is, in the opinion of your intel
ligent merchants, reduced to certainty. You desired me, in
my next coraraunication, sir, to acquaint the people of Amer
ica with the kind feelings expressed towards thera at this
table. That noble steamer will bear the welcome assurance,
I had alraost said, before the echoes of the joyous acclaraa-
tions with which it was ratified by this vast company, shall
have died away.
I rejoice to be able to say that the friendly relations
between the two countries, which, I doubt not, Avill be ex
tended by these new facilities of communication, are not
confined to commercial adventure and business speculations,
important agents as these are in promoting harmony between
nations. We are united by other strong ties. The roots of
our history run into the soil of England. Hence carae our
fathers, with all the intellectual and moral elements of the
body politic. For every purpose but that of political juris
diction, Ave are one people. The community of language
which subsists between us is enough, of itself, to produce that
effect. It is a bond from which it is not possible for either
party to break away. Every thing that issues from your
press is promptly received and appreciated by the reading
public in the United States ; and the works of meritorious
American authors, I am happy to say, are welcomed with
constantly increasing favor in this country. My respected
friend Dr Buckland, who sits near me, told you yesterday
with how rauch pleasure he had perused a geological treatise
of a transatlantic author ; he had lent it to a scientific friend,
who was so ranch gratified with it, that he had not since
returned it. But he shall not be a loser by his friend's keen
relish for American science. ' As soon as I can send to the
United States, he shall be provided with another copy ; and
in the raean tirae I have the pleasure to inforra hira, that his
own excellent works, in various branches of geological science,
are as well known and as highly valued in America as in
Great Britain.

438 MEETING OF THE ROYAL AGRICULTURAL
But I ara afraid you will think, sir, that I have forgotten
that this is a meeting of the Royal Agricultural Society. I
should do wrong to forget it, for the agriculture of Great
Britain is regarded with deep interest by all those in my
country who turn their attention to the improvement of our
husbandry. We are fully sensible how much you are doing.
The cliraate of every part of the Atlantic coast of America
differs, it is true, from that of the west of Europe in corre
sponding paraUels of latitude. The climate of the New Eng
land and Middle States of our Union is of course that which
raost reserables yours, — although your southern boundary
lies largely to the north of our northern boundary. But in
consequence of local influences, our winters are colder, and
our summers hotter, than yours ; and this circumstance neces
sarily has its effect on the agriculture of the two countries,
as compared Avith each other. But in many of the great
characteristics of the agriculture of the temperate regions we
agree. We are able to derive much instruction from your
agricultural treatises and journals, and they are read with
avidity. The subject, for instance, upon which we heard an
excellent lecture yesterday, — that of thorough draining and
subsoil ploughing, — is receiving the attention of our agri
culturists. I shall take care that the valuable pamphlet of Mr
Smith (of Deanston) goes out by the Great Western. I ara
sure that it will attract the notice of our intelligent farmers.
I wish the Agricultural Society of Great Britain, and the
ingenious writers on the subject in this country, to understand
that the seeds of the improvements which they may intro
duce are literally sown broadcast ; for they are scattered
beyond the Atlantic. You cannot contrive a new compost,
or invent a new impleraent, — you cannot succeed in shorten
ing the bones of a pig, straightening the back of a cow, or
rendering the fleece of a sheep finer, — ^but the experiraent is
sure to be repeated in the United States ; where, at the sarae
tirae, there is a vast amount of inteUigence, energy, and com
mon sense steadily at work in every branch of industry, and
dafly producing results which are felt in this country, — less,
however, in agriculture than in some other pursuits.

SOCIETY AT BRISTOL. 439
I am happy to believe that this community of interest is
destined not only to continue, but to increase ; and that it will
promote good feeling between the two countries. The great
objects of this society are eminently of a peaceful character,
at the same time, as his royal highness has well observed,
they have a very intimate connection with the other interests
of civilized communities. I am sure that the people of our
two countries have the' strongest reasons to be good friends ;
aiid I know of nothing better calculated to make and keep
thera so, than to multiply the points of friendly contact be
tween the mind of the people iij Great Britain and the United
States respectively. I hope Mr Smith, therefore, will perse
vere in his important experiments ; and while he is teaching
us his system of thorough draining, I have no doubt that the
bitter waters of national controversy Avill be drawn off at
the same time, and a warm and genial sofl created for all the
fruits of literary and moral culture.
But I ara taking up, sir, too much of your time. I cor
dially respond to all the good wishes which you have ex
pressed. I desire nothing more than the utmost harmony
between our two countries. I have no warmer wish than
that the subjects in discussion between the two governraents
may be adjusted honorably for both parties. My humble
exertions to proraote this end have not been and wfll not be
spared. I am happy to be able to add that, from all the
sources of information at my command, such an adjustment
is likely soon to take place.* These clouds blown over, I
hope to see the two kindred nations engaged heart and hand
in the emulous pursuit of all the great objects which improve
the condition and ennoble the character of man.
Mr Everett shortly afterwards rose again, and said, —
It is proper that I should state to the company, that after
having just occupied so much of their time, I should not rise
* The treaty of Washington was signed in less than four weeks after
these remarks were made.

440 MEETING OF THE ROYAL AGRICULTURAL
again but at the special command of the chair. I have been
requested to propose a toast, Avhich I am sure will be received
with enthusiasm. It is that of prosperity to the great society
under whose auspices we are assembled.
This is a duty which I perforra, sir, with much satisfac
tion. I discharge in so doing a debt of gratitude, inasmuch
as you have informed me that the council have been pleased
to make me an honorary meraber of the society — a cora
pliraent which I highly value, although I fear I shall prove a
very unprofitable associate. But I perforra with pleasure the
duty assigned me for higher reasons. I am persuaded, from
what I have witnessed and heard, that no similar institution
in the world is doing more good than the Agricultural Society
of Great Britain — good of the very highest character. It
has passed into a proverbial expression, that he is the greatest
benefactor of mankind who makes two blades of grass grow
where one groAv before. I take it, however, that the improved
husbandry of modern tiraes has done more than this. I have,
this raorning, seen statements, apparently authentic, which
show that within the last generation, in fact within twenty
years, the agriculture of some portions of England has
increased its productiveness in a higher ratio than two for
one. I suppose it is beyond doubt, that if all the practical
and philosophical knowledge that has been accumulated on
the subject of agriculture, since the foundation of this society,
and in a due degree through its agency, were applied, under
the utmost possible cooperation of capital, to the iraprovement
of the agriculture of the whole country, its produce would
be more than doubled.
What is this, sir, but a new creation ? What is it but
doubling the extent of your territory, not by ruinous wars of
aggrandizement, but by the peaceful conquests of useful sci
ence. To introduce such improveraents is to raise new
islands frora the encircling sea ; to call up from the bosora
of the deep another England, with all her
"Deep waving fields, and pastures green.
And gentle slopes, and groves between;"

SOCIETY AT BRISTOL. 441
a new realm added to the dominions of your youthful and
beloved sovereign, without the cost of a pound sterling, (that
does not yield a full return,) without shedding a drop of blood.
What is there in all the exploits of all the Alexanders and
Caesars that ever wasted raankind, compared with conquests
like these ? These, sir, are the triumphs of your society :
let them so remain : Hee tibi erunt artes ; not made for Eng
land alone, but peaceful triumphs which other nations share ;
achievements in which all the industrious tribes of man bid
you God speed. I propose to you, sir, —
Success to the Rotal Agricultural Societt of Eng
land. VOL. II. 56

AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT WALTHAM.*

Mt Lord Duke :
Though you had prepared me beforehand for a kind recep
tion, I raust say my most sanguine expectation has fallen
short of the reality. The cordiality with which I have been
Avelcoraed by this large and respectable company has, I own,
taken me by surprise. Indebted to your grace for the unos
tentatious hospitality which has at once raade rae at home
beneath your princely roof, I ara eigain indebted to you for
ray favorable introduction to this large and intelligent assera-
bly, who have evinced towards my country and myself a kind
feeling which demands my warmest thanks.
I need not say how sincerely I share the satisfaction ex
pressed by your grace, with the evident approval and sympa
thy of the company, that the discussions so long carried on
between the two governraents have been brought to a satisfac
tory close ; and that their relations are placed upon a basis, as
I firraly hope, of perraanent concord. I cordially concur in
everything that has been so kindly said respecting the impor
tance of the two countries to each other. Too much credit,
in my opinion, cannot be given to the friendly spirit which
actuated her majesty's government in instituting the special
mission of Lord Ashburton ; and it is doing no more than
justice to the government of the United States to say, that
they raet this amicable feeling half way, and showed them
selves sincerely disposed to come to a reasonable understand
ing on the difficult points which had been so long contested
* In reply to a complimentary toast fi:om the president of the society,
(the Duke of Rutland,) at the public dinner, on the 26th of Septent
ber, 1842. (142)

AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT WALTHAM. 443
between the two governments. With these dispositions on
both sides, it is not to be wondered at that the intrinsic diffi
culties of some of the questions were overcome. Although
I look at the various raatters at issue in the light in which
they have with great unanimity been viewed on our side of
the water, I am able to do justice to the equally confident
opinions which prevail in England on the other side ; and I
can truly say that, in the treaty lately negotiated, to Avhich
your grace has alluded, the points of dispute have, in my
judgraent, been compromised fairly and honorably to both
parties ; most creditably to the distinguished negotiators.
Lord Ashburton and Mr Webster, and most advantageously
to the two countries.
Henceforth let there be no eraulation or rivalry between
us, but in the cultivation of the beneficent arts of peace.
Whatever glory crowns the achievements of war, these arts
are still the most beneficial, the most dignified, I will say,
the most godlike, which raan can pursue. What a striking
illustration of their superiority was furnished by your grace,
in that intercepted Chinese letter, to which you alluded!
When that vast empire, with its almost uncounted millions,
was reeling under the blows of the late war, what Avas it
which struck those barbarians, as we are perhaps too ready
to call them, most forcibly ? It was not the strange spectacle
of seventy armed steamers, which you had sent from the
antipodes into their rivers ; not the three-deckers which pros
trated their fortresses Avith a broadside. The blind Tartar
courage Avas not subdued by these formidable deraonstrations.
But it was the approach of those Avho practised the arts of
peace — the physician and the surgeon, skilful ministers of
relief, who did not confine their benevolent aid to their coun
trymen, but equally extended it to their prostrate enemies.
These were the unarmed antagonists with which the Mant-
choo sternness could not cope ; this was a power to which
they were not ashamed to yield.
Of all the arts of peace, none can claim precedence over /
that of agriculture, for the promotion of which we are this
day assembled. It is eminently the handmaid of that over-

444 AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT WALTHAM.
ruling Providence, to which the reverend chaplain has so
appropriately called our attention ; the steward which pro
vides their dafly bread for the great faraily of man. Let us
hope that our two countries will aid each other in the culti
vation of this great and beneficent pursuit. I am sure it
would be to our mutual benefit. There are indeed points of
considerable difference between the two countries in refer
ence to agriculture ; but this circumstance will not prevent
their intelligent farmers from studying each other's husbandry
to advantage. In the United States, as in many of the Brit
ish colonies, the government is the proprietor of a vast body
of land, lying in a state of nature. Much of it is extremely
fertile ; but the government offers the fee simple of it to the
purchaser at about five shillings sterling an acre. With this
temptation to establish new farms in the interior, there is a
great emigration from the older states. This keeps the pop
ulation from becoming croAvded ; the wages of labor are con
sequently high ; and among other effects of this state of
things, that high finish which characterizes the English
husbandry is not frequently seen in America. Another dif
ference is in the climate itself. Our summers are hotter than
yours. To this we oAve that invaluable crop, our Indian
corn. Your winters are milder than ours ; and to this you
are indebted for that turnip culture which is the basis of
your husbandry. But notwithstanding these differences,
there raust be much similarity between the agriculture of
almost any two countries lying in the northern half of the
temperate zone. In all that concerns implements of hus
bandry, the modes of draining and enriching the soil, the
breeds of animals, the grasses, grains, roots, and fruits, and
the enemies that prey upon them, — there is an ample field
for mutually advantageous inquiry and comparison.
Our two countries, as your grace has well observed, what
ever points of difference in any respect may exist between
them, have more in coraraon than any other two nations now
on the stage, — perhaps than any two of equal strength and
raagnitude known to history. This is a circumstance which
puts it in their power very materially to cooperate with each

AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT WALTHAM. 445
other in promoting objects of great national concernment. It
authorizes mankind to look to their joint efforts for all the
improvements of which our modern civilization is suscepti
ble. There is something invidious in the predominant influ
ence of a single powerful state ; but where generous rivals
combine, nothing practicable is beyond the reach of their
joint efforts.
My opinion has been asked, since I entered the hall, as to
the probable effect of the new corn law (that of 1842) on
the importation of grain from America. If, gentlemen, as
the noble chairman has stated, there is a general exclusion of
political topics on the present occasion, I certainly am the last
person present by whom they could with propriety be intro
duced. But inasmuch as the wish has been expressed that
I would say a word on the topic alluded to, I must avow my
entire concurrence with the chair, that it is too early to form
a confident opinion on that subject. It is, hoAvever, my opin
ion, that whatever may be the case with some other foreign
countries, America is too remote to be much affected by the
recent modifications of your corn law. From the price of
wheat now and for several years past in the United States,
I am not of opinion that a great effect will be produced on
prices here by importations from America, under the law of
last winter. Undoubtedly, in times of great and continuing
scarcity, when they unfortunately occur, an important part of
your relief wfll always be derived from the United States.
A certain quantity of American flour has ahvays found its
way to your markets. The quantity may increase, but in
conimon years I think not greatly. There will, too, no
doubt, under the recent raodifications of your laws, be a con
siderable iraportation of salted provisions frora the United
States, though not probably to the extent of raaterially dis
turbing your markets. Whether the amount of these impor
tations be great or small, they wiU be paid for (always leaving
out of view exceptional cases of great scarcity) by British
manufactures. The habits and tastes of the Anglo-Saxon
element — vastly the preponderating element — in our popu
lation lead to a great consumption of British manufactures.

446 AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT WALTHAM.
Our own manufacturers aim chiefly at the coarser fabrics.
Although we are becoming your rivals in some branches of
this description, there are still a multitude of manufactured
articles which we shall continue for a long time to purchase
from you. This being the case, you need not fear that your
American customers will, like his grace's friend, whora he
told us of, be put to the blush at having to receive a large
price in money: whatever they send you of provisions or
grain will be paid for in British merchandise. The fabrics of
Leicester, and other manufacturing towns which are fed by
you, will go to pay for whatever is imported of the growth of
the American soil. Equalized as the effect will be over the
entire manufacturing and agricultural industry of the two
countries, I do not apprehend any derangement to either.
It is not ray lot, gentlemen, to be a cultivator of the field,
but it is ray business and my pleasure, on behalf of my own
country, to cultivate a good understanding with yours. This
is a part of my instructions which I am not likely to forget ;
could I so far fail in my duty, it would be recalled to my
mind by this daji^'s kind reception. My first obligation is, of
course, to my own governraent ; but since the auspicious set
tlement which has just been made, I cannot perforra that duty
to ray own country without doing all in ray power to promote
a good understanding with this. In taking my seat, I beg
leave, with your grace's permission, to express my best wishes
for the success of the Waltham Agricultural Society, in the
pursuit of their benign art, and for the prosperity and welfare
of every meraber of this respectable corapany, and of the
community from which it is gathered, from the noble land
lord, whose territorial possessions date from the Conquest, to
the hurablest farm laborer, that dwells contented beneath the
shelter of his towers

YORK MINSTER.'

Mt Lord Wharncliffe :
It is with very great hesitation that I present myself be
fore you ; to the company certainly, a stranger, and, I am
afraid, perhaps an intruder, scarcely warranted in taking any
part in the business of the day. The direct appeal which
was made to me by the reverend gentleman who first
-addressed us, (Mr WiUiam Harcourt,) and to whose address
we all listened with so much delight, wfll, however, form, I
trust, in your opinion and in that of the company, a justifi
cation for my venturing to say one word on the interesting
question before the meeting. You are well aware that I do
so most unexpectedly to myself ; but there is an aspect of the
subject, in which even I, a visitant from the other hemi
sphere, may claim to take an interest in it. This noble build
ing, my lord, which you now propose to repair and renovate,
was erected long before America, my native country, was
known to exist in the civflized world. It was built by men
from whom my fathers are as much descended as yours.
And shall not I, therefore, as an American, be permitted to
claim some part of the common feelings of admiration and
pride which are entertained for this ancient and venerated
minster by the citizens of the county now Eissembled ?
I cannot permit you to monopolize those feelings ; you
must allow me to share them. When the political separation
between our two countries took place, I feel that we were
* Remarks made at a meetmg held at York on the 6th of October, 1842,
on the subject of the restoration of the minster, Lord Wharnclifie in the
chair. (447)

448 YORK MINSTER.
entitled to carry with us a full portion in the common intel
lectual inheritance — of respect for an illustrious ancestry, of
veneration for the great works of our forefathers. The rev
erend gentleman who first addressed us did me the honor to
ask what my feelings must have been on entering your noble
temple for the first time. I ara, probably, the only individ
ual in this asserably who for the first time visited this venera
ble building so lately as yesterday. I should be almost
ashamed of the feelings I then experienced if I were able to
express them : they are feelings Avhich cannot be uttered in
words, and it is only those who themselves have, for the first
time at mature age, entered a teraple like this, who can do
justice to thera.
I corae frora a new country, where private fortunes are
sraall, ¦where the public resources are liraited, and where,
consequently, it is not in the nature of things that edifices cf
such stupendous cost as your minster should be erected. Our
fathers, on landing in their new country, two centuries ago,
were at first obliged to worship that Being, who dwelleth not
in temples raade with hands, beneath the branches of a
spreading tree or within a rudely constructed buflding. And
though the people in after time, and of the present day, have,
according to their means, built large and commodious places
of divine worship, it has not been in their power — as, in
fact, it is not in the poAver of any the oldest and richest
country at the present day — to erect such temples as that
which you now propose to restore, forming, as it does, with
other buildings of the same class in this country and on
the continent, one of the most astonishing achievements of
human resource, power, and skill.
It may be because we have no buildings of this description
in Araerica that we behold Avith still stronger irapressions of
reverence — with feelings of aAve not impaired by familiar
ity — these sacred monuments of the piety of our ancestors.
I went a hundred and fifty miles out of my way last week to
see an ancient church — that of Boston in Lincolnshire, the
place which gave its narae to Boston in America, of which I
am a citizen, and which was so called in honor of John Cot-i

YORK MINSTER. . 449
ton, the vicar of that church in the beginning of the seven..
teenth century. It is true there was a motive fbr my pil
grimage, proceeding from this historical association; but [
would wfllingly, under any circumstances, have made the
journey to see that beautiful church. Beautiful, however, as
it is, eminently so araong the churches of its class, it is, of
course, not to be compared with one of these grand cathe
drals ; nor can I describe ray emotions on entering for the
first time the great temple of York minster — one of the
noblest structures that were ever raised by the hands of man.
The reverend gentleman who first addressed you spoke of
the utility of such buildings in the highest acceptation of the
word — their effect in encouraging a religious sentiment.
And assuredly, if religious feeling is not awakened in the
heart of a man on entering such a buflding as the minster,
it never can, by human means, be awakened. If he does
not, in such a buflding, gain some new views of the dignity
of his own immortal nature ; if he does not derive some new
conceptions of the power of the spirit that dwells within
himself, — a spirit able to conceive, and to execute, works
destined to outlive for ages the hands of those Avho raised
them ; stiU more, if he does not acquhe a more elevated idea
of the greatness and unapproachable majesty of Him to whom
those walls were erected, — that man is beyond the reach of
all ordinary religious influences.
We are told by the ancient writers, that it was a custom
for each wayfarer to add a stone to the Hermal statues.* I
believe that if it were physicaUy possible for every individual
whose heart has been made better, whose religious feelings
have been elevated, whose sense of the vanity of huraan
things, and the greatness of things raore than human, has
been strengthened by entering within the walls of one of these
venerable minsters, — if every such individual had it in his
power to contribute at once a stone to the restoration of this
time-honored buflding, though it had been levelled with the
ground, instead of bemg partiaUy injured, it would rise again
• Phumut de Natur& Deorum, p. 168.
VOL. II. 67

450 YORK MINSTER.
like an "exhalation from the sofl." That is not physically
possible, but it is possible for every one who takes an interest
in the achievement of this great object, to do something to
promote it. It is in the power of every one to contribute his
share towards the restoration of the minster ; and I hope you
will not deny to me, though a stranger and a foreigner, the
privflege of contributing my most humble mite. It is but a
pebble, but I hope you wfll permit me to cast it on the pile.

LORD MAYOR'S DAY.*

Mr Lord Mator:
I RISE, at the request of my brethren of the diplomatic
corps, to make our united acknowledgments to you for the
honor of the last toast. My respected colleagues present are
so well acquainted with the English language, that any one
of them could have performed the duty in the most credit
able and acceptable manner. Since, however, they have
desired me to speak for them, I have much pleasure in assur
ing you that the members of the diplomatic corps present
derive the highest satisfaction from being permitted to par
take the splendid hospitality of this important occasion. It
has been justly remarked by the right honorable gentleman
at the head of her majesty's government, (Sir Robert Peel,)
that the importance of this great commercial emporium is
felt throughout the civflized world. We are all aware that
nothing which deeply interests the city of London can be
matter of indifference to any foreign country. There is not
one of us who can enter your resorts of business without
meeting several of his countrymen ; not one of us, represent
ing a maritime state, who can go down to your crowded quays,
without beholding the flag of his country at many a mast
head. The prosperity or adversity of this great emporium
has its influence in every country we represent, nay, in the
remotest region and most distant island on the face of the
globe. On the other hand, by the same powerful — I had
almost called it mysterious — sympathy of trade, the condi-
* Reply to a toast complimentary to the foreign ministers at the lord
mayors dinner on the 9th of November, 1842. (451)

462 LORD MAYOR'S DAY.
tion of every considerable foreign country is felt upon your
exchange. You and they prosper together, and, as Cicero
remarks of the comraercial relations of Rorae and the Asiatic
states, " Ruere flla non possunt ut hsec non eodem labefactatii
motu concidunt."
It is one of the happiest results of the modern civflization,
that it has multiplied the ties of mutual interest which unite
the famflies of men. In the ancient world, the word stranger
was synonymous with eneray; in raodern tiraes, it raore
commonly means customer. To this result, owing raainly,
perhaps, to the prevalence of a religion of peace and good
will, the spirit of trade has also largely contributed. While
those powerful ancient despotisms, which, one at a time, suc
cessively overshadowed a large part of the human race, have
been, in the progress of ages, resolved into a large famfly of
states, politically independent of each other, the influence of
a world-embracing commerce has, in modern times, guaran
tied the peace and safety of the coraraon ocean, and, to sorae
extent, reunited the different nations, for their mutual benefit,
into one great commercial republic.
It is in the nature of things that this community of in
terest should be accorapanied with feelings of mutual respect
and kindness, which are so well calculated, in their turn, to
produce a stfll greater extension of comraercial intercourse.
I cannot but congratulate your lordship upon the good under
standing which exists at this raoraent between all the prin
cipal nations. There raust always be minor subjects pf dis
cussion, territorial or comraercial, between powerful states,
belonging to the same national family ; but there is certainly
nothing in the relations to each other of the leading govern
ments which threatens the slightest disturbance of the general
peace. And if you will allow me to say a single word in my
individual capacity, I cannot but express the liveliest satisfac
tion, that the matters which have, for a good many ye£u:s, been
the subject of a perplexed and embarrassing discussion be
tween her majesty's government and the United States, have,
within a few months, been happfly adjusted on conditions
honorable and advantageous to both parties.

LORD MAYOR'S DAT. 463
In conclusion, my lord mayor, permit me, on behalf of my
brethren of the diplomatic corps, to tender to you our best
wishes for the success of your administration of this honor
able trust, assured as we are that when, at the close of the
year, it shall pass to your successor, the ancient escutcheon
of this great metropolis, now committed to your keeping, will
be found without a stain.

THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON.*

Mr President:
I RISE with real diffidence before a company like this.
Your worthy ex-president (Mr Murchison) has very in
geniously established a claim to the favor of geologists, on
behalf of my much respected colleague, the ambassador of
France, in consequence of the allusion to transition rocks, in
his excellency's History of the Fronde. I do not know, sir,
that I can set up any claim to your good will, in reference to
transition rocks, but there is a certain primitive rock in my
native state, on which I never think but with admiration and
gratitude ; on which a band of pilgrims from old England,
above two hundred years ago, first set foot, when they came
to found a free state in the new world, and brought the lan
guage, the laws, and the religion of England to the western
hemisphere. I feel truly grateful to you, Mr President, and to my friend,
your distinguished associate, who has just taken his seat, (Mr
Lyell,) for the honorable manner in which he has mentioned
me to the company, in connection with the scientific surveys
of my native state. Personally, he has done me more ihan
justice. The work was first undertaken under one of my
enlightened predecessors, (Governor Lincoln,) and two edi
tions of Professor Hitchcock's first geological survey of Mas
sachusetts were published under his administration. When
a wish was expressed some years afterwards, by Mr Hitch
cock, to be permitted to make a renewed survey of the state.

* Reply to a complimentary toast from Mr (now Sir Charles) Lyell, at
the aimiversaiy dinner of the Geological Society of London, Henry War
burton, Esq., M. P., (president of the society,) La the chair.
(454)

THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON. 455
in consequence of the progress of the science in the interval,
I had indeed the satisfaction, as far as I was able, in the office
which I then filled by the favor of my fellow-citizens, to en
courage him in this undertaking, the credit of which, of
course, is due to himself and the legislature of Massachusetts ;
and I think I may, without impropriety, claim for the gov
ernment of that little state, (for, with a population not much
exceeding seven hundred thousand, it must, of course, deserve
that narae, in comparison even with the smallest of the lead
ing states of Europe,) the credit of having evinced great lib
erality in the encouragement of science, particularly that
branch of it to which your society is devoted.
The geological survey of Massachusetts was originally
projected in reference to the construction of a map of the
state. The process of triangulation was carried on, at great
public expense, for several years, and vvith it a most laborious
and extensive series of astronomical observations was exe
cuted. From these materials a map of Massachusetts has
been prepared, and is now, I am informed, in the hands of
the engraver. I trust in due season it will reach the hands
of raen of science abroad, and furnish new proof of the dis
position of the legislature of Massachusetts to encourage
these interesting and important researches. In addition to the
geological survey and the map of the commonwealth, a highly
intelligent coraraission has been eraployed on the forest trees,
on the general botany, and on the zoology of Massachusetts,
in all its branches ; and at the sarae time, the agriculture of
the state has been the subject of a report, which is favorably
known in this .country.
I ought, perhaps, to apologize for dwelling so long on these
topics, after the handsome manner in which you, sir, as well
as Mr Lyell, and your late president, in his instructive dis
course this moming, were pleased to speak on the subject of
the general cultivation of science, and particularly of geologi
cal science, in the United States. Mr Lyell has done but
justice to the zeal and liberality shown by the states visited
by him, some proof of which is befpre the British public,
especially in the volumes of the noble publication now in

456 THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON.
progress, containing the results of the scientific surveys of
New York. These researches are not confined to the old and
long-settled states on the Atlantic coast. No, sir, if you or
any one of your learned associates were to visit the newest
of this new family of republics, he would find that his fame,
and a taste for the science you cultivate, had preceded him.
He would everywhere find that, amidst all the inconveniences,
and under all the difficulties, which attend literary and scien
tific pursuits iu new countries, not a few have made them
selves familiar with the latest results of European inquiry,
and explored the phenomena around them, under the lights
thrown upon geology by the most recent foreign discoveries.
Mr Lyell has told you something, sir, of the reception
which he raet with personally from the geologists of America;
but there is one portion of what befell him in the United
States which his modesty has not alloAved you to learn from
him. A few, years since, a young Bostonian, (Mr John Low
ell, Jun.,*) who had increased a handsome inherited property
by the successful pursuit of commerce, formed the design of
founding an institution in his native city, for courses of lee-;
tures on the most important branches of moral ahd natural
science. This generous project was matured and consum
mated during an extensive tour in Europe and the East. His
last testamentary dispositions were made in a state of declin
ing health, while he was at Thebes, in Egypt, on his way to
India, where he died. The ample funds which he bequeathed
for the purpose above mentioned, having been applied with
great judgment by the kinsman to whora, as the sole trustee,
the execution of this important trust was confided, the Low
ell Institute is now in the fourth year of most successful op
eration. Classes as large as were ever perhaps assembled,
have, from the first, attended the courses of lectures delivered
on this foundation.
It was before this institution that Mr LyeU was invited to
deliver a course of lectures on geology. The lecture-room,
• See the Memoir on John LoweU, Jun., the founder of the Lowell Insti
tute, at Boston, in an earlier part of this volume.

THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON. 457
sir, is probably as large an apartment as was ever before appro
priated to such a purpose, having been built as a theatre ;
and this immense hall, orchestra, parterre, and boxes, from
the stage to the roof, was, as I am informed, (for I was not
myself then in the country,) regularly filled by Mr Lyell's
audiences ; which, after all, composed but half the class, so
that it Avas necessary to repeat the lectures at a different hour
for the other half
My esteemed colleague, the French ambassador, (the
Count de Ste Aulaire,) in the very handsorae reraarks with
which he has just favored the company, in his native lan
guage, has established the connection between the duties of
our official station and those of literary and scientific men.
He has remarked to us that, in the peculiar province of a
foreign minister to cultivate the relations of peace between
friendly states, he has no coadjutor more efficient than the
enlightened man of science, engaged in those studies which
have a common interest for all mankind. Of no science can
this just reraark be more emphatically made, than of that
which is the peculiar object of your labors ; for there is none
where a comparison of facts, as they exist in different and
distant countries, is raore necessary ; and where the final gen
eralizations draw in such magnificent spaces on the surface
of the globe.
What an illustration of this truth, if illustration be neces
sary, was contained in the discourse of your learned ex-pres
ident this morning! In speaking of those extraordinary
footmarks described by Professor Hitchcock of Massachu
setts, discovered by him in the old red sandstone of Connecti
cut River, and which he has called ornithichnites, Mr Murch
ison, in doing the fuUest justice to the labors of Professor H.,
said that he himself had long hesitated in admitting that
these footprints belonged to an animal of an ornithological
character. He was reluctant, in opposition to the analogy of
the science, to recognize the traces of such an animal in the
formation in which these marks are found. And how did he
overcome these doubts ? By calling comparative anatomy to
his aid ; by evoking a witness, if I raay so express myself,
VOL. II. 58

458 THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON.
from Western Australia ; by conjuring up from beneath the
soil of New Zealand a monstrous ostrich, — Deinornis, I
think he told us Professor Owen had called it, — to authen
ticate the not less monstrous footmarks in the red sandstone
on the banks of Connecticut River. How beautiful, sir, this
mutual scientific dependence of reraotest countries, and the
different branches of inquiry ! Do I doubt the character of
these paradoxical marks ? Here are the remains of a Avinged
animal that could have made them. Do I hesitate as to the
existence of a bird of these stupendous proportions ? Agnosco
vestigia : here are his footsteps irapressed on the everlasting
rocks. But it was certainly not my purpose to engage in so bold
an undertaking as a geological discourse before an audience
like this. My duty — and a most pleasing one it is ^ is per
formed, when I have thanked you, sir, my friend, Mr LyeU,
and this enlightened corapany, for the honor done me, and
especially for the liberal and friendly feeling evinced towards
my country ; and if you are disposed to think that there is
any exaggeration in what Mr Lyell has told you of his kind
reception in the United States, I wfll only express the wish,
that whoever entertains that doubt would do us the favor to
come and see for himself.

ROYAL ACADEMY OF ART.*

Sir Martin Archer Shee and Gentlemen :
I RISE, at the request of my colleagues of the diplomatic
body, to make our joint acknowledgments for the honor done
to us in the toast just drank. I beg to assure you, on their
behalf and my own, that we esteem it one of the most agree
able of the privileges of our position,' that it procures us, by
your courtesy, the gratification of being present at the open
ing of your exhibition, and of partaking the hospitality of
the Royal Academy on an occasion so important to all who
take an interest in the fine arts.
It is in fact, sir, not an unnatural view to take of the de
lightful arts to which the Academy is devoted, to regard them
as furnishing a common language to cultivated men in all
countries ; a mode of expressing sorae of the finest concep
tions of the human mind in a dialect equally intelligible in
all nations. The different forms in which man embodies the
creations of his intellect or fancy have each its peculiar ad
vantage ; generally perhaps what is gained in precision is lost
in universality. Painting and sculpture, the arts Avhich you
cultivate, in this respect have an advantage over the sister
arts of poetry and eloquence ; which, however superior in
range of subject, and in capacity of descriptive or historical
fllustration, must certainly yield to sculpture and painting in
* In reply to a toast in honor of the foreign ministers, at the anniversary
dinner of the Royal Academy of Art, on the 6th of May, 184t3, Sir Martin
Archer Shee, president of the Academy, in the chair. This dinner is
given in the principal gallery of paintings, at the opening of thq annual
exhibition of painting and sculpture. (459)

460 ROYAL ACADEMY OF ART
this power of addressing aU ages and nations without an
interpreter. If Demosthenes could rise up at the present
day, the eloquence which " shook th' arsenal and fulmined
over Greece " would be a brutiim, not to say a 7nutum ful-
men, to the greater number of modern hearers ; but what
time has spared frora the chisel of Phidias is as significant to
us as it was to the Athenian, who gazed upon it the first
morning that the scaffolding was thrown down from the
friezes of the Parthenon. The strains of Tasso and Ariosto
are a dead letter to the great majority of those Avhose spirits
are attuned by nature to the music of poetry ; but there are
no Alps for the canvas of Raphael. It addresses the same
language to the cultivated eye upon the Tiber and the
Thames, the Neva and the Hudson. This idea has been
admirably expressed by a great raaster (Dryden) of one of the
arts alluded to, in his address to Sir Godfrey Kneller : —
"But poets are confined in narrower space.
To speak the language of their native place.
The painter widely stretches his command, —
Thy pencU speaks the tongue of every land."
Yes, sir, although there may be no two of the diplomatic
body, on whose behalf I have now the honor to address you,
Avho speak the sarae language as their native tongue, the
beautiful works Avhich look down upon us frora these walls,
the product of English taste and skill during the past season,
address each one of us in au idiom which needs no transla
tion. Before I take my seat, sir, you wfll pardon me, and my
respected colleagues will bear with me, if I say a single word
as the American minister. In that capacity I cannot but
have the highest satisfaction in reminding you of my coun
trymen, living and departed, who have filled and stfll occupy
a distinguished place among your associates or fellow-labor
ers. I might with propriety allude to the venerable artist
(Mr West) who so long presided over the Royal Academy ;
and when I repeat the names of Copley, of Stuart, and of
his nephew, Stuart Newton, among the deceased ; of Allston

ROYAL ACADEMY OF ART. 461
and of Leslie, (to whose pencil the present exhibition is so
highly indebted,) among the living, — I think I shall have
vindicated for my countrymen the honor of having furnished
their share of the talent, taste, and success with which the
art of painting has been cultivated under your auspices.
With respect to sculpture, our youthful artists have generally
been trained in Italy ; and when I mention the names of
Greenough, Powers, emd Crawford, I have done enough to
show that a school of no ordinary promise is growing up
among us ia this department of art.
In taking my seat, sir, allow me to repeat the thanks of
tne, diplomatic body for this hospitable reception, and to ex
press our best wishes for the prosperity of the Royal Academy
and the progress of British art.

ROYAL LITERARY FUND.*

Mt Lord Duke:
I FEEL deeply grateful, not merely for the kind reception
given by the company to the toast just proposed from the
chair, but also for the very handsome manner in which your
grace has spoken of the interest felt in England in the liter
ature of the United States. I think indeed, considering the
variety of languages spoken by modern civilized nations, and
that each in consequence has its own literature, that the cul
tivation of letters should be regarded as the great interpreter
between the different fEmiilies of the huraan race — a source
in itself of kindly sympathies, and the medium through
which all friendly international associations must operate.
If this is true in reference to nations speaking different
languages, it raust be eminently so in reference to states polit
ically independent, but speaking the same language. The
relation between the United States and Great Britain in this
respect is of a peculiar kind. I cannot but think that in this
great public consanguinity, and in this community of lan
guage and literature between Great Britain and the United
States, which is one of its consequences, there is something
not merely beautiful to contemplate, but of great importance
to the largest interests of humanity. The power of literary
influences over the relations of the two countries, although it
has at all times, no doubt, received sorae consideration from
reflecting minds, has perhaps hitherto been too lightly deemed

* Reply to a complimentary toast given at the anniversary dinner of
" the Royal Corporation of the Literary Fund," on the 10th of May, 1843,
the Duke of Sutherland in the chair. (462)

ROYAL LITERARY FUND. 463
of, on both sides of the water. I am persuaded that his
grace has not merely made a courteous remark, but spoken a
great phflosophical truth, in saying that England is deeply
interested in the literature of the United States.
History and experience show that it is difficult to extend
any particular type of civilization beyond the pale of the
dialect in which its principal monuments are recorded ; and
that, on the other hand, literature is but one of the influ
ences which go abroad with a great cultivated tongue. The
prevalence of the Greek language throughout the east of
Asia and the north of Africa, seems, as far as human raeans
are concerned, to have been the instrument of the propagation
of Christianity through those vast regions. The Latin lan
guage, through the medium of the Roman military colonies,
extended the influence of the civil law over the continent of
Europe, and caused its partial admission into your own island.
In like raanner, and by a much happier series of political
causes, the same English language which carries Shakspeare
and Mflton, is carrying representative government, the trial
by jury, and the freedom of the press, through the American
Union to the shores of the Pacific.
A curious circumstance in the literary history of England,
during the last century, shows in a single case the important
consequences traceable to this community of language.
When Gibbon entered upon his career of authorship, he sent
a copy of one of his first essays at historical composition to
David Hume. Gibbon had lived a good deal on the conti
nent, and shared in the prevaUing notion of the universality
of the French language, in which the Essay in question was
written. Hume, in his letter of acknowledgment, written in
1767, inquires, " Why do you compose in French, and carry
fagots to the wood, as Horace says with regard to the
Romans who wrote Greek ? I grant that you have a like
motive to those Romans, and adopt a language rauch raore
generally diffused than your native tongue. But have you
not remarked the fate of those two ancient languages in fol
lowing ages ? The Latin, though then less celebrated, and
confined to more narrow limits, has in some measure outlived

464 ROYAL LITERARY FUND.
the Greek, and is now more generaUy understood by men of
letters. Let the French therefore triumph in the present dif
fusion of their tongue ; our solid and increasing establish
ments in America, where we need less dread the inundation
of barbarians, promise a superior stability and duration to the
English language." ~
The progress of events wholly unforeseen by Hume has
furnished a reraarkable illustration of his sagacity. It is an
interesting reflection that England raay be in sorae degree
indebted to this alraost casual reference of Hume to America,
for Gibbon's decision to write his great work in his mother
tongue. Since this prophetic language of Hume was uttered,
and in a period rauch shorter, I am sure, than he could have
anticipated, his own History and that of his great contempo
rary have been carried by the advance of American civiliza
tion beyond the Alleghanies, — beyond the Mississippi. They
will in this way, in no long time, unquestionably be read by
the descendants of the Anglo-Saxon race on the western
shores of the continent. In the mean time, the children of
England in the United States are already sending back to the
mother country historical compositions that support the com
parison with the best of their own. Facts like these abun
dantly justify the remark of the chair, that Englishmen feel
a deep interest in the literature of the United States, and
they furnish the strongest inducements to the men of letters
in America to spare no pains to keep up the language, as
written and spoken on our side of the water, to a pure stan
dard of accuracy and taste.
With respect to the association whose anniversary we are
celebrating this evening, it is one of its most honorable fea
tures that its benefits are not confined to Englishmen. Sev
eral cases have fallen within my own knowledge in which
foreigners, both from the continent of Europe and my own
country, have been liberally assisted by your bounty. No
questions of nationality are raised at your treasury. Since I
entered the hall, I have heard from the friend who sits beside
me (the Earl of Arundel and Surrey) a statement which weU
supports this observation. When M. de Chateaubriand was first

ROYAL LITERARY FUND. 465
in this country, a fugitive from the reign of terror in Fiance,
he found in the Literary Fund a tiraely resource in the hour
of adversity and distress. Your beneficence was the more
praiseworthy, as he had not then acquired a celebrity Avhich
would enable hira to give eclat to your bounty. Years
passed, and after great vicissitudes of fortune, the Vicomle de
Chateaubriand returned to England as the ambassador of
France, and araong the raost distinguished of her statesmen
and men of letters. In that capacity he had the privilege of
being present as the representative of his country at this
your annual dinner, and of acknowledging the kindness
which in his friendless youth he had received at your hands.
Happy the institution which can boast of having administered
seasonable aid to such a person ; and happy the man who, at
the height of his prosperity and fame, had the good feeling
to come back and acknowledge the obligation !
Allow me, in resuming my seat, to renew my thanks to
your grace and the company for their cordial reception, and
to offer you my best wishes for the prosperity of the Roval
Literary Fund.
vol.. n. 69

THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT DERBY.*

After acknowledging the toast given by the chair in honor
of the United States and the American minister, Mr Everett
proceeded as follows : —
I You have done me, my lord, no more than justice, in
ascribing to me the kindest feelings towards the land of my
fathers. I am a great believer in the efficacy of race and
blood, as far as nations are concerned, j I have no idea that
this is a raatter which is iraportant solely in reference to short
horns and Herefords, or to South Downs and Leicesters.
History warrants us in believing in races of men, as well as
of inferior animals ; andjWhat I have been accustomed to say
at horae I may without impropriety repeat here. I ara decid
edly of opinion that the Anglo-Saxon race, frora which we
Americans trace our descent, is surpassed by none other
that ever existed. Attached as I am — ardently attached —
to my native land, desirous of serving her to the utmost of
an humble capacity, willing if need be to fall in her defence,
I yet rejoice that my ancestors were the countrymen of
yours, — the sons of England. The sound of my native
language beyond the sea is music in my ears. I rejoice, in
speaking ray raother tongue, that I speak the language also
of a great and kindred free people, j And if there is any
occasion which raay with propriety bring us together as breth
ren of one national famfly, it is certainly a meeting like this,
composed of persons who £u:e devoted to the cultivation of
* In reply to a complimentary toast from the president (the Earl of
Hardwicke) at the publie dinner of the Royal Agricultural Society of
England, at Derby, on the 13th of July, 1843.
(466)

THB AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT DERBY. 467
the great parent art of agriculture — the common interest
of all civflized nations. It is truly the art of peace. The
highest authority has taught us that when the happy time shall
arrive, that nations shall cease to learn war any more, they
shall beat their swords into ploughshares ; and I ara convinced,
if a hundredth part of the skfll, the energy, and the treasure
that have been expended in the fierce and deadly struggles
of what is commonly called the " field," had been employed
in a generous eraulation which should excel the rest in the
peaceful art to which this society is devoted, that you farmers
would have superseded us diplomatists ; or, at any rate, that
very little would be left to be done in the way of angry
international discussions.^
Your lordship has alluded to the! important commercial
relations of the two countries. They are undoubtedly of
great magnitude, and destined, no doubt, to be much aug
mented. I am certainly very sensible to the importance of
the commerce of such a country as England or the United
States. But in this connection, I was led, by the remarks
which fell frora the chair last evening on the vast importance
of the agricultural interest, to ask myself a question, as to
the relative magnitude of the commerce and agriculture of
Great Britain. You are aware that the entire commerce
carried on by Great Britain and the United States, — 'by
which I mean the aggregate of your exports to that country
and your imports frora it, — is fully twice as large as your
commerce with any other country. And yet wha:t is its an
nual amount ? Its annual value is about equal to that of the
crop of oats and beans in Great Britain, as given on the au
thority of Mr McCulloch, in the essay of Mr Pusey which your
lordship cited last evening. These two articles of agricul
tural produce alone are equal to the exports and iraports
exchanged by the United States and Great Britain. I will
adduce one more fact of a similar character. The whole for
eign commerce of Great Britain, for which you overshadow,
the ocean with your fleets, and plant your colonies in the
remotest corners of the globe, is actually surpassed in value
by the annual crop of grass in the British Islands.

468 THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT DERBY.
It would not become me, I wfll not say as a stranger,
for you have courteously forbidden me to regard myself in
that light, but as your guest, to enter into details in reference to
the various objects which have received your attention at the
present meetingi I will say, however, that in examining
the show of implements, and the stock yard this morning, it
occurred to me, that whatever ground of complaint may at
any former periods have existed in any branch of your hus
bandry, (for such complaints I find in your agricultural
works,) there is certainly little apparent ground for simflar
complaints at the present day, as far as a judgment can be
formed frora this year's exhibition. It seeraed to rae, as I
made the circuit, that there was evidence of an araount of
science, of mechanical ^ill, of practical sagacity, — of coun
tenance and sympathy on the part of the higher orders, of
diligence and thrift on the part of the labojing classes, — all
in a degree of close combination for the promotion of agricul
tural iraprovement which I have nowhere else seen equalled.
If great advances in husbandry are practicable, it would seem
impossible that they should not be made, under the encour
agements and appliances which are uoav brought to bear upon
the subject.
It is a somewhat remarkable fact, if I may be pardoned so
general a reflection, that till quite lately, all the great iraprove-f
ments in agriculture seera to have been raade in the Arery
infancy of mankind. Who can tell when that humble instru
ment was invented which lies at the basis of all civilization ?
— I raean the plough. Who can tell when man first called
in, as the hurable partners of his toils, the horse, the ox, the
cow, the swine, the sheep, and raised thera to a profitable
aUiance with himself? I do not know that in the entire
period embraced by authentic history, one has been added to
the list of the domesticated animals,. If it were possible to
find out the man who caught the first wfld dog, and taught
it to share the shepherd's labors, he would deserve a nobler
monument than ever was raised to monarch or conqueror.
Who is able, at this date of the world's history, to tell when
the olive and the vine, when any of the cereal grains, or

THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT DERBY. 469
generous fruits, or the esculent roots were first brought to
their present condition ? There is but one of these — the
potato — of which the history is known. The story of the
rest runs back into those recesses of antiquity, into Avhich we
cannot penetrate. These products were first cultivated in
ages when our coramon ancestors were roaming as painted
savages over the wild hills and moors of this now beautiful
and merry England, and when even the priraitive inhabitants
of Greece and Rorae were subsisting upon beech nuts and
acorns. It would seem, in fact, that raen, in their agricultural prog
ress, had followed, to sorae extent, that curious law of nature,
so happfly illustrated at the council dinner yesterday by Pro
fessor Owen, which exists in referenffe to sorae of the rurai-
nating aniraals within the tropics. He told us that sorae of
these have a large hump of fat between the shoulders, which
during the first half of the year is nourished, and attains a
great size, by the abundance of food then existing. On the
store of fat thus laid aside, as it were, for a season of scarcity,
the animal subsists for the rest of the year, when the ground
is parched, and the herbage fails. Such seeras to have been
very much the case of the civilized nations, in reference to
their advances in agriculture. In the infancy of the race
they made these great iraprovements — pressed the olive and
the grape, tamed the ox and the horse, contrived the plough,
educated a few wild grasses into nutritious grains ; in a
word, accumulated a lump of fat like that described by Pro
fessor Owen, and have been living upon it alraost ever since.
Virgil, in the Georgics, describes to us the plough, as it was
made in his day ; and the self-same plough which he de
scribes is StiU to be seen, after seventeen centuries, in use in
the south of Europe. We can stfll see Virgil's plough in bas
relief, in the marble relics of ancient art ; and truly, for any
improvement which has taken place in seventeen hundred
years, the ploughman on the raarble has done as rauch as the
living ploughman in the field. We may certainly boast that
the revival of agricultural life and energy, in these latter
days, is due to that Anglo-Saxon race of which you, my

470 THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT DERBY.
lord, have just spoken. It has been left to you, and, if you
wfll allow rae to say so, to us, living though Ave do in these
austere climes, and beneath these ungenial skies, which are
now weeping as if in penitence for their own rigor,* — it has
been left to you and to us to accomplish what they have
not even attempted beneath the unclouded suns of Italy
and Greece. And do we not owe our superiority in this
respect to the want among us of those tropical luxuries, the
absence of the balmy but enervating breezes of the south,
the enjoyment of which would have cost us that hardihood
of frame and energy of Avill, which are worth all the spices
and perfumes of Arabia ?
"Man is the nobjftr growth our soU supplies,
And souls are ripened in our northern skies."
I beg pardon of the corapany and your lordship for the
length of time during Avhich I have detained you. I thank
you for the indulgence with which you have heard me ; and I
beg to assure you that when these shouts of approbation shall
be heard across the Atlantic, as they wfll be in fourteen or
fifteen days, a response as cordial will be returned by my
countrymen. * The rain was falling in torrents upon the canvas roof of the pavil-
lion in which the company were assembled.

RECEPTION AT HEREFORD.'

Mr Mator, Ladies and Gentlemen:
I RISE to make ray grateful acknowledgments for these
unexpected honors ; I wish I could find words that would do
full justice to my feelings. My first thanks are certainly due
to my friend and host, your Avorthy representative, (Mr Clive,)
who has done me the honor to introduce rae to your hospital
ity. I am bound to thank him for all his kindness, and not
least for this last act of kindness to us all, that of procuring
us the gratification of the presence of the ladies of Hereford
at this festive board.
I am indeed, Mr Mayor, under the greatest obligations to you
for this most unlocked for and courteous reception. When I
left town a few days since, it was with no other expectation
than that of a little repose after the duties of the season, a
mouthful of pure country air, a glimpse of the lovely scenery
on the banks of the Wye, a hasty glance at your venerable
cathedral, — one of the most interesting of those consecrated
and time-honored structures, for whose restoration I beg to
express ray best wishes, — and a passing survey of the field
of the labors and charities of your Herefordshire philanthro
pist, (the Man of Ross,) whora Pope has immortalized. This
is what I promised myself; temptation enough, you wfll
think, with that of the hospitality of a respected friend, to
draw any one from London in September. But to all this
you have been pleased to add the gratification of honors and

* Remarks made at a pubhc reception at the city of Hereford, on the
9th of September, 1843, in acknowledgment of a toast given by E. P.
Clive, Esq., M. P.
' ^ (471)

472 RECEPTION AT HEREFORD.
courtesies, public and private, as flattering as they are un
expected. Little, certainly, did I think, sir, when, a few years ago, I
had the satisfaction, in my own country, of raaking the ac
quaintance of the gallant relative (Colonel Clive) of your
respected chief steward and representative, that a short time
only would elapse before I should have the pleasure of meet
ing him again in his own home, and receiving at his hands,
and those of his honored parent, these distinguished atten
tions. I trust that an increased facflity of communication
between the two countries wfll have the happy effect of
making us all better acquainted with each other ; and that the
mighty ocean, which seemed spread between us as a barrier,
will become more and raore the highway of a kindly in
tercourse. It has gladdened ray heart, since I came to Hereford, to
hear the sentiments of good will towards America expressed
by so many gentlemen who have visited it. I can say for
my countrymen, that they are never happier than in receiv
ing with merited kindness the worthy and intelligent from
the father -land. During the past year, a nobleman, towards
whom there is but one feeling of respect and good will in his
own country, (I need scarcely say that I allude to Lord Mor
peth,) has traversed the United States, winning golden opin
ions in every part of Araerica, and showing my countrymen
that the highest rank and oldest blood are not incompat
ible with the simplest manners and raost sterling qualities of
character. We can, for the raost part, offer to the traveller from
Europe but the attractions of a new country, the wild charms
of unimproved nature, the interest of a recent civflization.
To the Araerican traveller in England there is an interest of
a peculiar and opposite kind. It is different frora the gratifi
cation of a tourist's curiosity in visiting spots made famous
by historical association ; different from the food which is
furnished to a classical enthusiasm in Italy and Greece. The
American visits England with something of the feelings with
which a dutiful son, after Avandering long in foreign climes,

RECEPTION AT HEREFORD 473
returns to the roof which sheltered his infancy, and makes
his pilgrimage to the churchyard where his parents are laid
to rest : — "Where'er I tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;
No spot of thine is lost in vulgar mould."
I am sure, Mr Mayor, I shall not here or elsewhere be mis
conceived in uttering these feelings. I am a loyal son of
America, and I desire at all times to discharge my duty to
the government and country which I have the honor to serve,
as you, sir, would wish an English minister to a foreign gov
ernment to discharge his duty to his own, — zealously and
faithfully. But I rejoice above all things when I can unite
with this paramount obligation the pleasing office of culti
vating kind feeling between the land of my birth and the
land of my fathers. The right reverend bishop, in his elo
quent remarks to the company, has observed, that it is the
duty of the clergy, as ministers of a pure religion, to promote
peace on earth and good wfll towards men. It is scarcely less
the province of the ministers of friendly, and especially of
kindred nations, to cooperate in the same good, work. There
are no two countries on earth united by ties like those which
bind the United States and England; none Avhich possess
within theraselves equal means of being rautually beneficial
to each other. Let us hope that, in all coming time, their
only struggle will be, which shall outstrip the other in the
race of civilization, — their only eraulation, which shall bear
the palra in the arts that adorn and iraprove our coraraon
nature. I renew to you, Mr Mayor and gentlemen of the corpora
tion, my sincere thanks for your kindness, and tender to you,
and to each person in this most respectable company, my
most sincere good Avishes.
VOL. II. 60

SAFFRON WALDEN AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY.*

After raaking his acknowledgments to the president of
the society and to the company for the toast which had just
been given, and avowing his concurrence with the opinions
expressed from the chair, on the subject of the treaty of
Washington, Mr Everett said, —
It is with no ordinary feelings of satisfaction that I find
myself a visitor to the ancient and respectable county of
Essex. It is a name famfliar to me as that of one of the four
counties into which the ancient colony, now state, of Massa
chusetts was divided, in the very infancy of the settlement.
Many of the first emigrants came frora this part of England,
and the affection which they cherished for their native coun
try was shown by perpetuating the names of its counties,
cities, and villages in their new home. A great majority of
the names of places to which I have been accustomed from
childhood, raeet rae again in different parts of England.
Nor is it familiar names of places only that I encounter.
In every part of England which I have visited, I find local
recollections, which, though perhaps weakened for you by
famfliarity, possess a great interest for us. Your lordship
has acquainted me with a circumstance of which I was igno
rant before, — that one of the greatest men in the history of
modern science lies buried in this neighborhood. I refer to
Harvey, the illustrious discoverer of the circulation of the
blood. After the troubles and vicissitudes of a life which,

• In reply to a toast from the president of the society, (Lord Bray
brooke,) at the public dinner at Safiron Walden, on the 13th of October,
1843. (474)

SAFFRON WALDEN AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY. 47S
notwithstanding that briUiant discovery, might be called an
unfortunate one, Essex received hira at last to close his mor
tal trials, and he lies buried at Hempstead, four railes from
this spot. His career (if I may adventure an allusion so far
from the iraraediate business of the day) teaches us a useful
lesson. When the great idea of the circulation of the blood
was first propounded by him, the age was not ready to re
ceive it, especially in his own country ; he lost his practice
as a physician, almost his good name. But the lapse of time
has redressed the contemporary wrong ; his name has taken
a place in the list of great discoverers ; his fame is coextensive
with the civilized world ;. and I have the happiness this day, a
pilgrim frora a country scarce known to exist when that dis
covery was made, to offer this humble tribute to his meraory.
There is, perhaps, no subject, my lord, in reference to
which the experience of other countries can be more advan
tageously consulted than agriculture, whether Ave have regard
to climate, natural products, or modes of husbandry. When
North America was settled by emigrants from Europe, it Avas
almost Avholly in a state of nature. Indian corn and one or
two other vegetables Avere rudely cultivated by the native
tribes ; but in general the new-comers were dependent on
what they brought with them, and the crops to be raised
from European seeds, roots, and trees, propagated on the
other side of the ocean. Such is our obligation to Europe,
in the temperate regions of America, in reference to the fruits
of the earth. But this debt we have in sorae degree repaid.
I need not tell you that the husbandry of the old world is
indebted to America for the article Avhich, next to the cereal
grains, furnishes food to the greatest number of persons. I
allude, of course, to the potato. There is another agricul
tural product of vast importance to us, and well known,
though not cultivated in England. I raean the maize, or
Indian corn. Some of your agricultural writers have, thought
that it might be domesticated in this country ; but your sum
mers are probably not hot enough to ripen the grain. There
is another American agricultural product ; I do not know if I
can safely name it here ; I am not an admirer of it myself

476 SAFFRON WALDEN AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY.
anywhere. But if, within the sound of ray voice, there is
an officer who has derived comfort from it whfle on duty
at the outposts in a cold night, — if there is a mariner pres
ent, who, as he paces the deck, under cover of darkness and
the storm, has found solace in this same fragrant weed, — they
will excuse me, I am sure, for reminding thera that they are
indebted to Araerica for tobacco.
It is not probable that we have reached the lirait of the
beneficial exchanges of this kind between the two hemi
spheres. It is not unlikely that, in the vast regions of Araer
ica as yet wholly unfc,ettled, — partially explored, — there may
be vegetable products of great value, with which we are as
yet unacquainted. It is not at all unlikely that in the west
of Europe new articles of human food will be brought for
ward in the progress of husbandry ; as new flowers are daily
introduced into our conservatories. And it is in the highest
degree probable that, in proportion as the recesses of China
and the East in general are penetrated, we shall find fruits,
grains, and seeds unknown to us as yet, of great value, and
capable of being naturalized into our fields and gardens. This
remark holds particularly in reference to China and the United
States, whose climate, under the same local conditions, is
nearly identical, — so that what is indigenous in one country
may admit of reproduction in the other. I have, since I
came into the hall, been told that there is a clover growing
in this neighborhood brought from Affghanistan ; a more val
uable acquisition, if it succeeds, than the sovereignty of that
region. Mr GAvilt has told us of Garaa grass, which he
thinks could be introduced to advantage. Thus we hear in
the county of Essex of a new clover frora Central Asia, and
a new grass from the slopes of the Andes.
While you are thus turning your attention to the remotest
regions, our farmers are also endeavoring to derive benefit
from the observation of other countries, particularly of this.
There is now in England a highly accomplished American ag
riculturist, knoAv^U) I doubt not, to some gentlemen present,*
* The late lamented Mr Colman,

SAFFRON WALDEN AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY. 477
who visits this country for the sole purpose of studying its
husbandry. Great interest is felt at horae in the success of
his inquiries, and I doubt not that they will prove of much
advantage to our countrymen.
There is one circumstance affecting your husbandry, and
closely connected with the state of English society, of which,
in my humble opinion *he importance cannot be overrated.
I refer to the deep intei«c<t taken in rural pursuits by the per
sons of greatest consideration and influence, from those of the
very highest rank in the country down through all the grada
tions of social life. Instead of concentrating its vitality in a me
tropolis, as is so much the case on the other side of the channel,
the strength and the substance of England are in the country.
It is here, far more than in city life, that the orders of society,
though strongly marked in your ancient monarchy, are
brought into close and friendly connection with each other.
The direct benefit which accrues to rural pursuits is great,
but it is not the only nor chief advantage of this state of
things. It binds your population together by the interchange
of good offices ; and contributes, in a great degree, — if you
will pardon the expression of an opinion on this subject from
a foreigner, — to the stabflity of your country.
And this reflection, gentleraen, brings rae, by natural asso
ciation of ideas, before I take ray seat, to the discharge of a
duty which, I dare say, our noble chairman would rather I
should leave unperformed. I could not, however, neglect it,
without injustice to my own feelings, and equal injustice, I
know, to yours. Though I have been but a short time in
this neighborhood, yet what I have seen and heard convinces
me how much it is indebted to the kindly relations which
exist between it and the worthy nobleman in the chair. I
need not say that nothing is more conducive to the welfare of
a community like this than the example, sympathy, and effi
cient cooperation of men like his lordship, belonging to a
class whose influence for good or for evil is so powerful. In
which direction his influeuce is thrown, it would be an affront
to this company to think it necessary to say ; and I feel my
self honored in being then organ in an expression of respect

478 SAFFRON WALDEN AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY.
and gratitude to himself and famfly. I am particularly anx
ious to include in the toast, which I shall have the honor to
propose to you, the health of the distinguished lady, with
whose company we were favored at the distribution of the
prizes this morning, and whom we saw engaged with so much
unaffected interest in the business of the day. I think I
could not be mistaken as to the visible and kindly effect of
her presence, even on this single occasion; others can bear
witness to the happy influence of a life of active Christian
beneficence. I should invade the sanctity of domestic life
if I should go there, as I raight else do, for other titles to
your respectful and affectionate consideration.
Mr Everett concluded his remarks by proposirjg a toast in
honor of Lord Braybrooke and his famfly.

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT CAMBRIDGE.

At the conclusion of the discourse of Sir John F. W.
Herschel, president of the association for the year, Mr Everett
rose at the request of the coraraittee of arrangements, and
spoke as follows : —
I shall be readily believed when I say that I rise under
some erabarrassraent, at the request of the officers of the
association, to address a few words to the assembly, which I
do without premeditation, or any expectation, till I entered
the hall, of being called upon. If that distinguished philos
opher, who has just taken his seat, felt it necessary to say
that he was prepared to address the meeting only from written
notes, with how much diffidence must I present myself before
an audience like this, without any preparation whatever.
But the few remarks which I have to offer you are of a char
acter that needs no premeditation, and implies no effort ; they
will come from the fulness of the heart. I rise to propose a
vote to the meeting, in which I am sure every one present
will be gratified to join. I raean a vote of thanks to the
fllustrious president of the association, Avho has just delighted
and instructed us by his masterly discourse.
I deeply regret, gentlemen, that there is no man of science
frora the United States present to perform this pleasing duty,
and who would have been able to do it in a raore appropriate
raanner. But though I have no claim to speak to you as a
man of science, I can state with great confidence that, in
* Remarks made in the Senate House of the university at the general
meeting of the British Association for the Promotion of Science, in the
evening of the 19th of June, 1845. (479)

480 BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT CAMBRIDGE.
proposing a vote of thanks to Sir John Herschel, I am fairly
and fully representing the men of science in my own coun
try. I feel that I ara doing no injustice to any other erainent
and honored name, when I say that, in the estimation of my
countrymen, the name of Herschel stands among the first of
the living raen of science. From the time of the world-
renowned father " who gave the lyre of heaven another
string," and brought a star, which for eiges had shone without
being particularly noticed in the firmaraent, into the great
solar faraily as one of its primary merabers, — a star whose
majestic orbit has not been completed since its planetary chEu:-
acter was discovered, — from his time to that of the still more
distinguished son, the narae of Herschel has been as farafl-
iarly known in America as in Europe. If our illustrious
president would visit the Avestern, as he has the southern,
hemisphere, — if he would cross the ocean to the new conti
nent, as he has visited the southern extreraity of the old con
tinent, in his ardent pursuit of science, — I can assure hira that
instead of being left alone with his stars, his southern cross
and magellanic clouds, he Avould find himself surrounded
by men who would look upon him with admiration, — raen
whose own researches would enable thera to appreciate his,
and who would listen with well-prepared minds to his
instructions. There was one topic in the president's address in reference
to which I feel authorized to promise the cooperation of the
men of science of the United States, — I mean the simultane
ous observation of magnetic and meteorological phenomena.
The efforts made in this kingdom and on the continent of
Europe for the establishment of a series of observations of
this kind have been cordially seconded in America. I have
myself had the pleasure of putting into the hands of Sir
John Herschel the observations made at Carabridge, in New
England. I hold, too, in ray hand, the answer of Professor
Loomis, of New York, to the circular of Colonel Sabine,
which contains a sentence or two so apposite, that I think
the company wfll be pleased to hear an extract.

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT CAMBRIDGE. 481
"We want a chain of meteorological posts extending indefinitely north
ward from the great lakes across the British possessions. There is nothing
which would hold out a prospect of so rich a harvest to Araerican meteor
ology as the establishment of such a chain of posts ; and this can only be
efiected through the agency of the British government. It would be desi
rable to have stations at intervals of one hundred miles, extending north
ward to the farthest outpost of civilization. Ten pounds will provide a
station with instruments, and, witli a little painstaking, competent men
raight probably be found to make the observations gratuitously. The United
States are admirably situated for a grand meteorological crusade. We
have here a vast territory, covered by a population all speaking the same
language. We have more than a hundred observers who are now keeping
registers, besides the observations at sixty raiUtary posts, mostly situated
on the frontier. With a generous cooperation on the part of the British
govemment in procuring registers fi-ora their extensive possessions north
of the United States, our own observers would he inspired with new enthu
siasm, and we might speedily hope for richer conquests than have been
hitherto made in the domain of meteorology."

Most earnestly do I hope that an emulation on subjects
such as these may rapidly increase between Great Britain and
the United States^ and take the place of those less amiable
discussions which have lately occupied the public attention
in reference to a portion of the same region which is alluded
to by Professor Loomis. I beg to assure the audience, the
last I shall probably have the honor of addressing in Eng
land, that if ariy effort in my humble sphere — any opinion
or counsel of mine on either side of the water — can avafl to
that end, it wifl not be, as it has not been, withheld.
It is one of the most pleasing points of view in which the
researches of modern science can be regarded, that they nat
urally draw the different members of the famfly of nations
into these amicable rivalries and cooperations. It is sup
posed, — but, surrounded as I ara by men of science, I ought
to speak on such a point Avith diffidence and reserve, — that
one of the probable results of these simultaneous observa
tions wfll be, to prove that the mysterious phenomena of mag
netism obey one general law throughout the globe ; and that
the pulsations of this incomprehensible influence are synchro
nous. Should this be established, it wiU be considered one
of the most extraordinary and beautiful achievements of
VOL. II. 61

482 BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT CAMBRIDGE.
modern science. But this fact, however significant and fruit
ful as a scientific proposition, what is it, compared Avith the
laAV which regulates the action and sympathy of the intel
lectual world? That simultaneous action which is expected
to be established in reference to the magnetic system of the
globe, what is it, corapared with that unity of force in the
inteUectual systera, which raakes every word uttered in one
country intelligible in every other, and subjects the under
standings of raen all round the globe to one uniform influence
of reason and truth ?
I ought, perhaps, to apologize for taking up so much of the
time of the company ; but I own that I speak in this place
with peculiar emotion. I perform the duty assigned me this
evening with peculiar pleasure, assembled as we are at the
university of Cambridge in England ; for there is also in
New England a university at Cambridge, of which I ara an
hurable child. Whatever I ara or raay hope to be in this
world, I owe, under Providence, as far as collegiate education
is concerned, to the instructions of my transatlantic alma
mater. I had the honor, about three years ago, at a very
interesting academic festival in this place, to inform the com
pany that the foundation stone of that Cambridge in New
England was laid by one of the sons of your Cambridge, —
a graduate of Emmanuel CoUege, within Avhose halls we were
then assembled. Sir John Herschel has spoken in impres
sive language of the members of this university, who, after
an absence of a few years, return to tbe place of their educa
tion ; how kindly they meet, how warmly they salute each
other, with what earnestness they inform themselves of the
welfare of their alma mater in the interval. Could that
benevolent and pious individual, (John Harvard,) who, two
centuries ago, laid the foundations of the American university
at Cambridge, have looked forward and foreseen how it would
fare at the end of two centuries with the sons of old England,
Avho carried the Protestant religion, the laws, and language
of this country across the ocean, what emotions of gratitude
would have swelled his bosora I What raust be my feelings,
an American educated on that foundation, to be called upon

BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT CAMBRIDGE. 483
on behalf of the men of science in the United States, within
the senate house of the university at Cambridge, to speak for
them on an occasion of so much interest as this. I wfll not,
gentlemen, enlarge on this topic, but conclude by proposing
that the thanks of the members of the association be given
to Sir John Herschel for his luminous and instructive dis
course.

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.*

After some reraarks of a personal nature, in acknowledg
ment of a toast proposed from the chair, Mr Everett pro
ceeded as follows : —
But it is more than time, Mr President, that I should pass
frora every thing having in any degree a personal reference ;
and yet how, after Avhat Ave have heard with delighted ears,
from those who have preceded me, how can I address rayself
to the peculiar topics of the day? Hoav can I, after what
has been said by the most gifted among us, on this and other
occasions, attempt to place the events which We this day cora-
memorate in any new light ? The sufferings of our fathers,
the toils and the sacrifices by which this precious inheritance
Avas won for us, have been so Avrought into the habitual con
templations of every dutiful child of New England, that to
attempt to illustrate them at the present day is to " gild re
fined gold and paint the lily." And yet, sir, I fear it wfll be
found that, as far as it is possible by the torchlight of anti
quarian research, to penetrate into any of the dark corners of
the labyrinth of their AVanderings,, we shall find that if in
any thing Ave have fallen short of the truth, it has been in
not fully conceiving of the extent of their privations. Within
two or three years, a more accurate research than was ever
before made has been instituted by our ingenious country
man, Mr George Sumner, into the condition of the Pilgrims
at Leyden; and grievous indeed it is, to find that almost
* In reply to a toast from the president of the day, (Hon. C. H. War
ren,) at a public dinner at Plymouth, (Mass.,) on the 22d of Decem
ber, 1845. (484)

THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 486
every alleviation of their hardships, Avhich possessed a tradi
tionary existence, ¦vanishes on investigation. It does not
appear, as had been supposed, that they enjoyed any special
favor or protection on the part of the raagistrates. The
belief that one of the ancient churches of Leyden was grant
ed to them for their worship seems to be unfounded ; and
almost the only positive fact, which the most laborious
scrutiny has added to their history, is, that when the truly
apostolic Robinson sunk prematurely under the labors and
sorrows of his hard pilgrimage, the sum of nine florins
(about three dollars and a half of our money) was paid for
the hire of a four years' resting-place for his mortal remains.
Yes, sir, for the man to whose prudence, fortitude, and Chris
tian courage, as much as to those of any one of his associates,
we owe the inheritance of this broad and beautiful New Eng
land the Old World could not afford the poor allotraent of a
perraanent grave !
No, sir, the condition of the Pilgriras at Leyden, with the
exception of their freedora of conscience, — a grand excep
tion, it is true, — to thera it was every thing, ^ was one of
unmitigated severity, beneath which the elders bowed and
the children pined and sunk. They had fled, under circum
stances of extrerae hardship, chiefly from Lincolnshire and
the neighboring counties of England. Accustomed at home
to agricultural pursuits, they were obliged in Holland to em
ploy themselves, under every disadvantage, in the various
handicrafts. Famflies in that forced emigration had been
divided. Strange manners and a foreiglf tongue cut them off
from the social charities of life. They were permitted to
worship God according to the dictates of their consciences ;
and yet, though they Avere of the class of Christians Avho
entertained the raost severe vicAVs of that simplicity which
belongs to the worship of the Great Being who dwelleth not
in temples made with hands, yet they were men, and they
must have thought with yearning hearts of the time-halloAved
churches of their native land. No part of England more
abounds in them, than the counties from Avhich the fugitives
at Leyden chiefly came ; and among them all, I might say

486 THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
among the parish churches of England, there is not a finer
than the church at Boston, alraost a cathedral in size, and
unsurpassed by any of its class in the beauty of its architec
ture. I Avent many rafles out of my way to behold this ven
erable pile ; and Avhfle I mused beneath its arches, ascended
its grand toAver, and stood before the altar at which Cotton
ministered, (Avhose blood flows in the veins of ray own chil
dren,) I gained new irapressions of the Christian heroism,
the spiritual grandeur of the men who turned their backs
on all this sacred grandeur and beauty, as well as on all
the comforts and delights of civilized life, that they raight
freely Avorship God in cabins and garrets, under exile and
penury in the Old World, and in face of the gaunt terrors of
this unsubdued wilderness.
It Avould, of course, be of all tasks the most superfluous,
to undertake, in a company like this, to eulogize or defend
the Pilgrims. You would all cry out, Quis vitiiperavit 7 It
is, however, undoubtedly true, that among many persons on
either side of the Atlantic, Avho have but a general knowl
edge of the history and literature of the time, they are re
garded merely as one of the extravagant sects which sprung
up in the sixteenth century. Many, no doubt, see only in the
foUoAvers of Robinson those BroAvnists of whom Lord Bacon
says, " that when they were at the most, they were a very
small number of very silly and base people, here and there in
corners dispersed, and now, thanks be to God, and the good
remedies that have, been used, suppressed and Avorn out."
Even the kind-hearted Shakspeare, whose page has distilled
a drop of bitterness for no other class of his contemporaries,
jeers at the Puritans. These and other lower authorities,
uniting Avith poleraic partiality, have led many persons to
regard the Pilgrims as a handful of impracticable fanatics,
endangering the state by doubtful allegiance, and disturbing
the church by indecent extravagancies. A most Unjust and
erroneous vieAV ! In one aspect, as you, sir, have correctly
stated, they were the heirs and representatives of the bold
barons of Runnymede, animated by the sarae spirit, and pur
suing a kindred object ; and even in reference to their distinct

THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 487
and characteristic peculiarities, it is capable, I think, of proof
from the history of the times, that before the separation of
the non-conforraists frora the church, their principles Avere
probably held by a majority of the Protestants of England ;
and that after the separation, in the class to which the fathers
of New England belonged, there Avas a fair share of the edu
cation and IcEirning of the tirae. Not only so, but in the
middle, if not in the higher classes, and in proportion to their
numbers, there Avas a fair share of the wealth and respecta
bUity of the kingdom. Their ministers and leading raen
were educated at the English universities in the divinity and
philosophy of the day ; and in reference to that part of learn
ing Avhich best shows good taste and good sense, — the
knowledge of one's raother tongue, — if there is, in all the
literature of the age of the Pilgrims, including the works of
Lord Bacon himself, a finer piece of composition than Robin
son's farewell address, I must own rayself unacquainted with
it. Recent research has, in some degree, shaken its authen
ticity, as the production of Robinson, in its present forra.
But it was of course writte*n, if not by hira, by one of his
disciples or followers. As for his spirit and temper, which in
all events it faithfuUy represents, it is so far before his age,
that it would be idle to institute the comparison.
There is another thing to be borne in mind, to the lasting
honor of our fathers — that they stood, from first to last, on the
foundation of the constitutional liberties of England. The
persecutions they suffered were legal only in name. The
hardships which drove them from England were not in ac
cordance with the analogy of the ancient law of the realm,
either as to the substance of the enactments or the raode of
enforcing thera. Judges and juries Avere, in those days, far
from affording adequate protection to the subject in any
struggle with the crown ; but it was neither judge nor jury
by which such men as Robinson, and Brewster, and Carver,
and Bradford, were driven frora England. It Avas that de
testable Court of High Coraraission, of Avhich Burleigh him
self said that " their interrogatories Avere so curiously penned,
so full of branches and circumstances, that he thought

488 THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
the inquisitors of Spain used not so many questions to com
prehend or entrap their preys." There is not one of the acts
for which the fathers of New England were dragged from
prison to prison, and driven into an exile, into which, at the
same time, it was made as hard as possible for them to escape,
for which a raan at the present day could be fined a shilling
And however uniraportant Ave raay think sorae of the prac
tices and ceremonies against which they Avaged their stren
uous Avarfare, they are matters now generally admitted, in
Protestant countries, to be rightful matters of private judg
ment, in Avhich the state has no concern. That they are so
admitted, — that this great battle for freedom of conscience
has been fought and won, — is distinctly and historically
traceable to the resolution and courage of the Puritans.
Nor was it won for themselves alone. We must not think
the benefit of this victory is confined even to Protestants in
England or elseAvhere. Paradoxical as it may sound. Cath
olic emancipation in Great Britain is the late, but the neces
sary and natural consequence of their principles ; and not the
less so because unforeseen by* themselves. Such a truth,
once established, is established for all sects, for all nations,
and for all time. The tide must rise on both sides of the
channel. Those great doctrines of religious freedom, Avhich
made it impossible to rekindle the fires of Smithfield, made
it equally impossible that the same fires should blaze at Lis
bon and Madrid. Beaten doAvn or unsustained at every other
forum, in every other field, imperfectly applied by them
selves, this great right Avas fought into a substantial existence
by the Puritans ; and to them it is mainly owing that not the
Protestant Saxon countries alone, but the Latin states of the
south of Europe, have been delivered out of that open hell of
persecution which raged in the sixteenth century.
Nor was it merely as the assertors of religious freedora that
the Pilgrira fathers are entitled to our grat.tude. What did
Hurae mean, when he said that " the absurdities of the Puri
tans were the shelter of liberty " ? and a graver authority
than Hume on such a question, (Mr Hallam,) that " the stern
and exasperated Puritans were the depositaries of the sacred

THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 489
fire of liberty " ? What volumes of eulogy are written in these
words ! It is not liberty in the abstract that is meant ; no
closet theory. It is not the liberty of their own neglected
colonial establishments to which these distinguished Avriters
refer. It is the ancient constitutional liberty of England,
Avhich, in the hour of its peril, was preserved by the
Puritans. Even in the relations of the colonial governraents to the
crown, I believe the indoraitable spirit which the Pilgriras
brought to America, and propagated here, was of inestimable
service to the cause of constitutional liberty in England.
The rule of distant colonies is at best an anomaly in a free
state. If it is a military despotism, it is so by confession ; and
even when founded on charters Avhich assume the character
of constitutions, when we consider the necessary relations of
the colonial authorities to the governments on which they
depend, and to which they are responsible, on the one hand,
and to the people over whom they are placed, on the other
hand, it is obvious that the leaning, if unresisted, must be to
prerogative rather than right. The struggle was not, per
haps, of sufficient magnitude, in the seventeenth century, to
act with distinct effect on the governraent of the mother
country, convulsed, as it was, by domestic causes, for a great
part of that period ; but I am convinced that, from the time
things settled doAvn after the revolution of 1688, the steady
pressure of colonial affairs on the ministry and privy council
must have had an excellent effect in keeping their attention
fixed upon the great constitutional landmarks. When, in the
latter half of the last century, the great revolutionary crisis
drew on, it was felt and admitted by the liberal statesmen of
the day — some of the greatest and most sagacious inen that
England has ever produced — that the colonies were fighting
the battles of English liberty. " In order to prove," says
Burke, " that the colonies have no right to their liberties, we
are every day subverting the maxims which preserve the
spirit of our own." Lord Chatham, from the first, compared
the opposition to American taxation with the resistance to
ship-money and the other illegal impositions of Charles I.
VOL. II. 62

490 THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
He declares that he knows not how many of the living are
wiUing to join him in mamtaining with their blood the prin
ciples of American freedom, but that from the dead he could
caU up a host innumerable ; and he adds, " My lords, at this
day there are many sound, substantial, and honest whigs
who ought and who wfll consider the American controversy
as a common cause." Can any one at this day doubt that it
should be so regarded ? Does any one of any party believe
that if this war, literally Avaged by the croAvn against the
people of America, had been pushed to a triumphant issue,
the cause of free principles, of ministerial responsibility, and
of wise reform Avould have stood wljere it now does in Eng
land ? No one can think it. The colonies had reached a
point when separation was inevitable ; then groAvth in num
bers, population, intellectual' improvement, and self-respect,
made the separation necessary. Humanity must deplore that
this great national consummation could not have been
brought about Avithout the waste of treasure and blood ; but
no one can doubt that as a struggle for constitutional princi
ples, the result of the contest was as beneficial to England as
to America. I say nothing, of course, in this connection, of
the comraercial advantages resulting from our independence
— a hundred fold beyond any thing to have been hoped from
colonial taxation.
But I have taken up, to the full, the time AA'^hich faUs to
my share, in a company containing so many to Avhom Ave
would all gladly listen. I will only add the expression of my
satisfaction, that there is present so large a representation of
the sons of New England from other states. They Avill feel
with peculiar force that the character of the Pilgrims is a
precious inheritance for United America. I rejoice to believe
that this feeling is not confined to their descendants. Our
earlier and our later history contains the record of eventful
scenes, in which all the various elements of the national char
acter have been happily felt, in the vigor and temper of the
public councils. Different as they Avere in the causes and
principles of their colonization, it Avould be easy to show,
Avithout a stretch of ingenuity, that the three great classes of

THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 491
settlements — the southern, the northern, and the central —
have afforded to each other strength, consideration, and sta
bflity ;* that, in human probability, they could not have stood
and prospered — certainly not to the same extent — alone.
In the great revolutionary and constitutiorial crises,, the har
monious action of old Virginia and old Massachusetts, and
the groups of states that followed their lead respectively, was
the ark of our safety. Since those eventful days, another
great sectional interest has been added to the Union in the
west, carrying with it the principles both of contrast and
assimflation which exist in the older states. The historian
of America (Mr Bancroft) calculates that one third part of all
its citizens, however dispersed, are of Pilgrim descent. May
Ave not, without partiality, say, that to whatever portion of
the common inheritance they are called, they wfll have no
reason to be ashamed of their origin ; and that the warmest
local patriotism can form no wish raore auspicious for the
ybunger members of the republic, than that they may grow
up on the good old foundation, to whicn this day and this
spot are sacred ?
The natural products of the earth vary with its latitudes,
and every climate has its growth. There is but one soil on
which national prosperity and greatness can flourish, and that
is the soil of justice and truth. The hand that conducted
the Mayflower across the pathless wilderness of waters, is the
only hand which can with safety guide the caravan which,
laden with the destinies of- future states, is even now winding
its way across the desert to the rocky portals of the western
mountains. I do not mean, Mr President, to indulge in extravagant
eulogy. I am not blind to the imperfections of the Pilgrims.
I mourn especiaUy that they did not recognize in others the
rights which they asserted for themselves. I deplore their
faults, though the faults of the age. I am grieved that in
pursuing the simplicity and purity of the gospel, they
could not have imbibed more of its lovely meekness. But
so often as I revert to this painful contemplation, I am checked
by the doubt, whether the great work could have been done

492 THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
by softer instruments. I doubt whether we have a right,
living as we do in ease and luxury, to take for granted that
this heavy burden could have been borne by more delicate
frames and gentler tempers. By their fruits ye shall know
them. Not by the graceful foliage which dallies Avith the
suraraer breeze, not by the floAver which fades away with
the perfume which it scatters on the gale, — but by the
golden, perfect fruit, in which the mysterious life of the plant
is garnered up, Avhich the genial earth and the kindling sun
have ripened into the refreshment and food of man, and
which, even when it perishes, leaves behind it the germs of
continued and multiplying existence.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.

The institution under whose auspices we are assembled
is considerably the oldest of the kind in the United States,
and is probably the oldest establishraent for secular education
on the western continent. Its foundation was a part, very
early executed, of the great work of transferring the civiliza
tion of the Anglo-Norman race to the new-found hemisphere
— a work in which the first settlers of New England bore so
large a share. They brought with them those forras of mu
nicipal organization in Avhich so much of the machinery of
our present republicanism lay dormant ; the idea of repre
sentative government further developed than in the mother
country; the general system of English jurisprudence, and
especially its most characteristic feature, the trial by jury ;
and still more, those peculiar principles of Protestantism,
which, at the time of the emigration, were struggling towards
the mastery in the state, which Avas soon after won and lost.
With these institutions and principles, — honored companions
of their exile, — the civil and religious fathers of New Eng
land brought with them an affectionate attachment to the
universities of their native land, and especially to the univer
sity of Cambridge, at which so raany of thera had been
reared.f They seized the first opportunity to make provis
ion, in the home of their pilgrimage, for the education of
* An Address delivered on occasion of the inauguration of the author as
president of the University at Cambridge, on the 30th of April, 1846.
t See the result of the patient and accurate inquiries of Mr James Sav
age on this subject, in the Collections of the Massachusetts Histonud Soaely,
Third Series, Vol. VUI. pp. 246—251. (493)

494 UNIVE-RSITY EDUCATION.
their chfldren on this model. To rival the majestic pfles of
their alma mater — already raany of them of venerable
antiquity — could not have entered even into their sanguine
imaginations ; but they fondly gave the name of Cambridge
to this spot, Avhich they had chosen for their infant serainary.
The course of studies — limited, it must be owned — was
copied, we have reason to think, from that which was pur
sued at the tirae in the parent country ; and the literary hon
ors of the newly established institution were carefully declared
to be conferred "pro more academiarura Anglicarum."
,^s there is no institution which so directly carries us back
to the cradle of New England, and connects us beyond it, by
unbroken intellectual tradition, with the elder world, so we
may confidently hope that there is none which is more sure
to enjoy the continued sympathy of good citizens and true
patriots, in all future tirae. Our civil and social condition,
and every thing belonging to the political state of the coun
try, have undergone changes so stupendous since our univer
sity was founded, as to lead us to admit the possibility of
changes not less important hereafter. These, though we
cannot define thera, we raust vaguely anticipate ; but we
have no reason to fear that, in any coraing tirae, or under any
change that awaits the material or political fortunes of the
country, the great idea of an academical training of youth
for the duties of life, foremost in the minds of our fathers
through all the vicissitudes of two centuries, wfll cease to be
cherished by the latest posterity. We have no reason to fear
that the time will ever come when our beloved alma mater,
who has this day gathered us into her venerable presence,
wfll be less an object of affection and care to our children's
children than she is this hour to us.
We shall not, therefore, be devoting our attention to any
theme of passing interest, if we eraploy the hour set apart
for this portion of the day's ceremonial in the consideration
of the objects of a university education, as understood at this
time in our ancient seminary, and in the other simflarly or
ganized American institutions. Such, in fact, seems to be
the most appropriate topic of discourse on the present occasion.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 495
It must be observed, however, in the outset, that it is the
subject rather for an elaborate treatise than for an occasional
address. I can hope only to glance at the leading points
of a discussion which volumes would be insufficient to
exhaust. The constitution of the commonwealth, in a chapter ex
clusively appropriated to the subject, bestows the narae of
the " University at Cambridge " on our venerable foundation.
This word " university " has been variously applied to places
of education. In France, under the erapire, — and in this
respect the systera is unchanged, — it was used to denote the
aggregate of all the schools and acaderaies in the kingdom.
The term was employed in a similar acceptation in New
York, at a stfll earlier period,* and is so used, I believe, in
some other of the states of our Union. In most of the other
countries of the continent of Europe, particularly in that
whose universities are most numerous and prosperous, — I
mean Germany, — the universities are professional schools.
They are resorted to by young men, after receiving their
academical education at institutions of various name, — lyce-
ura, gyranasiura, or college, — for the purpose of studying
the three learned professions, usually so designated, with an
addition in the German universities, and perhaps in others,
with which I am less acquainted, of a fourth faculty, called
the " Philosophical," in Avhich are included the branches of
classical, historical, and general literature, adapted to the
academic career, or to an education for the public service, or
to a life of liberal leisure.
The English universities, originally founded or early mod
eUed f on a monastic type, and retaining an intimate connec
tion with the established church, are nevertheless mainly
academical institutions, of a very peculiar character, however,
* The "Regents of the University of the State of New York" were
established by charter in 1784.
t I state this point in the altemative, as it is one of some controversy as
a matter of antiquarian detail. The works of Meiners on the German
universities, and Hiiber's late work on the English universities, translated
by Professor Newman, can be consulted.

496 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
as compared with others of the same name. They consist
respectively of an aggregate of several colleges, each of
which is a serainary by itself, varying greatly as to the means
of carrying on the work of education ; but all united, for
certain purposes, into one confederate body, and subject to
one academical jurisdiction. The education they afford is
classical, raatheraatical, and philosophical ; that is, academ
ical, serving as the supplement to that received at school, and
as preparatory to professional studies.
Such, also, is the character of our OAvn university, as far as
the collegiate portion of it is concerned. The average age
of those resorting to it falls, perhaps, a little short of that of
the students of the English universities, but the range of
study is not, I think, raaterially lower.*
Till after the close of the revolutionary Avar, our univer
sity was a place almost exclusively for academical education.
Not long after that period, a medical school Avas established
at Cambridge, in close connection with the university ; the
theological school was founded at a somewhat later period ;
and about the same time the foundations Avere laid of the law
school, which, Avithin a few years, has risen to its present
respectability and importance, and to which I cannot make
even this passing allusion Avithout bearing my hurable testi
mony to the eminent talent, the indefatigable exertions, and
genial influence of the fllustrious jurist and magistrate (Mr
Justice Story) whose loss the university, in common with the
country at large, has been so recently called to deplore.
The university at Carabridge accordingly now consists of
two parts — the acaderaical and the professional — affording
the raeans of a coraplete education for all the liberal pursuits
of life, according to the standard of our age and country, and
the requireraents of the society in which we live, as they
have hitherto been understood at our higher seminaries of
education. It is a question well worthy to be entertained,

* The average age of one hundred and four individuals who have en
tered Harvard College the present academic year (1845 — 6) is seventeen
and a half years.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 497
whether the time is not arrived when a considerable expan
sion may be given to our system, of a twofold character ;
first, by establishing a philosophical faculty, in which the
various branches of science and literature should be culti
vated, beyond the limits of an acaderaical course, with a
view to a coraplete liberal education, and secondly, by organ
izing a school of theoretical and practical science, for the
purpose especially of teaching its application to the arts of
life, and of furnishing a supply of skilful engineers, and of
persons well qualified to explore and bring to light the inex
haustible natural treasures of the country, and to guide its
vast industrial energies in their rapid developraent.
These, however, are topics on which it would be out of
place to enlarge on this occasion ; and in what I have further
•to say in this address, I have in view not the later profes
sional additions which have been made to our establishraent,
but the genera^ system of academical training, which, modi
fied and improved from age to age, constitutes its broad
foundation. In this understanding of the term, the objects
of a Universitt Education appear to be —
I. The acquisition of knowledge in the various branches
flf science and literatmre, as a general preparation for the
learned professions and the other liberal pursuits of life ;
II. In the process of acquiring this knowledge, the exer
cise and developraent of the inteUectual faculties, as a stfll
more important part of the great business of preparation ; and
III. The formation of a pure and manly character, exhib-
itmg that union of moral and intellectual qualities which
most commands confidence, respect, and love.
A few words on each of these topics are all that the limits
of the occasion wfll admit.
I must first observe that, in defining the objects of a uni
versity education, I have omitted one which ought, as I
think, to find a place in every complete system of generous
training ; I mean that of exercising our physical powers;
with a view to health and strength, to the improvement of the
senses, and the cultivation of the tastes and accomplishments
which depend upon them, and to the more effectual attain-
voL. II. 63

498 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
ment of what heathen wisdom considered one of the first
objects of prayer — the blessing of a sound mind in a sound
body. I omit the consideration of this subject, not because
I undervalue its importance, but because I cannot think that
such a revolution in manners and opinion will soon take
place, as to give to physical education in our colleges any
thing like the degree of attention which it deserves. I can
not, however, but propose it as a question well deserving
more consideration than is usually given it, whether regulai*
provision ought not to be made, at our schools and coUeges,
for such kinds and degrees of manly and generous exercise
as would raost conduce to health and strength, and best devel
op and strengthen all the wonderful capacities of the human
frame. There can be no doubt, that, for the want of these ex
ercises, and from the neglect of the other conditions on which
the enjoyraent of health depends, the foundations i ? i \
many cases early laid of the diseases which condemn so | Vny
of the educated classes to a suffering and comparatively ef
fective career, and to premature decline. We dig ou' V
graves in youth. - j - ¦
A celebrated German phflosopher (Herder) has thrown
out the idea, that possibly ncAV senses raay lie dormant in our
frames for want of judicious training, which may be unfold
ed in sorae higher state of being.* This is, of course, but
fanciful speculation ; but no one can doubt that those senses
which most raen possess in sorae degree, and which, even in
savage life, attain extraordinary acuteness, might be rendered,
in all men not wholly destitute of them by nature or the
effect of disease, much more vigorous, keen, and delicate.
Beginning with the great laws of health, — and particularly
with the divine law of temperance, in its widest comprehen
sion, — it would, no doubt, be possible to pursue a course, by
which most men might attain a rauch more symmetrical bod
ily development, and be made comparatively indifferent to
the elements ; by which sight, and hearing, and touch would
* Herder's Philosophy of Mstory, Book IV. Chap. HI. and Book V.
Chap. VL

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 499
be rendered greatly more acute ; by which the susceptibility
to music would be increased, and become more coramon ;
the perception of the beauties of art and nature be quick
ened ; and a far more intimate relation than now exists be
established between raan and the world around hira. Milton
seems to have had this now neglected part of discipline in view,
Avhen, in his Tractate to Master Samuel Hartlib, he recom
mends that his serainaries should be in the country, and that
the young men should be early habituated to every species
of mflitary* and gymnastic exercise; and when he pro
nounces it, " in those vernal seasons of the year, when the air
is calm and pleasant, an injury and suUenness against Nature,
not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing
with heaven and earth."
But passing over this topic, however important, as not fall
ing distinctly within the purview of the present occasion, the
first object of our universities is, as I have observed, to fur
nish the means of obtaining a great amount of knowledge,
in science and literature, as a preparation for the learned pro
fessions and the other liberal pursuits of life. This, though
erroneously regarded by many persons as the exclusive object
to be pursued at a place of education, is the first in the order
of ideas, and is of great and undoubted importance. Some
knowledge of the usual branches of acaderaic learning, to be
acquired at a place of education or by private study, is adrait-
ted to be necessary for the comprehension of the text-books
and elementary treatises of the professions, and for a credita
ble entrance on their active duties, especially as far as the
great art - of coraraunication is concerned. Observation and
experience show, not, certainly, that there is a constant pro
portion, but that there is a general correspondence, between
the extent and accuracy of this acquaintance, and the effi
ciency, grace, and success with which the professional duties
of after life wfll be performed. While numerous brilliant

* In proposing a mUitary organization for his schools, Milton was proba
bly influenced by the state of England at the time this treatise was written,
which was in 1644.

600 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
exceptions prove that the knowledge acquired in youth, at
seats of learning, is not the indispensable condition of subse
quent professional eminence, the general consent of mankind
has decided it to be the most fitting and hopeful preparation ;
and there is no one, probably, in this assembly but wfll admit
the justice as well as the beauty of the terms in which Cicero
has described the relative iraportance of natural capacity and
learned discipline : " Ego raultos homines excellenti animo
et virtute fuisse, et sine doctrina, naturas ipsius habitu prope
divino, per seipsos et raoderatos et graves extitisse fateor.
Etiara illud adjungo, saspius ad laudem atque virtutem natu-
rara sine doctrina quam sine natura valuisse doctrinam. Atque
idem ego contendo, cum ad naturara exiraiam atque illustrem
accesserit ratio quaedam confirmatioque doctrines, tum illud
nescio quid prseclarum ac singulare solere existere." *
Whatever reproaches may at some periods and in other
countries have been cast upon university education, as not
being directed to acquirements which form a real and efficient
preparation for the duties of life, I think it must be allowed
that our alma mater is free from the censure, and the same
credit is due to the other well-conducted Araerican seminaries.
Our course of studies has, by gradual adaptation, been made
to conform to the condition and wants of the country and the
age. Besides the principles of natural religion and the evi
dences of Christianity, it includes thorough instruction in the
learned languages, usually so called, and in their criticism ;
in the five leading modern tongues and their literature, (for
which provision has been made at Harvard within the last
twenty years, more ample, I believe, than exists at any other
seminary, English or American;) in the various branches of
the pure and mixed mathematics, and in all the great divis
ions of natural history ; in intellectual philosophy ; in the
leading departments of moral science, including political
economy ; in ancient and modern history ; and in the use of
our own language in all the forms of the written and spoken
word. This instruction is given by faithful and accomplished
* Pro ArcMa Poeta, Cap. IV.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 501
teachers, aided by libraries, cabinets, and every other kind of
scientific apparatus, guiding their pupils in the use of the best
text-books, and making them acquainted with the present
state and the most recent improvements of the progressive
branches of knowledge. It is plain that in such a course
there is nothing wanting to a complete and finished system
of academical instruction, as preparatory to any of the liberal
pursuits of life. The objection lies rather in the other direc
tion, naraely, that the student is taken over more ground in
a short tirae than he is able thoroughly to explore ; and that,
of the branches of study to which his attention is called, all
cannot be equally important for the future uses of life in its
various callings.
These difficulties are really serious, and among those with
which it is hardest to deal. They are the direct opposite of
those which were felt under the ancient systems of education,
in which what Lord Bacon calls the professory branches* —
principally the divinity, rhetoric, and logic 'of the schools —
were exclusively taught ; and as far as the attainraent of
useful knowledge goes, scarce any thing was done in the way
of direct preparation for the secular callings of life. In striv
ing to reraove this objection, our seminaries have perhaps
gone to the other extreme. They have so multiplied the list
of academical studies, that, in the period of four years as
signed to the collegiate course, — with the usual allowance
for vacations, — three raonths is the aggregate of the tirae
which Avould be given to any one branch, if equal attention
were paid to all, reckoning the two ancient languages but as
one study, and the modern languages as another.
* " Neque rursus silentio prsetermittendura est banc coUegiorum et soci-
etatum in usum tantummodo doctrinte professorise dedicationem non solum
scientiarura increraentis inimicara fuisse, sed etiam in regnorum et rerum-
publicarum detrimentum cessisse. Hinc enira fieri solet, ut principes
delectura habituri ministrornm, qui rebus civilibus tractandis sint idonei,
ejusmodi hominum miram solitudinera circa se reperiant ; propterea quod
non habeatur educatio aliqua coUegiata in hos usus destinata, ubi scilicet
homines a natura ad hoc facti et comparati (praeter artes alias) historise.
Unguis modernis, libris et tractatibus politicis praecipue incumbant, et inde
ad civilia munera magis hab Ues et instruct! accedant." — Lord Bacon, 2>e
Augment. Sclent, II. Prsef.

602 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
It is, however, to be borne in mind, that as the student
comes to the university with several years of preparation in
some of the studies, so it is expected of him, while there,
only to extend the acquaintance which he has formed with
them, and to lay a good foundation in the rest. It is, of
course, a popular error of the crudest kind to suppose that
any one branch of study is to be exhausted at a place of ed
ucation. There is not a department of learning pursued at
our universities, which has not given, and is not giving, araple
eraployraent for their Avhole time to men of diligence and
capacity. All that academical education proposes is to aid
and encourage the student in the further prosecution of the
studies commenced at school, and to introduce him success
fully to those reserved for college. With respect to both, he
will indeed make greater or less progress, according to the
maturity of his mind and the vigor with which it is applied ;
but with respect to neither can he do more than put himself
in condition to make such further advances as necessity, in
terest, or inclination raay dictate. Although it is a matter of
constant regret to the faithful instructer that he can comraand
so little of the time of the student for any one branch, yet,
little as it is, it will, when faithfully employed, not be found
inadequate to the purposes now indicated. It is, however,
greatly to be wished that the means could be found of wholly
relieving the academic course of a portion of the studies now
included in it, Avith a view to their being pursued more ad
vantageously at an advanced stage, under some uoav depart
ment organized for that purpose.
The difficulty under any such change Avould, however,
still remain, that the general academic course must embrace
studies not equally useful in all professions, nor equally con
genial to all tastes, and therefore not likely to be hereafter
pursued either from interest or inclination. From this cause
it may result, — in point of fact, the complaint is often made,
— that much time is spent at school and in college in the
pursuit of studies not afterAvards turned to valuable account.
It may be observed, however, that this complaint, at the
worst, applies only to the various studies as means of acquir-

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION 503
ing useful knowledge, and does not pertain to the other and
still more important object of education, to Avhich we are
presently to advert, naraely, the training of the inteUectual
faculties. A coraplaint nearly sirailar might be raade of the
waste of the tirae eraployed in bodily exercise. No actual
profit attends any of the healthful exercises of youth ; nor is
there any direct prepaiation for professional duties and busi
ness pursuits in Avalking, riding, swiraming, roAving, or in any
other athletic and invigorating sport. It never was required,
that a man who wished to exercise his limbs and stir his
blood should place himself on a treadmill which gives raotion
to sorae useful raachine. In this respect, the gymnastics of
the mind stand on as good a footing as those of the body.
But we have not in this institution rested satisfied with
this solution of the difficulty. Recognizing a marked diver
sity in the taste and capacity of individuals, and in the vari
ous pursuits Avhich it leads them to adopt, and perceiving, at
the same time, the pressure made in some cases upon the
time and faculties of the learner by dividing his attention
araong the whole circle of studies, the elective systera has
within a few years been introduced among us, Avhich, under
the proper reservations, affords the student a choice of those
studies deemed most likely to promote views of future useful
ness, or to fall in with the present taste or bent of the facul
ties. The theory of this system seeras reasonable ; it has,
however, been introduced since my own academical experi
ence terminated, and I have had as yet no raeans of forming
an opinion for rayself of its practical operation.
When all has been done in this way that can with any
safety be adraitted in places of education, where due consid
eration must be had of the uncertainty of future pursuit, and
where the present indications of taste are immature and often
doubtful, there will, no doubt, hereafter, as heretofore, be cases
of persons — they may be a considerable proportion of those
educated at our universities — who complain that their youth
was passed in studies which have afterwards yielded no fruit.
But the true ground of complaint ought generally, I suspect,
to be rather a matter of self-reproach. It is not that the

504 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
Studies pursued at the university are of no use in life, but
that we make no use of thera. The Latin and Greek — to
instance in these branches — are indeed often thrown aside
as useless ; but is the lawyer, the statesraan, the preacher, the
medical practitioner or teacher, quite sure that there is no ad
vantage to be derived in his peculiar pursuit from these neg
lected studies, either in the way of knowledge directly useful,
collateral information, or graceful ornament ? Is not the fault
in ourselves? We have, laid a foundation which we neglect
to build upon, and we complain that the foundation is useless.
We learn the eleraents, and, neglecting to pursue them, we
querulously repeat that the elements are little worth. We
devote years at school and college to the study of languages,
tfll we are just able to begin to use thera for their chief end,
the reading of good books written in thera ; and after a life
passed without opening a Greek or Latin author, during which
time what we knew of the languages has gradually oozed
from our minds, we reflect with discontent, if not with bitter
ness, on the loss of tirae devoted in youth to what we stigma
tize as useless studies.
On the other hand, I am quite confident that the young
man who should, whfle at school and at the university, dili
gently pursue the study of the ancient languages, (which I
name again as the branch of academical learning raost apt
to be abandoned as useless,) who, on quitting college, instead
of turning his back on the great writers with whora he had
forraed some acquaintance, — on Homer, on Thucydides, on
Plato, on Demosthenes, on the great Attic tragedians, on the
classic authors of Rome, — should regularly devote but a
small part of the day, a single hour, to their continued peru
sal, would, at the meridian, and stfll more in the decline of
life, experience and admit that, both for instruction and pleas
ure, these authors were sorae of the best, the raost useful, of
his reading ; that, if in public life, he addressed juries and
senates better, after refreshing his recollection Avith the man
ner in which Demosthenes handled a legal argument or
swayed a deliberative assembly ; that the Iliad and the Odys
sey bore a reperusal as weU as Childe Harold or Marmion,

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 505
(without disparaging Byron or Scott ;) that the glimpses into
the heart of ancient Oriental life which we obtain from Xen
ophon's historical romance (a work which such a man as
Scipio Africanus never Avished to have out of his hands *)
are as trustAVorthy and interesting as the vapid gihanges rung
in modern works of imagination on contemporary fashionable
life in England ; in a word, that the literature which has
stood the test of twenty centuries is as profitable as the
"cheap literature" of the day, — if that can be called
" cheap," in any sense of the term, which begins by costing
a man his eyesight, and, if it have any influence, must, much
cf it, end in depraving his taste and subverting his morals.
But it is more than time to emerge into a higher sphere,
and to turn to our second topic of remark, namely, the exer
cise and development of the faculties of the mind as a great
object of liberal education, — an object not only distinct from
the acquisition of useful knowledge, but far raore iraportant.
Of the great work of intellectual preparation, which forms so
important a part of the economy of our natures, this is the
most raomentous portion. The knowledge to be acquired at
the university may be, and sometimes is, attained at a later
period, by private study ; but the loss of these four precious,
impressible years in the discipline of the understanding is far
less easfly retrieved. The efficacy of a well-conducted uni
versity education in this respect is not sufficiently considered ;
and in confounding, in a vague way, the acquisition of
knowledge in the usual branches of study with the general
formation and training of the faculties, erroneous conclusions
are forraed, both as to the value of particular branches of
study and of a liberal education in general.
It is, perhaps, the general opinion that, as a raan, in the
course of nature, and without any particular discipline for
that purpose, grows up to the possession of all the usual fac
ulties of the body, according to his natural organization, he
Avill, in like raanner, and without any discipline to that end,
grow up to the possession of all the great intellectual facul-
* Cicero, Tusc. Quast. Lib. II. c. 26.
VOL. IL 64

606 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
ties of a rational being ; that he wfll find himself, at the age
of manhood, endowed with the powers of reason and of
judgment, as surely as he Avill of sight, hearing, and taste.
We have already observed that the first part of the propo
sition needs* sorae qualification, in reference even to the cor
poreal powers. In every thing which touches the grand
mystery of the mind, it becoraes us to speak with twofold
caution ; but I am disposed to think that the more we med
itate on the subject, the more we shall incline to the conclu
sion that the mental faculities are in sorae very peculiar
manner modified, strengthened, and perfected by discipline.
The great cardinal powers of attention, perception, meraory,
judgment, abstraction, and imagination, seem to be — not all
indeed to the same degree, nor equally in all men, but all of
them to a great degree in all men — dependent for their
growth and power on culture.* This, in fact, as has often
been observed, is the chief difference between the instinct of
brutes and the reason of man. The powers of instinct, ad
mirable as they are, appear to exist, if not to the sarae degree
in each individual of the species or Vcuriety, at least lo the
same degree in the successive generations. The lower ani
mals have little power of self-improvement, still less of deriv
ing benefit from the experience of others of the same race,
and but a limited capacity of being trained by the superior
intelligence of man. The huraan intellect, on the other
hand, appears to be given us by the great Author of our
being as a principle of boundless capacity, susceptible of un
limited improvement in the individual, and of being carried,
in the steady progress of successive generations, to a point
of perfection hitherto undefined and probably indefinite. Or
if the laws of our compound nature impose any limits on the
progress of the mind in the present sphere of existence, -— a
proposition much more easy to take for granted than to estab
lish by conclusive arguments, — we have abundant reason to
* " The power of refiection, it is well known, is the last of our inteUec
tual faculties that unfolds itself, and in by far the greater number of individ
uals it never unfolds itself in any considerable degree." — Stewart's Diss.
Introd. Part I. ch. 2, p. 110, Camb. ed.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 507
conclude, from all we knoAV of its nature, that it is designed
and adapted to a higher stage of being, where it will enter
on a career of improveraent absolutely Avithout raeasure.
Now, it is the object of university education to carry on
this great work — already coramenced at the fireside and at
school — of forming and developing by wise discipline the
various mental powers ; not raerely to teach the meaning of
a few thousand words in the ancient and modern languages,
or to irapart a critical acquaintance Avith their authors ; not
alone to afford a knowledge of the eleraentary truths of sci
ence, or of the facts by which they are illustrated, nor of the
speculations of ingenious men on the phflosophy of the mind ;
but in a well-conducted and earnest study of these and other
branches, to train to the highest attainable degree of method,
promptness, and vigor, the faculties by which they are
pursued. Hence the importance of the choice of the studies which
form the principal occupation at serainaries of learning. Are
they, in themselves, and in the mode of pursuing thera, well
adapted thus to forra and develop the faculties? Are they
well calculated to train- the mind to its highest perfection, and
to give a generous expansion to the whole intellectual nature,
or to cramp and enervate it? This evidently is a question
of vast interest. The popular views of the history of the
human raind ascribe its narrow range in the ancient world,
its pause at the very threshold of sorae of the raost iraportant
branches of human inquiry, and the deplorable decline and
retrocession of phflosophy, which existed during a thousand
years, to the false logic early adopted in Greece, and culti
vated with superstitious rigor hi the middle ages. If the
attainraents of the pupil are a test of the raethod of the raas
ter, we may doubt the justice of ascribing effects like these
to the system of the illustrious philosopher, who trained his
pupil, the son of a petty mountain prince in the north of
Greece, to go forth to the conquest of the world at the period
of its greatest refinement in antiquity, and to found an em
pire, of which the influence has been felt in the fortunes of
our race in all subsequent tirae. I am disposed to think that

608 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
the intellectual phenomena of the dark ages are to be ascribed
to remoter causes than the influence of a false logic ; that
they belong to some secular fluctuation of the great ocean of
human fortune, to be referred, perhaps, to laws beyond the
grasp of our powers of observation. But no one can doubt
that, at any given stage of progress, the degree to which the
general inteUect of the community wfll be cultivated, and
superior minds trained to the highest point of improvement,
wfll depend alraost entirely on the raanner in Avhich the
forming years of life are passed at the places of education.
It would be manifestly impossible, on an occasion like this,
to enter Avith advantage into the comparison of the two gen
eral classes of studies, — the classical and mathematical, —
whose relative value as a discipline of the mind is one of the
most important practical inquiries connected with education.
The Araerican serainaries, I believe, generally — certainly
our own has done it — have airaed at a practical solution of
a question, often disputed Avith acriraony, by allotting a pro
portionate share of attention to both these departments. In
this Avay, instead of jealous rivals, they become the raost effi
cient auxiliaries of each other. That there is soraething in
the study of language extreiriely congenial to the mental
powers of raost men is sufficiently shown in the almost mi
raculous facility with which, even in infancy, the vast circle
of a language is substantially mastered>^ On the other hand,
the signs of thought are so intimately associated Avith thought
itself, that the study of language in its highest form is the
study of the processes of pure intellect.* In the study of
foreign and the ancient languages, and in the various depart
ments of literature connected with their criticism, and that
of our native tongue, several of the mental faculties find
«
* Great caution, however, is required, in the pursuit of this department
of the study of language, not to be led astray by ingenious speculations,
like those of the " Diversions of Purley," which there is a disposition in
some quarters to revive. They appear to me, in the main, obnoxious to the
censures passed on them by Stewart, in the fifth of his Philosophical Essays,
p. 201. Mr Stewart's estimate of the value of etymology was, however,
perhaps too low.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 609
almost exclusively their appropriate exercise. This is the
region of poetry, eloquence, and wit. Not that the study of
language is sure to make a poet or an orator ; though many
of the raost eminent of either class have notoriously trained
their faculties in that school, from Demosthenes to Milton.
But it is almost exclusively the study of language which
enables us to enjoy these divine arts of poetry and eloquence,
as far as other tongues are concerned, — for poetry and elo
quence are nearly untranslatable, — and to some extent, also,
as far as concerns our own. By this we are elevated to a
sympathy Avith the most gifted rainds, and become, in some
degree, partakers of their inspiration.
There is, undoubtedly, a department of poetry and elo
quence which appeals to the deep master passions of our com
mon humanity, and is felt and enjoyed by the uncultivated
mind. But as this appeal must be made through the medium
of language, it would seem that he Avho is most conversant
with its .powers — other things being equal — would be best
able both to produce and enjoy its effects. The simple airs,
which, though rudely performed, touch the untutored ear,
are woven by the consummate musician into a strain which
affords an exquisite pleasure to a refined taste.
_ So, too, there are breathings of the poetical and oratorical
spirit which find utterance even in barbarous life, although
what is called the poetry and eloquence of the savage is gen
erally that of his civilized reporter. We are apt to confound
conditions and relations frora which the materials of poetry
may be drawn, with the poAver to produce and enjoy it. But
with the largest admission of the authenticity of the speci
mens of poetry and eloquence attributed to uncivilized tribes,
the difference between thera and the Oration for the CroAvn
or Paradise Lost is not less than that which exists between a
¦well-contrived wigwam and the Parthenon or Westminster
Abbey. To appreciate and feel this difference, — in other
words, to coraprehend some of the higher elements of our
civilization, — belongs to the study of languages, and a taste
for the literature of which they are the vehicle.
But in thus commending the classical studies as a disci-

510 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
pline of the mind, I am far from being insensible to the value
of the exact and the moral sciences. Our system holds them
in equal respect as means to the same great end ; and ascribes
to them equal importance as branches or parts of an academ
ical system. Rejecting all controversy as to the comparative
merits of different departments of knowledge, we raake pro
vision for a sound and thorough instriiction in each. We
receive it as a fact, that sorae minds are so constituted as
absolutely to require for their nurture the severe logic of the
abstract sciences; that rigorous sequence of ideas which
leads frora the premises to the conclusion, by a path, arduous
and narrow, it may be, and Avhich the youthful reason may
find it hard to mount, but where it cannot stray; and on
which, if it move at all, it must move onward and upAvard.
We believe that rainds of this description, if confined to clas
sical studies, Avould not only make no valuable progress in
them, but would, perhaps, be prevented frora raaking gener
ous advances in fields of inquiry of another kind, equally
broad and useful.
Even for intellects of a different character, whose natural
aptitude is for moral evidence and those relations of ideas
which are perceived and appreciated by taste, the study of the
exact sciences raay be recoraraended as the best protection
against the errors into which they are raost likely to fall.
Although the study of language is in many respects no mean
exercise of logic, yet it must be admitted that an erainentiy
accurate practical raind is hardly to be formed without math
ematical training.* It has accordingly been observed in
* It is a matter of some curiosity to leam the views entertained by a
man like CromweU on the subject of practical education. " I would have
my son mind and understand business, read a little history, study the math
ematics and cosmography ; these are good, with subordination to the things
of God. Better than idleness, or mere outward worldly contents. These
fit for pubUc services, for which a man is bom." Frora a letter written on
shipboard, on his way to Ireland, August l^th, 1649. This refers, however,
not to school or college education, but to the manner in which he 'wished
his son, now raarried and living in the country, to pass his time. — Letters
and Speeches of Oliver CromweU, by Thomas Carlyle, New York ed. Vol. I.
p. 371.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 511
England of thq study of the law, — though the acquisition
of the most difficult parts of its learning, with the interpreta
tion of laws, the comparison of authorities, and the construc
tion of instruments, would seem to require philological and
critical training ; though the Aveighing of evidence and the
investigation of probable truth belong to the province of the
moral sciences, and the peculiar duties of the advocate
requhe rhetorical skill, — yet that a large proportion of the
most distinguished members of the profession has proceeded
from the university (that of Cambridge) most celebrated for
the cultivation of mathematical studies.
There cu:e some departments of exact science which must
be regarded as forming the grandest study of which the mind
is capable, and as eminently calculated, for this reason, to
give it strength and elevation.. The vastness and multitude
of the heavenly bodies, which form, for instance, the subject
of astronomy, — bodies which the highest calculus is as little
able to number and weigh as the humblest arithmetic ; the
grandeur of the laws which it discloses and applies ; the
boundless distances which it spans ; the periods, all but eter
nal, which it estimates, — impart a solemnity to this branch
of science, which lifts the soul to the heavens. It is, indeed,
the glory of science, in every branch, that it gives life and
beauty to every thing which it touches. It has but to cast a
ray of light on a drop of dew, to people it with races of alert
and sportive organisras. It throws its glance upon the sap-
vessels of an humble weed, and traces in them, in full flow,
the sflver tides of vegetable circulation. It but touches a
bar of steel, and makes it beat with the pulses of that mys
terious influence, which throbs simultaneously around the
globe ; and in language Avhich we may Avell repeat, since the
wit of man cannot mend it, —
" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks.
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing."
But whfle each and every part of knowledge, in thus giv
ing voice to the pebble and the star, and awakening from all
nature a concert of the divinest music, is dhectly calculated

612 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
to Strengthen and elevate the mental faculties, the palm seems
iustly due to that grand phflosophy, of Avhich faint glimpses
were caught by the early sages of Greece, pf which the
foundations were nobly strengthened and enlarged by the
successive discoveries and labors of Copernicus, Kepler, and
Galfleo, and on which Newton at last, with the rarest mix
ture of qualities which the Avorld has witnessed, — now
shrinking with a chfldlike humility from his own discoveries,
now scaling the heavens with the Titanic boldness of his
generalizations, — was enabled to establish the system of the
universe. And thus we are naturaUy brought to the consideration of
the last object of a liberal education, and one which I most
unwillingly dismiss with a far briefer notice than its impor
tance merits. We have thus far considered it as designed,
in the first place, to furnish an ample store of useful knowl
edge, by way of preparation for the duties of life, and sec
ondly as intended to unfold and exercise the mental powers.
But these objects, important as they certainly are, and filling
in their attainment too often the highest ambition of parents
and children, are in reality but little worth, if unaccorapanied
by the most precious endowment of our fallen nature, a pure
and generous spirit, Avarraed by kind affection, governed by
moral principle, and habitually influenced by motives and
hopes that look forward into eternity. It is the first duty
and the highest merit of a place of education, of whatever
name or character, — school or college, academical or profes
sional, — to unite with all its other working an effort towards
the formation of such a character.
Happfly this object is in the strictest harmony with all the
other objects of a place of education. Although it cannot
certainly be maintained, that, in the character of every indi
vidual, the moral qualities are sure to keep pace with the
intellectual, it may be safely asserted, that the general and
final tendency of intellectual culture is moral, though capable
of being counteracted, and that for periods in huraan history
of long duration, by adverse influences ; that ignorance or
error lies at the foundation of wrong ; that truth suggests

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 613
grounds and motives of virtue ; and that the general eleva
tion and expansion of the understanding are favorable to the
influence of the kind affections, the sound principles, and the
high motives %vhich belong to a sterling character. When,
therefore, a place of education exerts itself to form such a
character, it strives but to carry on to their final result the
labor and care which it had bestowed on the other portions
of the work ; and if it ever happen that raoral and spiritual
influences are less earnestly called into exercise than strictly
educational energies, it is, no doubt, for the very reason, that
an exemplary character is considered not so rauch a distinct
part, as an essential concomitant of every part of academical
discipline and training.*
But moral education is much too important an object to be
left to follow as an incidental effect from mere literary culture.
It should be deemed the distinct duty of a place of education
to forra the young to those habits and qualities which win
regard and coramand respect, — gentleness of deportment, —
propriety of conduct, — the moral courage "that will raake
them hate the cowardice of doing wrong," — wflling obe
dience to the laws of virtue, — and a profound reverence for
sacred things ; and of these traits of character, I know of no
reliable foundation but sincere and fervent religious faith,
founded on conviction, enlightened by reason, and nourished
by the devout observance of those means of spiritual im
provement which Christianity provides. ¦ In the faithful per
formance of this duty, I believe that a place of education,
whether in Europe or America, renders, at the present day, a
higher and more seasonable service to society, than by any
thing that ends in mere scientific or literary culture. The
understanding, in every department of speculative or practical
knowledge, has advanced of late years with a vigor and suc
cess beyond what the world has Avitnessed at any other period ;

* The close connection of educational strictness with moral improve
ment is well expressed by the Due de Broglie, in a luminous report on
a bill relative )o secondary instruction in France, made to the Chamber
of Peers, 12th March, 1844, p. 97.
VOL. II. 65

614 UNIVERSITY ifDUCATION.
but I cannot suppress a painful impression, that this intellect
ual improveraent has not exerted, and is not exerting, its
natural influence in purifying the raoral character of the age.
I cannot subdue the feeling, that our raodern Christendom,
with all its professions and in all its comraunions, is sinking
into a practical heathenisra, which needs a great work — I
had almost said a new dispensation — of reform, scarcely
less than the decrepit paganism of Greece and Rome.
Christians as we are, we Avorship, in America and in Europe,
in the city and the field, on the exchange and in the senate,
— and raust I not add in the academy and the church ? — some
gods as bad as those of the Pantheon. In individual and
national earnestness, in true raoral heroism, and in enlightened
spirituality unalloyed by mysticism, the age in which we live
is making, I fear, little progress ; but rather, perhaps, with all
its splendid attainments in science and art, is plunging deeper
into the sordid worship of
-"the least erected spirit that fell

From heaven, for even in heaven his looks and thoughts
Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of heaven's pavement, — trodden gold, —
Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed
In vision beatific."
It may be feared that a defect of this kind, if truly stated
and sufficiently general to mark the character of an age, will
prove too strong for any corrective influences but those of
public calamity, and what are called, in our expressive na
tional phrase, " the times that try men's souls." But I have
long thought, that if, in a period of prosperity and by gentle
influences, any thing can be effected towards the same end,
the work must be begun in our seminaries of liberal educa
tion, and that they have a duty to perform in this respect,
which cannot be too strongly urged nor too deeply felt.
How it should be discharged, it would be at once unsea
sonable and arrogant to endeavor, on this Occasion, minutely
to set forth. All, however, Avho hear me wfll agree, — every
parent, every good citizen, AviU agree, — that the object itself.

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 515
the formation of character on Christian principles, is that last
great object of a place of education, to which all else is sub
ordinate and auxiliary. For this reason, it is the duty of all
intrusted with the control of such an institution, to conduct
it conscientiously, as an instmment of mighty efficiency foi
good or for evil. The branches of study, the influences under
which they are pursued, Emd the whole discipline of the place
should be, as far as human Avisdom can make them so, such
as are most friendly to sound raoral principles, and they
should be conducted by raen whose heart is in the work, and
whose exfunple teaches more and better than their precept.
To all that can be thus effected by indirect association and
influence should be added that kind and degree of direct
religious instruction which circurastances admit. I am not
unaware of the difficulty which attends the performance of
this duty, in consequence of the differences in doctrinal opin
ion which prevail in the community. It is felt more or less
throughout Christendom. It forms, at this moment, the sub
ject of the raost violent controversies in France, and consti
tutes the greatest impediment to the progress of popular
education in England. In a country, hoAvever, like ours,
Avhere there is no religious establishment, and consequently
where no one communion has a right to claim any preference
for its doctrines, the difficulty aUuded to exists rather in the
ory, than in the practical administration of a place of educa
tion by earnest men, bent, not on raaking proselytes to their
own doctrinal vicAvs, but upon inculcating a sincere reverence
for religion. There can, I think, be no difference of opinion
as to the propriety and practicability of imparting instruction
in the great truths of natural religion, in the principles of
Christian ethics, and the evidences of the Christian revela
tion, under the guidance of text-books which unite the confi
dence, at least, of all classes of Protestant Christians ; and if
others exist, or can be prepared, to which even this qualifica
tion need not be made, they would be doubly welcome.
With this provision for direct instruction in those branches
of theological knowledge, which are of equal concernment

616 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
in all the professions and pursuits of life, our university has
ever enjoined a reverent attendance on the daily devotional
exercises, and on the religious services of the Lord's day,
either in the chapel of the university, or in such other place
of Christian worship as may be preferred by the parent or
guardian of the student, or by himself if of legal age.
Could the means be found (and this remark is of general
application to the churches and communities of professing
Christians throughout the world) to raise these religious ser
vices abo-ve the paralyzing, the killing influence of routine
and habit ; to give a sense of reality to the most solemn acts
in which men can engage, but in which they engage too often
as if they were the most barren of forms ; to infuse life into
those duties, which, performed with earnestness, give en
ergy and vitality to every other purpose and act ; — could
this be done, it would mark a new era, not merely for schools
and colleges, but for communities and nations. An influence
over the minds of men would begin to prevail, under which,
by the divine blessing, our nature, refreshed and purifiecl,
would start up with a truth and vigor of moral action, as
far beyond the existing standard of conduct and morals as
this is, in many respects, beyond the standard of heathen
antiquity, ov!
But the space assigned me in this day's ceremonial has
been more than filled up, nor will I trespass on the patience
of the audience, but, with a few brief words of kindly salu
tation to you, young gentlemen of the university, who must
hereafter — you and your successors — fill so large a place in
my cares, my thoughts, and my affections ; and of whom I
would beg, — as the all-sufficient means of attaining the
great object of all our labors, of all your efforts, of the hopes
and prayers of those who, however distant in abode, dwell
with a most intense spiritual presence Avithin these walls, —
that you would yourselves but give your hearts to the duties
and studies of the place. I do not say, that absolutely with
this alofte the heights of intellectual cultivation can be
reached, — that books, and teachers, and cabinets are of no

UNIVERSITY EDUCATION. 517
account compared with the frame of mind that exists on
your part. Such a paradox, absurd in any place and on any
occasion, would be doubly unbecoraing here. But this I say,
that tfll the kindly and generous affections are enlisted, all
else is comparatively unavailing ; till the heart is engaged in
the service, it moves with a heavy step. Study is oppressive,
and discipline is vexatious. The page is languidly turned ;
its contents make a feeble irapression, and nothing but long
continued and weary repetition fastens the lifeless doctrine
upon the raeraory. But let sorae strong and kindling passion
engage in the work, and a light like that of the prophetic
vision seems to flash from every character. The attention is
aroused, the mental perception penetrates all difficulty and all
obscurity, and the memory clings with hooks of steel to the
most complicated, the most repulsive details. It may be, and
I fear too often is, no higher passion than emulation ; but
even under that excitement, low and selfish as it sometimes
is, the intellect is continually braced to the raost extraordinary
efforts. But if, instead of this, the least elevated of the
nobler sentiments, the love of pure excellence gain the mas
tery of the heart, — the love of truth, the love of nature, the
love of art, the love of country, the love of raoral greatness,
the love of raan, the love of God, — it awakens the powers of
the raind to an energy, which no inferior principle can kindle.
Then, in the language of Burke, " our passions instruct our
reason." When the all-pervading loveliness of nature, as it
is even no\y budding and bursting around us, has profoundly
touched the soul ; when a pure and refined taste has learned
to pay an innocent horaage to the sweet idols of art ; when
the perception of intellectual beauty has been acquired, and
has become distinct and real like that of material form, pro
portion, and grace, till it affords a tranquil pleasure, which no
indulgence can satiate ; when, above all the delights of sense,
and taste, and intellect, sweeter than the voice of eloquence
or music, the loveliness of virtue, the august beauty of spir
itual excellence, has revealed itself to the youthful heart ; —
theu, indeed, it matters little what else is given or taken

618 UNIVERSITY EDUCATION.
away. This is the life-giving principle, the vital spark,
caught from no mortal altar, kindled by that
- " Spirit, that doth prefer

Before all temples the upright heart and pure,"
and warming into energy the whole intellectual and moral
nature.

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.

It is probably understood by most of those present, that by
our academical organization, the president of the university
is the head of each of the professional faculties attached to
the institution ; and a wish has been expressed, on behalf of
the raedical faculty, that I should address a few words to the
corapany asserabled at this tirae. It will readily occur to
every one that ray participation in the affairs of the medical
school can only be that of official form ; but the occasion
Avhich has called us together is certainly one deserving the
public notice of the academic authorities. It has its origin
in the growth of this department of the university to such a
degree, as to require the abandonment of the edifice which
thirty years ago was erected, not only for the immediate
accomraodation of the school, but with due reference to its
prospective increase. Such a circumstance affords sufficient
evidence of the skill and success Avith which this branch of the
university is administered. It adds the strongest confirraation
of that Avhich is apparent frora other indications not less sat
isfactory, that our Medical School has sustained its reputation
under the competition of rival institutions, and the steady
elevation of the standard of professional merit throughout
the country. I should but be repeating the statistics contained
in the circular lately put forth by the medical faculty, if I
were to lay before you the facts which authorize this state
ment. There can certainly be no occasion, no place, where

* An Address delivered at the opening of the new Medical College in
Grove Street, Boston, on the 4th of November, 1846.
(519)

520 THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.
it is less necessary than uoav and here, to produce an array of
documentary evidence to illustrate the growth and pros
perity of the Medical School.
It would be ungrateful not to acknowledge the public and
private liberality which has come in aid of the resources of
the university, and enabled us thus to enlarge this part of our
institution. The expense of the edifice in Mason Street, now
lately abandoned, was principally defrayed from a grant of
the legislature of the comraonwealth, which appropriated the
proceeds of the tax on the state banks (sixteen thousand dol
lars per annum) for ten years, to the three collegiate insti
tutions then existing in the coramonwealth : viz.. Harvard,
Williams, and Bowdoin. Of this generous donation, the
sum of ten thousand doUars per annum for ten years was
assigned to the university at Cambridge ; the last act of
patronage, I believe, for which we have to be grateful to the
government of the commonwealth. About a fourth part of
this liberal endowraent was employed in the erection of the
Medical College in Mason Street, and supplying it with the
apparatus required for medical instruction. These premises,
having in the lapse of thirty years become too narrow for the.
accomraodation of the school, have been sold, and the pro
ceeds of the sale have yielded a considerable part of the funds
required for the new building. The liberality of one whom
I should leave unnamed, if I felt it right in such a connection
to consult only his own feelings, (Dr George Parkman,)* has
furnished the ground for the new edifice ; and the sum still
required to complete it has been chiefly drawn from that
fountain, which, though always flowing, is never exhausted,
— I raean the munificence of, the raen of wealth in Boston.
I hope this often-repeated compliment is not out of place
on this occasion ; for though the amount of the subscription
needed to complete our new edifice is not very large, we
stand in a neighborhood where the most magnificent and en
during raonuments have been reared to the liberality of
Boston. If I mistake not, the adjacent establishment, the
* See note A, at the end of this address.

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE. 621
Massachusetts General Hospital, Avith which the Medical
School is so closely connected, has in its two branches, the
Infirraaryand the Asylura for the Insane, been more liberally
endowed than any simflar institution in the Union. While
the. great parent institution, of which the Medical School is a
department, — the university at Cambridge, — the favored
child as it has been of the bounty of the state and of liberal
hearts in different parts of the country and even in foreign
lands, is more especially, and in all its departments, a monu
ment of the public spirit and generosity of Boston.
I cannot say that I think our men of wealth, in these lib
eral appropriations of a part of their araple means, are guilty
of any improvidence. In other words, I am disposed to
think that a wise endowment is, in every higher sense of the
term, a good investment ; meaning, of course, not an invest
ment which yields the greatest pecuniary interest at the
moraent, but that frora which, all things considered, the ben
efactor derives the highest satisfaction ; Avhich is productive
of the greatest amount of good to himself and others ; which
reacts most effectuaUy upon the prosperity of the coramunity ;
and will yield the richest crown of well-merited praise to
the liberal benefactor. Natural affection and natural justice
require, as the general rule, that property should pass from
parents to chfldren. But as far as feelings of faraily pride
are concerned, it deserves consideration how seldora it hap
pens in this country that fortunes are kept in the sarae faraily
beyond the third generation. How often does inherited wealth
prove but another narae for a bribe, with which parents from
their tombs tempt chfldren to learn the too easy lessons of
indolence and dissipation I How often are the hard earnings
and the fond accumulations of years wasted in a fcAV days
and nights of profligacy and excess I On the other hand, that
portion of accumulated wealth which is appropriated to the
endowment of charitable and educational foundations, which
is. in vested in these noble trusts, which buflds, furnishes, and
maintains our asylums, hospitals, athenasums, our schools,
colleges, and churches, and thus provides for the relief of suf
fering, the diffusion of knowledge, the conservation of good
VOL. II. 66

622 THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.
principles, and the spread of religious truth, — does it not
effect an amount of good not to be achieved by any other
mode in which property can be employed ? What disposition
could Harvard have made of his seven hundred and fifty
pounds, by which any thing like the same amount of good
could be effected, and so much honest fame acquired ? In
Avhat other way than public benefaction could a thousand
times that sum have purchased to an equal extent the bless
ings of after ages ? In what other way could the HoUises
have so well invested a few thousand pounds of their prop
erty? The portion transmitted to their heirs has already
passed into the possession of strangers to their name and race,
while that which was bequeathed to our university wfll pro
claim their name from the shelves of our library, and stand
as a monument to their liberality in the walls of our public
edifices, till New England is swept from the faraily of
nations. It would be, of course, a work of supererogation to des
cant, before the present audience, on the iraportance of the
institution for whose accoramodation the present building has
been erected. The claims of the medical profession to pub
lic respect and confidence are fully admitted in this corarau
nity. The services of the intelligent physician are felt by
all to be inferior to none, humanly speaking, which man can
render to his felloAV-man. With a considerable part of raan
kind, in highly-civilized countries, either by the necessary
hardships and exposure of their condition, by neglect of exer
cise, by recklessness or thoughtlessness, the first half of life
is so passed, as to make habitual or frequent medical advice
necessary for its prolongation through the other half I be
lieve that with a large part of the coraraunity the degree of
comfort they may enjoy raaterially depends, in a considerable
degree, on the skill and good judgment of the family physi
cian. It is accordingly a matter that comes home to the
business and bosoms of every raan, that the state of raedical
education should be such as to secure a regular and adequate
supply of physicians and surgeons, corapetent to aid us in
Avarding off or mitigating the attacks of chronic disease, and

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE. 623
mto whose hands our lives may be safely committed, at those
critical moments when their preservation hangs on a thread.
It may be hastily thought by sorae, that this is not a mat
ter of high public concernment ; that if the community in
which we live does not furnish the means of good medical
instruction, it can be had abroad ; in short, that it is a profes
sion that will bear the cost of an expensive education. This,
however, is true only of those who draw its 'higher prizes.
By the raajority of its raerabers, a good professional educa
tion raust be had in their native country, or it will not be had
at all. If our own institutions do not furnish an adequate
supply of well-instructed physicians and surgeons, the major
part of the coramunity will fall into the hands of those of an
opposite description. If we wish to protect the great mass
of our fellow-citizens frora the cruel frauds, of which the
poor and uninforraed are sure to be the victiras at the hands
of unprincipled quacks, I do not know how it is to be dona
so effectually, as by making the means of a sound medica.
education more easily accessible. I ara disposed to think
that this is a department of practical charity not enough re
flected upon, and that the number is at all times quite consid
erable of those who are both plundered and poisoned by
ignorant and corrupt pretenders.
There are other considerations connected with the peculiar
nature of the medical profession, which make it highly desira
ble to place the education of its members on the best footing.
This must be relied upon as our safeguard, — not against
pernicious errors of theory and practice, on the part of indi
viduals, — from that there can be no security, — ^^but as the
most effectual protection against their general adoption and
prevalence. Owing in part to the really inscrutable nature
of the human frame, and of its mysterious functions, and in
part to the peculiar activity of the imagination, in all that
relates to disease, — the healing art seeras at all times to have
been much exposed to the rise of fantastic theories and meth
ods, which have their day, enlist their teachers, and unhap
pily slay their thousands, before the intelligent and well-
educated part of the profession, supported by the common

624 THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.
sense of the rest of the community, makes effectual head
against the pernicious novelty.
These considerations pertain to the ordinary practice of the
profession. If we measure the inducements for the improve
ment of raedical education, by the amount of good which
may occasionally be effected by the talent and sagacity of an
intelligent physician, it would not be easy to speak without
using the language of exaggeration. Take, for instance, the
increase of human comfort which has resulted from vaccina
tion. I allude to the increase of human comfort, rather than
the economy of human life, for I am inclined to think that
the terror which marched in front of that fearful pestilence,
now so corapletely disarraed, was its most formidable feature.
Dr Holland, in his " Medical Notes and Reflections," men
tions as a fact not generally known, that when the small-pox,
after a long period of exemption, made its appearance in Ice
land, in 1707, out of a population of only sixty-five thousand,
nearly sixteen thousand perished.* It is quite clear, that
besides the fourth part, which thus feU victims to the disease,
the other three fourths must have passed the season of its
prevalence in a state of alarm of the most cruel and paralyz
ing description. This, far from being an isolated case, was
for several centuries at alraost all times the condition of some
one country in Europe or Asia. When it is considered that
this once terrible foe of life and happiness has now ceased
— perhaps more than could be wished — to be an object of
terror, and that one of the raost formidable of human mala
dies has become more completely subject than any other to the
control of human skill, I do not know Avhether, in the long
roll of the benefactors of humanity, we can find a brighter
name than that of Jenner.
It is not to be expected, that discoveries like Jenner's can
frequently reward the investigations even of the most saga
cious. To exterminate a disease which has desolated man
kind for centuries, is of course an achievement not to be often
repeated. But discoveries and improveraents of all kinds are
* Medical Notes and Reflections, second edition, p. 411.

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE. 625
likely to keep pace with the advance of education in general
and professional studies. The greater the number of individ
uals whose perceptive powers have been awakened and guided
by sound studies and wise discipline, the greater the proba
bdity that sorae sharpened glance wiU penetrate the yet
undiscovered mysteries of nature.* Although a suggestion
from me on such a subject can have but little value, I cannot
suppress the remark, that the great principle of analogy seems
to authorize the hope, that Avithin the range of the diseases
that can commonly be had but once, further discoveries may
be expected, scarcely less brflliant than that of vaccination.
So, too, in reference to the whole departraent of physiology,
which seems one broad and inviting field of inquiry. The
great discovery by Harvey of the circulation of the blood
was made at the tirae when the science of anatoray, cora
pared Avith its present condition, was in its infancy. Is it too
much to expect, Avith all the light which has within two
centuries been thrown upon almost every part of the human
frame and the vital economy, that some new disclosures may
before long take place, akin to that Avhich has imraortalized
the name of Harvey ? Does there not seera sorae approxima
tion to such disclosures in the state of modern speculation in
reference to the nervous system? Is there not reason to
think that, in the progress of discovery in the department' of
electro-magnetism in one direction, and of animal electricity
in the other, some brflliant generalization, embracing both,
may before long be established ?
If any such discovery takes place, it may of course, like the
first rudiments of galvanism, be the result of chance ; although
the popular accounts to that effect appear to be discredited by
the recent researches of Matteucci. But accidents of this
kind generally befall the intelligent and well instructed.
Harvey himself, after having had even his academical educa
tion shaped with a view to his future profession, passed- five
years at the best medical schools of France, Germany, and
Italy. The illustrious discovery of Jenner was the mature
* See note B, at the end of this address.

626 THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.
result of a happy conception, formed in his mind at the very
commencement of his professional studies, and pursued for
more than twenty-five years of sagacious investigation.*
Not only are great discoveries, even when seemingly fortu
itous in their iraraediate origin, most likely to spring from
exact knowledge of facts already ascertauied, but, in conse
quence of that sublime connection which binds all the
branches of science together, and makes thera cast light on
each other, the paths are raost diverse which lead to the same
result. In whatever direction the zealous student pushes!
a well-conducted investigation, he may reap his reward. A
most brflliant illustration of this principle has just been
furnished by the sister study of astronomy. It might have
been expected, that the discovery of a new planet would be
reserved for some one of those, who, Avith well-trained eyes,
are nightly sweeping the heavens with telescopes of the most
iraproved construction and mounting. It was thus that Ura
nus was discovered, and the five small planets f that fill the
space between Mars and Jupiter. But the last great achieve
ment in this department of science, of which the intelligence
has just reached us from beyond the sea, was accomplished
by the sagacious comparison of facts in a different order of
inquiry. " In thus placing beyond doubt," says M. Le Ver-
rier in his coraraunication to the Acaderay of Sciences, of the
first of June, — " in thus placing beyond doubt the existence
of a planet hitherto unknown, I have inverted the order hith
erto observed in the calculation of planetary disturbances.
Instead of having to measure the action of a determinate
planet, I have been obliged to depart frora the known irregu-.
larities of Uranus, in order to deduce frora them the elements
of the disturbing body, to establish its position in the heavens,
and to show that its attraction furnishes a perfect explanation
of the apparent irregularities of Uranus." J
* See the details in the highly interesting work, "The Life of Ed
ward Jenner," by Dr John Baron, 2 vols. 8vo.
t Now (1850) ten.
X Recherches sur les mouveraens d'Uranus. Comptes rendus des sfe-
¦nces de l'Acad6raie des Sciences, 1 Juin, 1846. See note C, at the end.

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE. 527
Having thus invaded the domain of astronomy, and per
haps at greater length than is proper on this occasion, I will
still ask your indulgence for lingering within it, for the pur
pose of reminding you that of the seven planets which,
within three fourths of a century, have been added to the
solar system, tAvo were discovered by a practising physician.
I Avell remeraber the feelings of interest with which, nearly
thirty years ago, I visited the venerable Dr Olbers, at Bremen,
and entered the modest observatory, (if observatory it could
be called,) at the top of his dwelling-house, from which,
with instruraents of no extraordinary power, this distin
guished meraber of your profession had found tirae to raake
discoveries of the most brilliant character — two planets and
a comet of determinate period. After alluding to the pecu
liarities of this last-named body, a countryman of Dr Olbers
exclaims Avith just Avarrath, " Our Olbers, the fortunate Co-
lurabus of the planetary world, was the discoverer of this
wonderful star. Science and her votaries feel the most lively
interest in this uncommon man, who in his peaceful path,
marked by intellectual energy, has discovered to us three new
worlds. In the strict sense of the word, he may be called
the favorite of the heavens and the earth, useful to both ; in
the day stretching forth his helping hand to relieve the dis
tresses of suffering humanity, and in the darkness of the
night penetrating into the farthest recesses of the starry firma
ment."* Although it cannot often fall to the lot of the members of
any profession to cultivate with success like this an independ
ent department of science, yet from the nature of the case,
and especially in this country, the medical profession must
be depended upon to furnish a considerable part of those who
pursue natural science. I should only repeat the names of a
good number of the men of science in the United States, if
I were to enumerate the members of the medical profession
Avlio have done themselves credit in one or more of its
branches. * North American Review, Vol. X. p. 268.

628 THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE.
I cannot, gentlemen, close this hasty address, without ex
pressing the opinion,- that no profession or pursuit in the
community has it in its power, by general influence and
extra-professional effort, to render greater service than yours
to the cause of morality and religion ; as there is certainly
none whose members are, by the very nature of theh studies,
more directly led to take serious views of the highest objects
of human contemplation. To none are presented so steadfly,
and under such powerful lights, the proofs which organized
nature affords of the wisdom and goodness of the Creator.
One of the great masters of your profession in antiquity,
(Galen,) in the course ofhis treatise " on the use of the parts
of the body," (of which raany a section would bear a com
parison with any thing that Paley has written on the subject,)
exclaims, that he is unwilling, by dwelling on the depraved
ideas of some sensualists to whom he has alluded, to degrade
the discourse, which he Avould compose as a hymn of praise
to the Creator ; adding, " and I think that this is true piety,
not to sacrifice to him many hecatombs of bulls, nor ten
thousand offerings of frankincense and cassia, but if I first
learn to know him rayself, and then to set forth to others
what he is in wisdom, power, and goodness."*
If such was the wisdora of heathen antiquity, do I err in
saying to the intelligent physician and surgeon in an age of
Christian light and hope, that he has it in his power, beyond
all other persons except those whose express business it is to
minister in holy things, to promote the virtue and piety of
others ? He approaches them when levity is sobered, when
pride is subdued, when apprehension is awakened, and men
are predisposed to give willing entertainment to thoughts
which at other tiraes are repelled, or pass through the mind
without leaving a deep impression. A seasonable word
dropped unobtrusively at times like these by a serious man,
who stands at the bedside clothed by the imagination of the
patient, if not in reality, with the power of life and death,
will often sink deep into the heart.
* Hippocratis et Galeni Opera, Ed. Charter. Tom. IV. p. 361.

THE NEW MEDICAL COLLEGE. 529
Especially in reference to the young, it is often in the
power of a conscientious physician to* mingle with profes
sional advice such information, counsel, and warning, as raay
prove the safeguard not merely of health, but of morals and
character, when all are trembling together in a doubtful bal
ance. He can teach them that they are in danger of drink
ing a Avorse poison than hemlock from the tempting wine-
cup, and that the deadliest contagion which can send rotten
ness into the bones is that which besets the paths of sinful
indulgence. Nothing reraains, gentlemen, at the present time, but that
I should tender you, on behalf of the acaderaic authorities,
our best wishes for your success, whether as teachers or
learners ; and if any exhortation were needed to the strenu
ous exertion of your powers, let it consist in reminding you,
in the Avords of your great master, one of the oldest and
wisest of heathen antiquity, that " Life is short, and art is
long, and occasion sudden, and experiment doubtful, and
judgment difficult."* * Hippocratis Aphorismi, § 1.
VOL. II. 67

NOTES.

Note A, p. 520.
In revising this address at the present time, (AprU 15th, 1850,) I cannot
but recognize with awe that mysterious connection, which sometimes prov
identially unites events and actions seemingly insignificant with the most
momentous consequences.
The liberal donation by the late Dr George Parkman of the land on
which the new Medical College was built, led him, it appears, to think it
possible that, in the ceremonial (not then arranged in its detail) for opening
the edifice, he might be called upon to reply to some complimentary allusion
to his gift, like that contained in the foregoing address. In this expectation
he procured a set of artificial teeth. The peculiarity of their construction
and fitting, the circumstances connected with their manufacture, and their
indestructibility, furnished the chief means of identifying the reraains of
Dr Parkman, as found in the chemical laboratory at the new College.

Note B, p. 525.
I am not sure that since these remarks were delivered, a discovery has
not been announced, wliich fully realizes the predictione of tlie text. I
allude to the discovery of a method of producing a state of temporary in-
sensibUity to pain, by the inhalation of a, prepared vapor. A full account
of this discovery is given in a paper, by Dr Henry J. Bigelow, in the Bos
ton Medical and Surgical Joumal fbr November 18th, 1846. Dr Bigelow
ascribes its first suggestion to Dr Charles T. Jackson, and its application,
under his advice, for the purpose of raitigating pain, to Dr W. T. G. Mor
ton, dentist, both of Boston.
I witnessed a very successful instance of the application of the prepared
vapor on Noveraber 18th, and was informed at that tirae by Dr Morton that
he had eraployed it in several hundred cases of dentistry. It has also been
made use of with entire success at the Massachusetts General Hospital,
and elsewhere in Boston, in capital operations of surgery. The few cases
of failure may perhaps be ascribed to irregularities in the process of inhala
tion, or to peculiarities of temperament or constitution on the part of the
patient (530)

NOTES. 531
I understand that great confidence is placed in this discovery by the raost
distinguished members of the medical profession of this vicinity ; and that
they are disposed to regard it as an effectual method of inducing complete
insensibility under the most cruel operations, by means easily applied, en
tirely controllable, and productive of no subsequent bad consequences. It
seems not easy to overrate the iraportance of such a discovery.
Such is the account given of the discovery of the ansesthetic properties
of ether in the original edition of this address. The opinion in the text as
to the probabUity of some briUiant discovery within the domain of medical
science was expressed in coraplete ignorance of the experiments then just
made but not yet announced. The preceding note is believed to contain
the first aUusion to this all-important discovery in any non-professional
publication.

Note C, p. 526.
Not content with having made the discovery of a new planet by a process
which has excited the admiration of the scientific world, the ardent mind
of M. Le Verrier is already meditating still further achievements in the
sarae sublime field of investigation.- In the fifth and last part of his memoir
" On the planet that produces the perturbations of Uranus," (Comptes Ren
dus for October 5th, 1846, p. 659,) after pointing out with honest satisfaction
that the place which he had assigned to the planet then undiscovered, on
the 31st of August last, differs frora its observed place by only 0° 52', he
proceeds in the foUowing striking manner: "Ainsi la position avait 6t6
pr6vue k moins d'un d6gr6 pr6s. On trouvera cet erreur bien faible, si I'on
riflichit a la petitesse des perturbations dont on avait conclu le lieu de I'as-
tre. Ce succis doit nous laisser espirer, qu'apres trente ou quarante annies
d'observations de la nouvelle planhte, on pourra I'employer, d son tour, d la decou-
verte de cede qui la suit, dans I'ordre des distances au soled. Ainsi de suite :
on tombera malheureuseraent bientdt sur des astres invisibles, k cause de
leur immense distance au soleil, mais dont les orbites finiront, dans la suite
des si^cles, par etre trac6es avec une grande exactitude, au moyen de la
th6orie des in6galit6s s^culaires ! "
The law of the distances from the sun at which the planets succeed each
other in our systera is unknown. We may at present assume Bodi's law,
or, Still more simply, a georaetrical progression, as an approxiraation to tho
truth sufficiently near for popular purposes, though signally failing in refer
ence to Neptune. If with this foundation, we admit the distance assignea
by Bessel to the star 61 Cygni, regarded as the nearest sun to ours, and
suppose that the attraction of our sun prevails over one half of that dis
tance, and acts in those remote spaces of the heavens by the same laws as
within the liraits with which we are better acquainted, there will be room

532 NOTES.
for ten new planets, and nearly the eleventh, as yet undiscovered, outside
the orbit of Neptune. If it were ever safe to set bounds to the progress
of science, we might venture to say, that there is no probability that man
wUl ever command the instrumental power which will enable him tb discover
many of these remote bodies. It must be reraerabered, however, that it is
but little more than a hundred years since the opinion was expressed by an
English astronomer, that the power of the telescope had then (1729) nearly
reached its limits. Since that time, twelve primary planets and eleven sec
ondaries have been discovered. — See Proceedings of the Araerican Academy
of Arts and Sciences, Vol. I. p. 178, and Memoirs of A. A. S., Third Series,
Vol. m. Appendix, p. 282.

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND.*

I RISE, Mr Chairman, at your invitation, to unite with the
gentleraen who have addressed the meeting with such ability,
in recommending the passage of the resolutions. I scarce
know in what manner to express myself on the occasion.
The general topics of reraark which suggest themselves have
been exhausted by yourself and the gentlemen who have
already spoken. I am unwilling — I may say I should be
ashamed — to think that any labored arguraent, or any studied
words of persuasion, were necessary to convince an asserably
of the citizens of Boston of the duty, or to awaken in thera
the desire, of speeding relief to the sufferers by famine in
Ireland. If it be our only object to lay the most important
facts of the case before those who have not particularly turned
their attention to the subject, the task is not without diffi
culty. Since I received the invitation of the comraittee, the
evening before the last, to attend this meeting, I have looked
over the newspapers brought by the last steamer from Liver
pool, and I find it hard to make a selection from the painful
accounts with which their columns are filled. Mere general
statistics do not answer the purpose. We read of the large
proportion of the population deprived of their accustomed
food ; of the numbers who offer themselves for labor on the
public works, beyond the utmost power of the official agents
to employ them ; of the numbers, still more wretched, who

* Remarks made at a meeting for the relief of the Irish and Scotch, in
Faneuil Hall, on the 17th of February, 1847, His Honor Josiah Quincy,
Jun., mayor of Boston, in the chair. (533)

634 THE FAMINE IN IRELAND.
knock at the doors of the alrashouses, and find thera closed ; of
the reputed nurabers even of those Avho perish by starvation,
or the diseases produced by scanty and unwholesorae food.
All these raatters, stated in general terras, fail to bring the
dreadful reality of things with sufficient vividness to our
minds. If we seek to go further, and attempt to repeat the
horrid detafls of striking cases of destitution and suffering,
we are in danger of plunging into scenes too dreadful to be
recited in public. " Of all the maladies," says the great mas
ter of English eloquence, to whora you, sir, have referred,
" which beset and waylay the life of man, this plague of
hunger comes the nearest to the human heart ; and is that
wherein the proudest of us all feels hiraself to be nothing
more than he is. But I find myself unable," he adds, " to
manage it Avith decorum. These details are of a species of
horror so nauseous and disgusting ; they are so degrading to
the sufferer and the hearer ; they are so humiliating to human
nature itself, that, on better thoughts, I find it raore advisable
to throw a pall over this hideous object, and leave it to your
general conceptions."
Mr Chairraan, it is universally known that there are above
two millions of people in Ireland who subsist alraost exclu
sively on potatoes. It is scarcely necessary to say that, in
the very best of tiraes, and under prosperous circurastances,
they live on the borders of starvation. What is looked upon
as plenty by this part of the Irish population, would be re
garded by us as little better than faraine. There is nothing
to fall back upon, in case of hard times ; no retrenchment in
the quantity, no reduction in the quality, no substitution of
cheaper articles. They already live upon the smallest quan
tity of the cheapest food ; and I have been told that it is a
practice to eat the potatoes under-boiled, because in that con
dition they will lie longer in the stomach, and thug delude
its craving emptiness. Two disastrous seasons have, in some
parts of the country alraost wholly, in others altogether, cut
off the accustomed scant supply of this, the cheapest article
of food; and the alarming question is. How is the want to
be supplied ? how are the horrors of general starvation to be

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 535
Staved off? To which question I can only answer, Heaven
knows. It must be, I fear, a more sagacious person than any
in this assembly, who can return a satisfactory answer. The
wisest heads in England and Ireland seem confounded at the
extent of the evil. The governraent has contrived a very
extensive scheme of eraployraent on public works, which
seeras to have had but partial success ; in fact, such is the
infirmity of human counsel, to have been productive of sorae
positive evils of a serious nature. At any rate, it is plain,
that to eraploy two millions of people, or indeed any consid
erable portion of them, of a sudden, in an unaccustomed way,
by public authority, raust be a very dangerous experiraent
upon the regular march of industry ; and if it were other
wise, Avhat are the unemployed to do ? Nay, what are the
eraployed to do, with their pittance of wages, in districts
where there is little or no food ; where what little there is
can be bought only at what is called, with dreadful signifi
cance, a faraine price ?
The natural and necessary consequence of this state of
things is that death — death by starvation — is now a cora
raon event — is daily happening. The plague, having done
its work on the lower aniraals, has fallen on raan. The cow
of the sraall farraer, all-iraportant as she is to his family, has
perished or been killed ; the pig, the poultry of the cottier
have in like manner died for want of food, or been killed to
eke out a few days' miserable sustenance to their famished
owner, — the watch dog has been drowned, (and the poor
peasant, who has perhaps no other living being he can call
friend, had almost as lief drown a child,) — every wretched
substitute for wholesome food, — bark, roots, apple parings,
turnip skins, — have been exhausted, and now famine in all
its horrors stalks through the land. To what actual extent
the Avork of death had gone at the last accounts, it is not easy
to say. There is unavoidable over-estimate in the first re
ports of such general calamities. I hold in i^ hand an
extract from the proceedings of a large meeting of the
nobility and gentry of Ireland, held at Dublin on the four
teenth of January, which is the latest authentic statement I

636 THE FAMINE IN IRELAND.
have seen ; and I find one of the gentlemen who spoke using
this language, " that five thousand had already perished by
want and by disease ; fever had made its appearance in marfy
parts, and was dafly cutting off the people by hundreds. The
sole cause was want of food." Mr O'Connell at the same
meeting, or on sorae other recent simflar occasion, is reported
to have said, that three hundred were dying daily ; and as
far as I have been able to forra an opinion, by running my
eye over the provincial accounts transferred to the London
papers, I should think that one death dafly from every neigh
borhood in the south aud west of Ireland, was not an extrav
agant estimate. If this be so, Mr O'Connell's statement is
quite within the bounds of the dreadful reality.
Then, Mr Chairman, as you have well remarked, these
accounts come down to the end of the year, at farthest to the
middle of January. Six or seven long months are yet to
pass, before any harvest of grain can ripen and be reaped.
What is to carry the people of Ireland through these dismal
months, in which famine, despair, and death will be doing
their work on a population already driven to the verge of
madness ? It cannot but be that the demoralization already
commenced will go on. In the nature of things, due care
to make ready the land for the coming season Avill be neg
lected. Seed corn and seed potatoes, as you have observed,
where they exist, will be consumed for food. Outrages on
property, under the spur of this sharp necessity, will take
place. Those who have a little will hoard ; those who have
nothing will plunder. In the midst of frightful want there
will be still more frightful waste ; till, in the action and reac
tion of these physical and moral causes, there is great reason
to fear that the framework of society, none too well com
pacted in this unhappy country, Avfll wholly break down, and
that horrors wfll be acted out in Ireland, in the course of the
ensuing spring and summer, for which language has no ade
quate ternfe of description. God grant it may be otherwise ;
and nothing can do so much to prevent these forebodings
frora being realized, as to show to the people of Ireland, in
the most effectual manner, that the eyes of a syrapathizii'.g

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 637
world are upon them. But I do fear, sir, if not checked by
some such genial influence, that her fertile plains and lovely
valleys wfll be the theatre before long of woes and honors
which it sickens one but to think of
And now, Mr Chairman, we have come to consult together
what we can do to contribute towards the mitigation of this
great calamity ; or rather to encourage each other to do the
utmost in his power. What little I thought to say on this
topic, has been anticipated by the gentleraen (Mr Stevenson
and Dr Howe) who have already addressed you with such
feeling and pertinence. It is true that no individual, no com
munity even, can do much to relieve the sura total of this
mighty calamity; but every comraunity, every individual,
can do soraething, and the aggregate of these soraethings is
to forra, sir, for months, the only stay of famishing millions.
Don't tell me we can do but little, when the little that
we Euid others can do is the all of a starving country. And
this I will say, sir, that there is no community on earth that
can do more than this ; I mean that there is not another, of its
size, embracing a wider extent of prosperity. The glorious
sun in the heavens, that looks down on the misery of famish
ing Ireland, does not, in his wide circuit,- shine upon a spot
more abounding, in proportion to its size, with the physical
comforts of life, and therefore better able to minister of its
surplus to the relief of that misery. I shall therefore be sur
prised — I shall be deeply grieved — if on the list of contri
butions for the mitigation of this truly appalling calamity,
the name of any place shall, in proportion to its numbers,
stand higher than that of Boston. Indeed, I have no fears
that it wfll be so. If unhappily I am disappointed, I shall at
least hope, Mr Chairman, that not much will be hereafter said
of what we have been willing to regard as the proverbial
liberality of Boston.
- Liberality, sir I I am almost ashamed to use the word at
all on this occasion. The liberality of giving from your
abundance, to save the lives of men, women, and children-
who, to all intents, as was so well said by the eloquent gentle
man (Dr Howe) who preceded me, are starving upon your
VOL. II. 68

638 THE FAMINE IN IRELAND.
door-Step ! If we call this liberality, I should like to know
what we should consider a duty. I rejoice to believe that I
speak in the hearing of those Avho regard the Work in which
we UOAV engage as one of duty, and that of the most iraper-
ative kind — a duty so high and sacred, that, could we neg
lect it, I should almost expect that the Avails of our massy
warehouses, filled alraost to bursting Avith every article of
food which enters largely into coraraerce, would fall and crush
us as Ave passed.
You carried our minds, Mr Mayor, by an interesting allu
sion, to the distant East. There is a dark tale in the traditions
of a less distant foreign land, which has haunted my recol
lection, in reference to some of the sad details of the suffering
Avhich prevails in Ireland, as I have seen them in the English
papers. It is hardly appropriate to the business character of
this meeting, but I have not been able to get away frora it.
An Italian nobleraan, in the raiddle ages, fell into the power
of his enemy, — he and several children, — who threw them
into a prison, and after long confinement, determined to starve
them to death. The door of the dungeon was locked, and
the key thrown into the Arno. This much, I believe, is matter
of history. The secrets of that prison house are known only
as they were revealed to the imagination of Dante. After
the first day passed without food, the father too well forebod
ing the doora that awaited thera, a dear child, his little An-
selra, plaintively asks the cause of his glooray silence.
Another and another day passes, and still no food. The par
ent, not so much frora hunger as in frenzy, gnaws his own
hands. His chfldren, duteous even in that dire extreraity,
supposing that the pangs of starvation were more keenly felt
by their father than by themselves, implore him, instead of
devouring his oavu limbs, to feed on them, and thus take back
the wretched flesh with Avhich he had clothed them. On the
fourth day, Gaddo crawls to his wretched parent's feet, and
feebly crying, "My father, why do you not help me? " dies.
This piteous tale, embalmed with the tears of five centuries,
is no longer a remote poetic vision. It Is, in all the substan
tial features, a horrid reality, passing within a fortnight's safl

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 639
of US. There is not a foot of terra firma, sir, between the
"city over Avhich you preside and the scene of these Avoes.
They are taking place, not in a solitary instance, but in hun
dreds; not within the walls of a dungeon, amidst the fury
of civfl Avars, in a benighted age, but within open doors, by
the Avay side, beneath the blue sky, in the face of heaven
and of men, — in the nineteenth century ; in this all-daring,
all-achieving, all-boasting nineteenth century ; and astonished
Europe and astonished Araerica stand looking on, paralyzed,
as it were, by fhe extent of the calamity ; — but paralyzed, I
trust, sir, but for a moment. A spirit of Christian charity has
been awakened on both sides of the water, worthy of the
occasion ; and well I knoAV that Faneuil Hall is not the spot
where it will burn with the least fervor. Let me only be
seech you, what you do, to do quickly. It is a fearful thought
that, do what you wfll, not a barrel of flour, purchased with
the funds provided this evening, can be laid down within the
Cove of Cork under six weeks, at the very soonest, taking
the average chances of sailing vessels ^it this season. Before
it gets there, the man, the family, which it might have
saved, will have perished. Yes, sir, while I fill your ears
with these empty words, some of our poor felloAV-Christians
in Ireland have starved to death.

AID TO THE COLLEGES.

At the comraenceraent of the legislative session for the
year 1848, a petition was presented to the two houses, pray
ing for aid to the colleges. The particular raode of granting
aid to the colleges suggested by the memorialists was, to pro
vide for the accumulation of the school fund beyond its
present legal limit, ($1,000,000,) tfll it should reach
$1,500,000, and to divide the additional half million in
some suitable proportion between the three colleges. The
petition Avas signed by the presidents of the three col
leges, on behalf of their respective boards of trustees ; and it
was supported by memorials in favor of the object from a
large number of persons of respectability and influence m
different parts of the commonwealth. This petition and
these memorials were referred to the joint coraraittee of edu
cation, who granted a private hearing to the friends of the col
leges on the first of February. This meeting Avas attended
by the president (Mr Everett) and the treasurer (Mr Eliot) of
Harvard College, by Rev. Dr Hitchcock, president of Amherst
College, Hon. W. B. Calhoun, secretary of state and a trustee
of Amherst College, John Tappan, Esq., also a trustee of
Amherst, Edmund Dwight, Esq., of Boston, and by a few
other gentleraen, friends of education and of the colleges.
A letter was read by the Hon. Orin FoAvler, chairraan of
the joint standing coraraittee, frora Rev. Dr Hopkins, presi
dent of Williams College, expressive of his regret that he
was unable to attend.
The chairman of the coraraittee, having read the memorial
of the institutions, invited the gentlemen present, and repre-
(540)

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 641
senting them, to submit to the committee such statements as
they might think proper. Mr Everett observed that he was,
with the treasurer of Harvard College, in attendance on the
committee, and ready to give them all the information in
their power. He had not come prepared to make any formal'
address, which seemed, in fact, to be excluded by the place
and the occasion ; but he thought it probable that they should
be able (the treasurer and himself) to satisfy the committee
on any point on which they might wish to receive informa
tion. The chairman then read an order which had been passed
by the legislature, to the following effefct, and observed that
it might aid gentlemen in the choice of subjects to which
they might choose to ask the attention of the committee : —
" Ordered that the joint standing committee on education be directed to
ascertain from the presidents or other officers of the several colleges in this
commonwealth the amounts which they have severally received from indi
viduals, societies, or this comraonwealth, since their establishment ;
"Also the amounts respectively of their funds avaUable for the purposes
of education, at this present time, together with the value of their buUdings
and grounds, whether used in connection with the colleges or otherwise ;
" Also the number of volumes in their respective libraries for the use pf
undergraduates, and the extent and value of their philosophical and other
apparatus ;
" Also the number of undergraduates now pursuing collegiate studies
within the same."
Mr Everett stated that, as soon as this order was placed in
his hands, no time should be lost in furnishing the desired
information, as far as the university at Cambridge was con
cerned. A statement of all the donations and bequests to
that institution had been drawn up and printed by the
treasurer three years ago. A revised edition of this state
ment was in the course of preparation, and should be fur
nished to each member of the committee. In the mean
time, he held in his hand a copy of the last Annual Report
of the treasurer, from -^vhich a considerable portion of the
information sought for in the first inquiry of the committee
might be derived. Following that document as a guide, he

542 AID TO THE COLLEGES.
would ask the attention of the committee to a brief account
of the state of the funds of the university at Cambridge, and
of the wants of the institution.
Very exaggerated ideas, continued Mr Everett, prevail on
this subject. The university, no doubt, is richly endowed.
I certainly am the last person to speak disparagingly of it?
resources. Thanks to the munificence of the public in early
and latter days, and to the bounty of a long line of private
benefactors, its foundations are numerous ; its endowments
liberal ; its income considerable, although this last is often
extravagantly overrated. But large as the means of the insti
tution are, it remains not the less true, that the funds at its
comraand for general purposes of expenditure are sraall ; that
it has no means whatever applicable to many objects of great
importance in a place of education ; and that several of the
items which swell the aggregate of its funds add nothing to
its ability to carry on the work of education, All this wfll
be made to appear to the entire satisfaction of the committee.
Mr Everett then entered into an explanation somewhat in
detail on the amount and appropriation of the several funds
of Harvard College, pointing out how rauch of the nominal
amount was given for objects not connected with the business
of education ; and how rauch was applied to the support of
the professional schools forraing a part of the university. He
also called the attention of the committee to the circum
stances, that most of the funds given for specific foundations
yield an inadequate income, and consequently create a de
mand on the general treasury. He also gave some explana
tions on the subject of salaries.
I proceed now (continued Mr Everett) to the question, for
what purposes the aid which the colleges ask of the legisla
ture is desired. What should we do with the income of the
fund to be created, should the prayer of the memorial be
granted ? It might be answered generally, that it would cer
tainly be applied by the trustees of the several colleges for
those purposes deemed most important in carrying on a plan
of collegiate education, and which are of g.'eatest urgency
to the institutions respectively. Speaking for Cambridge,

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 64.?
however, sir, I should say, in the first place, that there are
public objects of great interest to the institution, to which,
nevertheless, we should not think of applying it. We need
additional bufldings for the residence of students, new lec
ture-rooms, a new conservatory at the botanic garden, and -
more than all, a new chapel. These, however, are objects
which we do not expect to corapass frora the legislative
grant ; for which we must look, if any where, to the ever-
flowing streams of private munificence, for which our cora
monwealth has been so nobly distinguished among our sister
states. Supposing that it would be more satisfactory to the legis
lature, in creating a fund fos the colleges, to have its income
appropriated to certain specific purposes, known and approved
by the two houses, the following may be mentioned as those
which would be recommended for that purpose by the. uni
versity at Ccunbridge : —
I. The reduction of the general expense of education.
This at Cambridge is somewhat higher than at most other
collegiate institutions in the country. We certainly do not
admit that it is exorbitant. The entire charge for instruction
and for the use of the library is seventy-five dollars per
annum. The additional charge of fifteen dollars per annum,
for rent and care of room, is not more than half Avhat would
be paid for the same accommodations in private boarding-
houses in Cambridge and the vicinity. The charge of sev
enty-five dollars per annum, were it all considered as a charge
for instruction, is less than is paid for the instruction of chfl
dren of both sexes in several of the private day schools of
Boston and other large towns. It will be borne in mind that
at college provision is made, not merely for instruction, but
for general supervision and care, three quarters of the year.
No parent but must feel that this is a service well entitled to
compensation. Again, it is to be considered that the students at Cambridge
maybe divided into three classes; viz., those, on the one
hand, whose circumstances are affluent or very easy ; those,
on the other hand, whose circumstances are very narrow ;

644 AID TO THB COLLEGES.
and a middle class, the sons of parents who have little to
spare, and are obliged to study economy. In reference to the
first class, — the sons of the rich, — there is no reason what
ever why public or private benevolence should be taxed to
furnish them a cheap education. As things are, there is no
other mode in which parents of this description are able, or
would be likely, to give their chfldren an education on such
easy terms. With respect to the opposite class, they enjoy
the benefit of the funds given for the aid of meritorious stu
dents in indigent circumstances, and in this way the expense
of education is reduced for them nearly or quite to nothing.
About forty students of this class receive assistance ranging
from forty to eighty dollars annuaUy, averaging at least sixty
dollars per annum, and reducing the expense for instruction,
&c., to fifteen dollars per annum. I deem it scarcely neces
sary to state, that these beneficiary funds are administered at
Cambridge with entire impartiality, — that no question is
ever asked as to the religious opinions which may be enter
tained by the applicants.
For the remaining class of students, — the young men of
moderate circumstances, — a reduction of the annual charge for
instruction would be desirable, and would be gladly made by
the corporation, should the legislature furnish thera the raeans
of reducing that portion of their incorae which is derived
frora tuition fees.
II. The next object to which the legislative bounty, if
granted us, might be advantageously applied, is the procuring
of apparatus in the various scientific departments, the increase
of the mineralogical and other scientific cabinets and collec
tions, and the completion of the set of instruraents required
at the observatory. It wUl readily be understood, that objects
of this kind are of prorainent importance in a place of educa
tion. The departments of science to which they pertain are
progressive. New truths and facts, requiring new experi
mental illustrations, are constantly discovered in natural phi
losophy. Without taking into account deterioration by use,
antiquated apparatus in the lecture-room is as useless as anti
quated machinery in a manufacturing establishment. The

AID TO THB COLLEGES. * 646
advancement which has been made within thirty years in
spinning and weaving, is not greater than that which has
taken place in physical science. Hence the necessity, in a
well-provided lecture-room, for a constant supply of new and
often expensive apparatus. This remark applies with equal
force in chemistry, with the additional consideration, that of
the apparatus and the substances required for experiments in
chemistry, a considerable portion is consumed and destroyed
in the 'using. In like manner, constant accessions must be
made to a mineralogical and a geological cabinet, to keep it
up to the standard of the science. We have an araple min
eralogical cabinet at Cambridge, formed chiefly within the
last twenty-five years, containing, also, very valuable articles
belonging to the geological branch. We have, however,
nothing that can be called a systematic geological collection,
and the formation of such a collection will be one of the first
objects to engage the attention of the professors in our new
scientific school. For this purpose, and to make those addi
tions to the cabinet of minerals which are*required for the
fllustration of a progressive science, a moderate fund is needed.
If these additions are not made, the value of the collection is
soon impaired. It sinks by degrees into a scientific toy-shop,
— a mere exhibition. A collection of minerals formed and
arranged a century ago, would have but little more value, for
the fllustration of the present state of the science, than a col
lection of porcelain. As for geological systems, they are the
growth of the last fifty years.
The wants of the observatory for the present will be less
urgent than those of the other scientific establishments, but
will be constant. New and improved instruments will be
from time to time required. Our observatory is amply fur
nished for almost every description of celestial observation,
but astronomy is as much a progressive study as any other
branch of science. Although we had at Cambridge, before
the new observatory was buflt and the new instruments pro
cured, a good many instruments, mostly presented from time
to time by the friends of the institution, during the period
which has elapsed since the burning of Harvard Hall in 1764,
VOL. n. 69

546 , AID TO THE COLLEGES.
— instruments sorae of thera of considerable cost, and deemed
at the time of value, — there was not one of them with which
an observation of the heavens of any scientific value could
be made.*
Now, for the purposes I have enumerated, we have no funds
at Cambridge whatever. However great may be the neces
sity for adding an article of philosophical apparatus, a series
of minerals, a new astronomical instrument, Ave have no
means of doing it but those furnished by the general "funds,
or by a separate appeal to the liberality of our friends. It is
in this last way that a magnificent mastodon was procured
two years ago, at an expense of three thousand dollars, and
still more signally, it is in this Avay that we have been pro
vided with our great telescope, at an expense of twenty thou
sand dollars. But these are efforts of liberality not often to
be repeated. Recourse ought not to be had to extra bounty
for the supply of regular wants. Establishments kept up by
casual supplies of this kind will inevitably be stinted ; par
ticularly in matters which, though important, are too smaU
to warrant an appeal to the liberal friends*of the university.
Besides this, the persons actively engaged in governraent and
instruction, being those who are best acquainted with the
wants of the college in all these respects, have full occupa
tion for their tirae, and have no leisure for the work of habit
ual solicitation. FinaUy, there is such a thing as wearing out
one's welcorae.
III. Another very iraportant object of expenditure is the
library. I would call it the most iraportant, if I knew de
grees in these matters, all of first-rate interest and necessity.
Our library, it is true, is large ; at least it seems so in this
country. It exceeds fifty-three thousand volumes, which is
one tenth part of the estiraated size of the library of the
British Museura, — one twentieth part of the reported, size
of the Royal Library at Paris. Still it may be asked, are not
fifty-three thousand books enough? Can any mortal man
* In a few raonths after these reraarks were made, the observatory re
ceived the munificent bequest of one hundred thousand doUars by the
will of the late Mr Edward B. PhiUips.

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 547
read fifty-three thousand volumes ? To which I readfly reply,
no one can read a tenth or a fiftieth part of that number of
books, to any advantage ; at least if they are of the size of
many of'the mighty folios that adorn our shelves. But a
public library is not for the use of any one man, or any one
class or set of men, having the same tastes, objects, and range
of study. It is for our numerous body of instructers in their
several departments ; for four or five hundred students, grad
uates, and undergraduates ; for a long list of other persons,
having, by the standing laws, the right of borrowing books
from the library ; and it is for the public at large ; for no
individual having occasion to consult it, for any serious pur
pose, literary or scientific, is ever refused.
Again, of the fifty-three thousand volumes, a portion are
of no great value. Many volumes are given to public libra
ries, because they are hardly worth the room which they
occupy on the shelves of private collections. Then the value
of books is changeable, as of raost other huraan things.
Hundreds of voluraes in every department, once useful, or
thought so, cease to have any value for present use ; except
as they illustrate the history of the human mind, or incident
ally establish a date or a fact. There is, I admit, a real use,
in this way, even of the poorest book. Public libraries reject
nothing that is not abominable. It may sometimes be impor
tant, in literary history, to prove that a book is worthless, —
to show that the doctrines it teaches have no foundation, or
that it teaches them in an unprofitable raanner. It is valuable
in the library, because it may be important, for some purpose,
to prove that it is valuable nowhere else.
This, however, is but a very subordinate object in what
may be called a working library, such as we wish ours to be.
Such a library must be well provided with books of direct,
positive utility. These are of tAVo classes — the great
standard works which are never antiquated, and the valuable
new books which are constantly appearing in every depart
ment of science and literature. Our library is amply supplied
with many of the books belonging to the first class ; thanks
to the bounty of the HoUises and other noble benefactors in

548 AID TO THE COLLEGES.
earlier or later days. But it is surprising how small the num
ber is of books which are of unchanging value, — I mean,
sir, in reference to the wants of a library. Take, for instance,
the Grecian and Roman classics, which of all human compo
sitions are those which have longest coramanded the admira
tion of mankind. As writings, their value has stood the test,
in many cases, of more than two thousand years. But the
value of any given edition is transitory. In raany cases, each
generation requires a change. Critical learning is not less
progressive than science. I do not mean that the old edition
becomes worthless, but the new edition cannot be dispensed
with. It Avould look like pedantry to try to establish this
proposition by examples. I will only say, in general, that
there is not a critical dictionary, Hebrew, Greek, or Latin,
not a critical edition of the Greek or Hebrew Scriptures," or
of a Latin or Greek classic, not an Encyclopaedia, not a
general work of reference of any kind, published before the
commencement of the present century, which would answer
all the wants of a thorough student at the present day. There
are old books not to be dispensed with, but none which make
the new ones unnecessary. Of most of the works belonging
to the classes enumerated, I might say the same, taking a
period, not of fifty, but of twenty-five years.
And then, sir, the progressive portions of science and liter
ature properly so called. Take the great modern science of
geology, which may be said, in its systematic form, to date
from Cuvier and the close of the last century, -^- a science
which comes so near to the interests of the miner, the agri
culturist, and the engineerj and in reference to which thou
sands of volumes have already been published, and hundreds
are annually appearing. There is not a work a hundred
years old of any systematic value in this department. I do
not say there are no old books which contain valuable hints
and facts ; but that there is no elementary treatise of earlier
date, which has a present scientific value. The modern sci
ence of chemistry is a little older, but not much. It dates
from the last quarter of the eighteenth century. You cannot
have a bleachery, print-works, or a dyeing establishment,

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 649
without knowledge, and that in the most recent form, derived
from this science. The books of a hundred years old Avill
not give it to you ; they have no other than an historical
value. The whole fabric of the science is of later date ;
many of the raost important discoveries have been made
within a very few. years. Simflar remarks may be made of
almost every branch of natural philosophy. Electricity, gal
vanism, magnetism, crystallography, optics, pneumatics, must
be all studied in very recent books. The most brilliant dis
coveries in almost all of them EU"e the product of the present
century. It would be unjust to bring the date of raodern
astronomy lower down than the time of Newton ; but a man
might know the Principia by heart, and not be able to lec
ture to a vfllage lyceum on the present state pf the science.
Althohgh he discovered the great law by which the motion^
of the heavenly bodies is regulated, six only of the primary
planets were known to him. Ten more have since been
discovered, and five within the last two years. In most
branches of intellectual and moral science, the really useful
books — I raean those of most practical utility — are com
paratively recent. All which have been contributed by Ger
many- to the general stock are ofthis description. So, too,
of voyages and travels, statistics, ethnography, — departments
in which the modern press has been unusually prolific.
This class of books contains many new publications of great
cost and value; we have but very few of thera, even of
those which pertain to our own continent, though our collec
tion of books relative to America is said to be larger than that
of any other public library.
Now, sir, for new books in all the departments of art, lit
erature, and science, we have, barely eight hundred dollars a
year, — a sum inadequate to the purchase of the new works
of value which annually appear in any one department. What
is the consequence? It is twofold; — first, all who have'
studies which must be pursued, are obliged to have private
libraries of their own, a steady drain on sraall incomes ; and,
secondly, they are obliged to endure at every turn the morti
fication and disadvantage of remaining in ignorance pf the

550 AID TO THE COLLEGES.
present condition of the sciences, or to take it al second hands
from the reviews. There can be no cheerful progress, no first-
rate scholarship, under such circurastances.
Nor is it for the iraraediate benefit of the university or its
merabers that the library is useful. Although of necessity
they are raost directly benefited, yet we strive to make it gen
erally useful to the public and the country. It is at all times
open to the studious and inquisitive. Our books and the
appliances for using thera are always at their coramand. In
special cases, books are sent to remote parts of the country.
We have, since I have been connected with the university,
permitted them freely to be sent, not merely to distant parts
of our own state, but to New York and Washington. I be
lieve this has always been the practice. This favor would
never be refused, unless the rarity and value of the* book
were so great, as to make it improper to take the risk of
transportation to a distance. We should be glad to make the
library still raore useful, by raaking it regularly accessible to
larger numbers. It must be considered, however, that this
implies an increased nuraber of attendants ; and that the sup
port of the establishment to the amount of raore than three
thousand dollars per annura, is a charge upon the university,
which, for want of funds, is necessarily assessed on the stu
dents. But I raust pass from this topic to the consideration
-of the last with which I will trouble the committee ; which is,
IV. Assistance to meritorious young men in indigent cir
cumstances. This is an object to which we should gladly
apply greater raeans than we possess. I have already stated
that there are two funds available for this purpose at Cam
bridge, viz., the Beneficiary Fund of the college, yielding an
income of thirteen or fourteen hundred dollars, and the
" Loan Fund," yielding an incorae somewhat less. These
funds are by us distributed without regard to sect or party ;
but our university is entirely without the range of the great
educational charities. One student only at Cambridge, at
the present time, as far as is known to me, receives aid from
any one of them. Now, there is a class of young men, whom
it would be very desirable to help beyond the extent of our

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 551
m
present means ; young men of rare talent and promise,
who, though barely able to get along with the assistance of
public and private bounty, are compelled to make efforts and
seek occupations by which their progress is delayed and often
their health -impaired. I know such cases, sir; they have
pauifully excited my deepest sympathies. I have known in
stances of young men, of the finest powers and the most
exemplary characters, supporting themselWs for fifty or sixty
cents a week, and I have scarcely dared ask myself the ques
tion, how the twenty-one meals are to be got out of this sum.
These, sir, are the young men to be helped. They deserve
it ; they will repay it in valuable service to their day and
generation. I know that the fountains of private charity are deep and
perennial. But is it quite ri^t to draw exclusively upon
them ? Does the state OAve nothing to these its most merito
rious children ? It is an acknowledged duty of the legisla
ture to support the coraraon schools ; but I am not aware
that this duty rests on any other grounds, than those which
equally enjoin a reasonable care for the higher places of
education. I apprehend, sir, that there is some misconception on this
point, and that, while it is admitted and felt to be a popular
interest to provide for the common schools, and see that their
advantages are within the reach of the entire population, it is
not thought to be equally a popular interest to facflitate the
acquisition of a collegiate education. This seeras to rae a
radically erroneous view ; and, unless we are prepared wholly
to deny the benefits of such an education, we must admit
that the poorest children of the community, who show pecu
liar aptitude for the purpose, ought, to some practicable
extent, to be aided in obtaining it. Unless this course is
pursued, you in reality confine the advantages of a college
education wholly to the wealthier classes, except so far as
private benevolence may extend them to those less favored
of fortune.
I, must say, sir, that this does not strike me as a popular
doctrine, in the proper sense of the word. It is not such a

662 AID TO THE COLLEGES.
doctrine as tends to the improveraent of the people. With
all our republicanisra, we might take a lesson on this head
from other governments. There is much ampler provision
by law in Massachusetts for extending the blessings of a com
mon school education to the whole community than there is
in any country of Europe, with perhaps a single exception.
It is not so in respect to higher education. Numerous ancient
foundations in E^land afford the means to a considerable
number of persons, in the hurablest walks of life, of obtain
ing the best education which the country affords, and of
eventually rising in this, way to the highest posts of church
and state.
I hope I shall not be understood to intimate that a college
education is essential to greatness or usefulness in any of the
walks of life. I do not forget that we are in the city where
Franklin was born and Bowditch died. I claim for such an
education only what the universal consent of mankind allows
it to be — the appropriate training, in the raajority of cases,
for the professional career, for scientific erainence, and literary
distinction. I have thus, sir, gone through, in rather a desultory raan
ner, and without premeditation, such remarks as occur to me
in support of our meraorial, or in explanation of its objects.
I presurae not to enforce upon this honorable committee the
duty of the commonwealth to foster all institutions for edu
cation. What was done in former days is known, to all who
have read the history of the state. You wfll find, sir, on the
list of grants and gifts prepared by the treasurer, that, for a
long course of years, and out of the slender means of the
province, annual provision was raade for the support of the
president and one or more of the professors of Harvard Col
lege. Yes, sir, in the poor old colony times, in paper money
times, in "old tenor " times, in time of Avar as well as peace, —
the current of the public bounty never ceased to flow in that
dhection. Since the revolution, — the great era of our pros
perity, from which nearly all the disposable wealth of the
country, public as weU as private, dates, — that ciirreni^ as
far as the colleges are concerned, has aU but dried up. The

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 653
last of the annual grants to Harvard College dates from 1786,
I have not forgotten the munificent appropriation, in 1814,
of sixteen thousand dollEurs a year for ten years to the three
coUeges in the state, of which ten sixteenths were allotted
to Cambridge ; an act of public bounty never to be men
tioned but in the language of admiration and gratitude. A
fourth part of this sura was given in aid of the education of
meritorious young men in indigent circumstances, and the
residue was appropriated to building the Medical College in
Boston, and University Hall at Cambridge.
I am not, however, of the number of those, if any there
are, who have despaired of the renewal of the public patronage
in favor of our colleges. Our ancient and venerable com
monwealth has not changed her character. Old and prosper
ous, she will not cast off the interests which she found means
to foster in her youth and her poverty. If in this generous
career she has paused, it has been to gather strength to move
onward more vigorously. She has had other great objects
of her bounty. She has had hospitals to found, and asylums
to endow, and she has done it with a munificence that glad
dens the heart of her dutiful chfldren. The wealth of the
Indies could not purchase for her the riches of character she
has laid up for herself in these endowments ; and now that
she has provided for these worthy objects, has established an
ample fund in aid of her schools, has taught the blind to see,
and the deaf to hear, and gathered the forlorn and desolate
of every name into her maternal bosom, she will renew, I
doubt not, that care for the higher interests of education
which formed her glory in other times.
By the constitution of the commonwealth, it is made " the
duty of legislatures and magistrates, in all future periods of
this commonwealth, to cherish the interests of literature and
the sciences, and all seminaries of them ; especially the uni
versity at Cambridge, public schools, and grararaar schools in
the towns." Since the formation of the constitution, three
new colleges have been chartered by the legislature, two of
which have, equally with Cambridge, a claim on the parental
bounty of the commonwealth. The constitution recoin-?
VOL. 11. 70

654 AID TO THE COLLEGES.
mends thera equally with us to your fostering care. I rejoice
in the liberal grant to one of thera the last session, as au in
dication that a feeling, on the part of the legislature, in favor
of extending the public patronage to the collegiate institu
tions, is still alive and active. . It is one of the pleasantest
circurastances connected with the present application, that
the several colleges are united in it. We are happy — I
know I raay speak for ray brethren as well as for Cambridge
— thus to cooperate with each other ; and in asking a boon
for ourselves, to ask it at the same tirae for our sister seraina
ries. I will not pretend to say I had rather it should go to
thera than to us. We are not coraraanded to love our neigh
bor more than ourselves ; but I do say, with great truth, that,
should we obtain the aid we ask for, it wfll heighten our sat
isfaction that it is shared by our colleagues.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAHS.*

PREFATORY NOTE.

A CONSIDERABLE resemblance will be perceived, in the narrative part,
between the foUowing eulogy and other discourses of the same description,
which have been published since President Adams's decease. This sim
ilarity arises from the fact that the biographical portion of all these per
formances (as far as I am aware) has for the most part been derived, directly
or indirectiy, from a common source, viz., the memoir prepared for the
National Portrait Gallery, in 1839, by Mr C. W. Upham, of Salem. That
memoir was drawn up from authentic sources, and is the principal authority
for the biographical notices contained in the following pages. It has, how
ever, been in my power to extend sorae of the details, and to add others
wholly new, from materials kindly fiirnished to me by Mr Charles Francis
Adams, frora the papers of his honored father. A few facts have been
given from personal recoUection ; and their number could have been greatly
increased, had the nature of the occasion rendered it proper to enlarge
upon the subject of Mr Adams's administration, during the whole of which,
as a member of Congress possessing his confidence, and for the last half
of his administration as chairman of the comraittee of foreign affairs, I had
occasion to be in constant and intimate communication with him.
The communications of the Hon. Joseph E. Sprague to the Salera Reg
ister, written during the period preceding the presidential election of 1824,
contain a great deal of information of the highest value and interest, rela
tive to the life, services, and career of Mr Adams.
Some new facts of interest are contained in the admirable funeral sermon
delivered by Rev. Mr Lunt, at Quincy, a performance rendering any further
eulogy superfluous.
A few passages in the following discourse, omitted in the delivery on
account of its length, are inserted in the printed copy.
Cambribge, niA April, 1848.
* Fronounced in Faneuil Hall, on the 15th of April, 1848, at the unanimoui
request of the legislature of Massachusetts,

(555)

EULOGY.

Mat IT PLEASE Your Excellency,
AND TOU, Gentlemen or the Legislature :
You have devolved upon me the honorable duty of deliv
ering a eulogy on the life and character of the late President
Adams ; but the performance of that duty has been already,
in no small degree, anticipated. Most eloquent voices in the
two Houses of Congress, inspired by the emotions which the
great closing scene was so well calculated to produce, have
been heard in commeraoration of his talents, his services, and
his worth. Distinguished members of your own honorable
bodies have given utterance, on behalf of the people of Mas
sachusetts, to those feelings of respect and admiration, with
which they claim him as their own. The funeral obsequies
have been performed, in the most solemn and touching man
ner, at the seat of government. The population of the great
cities of the Union has formed, I had almost said, one raighty
funeral procession, to pay the last passing tribute to the mor
tal remains of the departed statesman, as they have befen
borne through the country, with that unexampled and most
honorable attendance of a congressional delegation from
every state in the Union. Those honored relics have been
received with every demonstration of public respect within
these venerated walls ; and they have been laid down in their
final resting-place, with rites the most affecting and impres
sive, amidst the tears and blessings of relatives, friends, and
neighbors, in his viUage home.
Falling, as he has done, at a period of high political ex
citement, and entertaining anfl expressing, as he ever did,
(556)

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 557
opinions the most decided in the boldest and most uncorapro-
raising raanner, he has yet been mourned, as an object of
respect and veneration, by good men and patriots of every
party narae. Leaders, that rarely met him or each other but
in opposition, unite .in doing honor to his memory, and have
walked side by side in the funeiral train.
His eulogy has been pronounced, as far as some of the
wisest and ablest in the land can do justice to the therae.
His death has been laraented, as far as such a close of such
a career can be a subject of lamentation. The sable drapery
that hangs around us still recalls the public sorrow, with
which all that was mortal of the lamented patriot was re
ceived beneath this consecrated roof. Gladly, as far as I am
concerned, would I leave in silence the illustrious subject of
these mournful honors to the reverent contemplation of his
countrymen, the witnesses of his career : of the young men
who wfll learn it, in part, from still recent tradition ; and
of those who succeed us, who will find the memorials of his
long, laborious, and eventful life, in the archives of the coun
try and on the pages of its history.
But you, gentlemen of the legislature, have ordered other
wise. You have desired that a raore forraal expression of
respect for the memory of our illustrious fellow-citizen should
be made, at this tirae, on your behalf You have wished to
place on record a deliberate testimonial of your high sense
of his exalted worth. Leaving to the historian of the coun
try to fill some of his brightest and most instructive pages
with the full description of his various, long-continued, and
faithful services, you have wished, whfle the impression of
his loss is still fifesh upon our minds, that those services should
be the subject of such succinct review and such honest eulo
gium, as the nature of the occasion admits, and as it has been
in my power, under the pressure of other engagements, most
imperfectly to prepare. •
Permit me to add, gentlemen, that I find, in the circura
stances under which you have invited me to this duty, the
rule which ought to govern me in its perforraance. By a
legislature composed of members belonging to the various

658 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
political parties of the day, I have been unanimously requested
to undertake this honorable and delicate trust. I see, in this
fact, the proof, that it is as little your expectation as your
Avish that the eulogy should rekindle the animosities, if any
there be, which time has long since subdued, and death has,
I trust, extinguished forever. I come, at your request, to
strew flowers upon the grave of an illustrious fellow-citizen ,
not to dig there, with hateful assiduity, for roots of bitterness.
I shall aim to deprive my humble narrative of all the interest
which it would derive frora espousing present or past contro
versies. Some such I shall wholly pass over; to some I
shall but allude ; on none shall I dwell further than is neces
sary to acquit my duty. Called to survey a career which
commences with the revolution, and covers the entire politi
cal history of the country as an independent nation, there
are no subjects of absorbing political interest, ever agitated in
the country, Avhich it would not be easy to put in requisition
on this occasion ; subjects, in reference to which the roof
that covers us, from the year 1764 to the present day, has
resounded with appeals, that have stirred the public heart to
its inmost fibre. Easy, did I say ? The difficulty will rather
be to avoid these topics of controversy, and yet do any thing
like justice to the occasion and the theme. But I ara sure
that I shall consult your feelings not less than my own, if I
try to follow our illustrious fellow-citizen through the various
stages of his career, without mingling ourselves in the party
struggles of the day ; to exhibit him in the just lineaments
and fair proportions of life, without the exaggerated colorings
of passion ; true to nature, but serene as the monumental
marble ; warra with the purest sympathies and deepest affec
tions of huraanity, but purified and elevated into the earthly
transfiguration of genius, patriotisra, and faith.
John duincy Adams was of a sto^ in which some of the
best qualities of the New England character existed in their
happiest combination. The basis of that character lies in
what, for want of, a better name, we raust still call " Puritan
ism," connected as that terra of reproach is, with some asso-

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 659
, ciations calculated to lessen our respect for one of the noblest
manifestations of our nature. But, in the middle of the last
century, Puritanism in New England had laid aside much of
its sternness and its intolerance, and had begun to reconcile
itself with the mflder charities of life ; retaining, however,
amidst all classes of the population, as much patriarchal sim
plicity of manners as probably ever existed in a modern
civflized community. In the family of the elder President
Adams, the narroAV range of ideas, which, in most things,
marked the first generation, had been enlarged by academic
education, and by the successful pursuit of a liberal profes
sion ; and the ancient severity of manners had been still fur
ther softened by the kindly influences exerted by a mother,
who, in the dutiful language of him whom we now com
memorate, "united all the virtues which adorn and dignify
the female and the Christian character."
The period at which he was born was one of high and
stirring interest. A struggle impended over the colonies,
differing more in forra than m its principles frora that which
took place in England a little more than a century earlier.
The agitations which preceded it were of a nature to strain
to their highest tension both the virtues and capacities of
men. Of the true character of the impending events, no one
seeras earlier to have forraed a distinct conception than the
elder President Adaras. He appears, at the very comraence
raent of the Seven Years' war, and when he was but twenty
years old, to have had a general anticipation of all the
great events which have successively taken place for the last
century. He seems dimly to have foreseen, even then, the
independence of the colonies, and the establishment of a
great naval power in the west. The capture of Quebec,
followed by the total downfall of the French power on this
continent, while it promised, as the first consequence, an in
definite extension of the British erapire, suggested another
train of results to the far-sighted and reflecting. History
presents to us but few coincidences raore instructive than that
which unites the- peace of 1763, which ratified these great
success* of British policy and British arras, with the con-

660 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
ception of that plan of American taxation, which resulted in
the severance of the British erapire. John Adams perceived,
perhaps, before any other person, that the mother country, in
depriving France of her American colonies, had dispossessed
herself of her own. The first battles of American independ
ence were gained on the Heights of Abraham.
I revert to these events, because they mark the character
of the period when the life which we coraraeraorate began.
The systera of American taxation was adopted in 1764. The
stamp act Avas passed in 1765. The Essays on the Canon
and Feudal Law, of President Adaras, were written the
sarae year. In 1766, the stamp act was repealed, but the re
peal was accompanied with the assertion of a right to tax
America. This right was exercised the following year by
the imposition of duties on several articles imported into the
colonies ; and on the eleventh of July of that year, John
Q.uincy Adaras was born. He came into life with the strug
gling rights of his country. " The cradle hymns of the child
were the songs of liberty."* He received the first parental
instructions from one to whom the United Colonies had
already begun to look for encouragement and guidance in
the mighty crisis of their fate.
It would be interesting to trace, in their operation upon the
opening raind of the chfld, the effect of the exciting events
of the day. Beneath the roof of the elder Adams, the great
doctrines of English liberty, for which our fathers contended,
were household words. He was barely three years old, when
his father — the ardent patriot, the zealous son of liberty
— appeared in court as the counsel for the soldiers who had
fired upon the people in Boston, on the fifth of March, 1770,
Two years later, his father was negatived by the royal gov
ernor as a member of the executive council. In 1774, the
port of Boston was shut, the Continental Congress agreed
upon, and his father elected one of the four delegates who
represented Massachusetts in that assembly at Phfladelphia.
In 1775, the appeal was raade to arras ; and George Wash
ington was appointed to the chief coraraerad of the Araerican
* Mr Senator Davis.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 561
forces, on the emphatic recommendation of Johu Adams. In
1776, independence was declared, on the report of a com
mittee, on which Thomas Jefferson and John Adaras stood
first and second, and was triuraphantjy carried through Con
gress, raainly by the fervid eloquence of Adaras. All these
great events, — eras in our history, (and raay I not say, eras
in the civilized world ? witness the convulsions now shaking
continental Europe to the centre,) — although they occupy
but a few chapters in the compends iu which we read them,
filled years of doubtful, strenuous, resolute exertion in the
lives of our fathers. They were brought home to the fire
side at which young Adams was trained, by his father's daily
participation ; by his letters, when absent ; by the sympa
thizing mother's anxieties, hopes, and fears. There was not
a time for years when, to ask the question under that roof,
" Wfll Araerica establish her liberties ? " would not have
been asking, in other words, " Shall we see our father's face
in peace again ? " It raay fairly be traced to these early im
pressions, that the character of John Q,uincy Adams exhibit
ed through life so rauch of what is significantly called " the
spirit of seventy-six."
And here I may be permitted to pause for a moment, to
pay a well-deserved tribute of respect to the raeraory of the
excellent mother, to whose instructions so much of the sub
sequent erainence of the son is due. No brighter exaraple
exists of auspicious maternal influence, in forming the char
acter of a great and good man. Her letters to him, some of
which have been preserved and given to the world, raight
almost be called a manual of a wise mother's advice. The
following passage frora one of her published letters, written
when her son was seven years old, will show how the minds
of chfldren Avere formed in the revolutionary period. "I
have taken," she says, " a very great fondness for reading
RoUin's Ancient History since you left rae. I ara deter
mined to go through with it, if possible, in these days of my
solitude. I find great pleasure and entertainment from it,
and have persuaded Johnny to read a page or two every day,
and hope he wfll, from, his desire to oblige m,e, entertain a
VOL. II. 71

662 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
fondness for it." In that one phrase lies all the phflosophy
of education. The chfld of seven years, who reads a
serious book with fondness, from his desire to oblige his
mother, has entered the high road of usefulness and honor.
The troubled state of the tiraes probably interfered with
school education. John Quincy Adams, I believe, never
went to a school in America. Besides the instruction which
he received from his mother, he was aided by the young gen
tlemen who studied law under his father. It is to one of
these that allusion is made, in the following child's letter,
written to his father, at Phfladelphia, before he was ten years
old, which I think you wfll not be displeased at hearing from
the original manuscript. ** Braintree, June the 3d, 1777.
"Dear Sir: I love to receive letters very well, much better than I
love to write them. I make but a poor figure at composition ; my head is
much too fickle. My thouglits are running after bird's eggs, play, and tri-
fies, till I get vexed with myself. Mamma has a troublesome task to keep
me steady, and I own I ara ashamed of myself. I have but just entered the
third volurae of SraoUett, though I had designed to have got half through it
by this time. I have determined this week to be more diligent, as Mr
Thaxter wiU be absent at court, and I cannot pursue ray other studies. I
have set myself a stint, and determine to read the third volume half out.
If I can but keep my resolution, I will write again at the end of the week,
and give a better account of myself. I wish, sir, you would give me sorae
instructions with regard to my time, and advise me how to proportion my
studies and my play, in writing, and I will keep them by me and endeavor
to follow them. I am, dear sir, with a present determination of growing
better. Yours, "John Quincy Adams.
" P. S. Sir, if you wiU be so good as to favor me with a blank-book, I
will transcribe the most remarkable occurrences I meet with in my reading,
which will serve to fix them upon ray raind."

Such was the boy at the age of ten years !
We shall find, in the sequel, that the classical rule was not
departed from, in the further progress of his character.
 "servetur ad imum

Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet"

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 663
At this early period of his life, the horizon at once bursts
widely open before hira. From the bosom of a New Eng
land village, in which he had never been to school, he is
transferred, before he is eleven years old, to the capital of
Fiance. Among the great raoveraents of the revolution, no
one was of greater importance than the alliance with France.
It gave a character to the struggle in the eyes of the world,
and eventually threw the whole political Aveight of conti
nental Europe into the American scale. In the course of 1776,
Sflas Deane, Dr Franklin, and Arthur Lee, were appointed
commissioners to France, on behalf of Congress. Deane
was recalled the following year, and in the month of Novem
ber, 1777, John Adams was appointed his successor. De
sirous of giving his son, then ten years and a half of age,
those advantages of education which his native country did
not at that tirae afford, he took hira to France. They sailed
in the Boston frigate, commanded by Comraodore Tucker, on
the thirteenth of February, 1778, and reached Bordeaux in
the month of April, after a tempestuous passage over an ocean
covered with the enemy's cruisers.
The father established himself at Passy, the residence of
Dr Franklin ; and here, for the first tirae, I find any raention
of the son's receiving any other instruction than that of the
fireside. Here he was sent to school, and laid the foundation
for that intimate acquaintance with the French language
which he retained through life, and which was of the great
est service to him in his subsequent diplomatic career. It
needs scarcely be added, that the occasional intercourse of
Dr Franklin, and of the eminent persons of almost every
part of Europe, who sought the society of the American
commissioners at Passy, was not lost upon one, who, though
stfll in his boyhood, possessed uncommon maturity of char
acter. The counsels of the faithful and affectionate raother fol-
.'owed him beyond the sea. In one of the admirable letters
to which I have referred, written during the visit to France,
she says, " Let me enjoin it upon you to attend constantly
and steadfastly to the instructions of your father, as you

564 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
value the happiness of your mother, and your own welfare.
His care and attention to you render raany things unneces
sary for rae to write which I might otherwise do. But the
inadvertency and heedlessness of youth require line upon
line and precept upon precept, and, when enforced by the
joint efforts of both parents, wfll, I hope, have a due influ
ence upon your conduct ; for, dear as you are to me, I would
much rather you should have found your grave in the ocean
you have crossed, or that any untimely death should crop
you in your infant years, than see you an immoral, profligate,
or graceless child."*
How faithfully the favored child availed himself of his
uncommon privileges, needs hardly be said. At an age when
the most forward children are rarely distinguished, except
among their fellows at school, he had attracted the notice of
inany of the eminent persons who cultivated the acquaint
ance of his father. Mr John Adaras, in a letter to his wife.
of the fourteenth of May, 1779, says, " My son has had
great opportunities to see this country ; but this has unavoid
ably retarded his education in some other things. He has
enjoyed perfect health from first to last, and is respected wher
ever he goes for his vigor and vivacity, both of mind and of
body, for his constant good humor, and for his rapid progress
in French, as well as for his general knowledge, which at his
age is uncommon." Though proceeding from the fond pen
of a father, there is no doubt this character was entirely true.f
The treaty of alliance with France had been concluded
in the interval between Mr Adaras's appointraent and his
arrival. Dr Franklin was appointed resident minister to the
court of Versailles, and Mr Lee to Madrid ; and after a resi
dence of about a year and a half at Paris, Mr Adams, without
waiting to be recalled, determined to return to the United
States. He was invited by the king to take passage, with
his son, on board the French frigate ia Sensible, Avhich was
appointed to convey to America the Chevalier de la Luzerne,

* Mrs Adams's Letters, 'Vol. L p. 123.
t The foUowing letter, written from school to his father, is without date,

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 565
the first minister to the United States, and the secretary of
legation, the Marquis Barbe-Marbois, afterwards well known
through all the phases of the French revolution. They
landed in Boston on the second of August, 1779. At the
moment of their return to the United States, an election was
in progress for delegates to the convention Avhich forraed the
constitution of Massachusetts, and Mr Adaras, barely landed
in Araerica, was returned for his native town of Braintree.
The convention assembled in Cambridge, on the first of
September, 1779, and, having chosen a committee of thirty-
one to prepare their work, adjourned to the twenty-eighth
of October. John Adams was of this committee, and, on the
day of the adjournment, reported the first draught of a Dec
laration of Rights and a Constitution. In the interval, he
had received from Congress a new commission, to negotiate
a peace with Great Britain, and, on the fourteenth of Novem
ber, 1779, he again took passage on board La Sensible, on her
return voyage to Europe. He had barely passed three months
in the country, during which he had drawn up a constitution,
that remains, after seventy years, — in all material respects,
but must have been written shortly after his arrival in France. It is not
without interest, as a memorial of the first steps of a great mind.
"My work for a day: —
"Make Latin,
Explain Cicero,
" Erasmus,
" Appendix,
Peirce Phsedrus, (qu. parse,)
Leam Greek Racines,
" Greek Grammar,
Geography, Geometry, Fractions,
Writing, Drawing.
" As a young boy cannot apply himself to aU those things, and keep a
remembrance of thera all, I should desire that you would let rae know what
of those I must begin upon at first.
"I am your dutiful son,
John Quinot Adams."

566 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
— the frame of government under which we live; has
served, in some degree, as a raodel for other state constitu
tions, and even for that of the United States; and under
which, as we hope, our children, to the latest posterity, will
continue to enjoy the blessings of rational liberty. I have
dwelt a raoraent longer on these incidents, to iUustrate the
domestic influences under which John Quincy Adams was
trained. He was again the companion of his father on this second
wintry voyage to Europe. The frigate sprung a leak through
stress of weather, and, though bound to Brest, was forced to
put into Ferrol, a port in the north-western corner of Spain.
Here they arrived on the seventh of Deceraber, and were
obliged to perform the journey partly on horses and mules
through Gailicia, Asturias, and Biscay, in midwinter, to Paris.
Mr Adaras was accompanied, on this voyage, by Charles, his
second son, long since deceased, and by Mr Francis Dana,
afterwards chief justice of Massachusetts, then acting as sec
retary of legation to Mr Adams. Mr Adams remained in
Paris till midsummer of 1780, during which time the chfl
dren were again placed at a boarding-school. In July of that
year, he repaired to Holland, with a commission from Con
gress to negotiate a treaty with the republic of the Nether
lands, for the recognition of the independence of the United
States. The boys Avere sent to the public school of the city
of Amsterdam, and afterwards transferred to the academical
departraent of the university at Leyden, at that time not in
ferior in celebrity to any place of education on the continent
of Europe. In July, 1781, Mr Dana, who, in the preceding
October, had received a commission frora Congress as rainister
plenipotentiary to the court of St Petersburg, started for that
capital, taking with him John Quincy Adams as private sec
retary and interpreter, being then just fourteen years of age.
In this capacity, he was recognized by Congress ; and there
is, perhaps, no other case of a person so young being em
ployed in a civil office of trust, under the government of the
United States. But in Mr Adams's career there was no
boyhood.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 567
The youthful secretary reraained at St Petersburg tfll
October, 1782, during which period, the nature of his occu
pations was such as to perfect his knowledge of the French
language, and to give hira, young as he was, no sraall insight
into the political systera of Europe, of which the American
question was, at that tirae, the leading topic. He also devot
ed hiraself with assiduity to his studies, and pursued an ex
tensive course of general reading. The official business of
the American minister, who was not publicly received by the
Erapress Catharine, was mostly transacted with the Marquis
de Verac, the French ambassador, between whora and Mr
Dana, young Adaras acted as interpreter.* In October, 1782,
Mr Adams senior brought to a close his arduous mission in
Holland, by concluding a treaty of amity, navigation, and
comraerce with the States-General, which reraains in force
between the two countries to this day. On the very next
day, he started for Paris, to perform his duty, as joint com
missioner with Dr Franklin and Mr Jay, to negotiate with
the British envoys for peace ; and, about the same time, his
son left St Petersburg for Holland. The young raan, then
but a little more than fifteen years of age, made the long
journey from the Russian capital alone, passing through
Sweden, Denmark, and the Hanse towns, and arriving at the
Hague iu the spring of 1 783. Here his studies were resumed,
and pursued for a few months, till he was sent for by his
father to Paris, where he was present at the signing of the
definitive treaty of peace, in the raonth of Septeraber, 1783.
I remeraber to have heard him say, that, acting as his father's
secretary, he prepared one of the copies of that treaty.
The two succeeding years were passed by young Adams
mostly with his father, in England, Holland, and France, in
which several countries Mr Adams senior was employed on
the public business. During this period, his attention was
divided between his studies, elementary and classical, and
his employment as his father's secretary. "Congress are at
such grievous expense," his father writes, " that I shall have
• Mrs Adams's Letters, Vol. II. p. 157.

568 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
no other secretary than ray son. He, however, is a very
good one. He writes a good hand very fast, and is steady
to his pen and his books." * By the time he had reached the
age of eighteen, besides being weU advanced in the branches
of study usually taught at schools, he was, no doubt, one of
the most accomplished young raen of his time. In addition
to a good foundation , in Latin and Greek, he was master of
the French ; he had read extensively in that language and in
the English ; he had seen several of the principal countries
of Europe ; and he had watched, with a closeness beyond his
years, but required by his position, the political history of
Europe during a very eventful lustrum. In short, since he
was twelve years old, he had talked with men.
But his own judgment suggested to him that a longer
residence in Europe was not, at this time, expedient. His
father was appointed minister to the court of St James, in
May, 1785 ; and, resisting the temptation to take up his resi
dence with the family at London, now joined by that beloved
mother from whora he had been so long separated, the son
obtained the perraission of his parents to return to the United
States, for the sake of corapleting his acaderaic education at
Cambridge. He arrived in New York, in July, 1785. He
was the bearer of a long letter from Mr Jefferson, then min
ister of the United States at Paris, to Mr Vice-President
Gerry, in which Mr Jefferson says, "I congratulate your
country on their prospect in this young man." He passed
about six months at Haverhill, in the faraily of the Rev. Mr
Shaw, his raaternal relative, during which tirae he read over
the books in which it was necessary to be examined for ad
mission to advanced standing at college, none of which, with
the exception of Horace, had been read by him before. He
was admitted to the junior class at the university on the
fifteenth of March, 1786. The usual payment required of
students entering to advanced standing was, in his case, dis
pensed with ; " the corporation and overseers having voted,
as a mark of gratitude to his father for the important services
* Letters of John Adams, Vol. II. p. 102.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 569
rendered by him to the United States, that he should be ad
mitted free of all charge to whatever standing he should,
upon examination, be found qualified for." * Thus began
his connection with the university, of which he remained,
for the rest of his life, a dutiful and an honored son, and a
liberal benefactor.
Possessing, by nature, talents of the highest order, espe
cially that which is among the soonest developed in the human
raind, the talent of memory, — having enjoyed great and
peculiar advantages for general iraprovement, in Europe, —
and now applying himself, with untiring assiduity, to his
studies, he was soon generally regarded as standing at the
head of his class. Such is the testimony of a venerable
magistrate, (Mr Justice Putnam,) who permits me to quote his
authority, himself one of the most distinguished merabers of
the class. I raay add, on the sarae authority, that Adaras,
though of manners somewhat reserved, was distinguished for
his generous feelings, his amiable temper, and engaging social
qualities, to all which were added unshaken firmness of
principle, and spotless purity of life. He was, from the out
set, eminently one of those, who, in the golden Avords of
President Kirkland, "need not the smart of guilt to make
them virtuous, nor the regret of folly to make them wise."
He took his first degree at the commenceraent of 1787, re
ceiving the second place in the usual assignment of college
honors, the first having been given to a classmate Avho, to
distinguished scholarship in other respects, was thought to
add superior skill in declamation. The subject of his oration
shows the mature cast of his thought. It was " The Im
portance and Necessity of Public Faith to the Weil-Being of
a Comraunity." He immediately comraenced the study of the law at New
buryport, under the late Chief Justice Parsons, who had
already attained the reputation, in this part of the country,
of being the raost acute and learned jurist of the day. At
the end of his three years' novitiate, Mr Adams reinoved to
* College Records,
VOL. II. 72

570 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
Boston, and established himself in the practice of his profes
sion. Three eventful years at home ; in which the constitu
tion of the United States had been framed and adopted, and
George Washington and John Adams elected to the two first
offices under the new government. Three eventful years
abroad ; in which the French revolution — the first French
revolution — had raoved rapidly forward frora that stage of
early proraise, hi which it had the syrapathy of the friends
of liberty in England and Araerica, towards those excesses
and criraes, which caused it to be afterwards viewed with
anxiety, disgust, and horror. Mr Adams was araong the first
who suspected the downward tendency. In 1791, he wrote
a series of articles in the Boston Centinel, with the signature
of Publicola, which were intended as a corrective to sorae of
the doctrines in Paine's Rights of Man. These fugitive
essays were republished in London as an answer to Paine's
work, and there ascribed to the author's father, John Adaras.
In 1793, on the breaking out of the war between Great Brit
ain and France, a question of the utraost importance arose,
how far the United States were bound, by the treaty of alli
ance with France, to take sides in the controversy. The
division of opinion on this point, which comraenced in the
cabinet of General Washington, extended throughout the
country. The question was at length practically decided, by
President Washington's proclaraation of neutrality. Before
that iraportant document appeared, Mr Adams had published
a short series of articles in the Boston Centinel, with the sig
nature of Marcellus, maintaining the same doctrine. In these
papers, he developed the two principles on which his policy
as an American statesraan rested, — union at horae, and inde
pendence of all foreign combinations abroad.* On the fourth
of July, 1793, he delivered the usual anniversary oration
before the citizens of Boston ; and, in the course of the fol
lowing winter, he wrote another series of articles for the pub
lic papers, with the signature of Columbus, in Avhich the
neutral poHcy of the United States was further developed and
* Mr Upham's HJemoir.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 671
maintained, and the principles of the law of nations, appli
cable to the situation of the country, in reference to the
European belligerents, more fully unfolded.
I dwell upon these fugitive essays, thrown off, no doubt,
in brief hours of leisure, amidst the occupations of a labori
ous profession, because they established at once the reputa
tion of their author as one of the soundest thinkers and most
forcible writers of the day. They exercised a decided influ
ence over his career in life. They veve read at the seat of
government ; and, in the month of May, 1794, without any
previous intimation of his design, either to his father the
Vice-President, or himself. President Washington norainated
Mr John Q. Adams minister resident at the Hague, — a diplo
matic station, at that period, scarcely inferior to the leading
courts. Mr Adaras arrived in Holland about the time of the
French invasion, and the consequent disorganization of the
government and the country. The embarrassments arising
frora this state of things led him to think of resigning his
office and coming horae ; but it was the advice of the Presi
dent,* accompanied with the approval of his conduct, that
he should reraain at his post. In the last year of his admin
istration, (1796,) Washington appointed him minister pleni
potentiary to Lisbon.
About this period of his life, and. during a teraporary
residence in London, for the purpose of exchanging the
ratifications of the treaty with Great Britain, and making
arrangements for executing some of its provisions, the ac
quaintance of Mr Adams comraenced with the daughter of
Mr Joshua Johnson, of Maryland, — a gentleman then acting
as consular agent of the United States at London. A matri
monial engagement took place, which resulted, on the twen
ty-sixth of July, 1797, in his marriage with the accoraplished
and venerable lady, who, for raore than fifty years, was the
faithful partner of his affections and honors, and survives to
deplore his loss.
Mr Adams senior was chosen President of the United
* Washington's Works, Vol. XI. p. 56.

572 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
States in the autumn of 1796. On this occasion, he was
naturally led to contemplate with some anxiety the public
relations of his son. On this point he took counsel of the
truest of friends and safest of advisers. President Wa.(hington,
and received frora hira that celebrated letter of the twentieth
of February, 1797, a sentence frora which is inscribed on
yonder wall : " I give it as ray decided opinion, that Mr
Adams is the most valuable character we have abroad, and
that he will prove hiraself to be the ablest of all our diplo
matic corps." With this opinion, he expressed the hope and
the wish, that Mr Adams's advancement raight not be
checked by an over-delicacy on his father's part.
Circurastances rendering it inexpedient, at that time, to
establish the mission to Portugal, Mr Adaras's destination
was changed to Berlin. He received the appointment as
minister to Prussia on the thirty-first of May, 1797. In the
summer of 1798, retaining his office as minister to Prussia,
he was commissioned to negotiate a treaty with Sweden.
During his mission at Berlin, he concluded a treaty of amity
and commerce, after a very able and protracted negotiation,
in Avhich the rights of neutral commerce were discussed by
Mr Adams and the Prussian commissioners. In the suraraer
of 1800, he made a tour in Silesia, and wrote an interesting
and instructive series of letters, containing the result of his
observations. They were published without his consent in
the Portfolio, at Philadelphia, collected in a volurae at Lon
don, and translated into French and Gerraan. With a view
to perfect his acquaintance with the German, Mr Adams,
during his residence at Berlin, executed a complete metrical
version of Wieland's Oberon, not being aware at the time
that it had been already translated in England.
He was recalled towards the close of his father's adminis
tration, but did not arrive in America tfll September, 1801.
In the following spring, he Avas elected to the senate, of
Massachusetts for the county of Suffolk, and in the course
of the year Avas chosen by the legislature a senator of the
United States, for the senatorial term commencing on the
third of March, 1803. His terra of service m the senate of

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 673
the United States feU upon one of the great periods of crisis
in our political history. The party which had supported his
father, and to which he himself belonged, had fallen into
divisions, in the course of his father's administration. These
divisions had contributed to the revolution by which Mr
Jefferson was brought into power. The excitements growing
out of this state of things were not yet allayed, but connected
themselves, as all domestic contests did, with the absorbing
questions that grew out of the foreign relations of the coun
try, in the war which then raged in Europe, and threatened
to draAV America into the vortex. The senators of Massa
chusetts differed in their views of the policy required by the
emergency ; and those adopted by Mr Adaras, who supported
the adrainistration, being at variance with the opinions of a
raajority of his constituents; he resigned his seat in the sen
ate, in March, 1808.
The repose frora political engageraents, thus afforded hira,
was devoted by Mr Adaras to the further prosecution of pur
suits in which he was already engaged, and Avhich, to him,
were scarcely less congenial. His literary tastes had always
been fondly, and assiduously cultivated, and, for a public man,
his habits were decidedly studious. On the death of Presi
dent Wfllard, in 1804, several of the influential friends of
Harvard College had urged upon Mr Adams to allow himself
to be considered as a candidate for the presidency of the uni
versity. These overtures he declined ; but, in the following
year, it was determined by the corporation to appoint a pro
fessor of rhetoric and oratory, on the foundation of Mr Boyl
ston, and Mr Adams was chosen. He delivered his inaugural
address in July, 1806, and continued to discharge the duties
of the professorship, by the delivery of a course of lectures,
and by presiding over the public exercises in declamation, till
the month of July, 1809.
It Avas at this time, and as a member of one of the younger
classes at coUege, that I first saw Mr Adams, and listened to
his well-remembered voice, from the chair of instruction ;
little anticipating that, after the lapse of forty years, my own
humble voice would be heard in the performance of this
mournful office.

674 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
Some who now hear me will recollect the deep interest
with which these lectures were listened to, not merely by the
youthful audience for which they were prepared, but by nu
merous voluntary hearers frora the neighborhood. They
forraed an era in the university ; and were, I believe, the
first successful attempt, in this country, at this form of
instruction in any department of literature. They were
collected and published in two voluraes, corapleting the theo
retical part of the subject. I think it may be fairly said, that
they will bear a favorable comparison with any treatise, on
the subject, at that time extant in our language. The stan
dard of excellence, in every branch of critical learning, has
greatly advanced in the last forty years ; but these lectures
may still be read with pleasure and instruction. Considered
as a systematic and academical treatise upon a subject which
constituted the chief part of the intellectual education of tht
Greeks and Romans, these lectures, rapidly prepared as they
were delivered, and not revised by the author before publica
tion, aire not to be regarded in the light of a standard per
formance. But let any statesraan or jurist, even of the present
day, in America or Europe, — whose life, like Mr Adams's,
has been actively passed in professional and political engage
ments at home and abroad, — attempt, in the leisure of two
or three summers, — his mind filled with all the great politi
cal topics of the day, — to prepare a full course of lectures
on any branch of literature, to be delivered to a difficult and
scrutinizing, though in part a youthful audience, and then
trust them to the ordeal of the press, and he wfll be able to
estimate the task which was performed by Mr Adams.
Frora these, to him, not distasteful engagements, Mr Adams
was soon recalled to the public service. In March, 1809, he
was nominated by President Madison to the court of St
Petersburg, and, in the suraraer of the sarae year, returned
to the important court which he had visited twenty-eight
years before, in his boyhood, as secretary to Mr Dana. He
came at a critical juncture of eiffairs, and with great raeans
and occasions of usefulness. The whole foreign world was,
at this time, shut out from the continental courts, by the iron

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 675
rigor of the system of Napoleon. America, though little
known at the imperial court, was regarded with interest, as a
rising transatlantic state of great importance, and Mr Adams
appeared as her first accredited representative. He was raas
ter of the two foreign languages, (the French and the Ger
man,) which, — to the exclusion of the native Russian, —
are alone spoken in the political and court circles. He was
thus enabled the more easily to form relations of more than
ordinary kindness with the emperor and leading members of
the imperial government, and it is well understood to have
been through this instrumentality, that the emperor was led
to offer his mediation to the United States and Great Britain,
in the war then just coramenced. The mediation was ac
cepted by the Araerican governgiept, and Mr Adaras was
appointed, in conjunction with Messrs Gallatin and Bayeurd,
to conduct the negotiation. Those gentleraen arrived at St
Petersburg in July, 1813. The Eraperor Alexander was
absent on the great carapaign of that year, but the confer
ences of the American commissioners were opened with
Count Romanzoff, chancellor of the erapire. The British
government declined to negotiate under the mediation, and
Messrs Bayard and Gallatin left St Petersburg in January,
1814, Mr Adams remaining, as resident minister.
But Great Britain, although nominally declining to nego
tiate under the mediation, accompanied her refusal with an
offer to treat for peace with the United States directly, either
at Gottenburg or London, and this ofier was accepted by the
American government, the preference being given to the
former place. Mr Adams was accordingly appointed, in joint
commission with Messrs Bayard, Clay, and RusseU, to whom
was afterwards added Mr GaUatin, to negotiate for peace at
Gottenburg. Mr Adams received this commission in Aprfl,
1S14, with instructions to proceed immediately to the place
just named. He took passage from Revel in the first vessel,
after the breaking up of the ice ; and, after repeated delay
and detention, and great risk from the same cause, he arrived
at Stockholm on the twenty-fifth of May.
He there learned that an arrangement had been made by

676 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
Messrs Bayard and Gallatin, — who were in London, — with
the British governraent, by which the seat of negotiation had
been transferred to Ghent. An Araerican sloop of war Avas
then at Gottenburg, having, as a cartel, conveyed Messrs Clay
and RusseU to that place. " Mr Adaras accordingly proceeded
from Stockholm to Gottenburg, and, erabarking Avith Mr
Russell on board the sloop of war, landed frora her at the
Texel, and thence proceeded by land to Ghent. There he
arrived on the twenty-fourth of June, and on that day six
months, the treaty of peace was signed. Mr Adams's name
stands first on the list of the negotiators.
Mr Adams had been informed by the secretary of state,
(Mr Monroe,) at the time he was appointed under the raedia-
tion of the emperor of Russia, that, in the event of the con
clusion of peace, it Avas the intention of President Madison
to nominate him as minister to London. He accordingly
went to Paris, and was there during the presence of the allied
monarchs and their armies, and in the Hundred Days. He
was joined by his family in March, 1815. Their hardships
and perfls, in performing the journey frora St Petersburg to
France, in that tirae of universal commotion and uncertainty,
would form an interesting narrative, for which, however, this
is not the place. On the seventh of May, he received official
information of his appointment ; and although the ordinary
communications between the two countries. were interrupted,
and the passage not unattended with delay' and difficulty, he
arrived in London on the fifteenth of May. He immediately
engaged with his associate commissioners, Messrs Clay and
Gallatin, in negotiating a convention of comraerce with
Great Britain, which was concluded on the third of July,
1815. Having thus, in happy coincidence with his venerable
father's career, cooperated in establishing a peace with Great
Britain, he Teraained, like his father, in London, for, two
years, as the American minister at that court. He was then,
in 1817, invited by President Monroe to return to America,
as secretary of state under the new administration. I believe
it was universally adraitted, that a better appointment could

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 577
not have been made. It wfll be recollected, by raany persons
present, that General Jackson, then just beginning to exercise
great political influence in the country, spoke of Mr Adaras
" as the fittest person for the office ; — a man who would
stand by the country in the hour of danger."
But the hour of danger did not arrive at home or abroad
during the administration of Mr Monroe, which continued
through two terms of office, for the whole of which Mr
Adams was secretary of state. During this entire period, he
maintained unbroken the most friendly relations with Mr
Monroe, and gave a steady and efficient support to his admin
istration. The office of secretary of state is, at all times, one
of imraense labor; never raore so, than in the hands of Mr
Adams. I presume no person in high office ever derived less
assistance from those under him, or did more work with his
own hands. No opinion, for which he was responsible, was
ever taken on trust, upon the examination of others; no
paper of any consequence, to which he was to sign his name;
Avas the product of another man's mind. It would be foreign
frora ray purpose, did tirae adrait, to discuss the raeasures of
public interest which engaged the attention of the govern
ment and people of the country during Mr Monroe's two
terms of service in the presidency. His administration will
ever be memorable, in our political history, for the substantial
fusion of the two great political parties, which led to his
unaniraous reelection in 1821. It Avill also be remembered
for the acquisition of Florida, which was ceded by Spain as
an indemnification for spoliations on our commerce. The
treaty for this cession was negotiated, with consuraraate
abflity, by Mr Adams, and signed on the twenty-second of
February, 1819. The independence of the Spanish prov
inces on this continent was also recognized under this admin
istration, — a measure rather assented to than warmly approved
by Mr Adams, for he doubted their capacity for self-govern
ment; an opinion of which the soundness is abundantly
justified by passing events.
Out of the subsidence of the old parties sprung the vari-
voL. II. 73

678 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
ously contested presidential election of 1824. For a quarter
of a century, a succession had been established from the de
partment of state to the presidency. There were certainly
good reasons, on the present occasion, why this practice should
not be broken in upon ; but, in addition to the successful
candidate for the vice-presidency, (Mr Calhoun,) the south
and the Avest brought three presidential candidates into the
field, who divided the electoral vote, though unequally, with
Mr Adaras. The whole number of votes was two hundred
and sixty-one, of which General Jackson received ninety-
nine, and Mr Adams eighty-four. But I think it was calcu
lated, at the time, that Mr Adams's vote, in the primary
assemblies of the people, was not less than his rival's. The
choice devolved upon the House of Representatives, for the
second tirae since the forraation of the present government.
The first occasion was in 1801, when the constitution itself
had nearly sunk under the struggle, Avhich was prolonged
through the second day, and to the thirty-sixth balloting.
On the present occasion, the elements of a struggle equally
perilous Avere thought to exist ; Emd calculation was entirely
at fault as to the result. The choice was decided on the first
ballot, and fell upon Mr Adaras. It was made known to him
in advance of the official communication, by a personal and
political friend, who happened to be present ; and who, to my
question, a few weeks after, how he received the intelligence,
answered, " like a philosopher."
Mr Adaras's adrainistration was, in its principles and policy,
a continuation of Mr Monroe's. The special object which
he proposed to himself was, to bind the distant parts of the
country together, and proraote their mutual prosperity, by
increased facflities of coraraunication. Unlike Mr Monroe's,
Mr Adams's adrainistration encountered, from the outset, a
formidable and harassing opposition. It is now, I believe,
generally admitted to have been honest, able, and patriotic.
This praise has lately been accorded to it, in the most gener
ous terras, by distinguished individuals, in Congress and else
where, who were not numbered among its supporters. That

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 579
the President, himself, devoted to the public business the ut
most stretch of his Herculean powers of thought and labor,
hardly needs to be told.
Two incidents occurred during his administration, which
ought not to be wholly passed over in this hasty sketch.
One was the visit of Lafayette, whom Mr Adaras received,
at the presidential mansion, with an address of extraordinary
eloquence and beauty. The other was the death of his
venerable father, spared to the patriarchal age of ninety-one,
and to see his son raised to the presidency ; and dying, with
his ancient associate, Jefferson, within a few hours of each
other, on the fiftieth anniversary of independence, — which
they had been associated in declaring.
At the close of the terra of four years, for which Mr Adams
was elected. General Jackson was chosen to succeed him.
Mr Adams, I doubt not, left the office with, a lighter heart
than he entered it. It was, at this time, his purpose, — as he
informed rae himself, — on retiring from office, to devote
himself to literary labors, and especially to writing the his
tory of his father's life and times. Some comraenceraent
was made, by him, of the preliminary labors requisite for
this great undertaking. He was, however, though past the
meridian of life, ui good health. He possessed an undimin
ished capacity of physical and intellectual action. He had
an experience of affairs, larger and more various than any
other man in America ; and it was felt by the public, that he
ought to.be induced, if possible, to return to the political
service of the country. He was accordingly chosen, at the
next congressional election, to represent the people of his
native district, in the House of Representatives of the
United States.
It was, perhaps, a general impression among his personal
friends, that, in yielding to this call, he had not chosen
wisely for his happiness or fame. It was a step never before
taken by a retiring chief magistrate. The experience and
wisdom of his predecessors had often exerted a salutary in
fluence over public opinion, for the very reason that their
voice wa,s heard only frora the seclusion of private life, by

680 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
those who sought their counsel. Mr Adams was about to
expose himself to the violence of political warfare, not al
ways conducted with generosity on the floor of Congress.
But, in deciding to obey the call of his constituents, he fol
lowed, I am confident, not so much the strong bent of his
inclination, and the fixed habit of his life, as an iuAvard, all-
controlling sense of duty. He was conscious of his capacity
to be useful, and his work was not yet done. Besides, he
needed no indulgence, he asked no favor, he feared no
opposition. He carried into Congress the diligence, punctuality, and
spirit of labor, which were his second — I had alraost said
his first — nature. My seat was, for two years, by his side ;
and it would have scarcely more surprised me to miss one of
the raarble colurans of the hall from its pedestal, than to see
his chair empty. The two great political questions of the
day were those which related to the protective and financial
systems. He was placed, by the speaker of the House, at
the head of the coraraittee on manufactures. He was friendly
to the policy of giving our rising establishments a moderate
protection against the irregular pressure of foreign competi
tion. Believing that manufacturing pursuits — as the great
school of raechanical skill — are an important element of
national prosperity, he thought it unwise to allow the com
pensation of labor in this department to be brought down to
the starvation standard of Europe. He was also a firm and
efficient champion of the Bank of the United States, then
subsisting under a charter of Congress, and, up to that tirae,
conducted, as he thought, with integrity. On these, and all
the other topics of the day, he took an active part, eraploy-
ing himself with assiduity in the coraraittee-roora, preparing
elaborate reports, and occasionally, though not frequently,
pouring out the affluence of his raind in debate.
I shall, perhaps, be pardoned for introducing here a slight
personal recoUection, which serves, in some degree, to fllus
trate his habits. The sessions of the last two days of, I
think, the twenty-third Congress were prolonged, the one for
nineteen, and the other for seventeen hours. At the close of

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 581
the last day's session, he remained in the hall of the House,
the last seated member of the body. One after another of
the members had gone home ; mauy of them for hours. The
hall — brflliantly lighted up, and gayly attended, as was, and
perhaps is stfll, the custom at the beginning of the last
evening of a session — had become cold, dark, and cheerless.
Of the members who remained, to prevent the public busi
ness from dying for want of a quorum, most but himself
were sinking from exhaustion, although they had probably
taken their meals at the usual hours, in the course of the day.
After the adjournment, I went up to his seat, to join com
pany with him homeward ; and as I knew he came to
the House at eight o'clock in the raorning, and it was then
past midnight, I expressed a hope that he had taken some
refreshment in the course of the day. He said he had not
left his seat, but, holding up a bit of hard bread in his fin
gers, gave me to understand in what way he had sustained
nature. Such was his course in the House of Representatives, up
to the year 1835, during which I was the dafly witness of it,
as an humble associate raember. Had he retired from Con
gress at that time, it would have been, perhaps, rather with a
reputation brought to the house, than achieved on the floor ;
a reputation "enough to fill the ambition of a coraraon man,"
nay, of a very uncommon one ; but it would probably have
been thought that, surpassing most others, he had hardly
equalled himself But, from this time forward, for ten years,
(1835 — 1845,) he assumed a position in a great degree new,
and put forth a wonderful increase of energy and power.
Some of the former questions, which had long occupied Con
gress, had been, at least for the time, disposed of, and new
ones came up, which roused Mr Adams to a higher action of
his faculties than he had yet displayed. He was now sixty-
eight years of age, — a time of life, I need not say, at which,
in most cases, the firmest frame gives way, and the most
ardent temper cools ; but the spirit of Mr Adams, bold and
indomitable as his whole life showed it to be, blazed forth,
from this time forward, for ten years, with a fervor and

582 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
strength which astonished his friends, and stands, as I think,
almost, if not quite, without a parallel. I do not forget the
limits prescribed to me by the circumstances under which I
speak ; but no one, capable of estimating the noblest traits
of character, can wish me to slur over this period of Mr
Adams's life ; no one but must be touched with the specta
cle which, day after day, and month after month, and session
after session, was exhibited by him, to whom had now been
accorded, by universal consent, the title of the " old man
eloquent ; " and far raore deserving of it he was than the
somewhat frigid rhetorician on whora it was originally be
stowed. There he sat, the deepest stricken in years, but, of
the whole body, the individual most capable of physical en
durance and intellectual effort ; his bare head erect, while
younger men drooped ; " his peremptory, eagle-sighted eye "
unquenched, both by day and by night —
-"intrepidus vultu, meruitque timeri

Non metuens."

It is unnecessary to state that the uoav questions, to which
I refer, were those connected with slavery. On no great
question, perhaps, has the progress of public opinion been
more decided, both in Europe and America, than on this sub
ject. It is but a little more than a century since England
eagerly stipulated with Spain for the right to supply the
Spanish colonies with slaves from Africa. The carrying
trade frora the sarae fll-fated coasts to our own Southern
States, then colonies, was conducted by the raerchants and
navigators of our own New England. Within the present
generation, we have seen the slave trade denounced as a cap
ital felony in both countries. I ara not aware that any dis
cussion of this subject, of a nature powerfully to affect the
public mind, took place in Congress till full thirty years after
the adoption of the constitution. It then arose on occasion
of the admission of the state of Missouri into the Union, and
on the proposition to incorporate into the constitution of that
state the prmciple of the immortal ordinance of 1787 for the
organization of the territory north-west of the Ohio viz.

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 583
" There shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude in
the said territory, otherwise than in the punishraent of crimes,
whereof the party shall be duly convicted." Mr Adams was
in the department of state at the time of the admission of
Missouri, and Avas not called upon to take any part in the
discussion. The general agitation of the subject in the community at
large dates from a still more recent period, commencing about
the time of Mr Adaras's accession to the presidency. It was
animated, no doubt, by the raoveraent which took place
about the same time in Great Britain, and which, in the
course of a few years, resulted in that most illustrious act of
Christian benevolence, by which, in a single day, eight hun
dred thousand fellow-beings passed from a state of bondage
to one of unconditional freedom, and that without a cry or a
gesture that threatened the public peace.
The public opinion of the United States', sympathizing, as
it raust at all times, with that of the other great branches of
the human family, was deeply interested in the progress of
these discussions abroad, and received a powerful impulse
from their result. With the organized agitation, in the free
states, of the questions connected with slavery, Mr Adams
did not, as a citizen, I believe, intimately connect hitnself.
Towards their introduction into Congress, as subjects of free
discussion, he contributed more than any other man — than
all others united. He approached the subject, however, with
a caution inspired by a profound sense of its difficulty and
delicacy. I know it to have been his opinion, as late as
1828, that, for the presidency and vice-presidency, the candi
dates ought to be selected from the two great sections of the
country. His first act as a member of Congress, in 1831,
was to present the memorial of the " Friends," of Phfladel
phia, praying, among other things^ for the abolition of sla
very in the District of Columbia; but, while he paid the
highest tribute to the motives of the petitioners, he avowed
himself not prepared to grant the prayer of the meraorial.
But. whether it was that his own opinions and feelings had
shared the movement of the general mind of the age on this '

684 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS;
subject, or that he perceived, in the course of a few years,
that the time had come when it must be met and discussed
in all its aspects, — certain it is that, from the time the right
of petition was drawn distinctly in question, Mr Adams
placed himself boldly on that ground, and, from that time
forward, stood firmly at his post, as the acknowledged con
gressional leader. No labor was too great, no attention too
minute, to be bestowed by him in receiving and presenting
the petitions which were poured into his hands from every
part of the country. No strength or violence of opposition,
or menaces of danger, deterred hira from the office he had
assumed ; and every attempt to dishearten and sflence him
but established the more firmly the moral ascendency which
he had acquired in the House. His warmest opponents, while
they condemned his policy, admitted his sincerity, admired
his courEige, and owned his power. His rising to address the
House became the signal for mute and respectful attention ;
the distant clustered round his seat ; the listless and the idle
gave heed, and every word that fell from his lips was listened
to almost like the response of an oracle. I say this alike to
the honor of the living and the dead.
I may be permitted to recall to your recollection the open
ing of the twenty-sixth Congress, in Deceraber, 1839, when,
in consequence of a twofold delegation frora New Jersey, the
House was unable, for some tirae, to complete its organization,
and presented to the country and the world the perflous and
discreditable aspect of the assembled representatives of the
people unable to form themselves into a constitutional body.
Fully to enter into the scene, it must be remembered that
there are no two ideas more deeply imbedded in the Anglo-
Saxon raind than these : one, the omnipotence of every sov
ereign parliamentary and congressional body, (I mean, of
course, within the liraits of its constitutional competence,)
and the other, the absolute inability of one of these omnipo
tent bodies to make the slightest movement, oi perform the
most indifferent act, except through a formal expression of
its wfll by its duly-appointed organs. Now, on first assem
bling, the House has no officers, and the clerk of the preced-

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 686
ing Congress acts, by usage, as chairman of the body, till a
speaker is chosen. On this occasion, after reaching the state
of New Jersey, the acting clerk declined to proceed in calling
the roll, and refused to entertain any of the motions which
were made for the purpose of extricating the House frora its
embarrassment. Many of the ablest and most judicious
members had addressed the House in vain, and there was
nothing but confusion and disorder in prospect. Towards
the close of the fourth day, Mr Adaras rose, and expectation
waited on his words. Having, by a powerful appeal, brought
the yet unorganized asserably to a perception of its hazardous
position, he subraitted a raotion requiring the acting clerk
te proceed in calling the roll. This and sirailar raotions had
already been raade by other raerabers. The difficulty was,
that the acting clerk declined to entertain them. Accord
ingly, Mr Adams was immediately interrupted by a burst of
voices demanding, " How shall the question be put ? " " Who
wfll put the question ? " The voice of Mr Adams was heard
above the tumult, " I intend to put the question myself!"
That word brought order out of chaos. There was the
raaster mind. A distinguished member frora South Carolina
(Mr Rhett) raoved that Mr Adams himself should act as
chairman of the body till the House was organized, and, suit
ing the action to the word, himself put the motion to the
House. It prevailed unanimously, and Mr Adams was con
ducted to the chair, amidst the irrepressible acclamations of
the spectators. Well did Mr Wise of Virginia say, "Sir, I
regard it as the proudest hour of your life ; and if, when you
shall be gathered to your fathers," (that time, alas ! is now
come,) "I were asked to select the words which, in my
judgment, are best calculated to give at once the character of
the man, I would inscribe upon your tomb this sentence, ' I
will put the question myself "
And thus it was that he was established, at last, in a rela
tion to the House which no man before had ever filled. The
differences of opinion, of course, were great ; the shock of
debate often violent ; but it was impossible not to respect the
fearless, conscientious, unparalleled old man. Into this feel-
voL. II. 74

586 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
ing, at last, every other emotion subsided ; and I know not
to which party tbe greater praise is due — the aged statesraan
who had so nobly earned this horaage, or the generous oppo
nents by whora it Avas cheerfully paid.
Nor was this spontaneous deference a raere personal senti
raent, confined to associates on the floor of Congress. It
extended to the people. In the suraraer of 1843, Mr Adaras
made a journey to Niagara, with a farafly party, and in the
raonth of Noveraber of the sarae year he, visited Cincinnati
by invitation, to lay the corner stone of an observatory about
to be built by the liberal subscriptions of the friends of sci
ence in that city. His journeys on these occasions resembled
a triumphal procession. New York and Ohio poured out the
population of their cities and villages to bid him welcome.
Since the visit of Lafayette, the country had seen nothing
like it. And if I wished to prove to the young men of the
country, by the most instructive instances, that the only true
greatness is that which rests on a moral basis, I would point
thera to the ex-president of the United States, on the occa
sions referred to, and the ex-king of the French — the one
retiring to private life, an unsuccessful, but not discredited,
candidate for reelection to the chair of state ; ruling, in a
serene old age, in the respect and affection of his fellow-citi
zens ; borne, at seventy-six, almost on their shoulders, from
one joyous reception to another ; — the other, sovereign, but
yesterday, of a kingdom stretching frora Mount Atlas to the
Rhine ; master of an array capable of bidding defiance to
Europe ; with a palace for every month, and a revenue of
three millions of francs for every day in the year ; and to-day
(let me not seem to trample on the fallen, as I utter the
words) stealing with the aged partner of his throne and of
his fall, in sordid disguise, from his capital ; without one of
that mighty host to strike a blow in his defence, if not from
loyalty, at least from corapassion ; not daring to look round,
even to see, if the chfld were safe, on whora he had just be
stowed the mockery of a crown ; and compelled to beg a few
francs, from the guards at his palace-door, to lielp him to fleo
from his kingdom !

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 587
But I have wandered from my theme, and must hasten
with you to contemplate a far different termination of a more
truly glorious career. On the twentieth of November, 1846,
Mr Adams, being then at the house of his son, in Boston,
and preparing for his departure for Washington, walked out,
with a friend, to visit the new Medical College, and was
struck with palsy by the way. He recovered strength enough
to return in a few weeks to Washington, but it was, in his
own estimation, the stroke of death. His journal — kept
with regularity for more than half a century — stops that
day ; and when, after an interval of nearly four months, he
resumed it, it was with the caption of Posthumous Memoir.
Having recorded the event of the twentieth of November,
and his subsequent confinement, he adds, " From that hour I
date my decease, and consider myself, for every useful pur
pose to myself and fellow-creatures, dead ; and hence I call
this, and what I may hereafter write, a posthumous meraoir."
Frora this time forward, though his attendance was regularly
given in the House of Representatives, he rarely took part in
the debates. His suraraer was passed, as usual, in his native
village. In the month of October last, he made a visit to
Cambridge, as chairman of the committee on the observatory,
— an institution in which he ever took the greatest interest,
and of which he was, from the first, a most liberal benefac
tor, — and shortly afterwards drew up the adrairable letter
in reference to this establishraent, and the proraotion gener
ally of astronomical science ; a letter which attracted univer
sal attention, a few weeks since, in the public prints. This
was the last letter, I believe, of considerable length, wholly
written with his own hand. He returned to Washington in
the month of November, and resumed his usual attendance
in the Capitol ; but the sands were nearly run out.
Never did a noble life terminate in a more beautiful close.
On Sunday, the twentieth of February, he appeared in unu
sual health. He attended public worship in the forenoon
at the Capitol, and in the^afternoon at St John's Church. At
nine o'clock in the evening, he retired, with his wife, to his
library, where she read to him a sermon of Bishop Wilber-

588 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
force, on Time, — hovering, as he was, on the verge of eter
nity. This was the last night which he passed beneath his
own roof On Monday, the twenty-first, he rose at his usuai
very early hour, and engaged in his accustomed occupations
with his pen. An extraordinary alacrity pervaded his move
ments ; the cheerful step with which he ascended the Capitol
was remarked by his attendants ; and at about half-past twelve,
as he seemed rising in his seat in the House of Represent
atives, he was struck with death. His last audible words
were, " This is the end of earth," — " I am coraposed." He
continued to breathe, but without apparent consciousness, till
the evening of the twenty-third instant, and died in the
Capitol. Go there, politician, and behold a fall worth all the tri
umphs the Capitol ever witnessed I Go there, sceptic, — you
who believe that matter and raind are one, and both are a
" kneaded clod," — and explain how it is that, within that
aged and shattered frame, just sinking into the dust from
which it was taken, there can dwell a principle of thought
and feeling endued with such a divine serenity and courage,
and composed, because it feels that the end of earth is. the
beginning of heaven !
Thus fell, at the post of duty, one of the raost extraor
dinary raen that have appeared araong us, not so rauch dying,
as translated from the field of his earthly labors and honors
to a higher sphere. I have left rayself little space or strength
to add any thing to the narrative of his life, by way of por
traying his character. Sorae atterapt, however, of that kind,
you will expect.
Mr Adaras was a man of the rarest intellectual endow
ments. His perception was singularly accurate and penetrat
ing. Whenever he undertook to investigate a subject, he
was sure to attain the clearest ideas of it which its nature
admitted. What he kncAv, (and few raen knew as much,) he
knew with great precision. His argumentative powers were
of the highest order, and admirably trained. When he
entered the field of controversy, it was a strong and a bold
man that volunfarfly encountered hjm a second time. His

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 589
memory was wonderful. Every thing he had seen or read,
every occurrence in his long and crowded life, was at all
times present to his recoUection. This was the more reraark
able, as he had, almost from the age of boyhood, followed
the practice of recording, from day to day, every incident of
importance, — a practice thought to weaken the memory.
This wonderful power of recollection was aided by the strict
method with which he pursued his studies for the earlier part
of his life, and until weighed down by the burdens of executive
office, on entering the department of state. He had, withal,
a dfligence which nothing could weary. He rose at the
earliest hour, and had an occupation for every moment of the
day. Without having raade a distinct pursuit of any one branch
of knowledge, he was probably possessed of a greater amount
and. variety of accurate information than any other man in
the country. It follows, of course, that he had pushed his
inquiries far beyond the profession to which he was bred, or
that reading which belongs directly to the publicist and the
statesman. Few araong us drank so deeply at the ancient
fountains. To his acquaintance with the language and liter
ature of Greece and Rome, he added the two leading lan
guages of continental Europe, and of these he knew French
as a second mother-tongue. The orations of Demosthenes
and Cicero, the philosophical and rhetorical works of Cicero ;
the critical works of Aristotle and Quintflian ; the historical
works of Tacitus, (all of Avhich he had translated at school ;)
a considerable part of the poems of Ovid, whom he greatly
admired ; the satires of Juvenal ; in French, Pascal, Moliere,
and La Fontaine ; in English, Shakspeare, his greatest favor
ite, with Milton, Dryden, Pope, and Burke, — were stamped
upon his memory* These were studies which he never
wholly sacrificed to the calls of business, however urgent.
The office of President of the United States, at least as filled
by Mr Adams, is one of extreme labor ; but he found time,
amidst its incessant calls and interruptions, to address a series
of letters to his youngest son, — some of them written in

690 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
the busiest period of the session, — containing an elaborate
analysis of several of the orations of Cicero, designed to aid
the young man in the perusal of this, his favorite author.
At the close of one of these letters, (as if it were impossible
to fill up his industrious day,) he adds, that he is reading
Evelyn's Sylva with great delight. Some of these letters
would be thought a good day's work for a scholar by profes
sion. But Mr Adaras wrote with a rapidity and ease, which
would hardly have been suspected frora his soraewhat raeas-
ured style. Notwithstanding the finish of his sentences,
they were, like Gibbon's, struck off at once, and never had
to be retouched. I reraember that onc^, as I sat by his side
in the House of Representatives, I was so much struck with
the neatness and beauty of the manuscript of a report of
great length which he had brought into the House, and in
which, as I turned over the leaves, I could not perceive an
interlineation, that I made a remark to him on the subject.
He told me it was the first draft, and had never been copied ;
and in that condition it was sent to the press, though sure,
frora the nature of the question discussed, to be the subject
of the severest criticisra.
To his profession Mr Adams gave but a few years of his
life, and those not exclusively. He had, however, mastered
the elementary learning and the forms of the law, and, in the
fourth year after entering upon the practice, supported hira
self by his professional earnings. In later life, he appeared
at the bar, on a few important occasions, with distinction and
success. During his residence in Russia, Mr Madison made
him an offer of a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of
the United States, which he declined. As a public speaker,
whether at the senate or the bar, he was grave, clear, and
impressive, — formidable in retort, powerful in invective, —
soraetimes giving the reins to a playful fancy, and, when the
subject and occasion admitted, vehement and impassioned,. —
neglectful of the lighter graces of manner, but, at all times,
riveting the attention of his audience. When, at the age of
seventy-four, he came into the Supreme Court at Washing-

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 691
ton, as the volunteer counsel of the Africans on board the
Amistad, he displayed a forensic talent which would have
added lustre to the brightest name in the profession.
But it is as a politician, as a statesraan, and a chief magis
trate, that he wiU hereafter be chiefly reraerabered in the
annals of the country ; and it wfll be araong those who have
served her the longest, the raost zealously, the most ably, the
most conscientiously. Breathing, as we do, an atmosphere
heated with the passions of the day ; swayed, as we all are,
by our prejudices, it is not for us to sit in judgment on his
political course. Impartiality in our opinions of those from
whom we have differed, is often the name which we give to
our own adverse conceptions. It is characteristic of most
men, either from temperament or education, to lean decidedly
either to the conservative or progressive tendency, which
forms respectively the basis of our parties. In Mr Adams's
political system, there was a singular mixture of both prin
ciples. This led him, early in his political career, to adopt
a course which is sanctioned by the highest authorities and
exaraples in the country, that of avoiding, as far as possible,
an intimate and exclusive union with any party. This policy
Avas studiously pursued by General Washington. He retained
in his cabinet the two great rival leaders, (Mr Jefferson and
General Hamilton,) as long as they could be prevailed upon
to sit side by side ; and in appointing ministers to Great
Britain and to France, at a very critical period bf our foreign
relations, he acted upon the sarae principle. Mr Jefferson, in
his inaugural address in 1801, says, "We have called by
different naraes brethren of the same principle. We are all
republicans; weare all federalists^" and, in 1817, General
Jackson exhorted Mr Monroe to " destroy the monster, party."
It was, I think, on the same principle that Mr Adams, when
the state govemment of Massachusetts was organized in
1802, was desirous of constituting the executive council by
a fair representation of the two parties. But this policy, I
suspect, can never be effectively pursued at those periods
when it would be of any importance, viz., times of high
political excitement. A real independence of party ties, on

592 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
great questions and in difficult times, will, I fear, rarely be
asserted without great personal sacrifices and violent col
lisions. Those whose general views are in sympathy, if
separated on individual measures of great interest, become,
for that very reason, the more estranged ; and the confidence
and admiration of years are succeeded by alienatitwi and bit
terness. Burke and Fox, the dearest of friends and the
trustiest of allies, parted from each other on the floor of Par
liament with tears, but stfll they parted, and forever. Happy
the statesman, who, when the collisions of the day are past
and forgotten, shall possess titles to the abiding respect and
affection of his countrymen as brilliant and substantial as
those of Mr Adaras !
In the high offices which he filled in the government, he
may be safely held up as a model of a public servant. As a
diplomatist, his rank has been assigned by Washington. As
an executive officer, the duty of the day, however uninvit
ing, was discharged as if it were an object of the most at
tractive interest. The most obsolete and complicated claim,
if it became necessary for Mr Adaras to pass upon it, was
sifted to the bottom with the raechanical patience of an audi
tor of accounts ; and woe to the fallacy, if any there were,
which lurked in the stateraent. A " report on weights and
raeasures," prepared by Mr Adaras in the ordinary routine of
official duty, is entitled to the character of a scientific trea
tise. In executing the office of President of the United
States, he was governed by two noble principles, oftener pro
fessed than carried into full practice. The first related to
measures, and was an all but superstitious respect for the
constitution and the law. Laboring as he did, by the Strange
perversity of party judgments, under the odium of latitudi-
narian doctrines, there never lived the public man, or the
magistrate, who carried into every act of official duty a deeper
sense of the binding power of the constitution and the law,
as a rule of conduct frora which there was no appeal. The
second principle regarded men, and was that of conscientious
impartiality. I do not mean that he did not confer important
offices, when the nomination Avas freely at his discretion, on

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 593
political friends, — the services of none others can be com
manded for places of high trust and confidence, — but polit
ical friendship never was the paramount consideration. He
found a majority of the offices in the country in the posses
sion of his political opponents, and he never reraoved one
of them to nyike way for a friend. He invited Mr Crawford,
a rival candidate for the presidency, to retain -his seat in the
cabinet as secretary of the treasury. He decided a long
standing controversy about rank, between the highest officers
of the army, against his political interests. He brought to
every question that required his decision, however wrapped
up in personal considerations, the inflexibility of a judicial
tribunal. As a man, he had, no doubt, the infirmities of human na
ture, (fair subjects of criticism to the happy few who are
immaculate,) but not, I think, those most frequently laid to
his charge. He was not, for instance, parsimonious nor ava
ricious. Thrown, from his first start in life, upon his own
resources,, he determined to live within his means, and studied
a decent economy ; not because he loved money, but because
he loved independence. That object attained, he ceased to
exercise even ordinary thrift in the management of his af
fairs ; but he did not cease, to the end of his life, to lend an
ear to every call (public or private) upon his liberality, far
beyond the extent of his income. He did not, as a minister
abroad, load himself with debt, that he might enjoy the sat
isfaction of being distanced in a race of profusion with the
foreign ambassadors, whosg princely incomes are swelled by
princely salaries ; but, from the time of his first residence at
Washington, as secretary of state, to the close of his presi
dency, and even of his life, the hospitality of his house and
of his table was proverbial. Neither office, I believe, added
a dollar to his fortune. He was plain in his personal habits
and dress, because he was simple iu his tastes and feelings.
What attraction can .there be to a thoughtful, studious man,
Avith great affairs upon his hands and upon his thoughts, in
the wretched and fatiguing vanities which are the principal
sources of expense ? There was an occasional abstractioo
VOL. II. 75

594 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
and reserve in his manner, which led those who did not ob
serve hira raore closely to think him deficient in warmth and
cordiality. But, while he wanted a certain cheerful flexibil
ity and sprightliness, which, when accompanied with sincerity
and frankness, are a very enviable endowraent for a public
raan, — eminently useful in raaking friends, — yet, in real
kindness of nature, and depth and tenderness of feeling, no
man surpassed him. His venerable classmate (Judge Putnam)
bears witness that he contributed his full share to the hilarity
of the social circle ; and sure I am there must be around rae
some Avho can remember, with me, the hours for which they
have hung delighted on the fascination of his social converse.
As far as the higher sympathies of our nature are concerned,
— the master affections, whose sphere is far above the little
conventional courtesies of life, — a warmer spirit never dwelt
in a human frarae.
But I have left untouched the great qualities of the raan,
the traits which forra the heroism of his character, and would
have made him, at all tiraes, and in any career, a person of
the highest mark and force. These were, his lion heart,
which knew not the fear of man ; and his religious spirit,
which feared God in all things, constantly, profoundly, and
practically. A person of truer courage, physical and moral,
I think, never lived. In whatever calling of life he had
grown up, this trait, I am sure, would have been conspicuous.
Had be been a common sailor, he would have been the first
to go to the mast-head, Avhen the topsails Avere flying into
ribbons. He never was called to expose his life in the field,
but, had his duty required it, he was a mah to lead a forlorn
hope, with a steady step, through a breach spouting with fire.
It was his custom, at a tirae when personal violence towards
individuals politically obnoxious was not uncoraraon, to walk
the unwatched and desolate streets of Washington alone, and
before sunrise. This may be set down to the steadiness of
nerves which is shared by men of inferior tone of mind.
But in his place in the House of Representatives, — lin the
great struggle into which he plunged, from a conscientious
sense of duty, in the closiiig years of his life, and in the

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 596
boldness and resolution with which he trod on ground never
before thrown open to free discussion, -— he evinced a moral
courage, /ounded on the only true basis of moral- principle,
of which I know no brighter example. It was with this he
warred, and with this he conquered ; strong in the soundness
of his honest heart, strong in the fear of God, I — the last
great dominant principle of his life and character. ¦'
¦There was the hiding of his power. There it was that
he exhibited, in its true type, the sterling quality of the good
old stock of which he came. Offices, and affairs, and honors,
and studies, left room in his soul for faith. No man laid
hold, with a firmer grasp, of the realities of life ; but no man
dwelt raore steadfly on the raysterious realities beyond life.
He entertained a profound, I had alraost said an obsolete,
reverence for sacred things. The daily and systematic peru
sal of the Bible was an occupation with which no other duty
Avas allowed to interfere. He attended the public offices of
social worship with a constancy seldom witnessed in this
busy and philosophic age. Still there was nothing austere or
narrow-minded in his religion ; there was no affectation of
rigor in his life or manners ; no unreflecting adoption of tra
ditionary opinions in matters of belief He remained, to the
end of his days, an inquirer after truth. He regularly attended
the public worship of churches widely differing from each
other in doctrinal peculiarities. The daily entry of his jour
nal, for the latter part of his life, begins with a passage ex
tracted from Scripture, followed with his own meditation and
commentary ; and, thus commencing the day, there is little
reason to doubt that, of his habitual reflections, as large a
portion was thrown forward to the Avorld of spirits as was
retained by the passing scene.
The death of such a man is no subject of ¦vulgar sorrow.
Domestic affiiction itself bows with resignation at an event
so mature in its season ; so rich in its consolations ; so raised
into sublimity by the grandeur of the parting scene. Of all
the great orators and statesmen in the world, he alone has, I
think, lived out the* full terra of a long life in actual service,
and died on the field of duty, in^e public eye, within the

596 EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
halls of public councfl. The great majority of public men,
who most resemble him, drop away satisfied, perhaps dis
gusted, as years begin to wane ; many break down at the
meridian; in other times' and countries, not a fcAv have laid
thsir heads on the block. Demosthenes, at the age of sixty,
swallowed poison, whfle the pursuer was knocking at the
door of the teraple in which he had taken refuge. Cicero, at
the age of sixty-four, stretched out his neck frora his litter to
the hired assassin. Our illustrious felloAV-citizen, in the ful
ness bf his years and of his honors, upon a day that was
shaking, in Europe, the pillars of a monarchy to the dust, fell
calmly at his post, araidst venerating associates, and breathed
his last within the Capitol.
" And, which is h^st and happiest yet, all this
With God not parted fi-om him, —
But favoring and assisting to the end.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail,
Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise or blame, — nothing but weU and fair,
And what raay quiet us, in a death so noble."

THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL.

Ma^ it please tour Honor:
I RISE, in obedience -to your call, to express my sympathy
with you and our friends around, on this interesting occasion,
but without having it in my power to add any thing of ira
portance to what has been so appropriately said by you and
other gentlemen who have preceded me. And I must first
express my thanks to the reverend chairman of the committee
on the High School (Mr Stearns) for his obliging notice. He
did no more than justice to the sincere interest I feel in the
occasion. Connected as I ara with another place of educa
tion, of a kind which is coraraonly regarded as of a higher
order, it is precisely in that connection that I learn to feel
and appreciate the importanee of good schools. I am not so
ignorant of the history of our fathers, as not to know that
the spirit which founded and fostered Harvard College is the
spirit which has founded and upheld, and wfll continue to
support and cherish, the schools of New England. I know
well, sir, that universities and colleges can neither flourish
nor even stand, alone. You might as well attempt to bufld
your second and third stories in the air, without a first floor
or a basement, as to liave collegiate institutions without good
schools for preparatory education, and for the diffusion of
general information throughout the community. If the day
should ever come (which I do not fear in our beloved coun
try) when this general education shaU be neglected, and these
* Remarks made at the dedication of the High School in Cambridge,
on the 27th of June, 184a (597)

598 THE CAMBKIDGE HIGH SCHOOL.
preparatory institutions aUowed to perish ; if the day should
ever come (of which I have no apprehension) when the
schools of New England shall gcf down, — depend upon it,
sir, the colleges will go with them. It wfll be with them as
it was with the granite warehouses the day before yesterday
in Federal Street, in Boston ; if the piers at the foundation
give way, the upper stories will corae down in one undistin
guished ruin.
I anticipate no such disaster, Mr Mayor, though it raust be
admitted that we live in an age of revolutions, of -which
every steamer brings us some fresh and astonishing account.
But our revolutions are of a more auspicious character, and it
occurred to rae as I was coraing down with your worthy as
sociate (Mr Whitney) and your respected predecessor, (Mr
Green,) to whom Ave have just listened with so rauch pleas
ure, that we were traversing a region in which a revolution
coraraenced no very long tirae since, and is still in progress,
far raore iraportant for us and our children than any of those
which have lately broken out, and are now convulsing the
continent of Europe. I do not now refer to the great polit
ical and historical events of which this neighborhood was
the theatre, and of which the monuraents are in sight from
these windows ;. but to a revolution quiet and silent in its
.origin and progress, unostentatious in outward raanifestation,
but iraporting greater change and warranting brighter hopes
for raost of those Avho hear rae, for our young friends before
us, than any of the raost startling events that stare upon us
in capitals in the columns of the newspapers, after every
arrival from Europe. Mr Stearns has beautifully sketched
sorae of the raost important features of this peaceful rev
olution. When I entered college, Mr Mayor, (and I believe I shall
not tell the audience quite how many years ago that is ; you
can do it, sir, but I will thank you not to,) there were a few
straggling houses, shops, and taverns along the Main Street
at Cambridgeport. All back of this street to the north, and
I believe alraost all south of it to the river, — the entire dis
trict in the centre of which we are now assembled. — was in

THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL. 599
a State of nature; pretty equally divided between barren
pasturage, salt marsh, and what I must adniit had no raean
attraction for us freshmen, whortleberry swamp. Not one
of the high roads had been out, which now traverse the plain
between Main Street and the old road to Charlestown. East
Cambridge did not exist, even in the surveyor's imagination.
There, was not a church nor a public school east of Dr
Holmes's and Old Cambridge Common ; and if any one had
prophesied that within forty years a population like this
would cover the sofl, — with its streets, and houses, and gar
dens, its numerous school-houses and churches, its conserva
tories breathing all the sweets of the tropics, its private libra
ries, equal to the choicest in the land, and all the other
appendages of a high civflization, — he would have been set
down as a visionary. But this change, this revolution, has
taken place even within the lifetime of the venerable lady
, ,(Mrs Merriam) alluded to in such a pleasing manner by
Mr Stearns ; and we are assembled this raorning to take a
respectful notic^»«f Avhat may be called its crowning incident,
the opening of a High School in that primitive whortleberry
swamp. I believe I do not overstate matters when I say,
that no more important event than this is likely to occur in
the course of the lives of many of those here asserabled. As
far as our interests are concerned, all the revolutions in Eu
rope multiplied tenfold are nothing to it. No, sir, not if the
north were again to pour forth its myriads on Central and
Southern Europe, and hieak up the existing governments and
states into one general wreck, it would not be an article of
intelhgence at all so important to us on this distant shore as
the opening of a, new school. Np, my young friends, this is
a day which may give an auspicious turn to your whole
career in lifo; may affect your welfare, not merely for time,
but for eternity.
There is certainly nothing in which the rapid progress of
our country is more distinctly marked than its schools. It is
not merely then multiplication in nurabers, but their im
provement as places of education. A school forty years ago
was a very different affair from what it is now. The meaning

600 THE CAMBKIDGE HIGH SCHOOL.
of the word is changed. A little reading, writing, and cipher
ing, a very little grararaar, and for those destined for college
a little Latin and Greek, very indifferently taught, were all
we got at a coraraon town school in ray day. The range
was narrow ; the instruction superficial. In our modern
school systera, — taking it as a whole, composed of its several
parts in due gradation, viz., the primary, the district, and the
high school, — the fortunate pupfl not only enjoys a very
thorough course of instruction in the elementary branches,
but gets a good foundation in French, a good preparation for
college, if he desires it, according to the present advanced
standard of requirement ; a general acquaintance with the
applied matheraatics, and the eleraents of natural philosophy ;
some suitable information as to the form of government and
political system under which we live ; and no inconsiderable
practice in the noble arts of writing and speaking our mother
tongue. It raight seera, at first, that this is too wide a circle for a
school. But the experience of our well-(R)nducted schools
has abundantly shown that it is not too extensive. With
faithful and corapetent teachers, and willing and hearty learn
ers, all the branches I have naraed, and others I have passed
over, can be attended to, with advantage, between the ages
of four and sixteen.
Such being the case, our school committees have done no
more than their duty, in prescribing this extensive course,
and furnishing to master and pupils the raeans of pursiling it.
I cannot tell you, sir, how rauch I have been gratified at
hastily looking into the alcove behind us. As I stepped into
it this raorning, Mr Sraith, the intelligent master of the school,
pointed out to me the beautiful electrical machine behind the
door, with the just remark that ray venerable predecessor,
President Dunster, would not have known what it was. No,
sir, nor would the most eminent philosopher in the world
before the tirae of Franklin. Lord Bacon would not have
known what it was, nor Sir Isaac Newton. Mr Sraith re
minded me of the notion of Cotton Mather, (one of the most
learned raen of his day,) that lightning proceeded frora the

THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL. 601
prince of the power of the air, by which he accounted for
the fact that it was so apt to strike the spires of churches.
Cotton Mather would have come nearer the truth, if he had
called it a shining manifestation of the power and skill by
which the Great Author of the universe works out some of
the mighty miracles of creation and nature. And only
think, sir, that these newly discovered mysteries of the ma
terial world, unknown to the profoundest sages of elder days,
are so effectually brought down to the reach of common
schools in our time, that these our young friends, bafcre they
are finally dismissed from these walls, will be m^de acquainted
with not a few of the wonderful properties of the subtile ele
ment, evolved and condensed by that raachine, and which
recent science has taught to be but different forms of one
principle, — whether it flame across the heavens in the mid
night storm, or guide Jhe mariner over the pathless ocean,
or leap from city to city along the continent asj^wiftly as the
thought of which it is the vehicle, — -and which I almost
venture to predict, before some here present shall taste of
death, will, by some still more sublime generalization, be
identified with the yet hidden principle which thrills through
the nerves of animated beings, and binds life to matter, by
the ties of sensation.
But whfle you do well, sir, in your High School to make
provision for these advanced studies, I know that as long as
it remains under, its present direction, the plain elementary
branches wfll not be undervalued. There is, perhaps, a ten
dency that way in some of our modern schools' : I venture
to hope it wiU not be encouraged here. I know it is not to
be the province of this school to teach the elements ; but I
am sure you wfll show that you entertain sound views of
their importance. I hold, sir, that to read the English lan
guage well, that is, with intelligence, feeling, spirit, and effect ;
to wrfle, with despatch, a neat, handsome, legible hand, (for
it is, after all, a great object in writing tp have others able to
read what you write ;) and to be master of the four rules of
arithmetic, so as to dispose at once with accuracy of every
question of figures which comes up in practical life, — I say
VOL. II. 76

602 THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL.
I caU this a good education ; and if you add the ability to
write pure grararaatical English, with the help of very few
hard words, I regard it as an exceUent education. These
are the tools. You can do rauch with thera, but you are
helpless without them. They are the foundation ; and un
less you begin Avith these, all your flashy attainments, a little
natural phflosophy, and a little raental phflosophy, a little
physiology and a little geology, and all the other ologies and
osophies, are but ostentatious rubbish.
Therdws certainly no country in the world in which so
much money js paid for schooling as in ours. This can be
proved by figures. I believe there is no country where the
common schools are so good. But they raay be iraproved.
It is'not enough to erect coramodious school-houses, or com
pensate able teachers; and then leave thera, masters and
pupfls, to themselves. A school is npt a clock which you
can wind up and then leave it to go of itself. It is an organ
ized living body; it has sensibflities ; it craves sympathy.
You must not leave the school committee to do all the work.
Your teachers want the active countenance of the whole
body of parents, — of the whole intelligent community. I
am sure you, Mr Smith, would gladly put up Avith a little
injudicious interference in single instances, if you could have
the active sympathies of the whole body of parents to fall
back upon in delicate and difficult cases, and to support and
cheer you under the burden of your labors, from day to day.
I think this matter deserves more attention than it has re
ceived ; and if so sraall a nuraber as thirty parents would
agree together to come to the school, some one of thera,
each Ul his turn, but once a month, — or rather, if but twenty-
five or twenty-six would do it, — it would give your teacher-
the support and countenance of a parent's presence every day ;
at a cost to each individual of ten or eleven days in the year.
Would not the good to be effected be worth the sacrifice ?
I have already spoken too long, Mr Mayor, and will allude
to but one other topic. In most things, as I have said, con
nected with education, we are incalculably in advance of
other days : in some, perhaps, we have fallen below their

THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL. 603
Standard. I know, sir, old men are apt to raake unfavorable
contrasts between the present time aud the past ; and if I do
not soon begin to place myself in that class, others will do it
for me. But I reaUy think that in some things, belonging,
perhaps it Avill be thought, to the minor morals, the present
promising generation of youth might learn something of their
grandfathers, if not their fathers. When I first went to a
viUage school, sir, — I remember it as yesterday ; I seem stfll
to hold by one hand, for protection, (I was of the valiant age
of three years,) to an elder sister's apron ; with the other I
grasped my Primer, a volume of about two and a half inches
in length, which formed then the sum total of my library,
and which had lost the blue paper cover from one corner,
(my first misfortune in life,) — I say it was the practice then, as
we were trudging along to school, to draw up by the road side
if a traveUer, a stranger, or a person in years, passed along,
and " make our manners," as it was called. .The little girls
courtesied, the boys made a bow ; it was not done with much
grace, I suppose : but there was a civflity and decency about
it, which did the children good, and produced a pleasing
impression on those who witnessed it. The age of schoolboy
chivalry is past, never to return. These manners belong to
a forgotten order of things. They are too precise and rigorous
for this enlightened age. I sometimes fear the pendulum has
swung too far in the opposite extreme. Last winter I was
driving into town in a carriage closed behind, but open in
front. There were in company with me the Rev. President
Woods, of Bowdoin College, Maine, and that distinguished
philanthrapist and exceUent citizen, Mr Amos Lawrence.
Well, sir_, we happened to pass a school-house, just as the boys
(to use the common expression) were "let out." I suppose
the little men had just been taught within doors something
about the laws which regulate the course of projectfles, and
determine the curves in which they move. Intent on a prac
tical demonstration, and tempted by the convenient material,
I must say they put in motion a quantity of spherical bodies'
in the shape of snow-baUs, which brought the doctrine quite
home to us wayfarers, and made it wonderful that we got off

604 THE CAMBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL.
with no serious inconvenience, which was happfly the case.
This I thought was an instance of free and easy manners.
Verging to the opposite extreme of the old-fashioned courtesy
which I have just described. I ara quite sure that the boys
of this school would be the last to indulge in an experiraent
attended with so much risk to the heads of innocent third
persons. Nothing reraains, sir, but to add ray best wishes for teach
ers and pupils. You are both comraencing under the happi
est auspices. When I consider that there is not one of you,
my young friends, who does not enjoy gratuitously the op
portunity of obtaining a better school education than we could
have bought, Mr Mayor, when we were boys, with the Avealth
of the Indies, I cannot but think that each one of you, boys
and girls, wfll be ready to say with grateful hearts, " The lines
have -fallen to me in pleasant places ; yea, I have a goodly
heritage." To you, Mr Smith, we wish entire success. The commu
nity looks to you with confidence, to eidd to your high repu
tation as an instructer, and commits to you these its treasures,
with the full assurance that you will be faithful to the
trust.

SECOND SPEECH ON AID TO THE COLLEGES.

At an early period of the session of 1849, a memorial sim
flar to that of last year was presented to the legislature of
the commonwealth, praying that, when the school fund had
reached the limit of one mfllion of dollars, prescribed by law,
another fund of one half a million should be allowed to ac
cumulate for the benefit of the colleges. The afternoon of
the seventh of February was appointed by the joint commit
tee on education for a public hearing, m the hall of the
House of Representatives, of the friends of the colleges, in
support of the memorial. President Hopkins appeared on
behalf of Wflliams College, President Hitchcock on behalf
of Amherst College, and President Sparks and Mr Everett
on behalf of Harvard CoUege, with other gentlemen, officers
or friends of the institutions respectively.
The memorial having been read by J. Lothrop Motley,
Esq., a raember of the committee, Mr Everett spoke substan
tiaUy as follows: —
Mr Chairman and Gentlemen:
I appear before you, at the request of the corporation of
Harvard CoUege, to unite with other friends of that institu
tion, with the learned representatives of the other colleges,
and with the friends generally of collegiate education in the
commonwealth, in support of the memorial which has just
been read by Mr Motley; a memorial presented to the two
Houses at the commenceraent of the session, and by them
referred to the joint committee on education. You may be
surprised, sir; that, having been compelled to retire from the
(605)

606 SECOND SPEECH ON
honorable relation in which I stood but lately to the univer
sity at Cambridge, I yet appear before you as her representa
tive on this occasion. I do so, in one point of view, with
reluctance, leaving, as I well might, the advocacy of her
cause and the care of her interest in the present measure to
the distinguished gentleraan (Mr Sparks) who has been called
to take my place. I feel that I might do so with great ad
vantage to the institution. The talents, the literary attain
ments, and the character of that gentleman, are too well
known to the public, by the numerous first-rate works with
which he has enriched our literature, to raake it necessary
for me to say, that I am fully aware how Avell my appearance
on this occasion might be dispensed with. *
But, Mr Chairman, if I perforra a work of supererogation,
it is also a work of love. I have cheerfuUy coraplied with
the request of the friends of Harvard College, that I would
appear for her on this occasion, because my heart is in hev
cause. Having been favored, together with other friends of
the colleges, with a hearing before the joint committee on
education last year, there seemed no impropriety, rather a fit
ness, in my appearing for the same purpose before this honor
able body at the present session ; and I doubt not, Mr Chair
man, you will pardon the well-meant officiousness of a retiring
servant. You have heard of the veteran tallow-chandler,
who, in the decline of his years, quitted the firm and retired
to a farm in the country. He soon found his time to hang
heavfly on his hands, and came hack to request his old asso
ciate to receive him again into partnership ; or, if this would
not do, at least to let him corae and work with thera on
" raelting days." Mr Chairraan, I hope that this wfll prove
such a day for the-coUeges ; that, in contrast with the wintry
scene around, your hearts and those of the legislature will be
" open as day for melting charity ; " though I hope to show
you, before I have done, that it is not solely nor mainly as
suppliants for charity that we appear in your presence. But
I have not come, sir, to deal in phrases or arts of rhetoric. I
corae to treat a business subject, before business raen, in a
practical way; and I must ask your indulgence should I

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 607
acquit myself in a less satisfactory manner than I could wish ;
the general state of my health being indifferent, and ray con
dition this afternoon quite adverse to any effort of mind or
of body.
Having alluded to the hearing kindly granted us last year
by. the joint comraittee on education, I bog to be allowed
iu the outset, on behalf of the colleges, to raake our cordial
acknoAvledgments to that coraraittee for their report in favor
of granting the prayer of our meraorial. That report, sir,
let me say Avithout corapliraent, is a most able performance.
It is conceived in the spirit of the truest statesmanship. The
facts bearing on the subject are collected in it with accuracy
and diligence. -As an argument, it is of great force and in
genuity. It presents our cause in tbe fairest and raost favor
able light ; and we cannot doubt that it was owing to want
of time for a thorough discussion of the subject, in all its
bearings, that it fafled to ceu'ry conviction to the minds of the
members of the legislature.
What is the prayer of the colleges ? It is, in a word, that
the legislature would allow the revenue from the public
lands — after the lirait of one million of dollars assigned by
law to the school fund has been reached — to accumulate for
the formation of another fund, one half as large as the school
fund, to be appropriated in sorae fixed proportion for the ben
efit of the colleges.
This is our request : and I do not think it necessary to
dwell at all on what might seem a preliminary question, viz.,
the policy of appropriating a portion of the moneys arising
from the sales of the public lands to educational purposes of
some kind or other. It seems to be allowed, upon all hands,
that this is their proper destination, a part of the settled pol
icy of the commonwealth. Such appropriations seem, in
fact, alraost a part of the common law of the land. They
have been raade by the legislatures of the old states, and
large reservations of the land in the new states have been
made by Congress for the purpose of education. I have
never heard a murraur of disapprobation at the appropriations
made from this source in this state for the school fund ; and

608 SECOND SPEECH ON
I think the authors of the minority report of last year— -a
paper of which I wish to speak with all becoming respect,
although I greatly differ alike from its train of reasoning and
statement of facts — do not suggest any other than an educa
tional destination for these funds.
Passing that topic, therefore, as one not needing argument,
I will say that the bare statement of the real object of our
petition is a sufficient answer to an objection Which met us
in limine last year, viz., that we asked the legislature to divert
the school fund to the colleges. Not only was this state
ment of the object of the memorialists made in several of the
public papers, but the minority of the committee use the fol
lowing language : " To make, therefore, liberal appropriations
to the colleges to the neglect of the common schools, richly
to endow the former at the expense of the latter, — the very
thing which the petitioners ask, — ¦ is not consistent, we be
lieve, with a sincere desire to promote the true interests of
collegiate education."
Now, with all respect to the ininority of the comraittee, the
coUeges must claim to know the object and nature of their
own petition, and their motives in presenting it. We have
no such wish or purpose as those ascribed to us. We do not
desire to build up the colleges to the neglect of the schools ;
to endow the former at the expense of the schools ; nor to
devote one doUar of the school fund to any other purpose.
But I suppose it need not be argued that all the money in the
state does not belong to the coraraon school fund. That
fund has a lirait, — a limit prescribed by law. The legisla
ture, in its wisdoin, fixed its amount at one mfllion of dollai's.
This limit was not prompted nor advised by the colleges.
We were not consulted, sir,, on the subject ; and sure I am,
if we had been, flo friend of the colleges with whose views
I am acquainted has ever shoAvn a wish to stint the school
fund. The general court of the comraonwealth, in its wis
dom, — and as I think in the exercise of a sound discretion,
(and on that topic, if I have time before getting through, I
may trouble the comraittee with a reraark or two,) — estab
lished one million of dollars as the limit of the fund ; and all

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 609
that we ask is, that, when that fund shall have reached the
original legislative limit, from the same sources of revenue
another fund, half as large, may be permitted to accrue, for the
benefit of the colleges ; but not a dollar before. Well, now,
sir, to say that we ask for the diversion of the school fund to
the colleges, is merely to attempt to create a prejudice against
us by an incorrect and invidious use of. terms. It would be
just as proper for the meraorialists to say to those who oppose
this grant, that they are trying to divert to the schools a fund
that belongs to the colleges. It belongs to neither, except so
far as it has been appropriated. It is not school fund beyond
this, nor coUege fund, but state fund. A portion of it has
been appropriated by the legislature to the schools ; and that
portion, and no more, is school fund. We ask that another
portion may be appropriated to the colleges ; and we submit
that it is not quite fair to attempt to raise a prejudice against
us, by saying that Ave seek to endow them richly at the ex
pense of the schools.
But it wiU be said. We allow the right of the legislature
to give this fund to the colleges ; we wfll not call it a diver
sion of the school fund ; but Ave maintain that the schools
want more than they now have, and that it would be better
policy to increase the school fund than to create a college
fund. The schools (this is the argument) are not what they
ought to be ; the school-houses are, raany of thera, fll contrived,
ifl built, and corafortless ; the teachers not as well qualified
as they should be ; apparatus and libraries greatly deficient.
It is not true that the provision made for our common schools
is adequate ; and tfll it is made so, it is wrong * to appropriate
to any other purpose what might be, and therefore ought to
be, given to the schools. Till better school-houses are erected
in the fll-provided districts ; tfll normal schools are multiplied
to such a degree as to furnish an ample supply of well-quali
fied teachers ; and untfl libraries and apparatus are provided
for all the schools in the commonwealth, — it cannot be said
that the state has done enough for the schools, and therefore
it is too soon to caU upon her to do any thing for the colleges.
I wish to state this objection as strongly as I can against
VOL. 11. 77

610 SECOND SPEECH ON
the raemorialists, because it contains, I believe, the main
force of the argument against their petition ; and if we can
answer it satisfactorily, Ave shall have done all that is required
of us. Some plausible statements to this effect constitute, if
I mistake not, the material part of the reasonings of the mi
nority report of last year.
The colleges then respectfully urge, in reply to this objec
tion, that it entirely mistakes the object of the coraraon
school fund. It was the design of that fund to afford aid
and encourageraent to the towns, and it is capable of rendering
iraportant services in proraoting school education ; but if never
was intended to be regarded as a main resource for the sup
port of the schools. The thing is impossible ; the supposition,
I must be permitted to say, is absurd. I received late last
evening the report of the secretary of the board of education
for the past year. I regret that I have had so little time to
derive from it the information upon a variety of topics which
I perceive it is so well calculated to afford ; but I gather from
it, if I mistake not, ample demonstration of the proposition
just advanced. Sir, there was raised in the city of Boston
the last year, for the three items of teachers' wages, board,
and fuel of schools, the amount of two hundred and eight
thousand five hundred and sixty doUars — a sum which repre
sents a capital of above four millions of dollars. Did it ever
enter into the mind of raan that the state was to provide a
fund of that amount for the city of Boston alone ? But
leave the case of Boston out of view, as in sorae degree ex
ceptional. In the state at large, the whole araount raised by
taxation the past year, for the three items of teachers' wages,
board, and fuel for schools, was seven hundred and fifty-four
thousand nine hundred and forty-eight dollars. The addition
made to this sum from the state's share of the surplus revenue
of the United States, formerly divided among the towns, and
applied in some of them for schooling, is four thousand eight
hundred and sixty-eight dollars. The tAvo sums together
amount to seven hundred and fifty-nine thousand eight hun
dred and eleven doUars; an aggregate which, at five per
centum, represents a capital of above fifteen mfllions of

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 6H
dollars. In other words, you need a fund of fifteen mfllions
of dollars to yield an incorae equal to the sums paid last year
by the people of this comraonwealth for teachers' Avages, and
board, and fuel for the school-houses. How much will you
add for school-houses ? The secretary tells you that, within
the last ten years, two mfllions of dollars have been expended
for school-houses, averaging two hundred thousand dollars
per annum. This requires another capital of four millions ;
and then, if you add a fourth part as much for expense of
normal schools, and for apparatus, libraries, and all miscella
neous objects connected with the common school system, you
have a fund of twenty mfllions required to defray the annual
expenditure of the schools as they are. Hoav much, then,
wfll you add to make the schools what you say they ought
to be ? What wfll it require to place in each school district,
where they do not now exist, a school-house of the most
improved construction ; a master thoroughly accomplished for
his work ; with a library and an apparatus such as is now
found in a few of our best appointed schools ? In other
words, what addition to this fund of twenty millions wfll it
require to supply those objects, and remedy those imperfec
tions, in the existing condition of the schools, which are
brought forward as a reason for not making any provision at
present in aid of the colleges ? Will you double the fund ?
Wfll you say half as much again ? Will you assume thirty
mfllions, or forty miUions, as the grand aggregate necessary
to put the schools into a thoroughly satisfactory condition ?
It matters little which you assume. Call it forty mfllions or
thirty millions, what can be plainer than that it is chimerical
to thihk of carrying the school fund to either amount ?
Then, too, consider, sir, that these enormous figures pro
vide .only for the existing wants of the present population.
If you take into consideration that this population of Massa
chusetts is doubling itself every forty or fifty years,* and that
the educational wants of the commonwealth must (without
* This may seem a low ratio of duplication for a state like Massa
chusetts. It is to be explained by the immense emigration fi-om the
state, which is constantly going on.

612 SECOND SPEECH ON
making any aUowance for a steadily rising standard of culture
and training) at least increase in proportion with its numbers,
you perceive, that if you atterapt to state in the form of a
fund the sura required to support the schools of Massachu
setts by an annual income, now and prospectively, you are
carried at once into amounts perfectly extravagant, — fabu
lous, — sixty or eighty millions of dollars.
No, sir, no such idea was ever entertained by the legisla
ture of Massachusetts. You might almost as well talk of a
fund to supply the population with their daily bread. The
education of their chfldren has been recognized by the people,
from the first, as one of the great standing wants of their
social life, for which there can be no resource but in taxa
tion ; that is to say, (for one does not like to use this ill-
sounding terra in an association so high and sacred,) in a
steady consecration to this great end of an adequate portion
of the annual income and earnings of the coramunity.
Such being the case, to look to the school fund to support
the schools as they are, or to supply defects in their existing
state, is perfectly futfle. In this point of view, a hundred
thousand dollars added to the school fund, or not added, is a
matter of no consequence. That it must be so, is the neces
sary result of the fact, that your population grows more rap
idly than your fund can increase, by any practicable operations
of your fiscal system-. But, waiving that, rub Aladdin's
lamp ; add a hundred thousand dollars in one night to your
fund ; what does it give you ? Three cents apiece for the
schoolable childreu — if I may coin a word — of the com
monwealth, the children between four and sixteen years of
age. And is it a subject for serious debate in the legislature
of Massachusetts, whether or not they will undertake to
improve their common schools by adding, for a few years
longer, two or three cents a year to the fund for each child's
schooling ?
And here, sir, I will step aside a moment to hazard the
remark, that, were it possible — which you see it is not — to
make any near approach to a fund that could be regarded as
entirely adequate for the support of the schools, it would be

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 613
a very mistaken and dangerous policy to aim at that end.
To attain it, I have deraonstrated, is impossible ; and the dan
ger would be, that, when a very large sum was accuraulated,
the people, fancying its capacity to be greater than it really
is, would rely too much upon it, — perhaps solely, — remit
all efforts on their own ^lart, and thus run the risk, so to say,
of starving in the midst of plenty. I have heard that sorae
thing like this has actuedly happened in our respectable neigh
bor, Connecticut. They have, in that state, a very large
school fund, and one which, according to the standard hith
erto prevailing, has been thought to yield an annual araount
to each town adequate for the entire support of its schools.
A reliance on this fund has, to sorae extent, groAvn into a
habit. It must of course be a delusive reliance. It is im
possible that it should support the schools as they ought to
be supported ; and yet, in popular estimation, it stands in the
way of an efficient resort to taxation. I have heard that
such is the case. My information, I own, is not recent, and
a different state of things may now exist. But of one thing
no man can doubt, — that, if the legislature of Connecticut,
in originally appropriating the proceeds of her public domain,
had made provision to give to her noble college at New Ha
ven a fund one quarter as large as the school fund, they would
have added greatly to the means of usefulness of that most
excellent institution, and left the schools on a better footing,
and probably in as good a condition as they are now.
But I shall be asked how it happens that a sura, which I
represent as so insignificant in reference to the schools, can
be of any iraportance to the coUeges. The reason is plain,
sir, — too plain almost to be stated. There are but three
colleges ; there are between three and four thousand school
districts ; there are about five hundred students at the col
leges ; there are nearly or quite two hundred thousand chil
dren at the schools. A fund of one hundred thousand dollars
given to the schools, is, as we have just seen, three cents to a
child. Given to one of the colleges, six thousand dollars a
year is enough to infuse new life into all its branches. In
one appropriation, the money is all but wasted ; in the other,
it does great good.

G.14 SECOND SPEECH ON
In this there is nothing peculiar, nothing new. If a farmer
buys a load of gypsum, grinds it to powder, and lets the Avind
blow it off, a few grains to a square yard, it is wasted. If he
spreads it carefully on a limited space, — two or three bush
els to the acre, I believe, is the allowance, — he adds to the
fertflity of the sofl, and increases his crop. If you send a
barrel of flour to a needy family, you give thera bread for
weeks. If you undertake to divide it among the inhabitants
of a besieged city, — a thimbleful to a household, — you
mock their hunger as much as if you exhibited the barrel of
flour before their eyes, and then emptied its contents into
the sea.
I reraember, sir, Avhen the late Mr Girard, of Philadelphia,
died, and left his very large property as a foundation for a
college for the orphans, in the first instance, of that city, that
some discussion took place, whether it would not have been
better to leave it as a school fund for the whole state. Now,
that great property, I have understood, underwent some seri
ous dilapidation. Soraething was lost by the failure of banks
and general unprofitable manageraent, and a great deal locked
up in a very expensive building. These are accidental
draAvbacks on the efficiency of the fund, and might have
taken place equally with any other appropriation. But I saAV
this very day a statement that the fund still yields an annual
income of above a hundred thousand dollars ; and, as it con
sists of real estate in the city of Phfladelphia, it may be
expected to become, with tirae, yet raore productive. This is
enough, of course, to carry on a raost extensive establishraent
in the most liberal manner ; to support and educate perhaps
all the orphan children of Philadelphia who are in indigent
circumstances. But how would it have been, had the prop
erty — five or six millions — been given as a school fund for
the whole state of Pennsylvania? In aid of a comprehen
sive system of local taxation, such as is established here in
Massachusetts for the support of schools, it would of course
have been very useful ; but as a fund of itself, out of which
the entire expense of the common schools was to be supported,
it would have yielded annually at the present time (assuming

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 615
an income of three hundred thousand dollars) less than three
fifths of a dollar each to the chfldren to be educated.
I feel rather more keenly on this subject than I might oth
erwise do, in consequence of having been in some degree
connected with an opportunity which, as I think, was lost
sorae years ago by the state of Massachusetts, of securing
great benefits for this generation, and transraitting large
blessings to posterity, by a wise appropriation of extraordi
nary means Avhich Providence had put into our hands. I
allude to the dividend of the surplus revenue of the United
States, which Avas received by Massachusetts in 1837. Our
share, as the first apportionment was made, was expected to
be, you may recollect, sir, the magnificent sum of more than
seventeen hundred thousand dollars ; although the first three
instalments only, in point of fact, were paid. It devolved
upon me, in the office of governor, — which, by the favor of
the people of the comraonwealth, I then had the honor to
fill, — to call the attention of the legislature to the mode of
disposing of this great sum. It was necessarily a subject of
deep and anxious consideration ; and if you Avill permit rae,
sir, I wfll state the manner in which, in an address prepared
for the meeting of the legislature in January, 1837, I made
up my mind to recommend that it should be appropriated.
I must first state that the commonwealth had lately taken
a very bold step in the policy of encouraging raflroads ; and
never did I sign my name with greater alacrity in my life,
than when, on the fourteenth of April, 1835, I subscribed it
to the bill, by which the commonwealth engaged to take one
million of dollars in the slock of the Western Railroad. There
is a gentleman in the executive branch of the government,
the present year, (Hon. George Bliss, of Springfield,) who, if
necessary, could testify, that there was but little time lost
after the hfll had finally passed the Senate, before it was ap
proved by the governor. Stfll, sir, we could not but feel that
we had assumed a great responsibility. We had not the ben
efit of thirteen years' experience which we now possess ; and
you all remember the language of discouragement and con
demnation with which the distinguished gentleraan who sue-

616 SECOND SPEECH ON
ceeded me as governor, three years afterwards, commented
upon the dangerous tendency of the raflroad policy pursued
by the commonwealth, — language in which he spoke the
sense of the great raajority of the powerful party by which
he Avas supported. I naturally, therefore, sir, having taken an
active part, both in and out of office, in promoting this policy,
felt quite anxious to make provision for the payment of the
debt which had been incurred by the state's subscription for
one million of dollars of the stock. I recommended accord
ingly, in the address above alluded to, and which, though
prepared and transcribed ready for delivery, never saw the
light, that one million of the seventeen hundred thousand
dollars should be set apart to pay that subscription. I still
think it would have been a wise and most advantageous ap
propriation. It would have been yielding at this moment
eighty thousand dollars per annura to the comraonwealth !
Then, sir, of the remaining seven hundred thousand dollars, I
was for giving two hundred and fifty thousand to the com
mon school fund, — so that you see I have no hostflity to
that interest ; tAVO hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the
three colleges, — a proof that my advocacy of the present
meraorial is the growth of no new-born zeal, derived from
my late connection with one of those institutions ; and, lastly,
— shall I dare to mention it, sir ? — I recommended that the
remaining two hundred thousand dollars should be appropri
ated to erecting an astronomical observatory, under the aus
pices of the comraonwealth, supplying it with instruraents
and a library, and supporting the observers. You are aware
that there was, at that tirae, no public observatory in action
in the United States, although I believe the foundations of
one were already laid at Wflliaras College.
Such was ray plan, sir, prepared to be subraitted to the
Jegislature. The tirae for holding the session droAV near, —
arrived. Members from toAvn and country came together in
friendly conference. The disposal of the surplus revenue
was the great topic of conversation, as it had previously been
of correspondence. My plan found but little favor. A loan
was thought a sufficient resource to meet the subscription to

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 617
the Western Railroad. Adequate provision had been already
made for a gradually accumulating school fund. The col
leges were not popular. An observatory was a thing conse
crated to eternal ridicule as " a lighthouse in the skies ; " it
would ruin the Avhig party to name it. And so, sir, I was
obliged to withdraw my beautiful message, after it was, if I
may so say, cut and dried, and, at the very last moment, to
substitute another, — in which, however, though in general
terms, I recomraended the sarae objects, with the exception
of the unfortunate observatory, which it was thought unsafe
even to raention.
I do not know but I ought to blush for my Avant of firm
ness. I have, however, the authority of a high example.
When the award of the king of the Netherlands came to this
country, deciding the controversy relative tc^ the north-eastern
boundary of the United States, General Jackson was disposed
at once to issue his proclamation, declaring that award to be
a final adjustment of the question. It was, however, (the
award,) received with universal disfavor in Maine. The
general was beset with representations that it would be the
ruin of his party in that state, thus to issue his proclaraation ;
and he was induced, contrary to his own judgment, to refer
the award to the Senate, as an arrangement which needed
their ratification. Thus was laid the foundation of another
Iliad of controversy, negotiation, and all but war. I had this
from the late Mr Forsyth, while secretary of state of the
United States, and he added that General Jackson was accus
tomed to say, in moments of perplexity and weariness at the ,
unsatisfactory progress of the renewed negotiations, that this
was the only important occasion in his life, in which he had
allowed himself to be overpersuaded by his friends ; and it
was precisely the occasion when later events had shoAvn raost
clearly that his own view of the matter was the correct one.
To finish my story about the surplus revenue : the legis
lature divided it araong the towns in the ratio of the popula
tion, and some of the towns — not raany, I believe — divided it
per capita among their inhabitants. A few of the towns, to
the amount, (as I gather from the Report of the Secretary of
VOL. II, 78

618 SECOND SPEECH ON
the Bdard of Education,), of less than one hundred thousand
dollars in the whole, appropriated their dividends in aid of the
school fund. Other towns may have appropriated their shares
to objects of permanent utflity. But with these exceptions,
this magnificent fund of more than thirteen hundred thousand
dollars actuaUy received, was about as corapletely annihilated
by extreme subdivision, as if the doUars had been taken out
to sea and thrown into the Gulf Stream.
But, sir, we are stiU told, — and this objection in some form
or other meets us at every turn, — that common school educa
tion is a popular interest, and college education is not ; and
that for this reason the state is bound to take care of the one
and not of the other. Now, I shall not put myself in the false
and invidious position of contrasting them ; there is no con
trast between them, — no incompatibility of the one with the
other. Both are good, each is good in its place ; and I wfll
thank any person who can do so to draw the line between
thera ; to show why it is expedient and beneficial in a com
munity to make public provision for teaching the eleraents
of learning, and not expedient nor beneficial to make sirailar
provision to aid the learner's progress towards the raastery of
the most difficult branches of science and the choicest reflne-
ments of literature. Sir, they all hang together; it is an
abuse of ingenuity, to exercise it in showing how much can
be done with one without the other. For myself I adrait,
if the admission is desired, that a good system of common
school education is, next to religious influences, the great and
solid foundation of a prosperous state. To build on any
thing else is to build on straw and stubble. I honor, beyond
all common names of respect, the distinguished gentleman
(Horace Mann,) who for twelve years has devoted the un
comraon powers of his mind, and the indomitable energy of
his character, to this noble cause. He will be reraerabered
till the history of Massachusetts is forgotten, as one of her
greatest benefactors. I reflect with satisfaction, that the
Board of Education was established on a recoramendation
which I had the honor to submit to the legislature ; and that
I had the privilege of cooperating in its organization, in the

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 619
choice of its secretary, in the establishment of the normal
schools under its patronage, and in the other measures Avhich
marked its opening career, and by which — under circum
stances of no small discouragement — it sought to promote
the objects of its institution.
I owe myself a large debt of gratitude to the public
schools, although fifty years ago they Avere in a very different
condition from what they are now. My education began at
the free schools of my native village of Dorchester, (for vil
lage it then Avas,) and of this the beloved city of my adoption.
The first distinction which crowned my humble career was
the Franklin medal at the reading school in North Bennett
Street, when I was not much higher than that table ; and if
my tongue is ever silent, when it ought to speak the praises
of the common schools of Massachusetts, may it never be
heard with favor in any other cause I But can it be neces
sary ? I know, Mr Chairman, before this audience it cannot
be necessary to argue the cause of higher education, scien
tific and literary, forming as it does the best preparation for
all the departments of professional life ; for enlightened
statesmanship ; and for an efficient application of phflosophi
cal principles to the great industrial interests of the commu
nity. Who does not know, sir, that there is not a yard of
cotton cloth bleached Or printed in the commonwealth, with
out assistance from the last results of chemical research;
that you cannot construct a turbine water-wheel but by the
aid of the highest mathematics ; nor establish a uniform
standard of weights and measures, without building upon a
series of geometrical operations which began with Hippar-
chus? The tables by which the navigator — perhaps the
illiterate navigator — finds the ship's place at sea, are written
in the very depths of the starry heavens ; and the most learned
eyes for ages have strained themselves dim, through glasses
of wondrous mechanism, in deciphering the mysterious char
acters. The electric telegraph, which brings you the daily
news, is the last achievement of a department of physical
science, in which some of the brightest intellects of the last
hundred years, from Franklin to Morse, have concentrated

620 SECOND SPEECH ON
their powers of observation and analysis. This step and that
may be taken by an uneducated man, — may even be the
work of chance, — but the grand result is the product of cul
tivated mind, strained to the highest tension of its powers.
We hear of untaught raen, sir, of Franklin and Bowditch ;
and Heaven forbid that in the city where one was born and
the other died, their naraes should ever be pronounced but
with veneration. But, in the first place, to argue from such
men as Franklin and Bowditch to the case of the generality
of rainds, would be like putting a roguish boy apprentice to
a wool-comber, in order that when he grows up he may
write another Hamlet. But what is a self-taught raan, and
what does he do ? He is not an untaught man ; nor does he
go blazing through life, like a locomotive engine in a dark
night, by the light of his own intuition. Sir, a self-taught
man is a man of strong mind and stronger will, who, under
discouragements and iu the face of obstacles, acquires the
rudiments of learning ; and when he has done so, carries on
and completes his education, by placing his understanding in
contact with the cultivated intellect of other regions and other
tiraes. Franklin is certainly a raost favorable speciraen of a
self-taught raan. He Avas a great original interpreter of na
ture. The history of science has nothing more sublime than
the courage Avith which he sent his armed kite into the thun
der-cloud, and drew the electric spark with his finger from
the key at the end of the cord. But Franklin was a man of
books, — a studious man, — a friend of academical training.
Listen to what he says about the learned languages, in his
project for the foundation of a college, which I quote from
the appendix to his life, in the admirable edition of Mr
Sparks : —
" When youth are told, that the great men whose lives and actions they
read in history, spoke two of the best languages that ever were, the most
expressive, copious, beautiful, and that the finest writings, the most correct
compositions, the most perfect productions of human wit and wisdom, are
in those languages, which have endured for ages, and will endure wliUe
there are men ; that no translation can do thera justice, or give the pleas
ure found in reading the originals; that those languages contain alL sci
ences ; that one of them is become almost universal, being the language

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 621
of learned men in aU countries; and that to understand them is a distin
guishing ornament, — they may be thereby made desnous of learning those
languages, and their industry sharpened in the acquisition of them. All
intended fbr divinity should be taught the Latin and Greek ; for physic, the
Latin, Greek, and French ; for law, the Latin and French ; merchants, the
French, German, and Spanish ; and, though all should not be compelled to
leam Latin, Greek, or the modern foreign languages, yet none th^t have an
ardent desire to learn them should be refused ; their English, arithmetic,
and other studies absolutely necessary, being at the same time not neg
lected."* Such is the estimate of college education formed by the
self-taught Franklin, the poor boy who was born beneath a
lowly roof, in Hanover or Milk Street, and whose parents fill
an humble grave in yonder cemetery.
Dr Bowditch was perhaps, more than Franklin, a self-
taught man. So far is his example from proving the inutility
of academic learning, that his first youthful struggle was
made to acquire the Latin language ; and when we think of
the scientific attainments of his after life, it does make one,
who has had some opportunities of education in early life,
bang his head in shame, to see the difficulties encountered
by this great man in the outset ; the simplest Latin words,
tamen and rursus, with their significations in English, being
written in the margin of the books first perused by him, in
aid of a memory, which afterwards embraced the whole circle
of the mathematical sciences in its iron grasp. And what
was the first use made by Dr Bowditch of the Latin tongue ?
To read the Principia of Sir Isaac Newton; — a man, if
ever there was one among men not technically academic, who
was nurtured in scholastic discipline; a fellow of Trinity
College, Cambridge ; a professor of mathematics ; a man who
passed fifteen years of his life in the cloisters of a college,
and solved the problem of the universe from that turret over
Trinity gate- way, beneath which, you, sir, (Mr Henry Her
bert, a member of the university of Cambridge in England,)
have passed so often with emotions, I doubt not, of venera
tion towards the great mind which has given immortality to
* Proposals relating to the Education of Youth in Pennsylvania, Frank
lin's Works, Sparks's edition, VoL L p. 574.

622 SECOND SPEECH ON
the spot. This was the kuidred intellect with which the
mind of Bowditch sought its first communion. In the beau
tiful Memoir of his father, which the son of Dr Bowditch has
presented us, we read the following interesting anecdote : —
" From our venerable university at Carabridge he received the highest
encouragement to pursue the career upon which he had entered. In July,
1802, when his ship, the Astraea, was windbound in Boston, he went to hear
the performances at the annual commencement of the college ; and among
the honorary degrees conferred, he thought he heard his own name an
nounced as Master of Arts ; but it Avas not untU congratulated by a towns
man and friend, that he became satisfied that his senses had not deceived
hira. He always spoke of this as one of the proudest days of his life ; and
amid all the subsequent proofs which he received of the respect and esteem
of his fellow-citizens, and the distinctions conferred upon him firom foreign
countries, he recurred to this with the greatest pleasure. It is, indeed,
made the subject of express raention in his will."
Dr Bowditch sent three sons to the university ; and as a
member of the corporation, devoted the tAvelve last years of
his life to the manageraent of its affairs, giving thera all the
force of his transcendent talents ; and I . think I may add,
without doing injustice to any other respected name, render
ing to the institution services unequalled by those of any of
his associates. Sir, if it were possible to leave the question
before you to the arbitrament of Dr Bowditch, our cause
would be gained.
But it is still said. The schools are for the many ; the col
leges for the few ; the legislature must take care of the many,
the few may take care of themselves ; let those who want
college education — the few — get it as they can.
To this there are two answers. In proportion as you
cheapen college education, raore will be able to avail them
selves of it. You thus answer your own objection, by grant
ing the prayer of the memorial. It will become the interest
of the many, if you wfll let it. That is one answer, although
I must say, in point of fact, I cannot think even now, that
college education is unreasonably high. The charge for tui
tion at Carabridge, Av'here it is soraewhat higher than at the
other colleges, is seventy-five doUars a year. This pays for

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 623
thorough and accurate instruction given by fifteen or sixteen
able and accomplished men in the ancient and modern
languages, in the exact, the critical, the applied, and moral
sciences, in addition to general supervision three fourths of
the year. For the instruction of a day school in Boston,
five hours in the day, one hundred dollars per annum are
paid. Gentlemen in practical life can say where else, for
seventy-five dollars per annum, they can procure such an
amount of inteUectual labor to be done, requiring equal tal
ent and preparation, and involving equal responsibUity. The
sum of seventy-five dollars per annura is, moreover, not quite
half what the ser\ice costs the university. Some things, I
know, are dear, however low the price. But when we give
. you, as you admit we do, the true thing, and that at half
costj you cannot say you have had a hard bargain.
But to the objection that school education is the interest
of the many, and college education the interest of the few,
my main answer is, that it is founded in a great fallacy. The
man who makes that objection has not formed even a distant
conception of the grounds of the duty which devolves upon
an enlightened state, to educate its children. He is thinking
of individuals. He forgets that it is the public, as such, - —
the State, the great, complex, social being, which we call
Massachusetts, the genial mother of us all, — that it is her
interest in the matter which creates the duty, and which gives
all its iraportance to education, as an affair of public concern
ment, whether elementary or academical. It is not to teach
one man's boy his A B C, or another man's boy a little Latin
and Greek, for any advantage or eraoluraent of their own,
that the Pflgrira Fathers founded the college, or required the
towns to support each its school. As far as individuals, many
or few, are concerned, I have just as much natural right to
call on the state to pay the bfll of the tailor Avho clothes, or
the builder who shelters my children, as of the schoolmaster
or schoolmistress, the tutor or professor, who instructs them.
The duty of educating the people rests on great public
grounds, — on moral and political foundations. It is deduced
from the intimate connection which experience has shown to

624 SECOND SPEECH Ol»
exist, between the public welfare and all the elements of na
tional prosperity on the one hand, and the enlightenment of
the population on the other. In this point of view, — I say
it confidently, — good college education for those who need
it and want it, is just as much the interest of the many, as
good school education. They are both the interest of all, —
that is, the whole community. It is, of human things, the
highest interest of the state, to put the raeans of obtaining a
good school education, and a good college education, within
the reach of the largest nuraber of her children.
In the nature of things there wfll not be so many who de
sire a college education, although it is a popular error to think
that every one goes to college who can afford it ; that the
few who go to college are exclusively those Avho are some
times invidiously called the "few." Very many sons of the
wealthy are not sent to college. Of those who go to college,
the majority are the sons of parents in moderate, narrow, and
even straitened circurastances. The deraand here, as else
where, regulates supply. All have not the taste or talent, are
not intended for pursuits which require acaderaic training.
But I raaintain that, for the liraited nuraber required to raeet
this demand, it is just as rauch the interest of the coramunity
that it should be adequately and honorably supplied, as that
the wider demand for school education should be adequately
and honorably supplied.
It is not for the rich that the public aid is wanted. They
will obtain good education, if they desire it, in one place if
they cannot in another ; although it is a serious evil to have
to seek it abroad. As far as individuals are concerned, it is
the poor student that needs cheapened education. If he can
not get that near home, he cannot get it at all. It is not that
you expect to breed up every one who goes to college into a
man of eminence, — an Adams, a Channing, a Bushnell, a
Webster, a Prescott, a Bancroft. The lottery of life is not
all highest prizes. But you do wish to train up even minds
like these in a healthy, fruitful nurture ; and you do wish to
prepare for future usefulness in church and state the mass of
average intellect. I suppose there are not above five hundred

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 625
young men, natives of the commonwealth, now at college ;
but it is as much for the interest of Massachusetts that they
should have a good education, as cheap as possible, as that
the two hundred thousand who wish for it should have a
good school education. It is one great interest ; but if we
must draw distinctions, the son of the poor man, whose life
is cast in some obscure interior village, or in some laborious
walk of city life, has a deeper personal interest in the matter
than the son of the affluent in town and country.
One word more, sir, and the argument, as far as I am con
cerned, is closed. The colleges are not pleading their own
cause, on this occasion ; they are pleading the cause of-^the
people. If you grant the prayer of the memorial, you will,
it is true, somewhat widen the field of usefulness of these
institutions, and, if they are true to themselves, afford them,
in this way, the opportunity of gaining increased credit with
the community. I do not deny that, with a generous mind,
this is a selfish motive, although the selfishness is of a very
refined nature. But beyond this, the coUeges, and those con
cerned in administering them, are not to be benefited. Your
bounty will not add a dollar to their salaries ; it may, by in
creasing the number of students, add to their labors and their
cares. It is the interest of the people which is to be sub
served by granting the prayer of the memorial. The young
man whom you wfll thereby enable to get an education of
which he might else be deprived ; the village which will
have the satisfaction of seeing its promising candidate for fu
ture usefulness lifted up into the broad and cheerful field of
academic training ; the community whose treasures of intel
lect you draw out, refine, and prepare for the service of life,
— these are the parties to be benefited; itis these whose
cause I now commend to your favorable consideration.
Such, sir, are my views of the subject. If they are hon
ored with your approval, Mr Chairman, and that of this intel
ligent committee, you will present our memorial to the favor
able consideration of the House. We enter not into particulars ;
we do not presume to suggest a limit to your liberality, or to
dictate the form it shall assume. But we do with some con-
voL. II. 79

626 SECOND SPEECH ON
fidence call upon you to recognize and act upon the principle,
. that the encouragement of acaderaic education is one of the
great interests of the state. We do ask you to reject the
narrow, and, as Ave think, the pernicious doctrine, that the
colleges are not, equally with the schools, entitled to your
fostering care. This, sir, is not Massachusetts doctrine. It
is not the doctrine of the Pflgrims. This commonAvealth was
founded by college-bred raen ; and before their feet had well
laid hold of the pathless wilderness, they took order for
founding an institution like those in which they had them- "
selves been trained, the universities of Cambridge and Ox
ford, in England; particularly the former. It is not the doc
trine of the stern Puritan fathers, who, for a hundred and
fifty years, and through the darkest periods of our colonial
and provincial history, withheld not a frugal bounty from the
cherished serainary. It is not the doctrine of the revolu
tionary worthies. Araidst all the popular susceptibflities of
the day, it never entered into their imaginations that academic
education, less than school education, was the interest of the
entire people. In performing the great task of constituting
anew by a fundamental lav/ the framework of society, they
devoted an entire chapter to the interests of the only college
then existing in the commonwealth : " It shall be the duty
of legislatures and magistrates, in all future periods of this
commonwealth, to cherish the interests of. literature and
science, and all serainaries of them, especially the university
at Cambridge, public schools, and grammar schools in. the
towns." Sir, it is your duty to do so. I ara not afraid to
use the stern, old-fashioned word. It is, however, not I, but
the constitution, which uses it. It is your sworn duty to
cherish the interests of the colleges.
Having placed our claim to your favor on the ground of
duty, I might, in addressing a committee of intelligent and
conscientious legislators, safely leave it there. But if it be
necessary to seek for motives of interest, I would say that
the ground of expediency and policy is as plain as that of
duty. If we look only to material prosperity, to physical
welfare, nothing is now more certain than that they are most

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 627
powerfully promoted by every thing which multiplies and
diffuses the means of education. We live in an age in which
cultivated mind is becoming more and more the controlling
principle of affedrs. Like that mysterious magnetic influence,
whose Avonderful properties have been lately brought from
the scientific lecture-room into the practical business of life,
you cannot see it, you cannot feel it, you cannot weigh it ;
but it pervades the globe from its surface to its centre, and
attracts and moves every particle of metal which has been
touched into a kindred sensibility.
We hear much at present of the veins of gold which are
brought to light in almost every latitude of either hemisphere ;
in fact, we hear of nothing else. But I care not what mines
may be opened in the north or in the south, in the mountains
of Siberia, or the ravines of California ; wheresoever the
fountains of the golden tide may gush forth, the streams will
flow to the regions where educated intellect has woven the
boundless network of the useful and ornamental arts. Yes,
sir, if Massachusetts remains true to the policy which has
hitherto in the main governed her legislation, and is not now,
I trust, to be departed from, a generous wave of the golden
tide will reach her distant shores. Let others
" Tempt icy seas where scarce the waters roU,
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole.
Or under southem skies exalt their sails,
Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales, —
For me  "
yes, for me may poor old rocky, sandy Massachusetts exclaim,
— land as she is of the school, the academy, and the coUege,
—land of the press, the lecture-room, and the church, —
"For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow.
The pearly shell its lucid globe infold.
And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold."
It matters-not if every pebble in the bed of the Sacramento
were a diamond as big and as precious as the mysterious
Ko-hi-noor, which we read of in the last accounts from India,

628 SECOND SPEECH ON
on whose possession the fate of empire is believed, in those
benighted regions, to depend. It matters not if this noAv Pac
tolus flow through a region which stretches for furlongs, — a
wide tract of solid gold. The jewels and the ingots will find
their way to the great centres of civilization, where cultivated
mind gives birth to the arts, and freedom renders property
secure. The region itself to which these fabulous treasures
are attracting the countless hosts of thrift, cupidity, and adven
ture will derive, I fear, the smallest part of the benefit.
Could it be peopled entirely with emigrants like fhe best
of those who have taken their departure frora among us, and
who carry with them an outfit of New England principles
and habits, it would be well ; but much I fear the gold region
will, for a long tirae, be a scene of anarchy and confusion,
of violence and bloodshed, of bewildering gains and raadden-
ing losses, of any thing but social happiness and well-regu
lated civfl liberty. *
If we will not be taught by any thing else, let us learn of
history. It was not Mexico and Peru, nor (what it iraports
us raore to bear in raind) Portugal, nor Spain, which reaped
the sflver and golden harvest of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. It was the industrious, enlightened, cultivated-
states of the north and west of Europe. It was little Hol
land, — scarcely one fifth as large as New England, — hardly
able to keep her head above the waters of the superincum
bent ocean, but with five universities dotting her limited
surface ; it was England, with her foundation schools, her
indomitable public opinion, her representative system, her
twin universities ; it was to these free and enlightened coun
tries that the gold and silver flowed ; not merely adding to
the material wealth of the community, but quickening the
energy of the industrious classes, breaking down the remains
of feudalism, furnishing the sinews of war to the champions
of Protestant liberty, and thus cheering thera on to the great
* In revising this speech for republication, it afibrds me great pleasure to
state that the conduct of the people of California, as a community has thus
far been extremely creditable ; far more so than could have been expected
under the circurastances of the first settlement of the country.

AID TO THE COLLEGES. 629
struggle, to whose successful issue it was owing, in its remote
effects, under Providence, that you, sir, sit in safety beneath
the canopy that overhangs this hall.
What the love of liberty, the care of education, and a large
and enlightened regard for intellectual and moral interests did
for the parent state, they will do for us. They will give us
present prosperity, and with it what is infinitely better, —
not only a name and a praise with contemporary nations who
form with us the great procession of humanity, — but a name
and a praise among enlightened men and enlightened states
to the end of time.

AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION;

I hise, Mr President, with your permission, for the dis
charge of a yet unperformed duty. We have, sir, in the hall
above, in the earlier part of the day, adopted resolutions of
thanks to the worthy officers of the association ; to the citi
zens of Cambridge ; and to the associations and individuals in
the vicinity Avho have manifested an interest in the institu
tion, and a desire to promote the convenience and gratifica
tion of the members, and the objects of the meeting. There
still remains a debt of this kind to be acquitted ; and I pro
pose, sir, before I take my seat, to endeavor to perform it, by
moving a vote of thanks to the ladies who have honored the
meetings of the association, both here at the social table and
in the sections, with their presence and countenance.
Before I do this, I will crave leave to Say a few words
upon the objects of the association and the character of its
meetings the present year. This I shall do with the greater
boldness, even though I may be breaking through the regu
lation which was adopted, for very good reasons, that there
should be no speaking at the dinner table. We have reached
the last day on which we shall meet together, and my bad
example, in this respect, cannot be drawn into an inconveni
ent precedent for the present year.
But I am desirous of avafling myself of the opportunity
to say, that, in my humble opinion, the transactions of the

* Remarks at tlie public table, on the last day of the meeting of the
American Association for the Advancement of Science, at Cambridge,
Mass., on the 21st of August, 1849, Professor Henry in the chair.
(630)

AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION. 631
association, at its present meeting, have been highly credita
ble to its members, and to the science of the country. I had
an opportunity, in 1841, of attending the annual meeting of
a sirailar association at Florence, consisting of between nine
hundred and a thousand of the men of science of Italy and
the neighboring countries ; and in the years 1842, 1844, and
1846, I enjoyed a similar opportunity in reference to the
meetings of the British Association for the Promotion of
Science. It appears to me that, in the scientific character of
its proceedings at the present meeting, the American Associa
tion will compare advantageously with those of Europe.
The number of men of science in attendance is much less ;
but I think the volurae of this year's transactions, when pub
lished, wfll show proportionably as large a number of com
munications, on interesting and important topics, in most of
the departments of science, and exhibiting as much original
research emd sound speculation, as the annual reports of any
of the European associations. I make this remark with the
less hesitation, because I have myself taken no part in the
scientific labors of the association, which makes it improper
for me to speak in this manner of its proceedings ; and also
because among the circumstances which have enabled the
association to present such fair ground of comparison with
its European contemporaries, no one can forget that European
talent of the highest order is to be found in our ranks.*
I think no one, sir, could have attended any considerable
number of the meetings of the Association, and witnessed its
operations, but must have been satisfied, if he had doubts
before, of the utflity of such an institution. A meeting of
scientific men from every part of the Union, with the oppor
tunity thus £ifforded for entering into friendly personal rela
tions, is itself an object of no mean importance ; especially
in a country so large as this, and destitute of any one great
metropolis. It cannot have escaped any one's observation,
that much time, labor, and skilful research, must have been
* Among the active members of the Association at the present meeting
were Pfofessors Agassiz and Guyot of Neuchatel.

632 AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION.
devoted to the preparation of many of the memoirs, Avhich
it is highly probable would not have been bestowed upon
scientific pursuits under other chcumstances. Much is
gained, at all times, by the actual presence of the instructer,
and the animation of the living voice. They make an im
pression Avhich is rarely produced by the lifeless page of the
printed volume. I do not, of course, mean that lecturing
can ever take the place of study ; but it is an adrairable
assistant. Then, too, the meetings of the Association possess
the advantage of affording, in the discussions to which the
memoirs are subjected, an opportunity, which nothing but
oral discussion can yield, for the friendly collision of intel
lect, and the instructive comparison of opinions. These
topics might be easily expanded, but I think I should under
take a very superfluous office, if I should endeavor, more in
detail, on the present occasion, to set forth the usefulness of
institutions of this kind.
I am aware that it has been objected to them, at horae and
abroad, that they do not lead to the discovery of truth. The
question is frequently asked, in reference to the great Euro
pean associations of this kind. What discoveries have been
made by them ? Well, sir, in this demand for discoveries as
the test of usefulness, as respects associated or individual
effort, there is no little vagueness and a good deal of injus
tice. It appears to me quite unreasonable, as an exclusive
test of utility, to demand either of scientific bodies, or of
single votaries of science, that they should make discoveries. '
If by " discoveries " we mean matters of fact before un
known, such as the discovery of the existence of the Araeri
can continent, or of the planets Uranus or Neptune, or of the
effect of ¦vaccination, it would be greatly to abridge the list
of honored scientific naraes, to exclude from it all but a very
few, who to the greatest sagacity, and generally also the
greatest diligence, have united the greatest good fortune. If
we set up this standard, Ave should strike at the root, not
merely of this Association, but of almost every other specific
forra of scientific action. Discoveries such as I mention are,
necessarily, more or less casual in their immediate origih. Or

AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION. 633
rather, there is a happy inspiration, an unexplained, inexplica
ble kindling of mind, Avhich no logic can teach, no discipline
certainly produce. That the globe was spherical Avas not
first conceived by Columbus ; how happened it that he first
formed the practical conception of reaching the Indies by
sailing to the west? The perturbations of Uranus have
been studied by astronomers for a quarter of a century ;
what inspired Leverrier and Adams alone Avith the happy
thought of deducing from them the existence of an undis
covered planet ?
If we use the term " discovery," in reference to great gen
eral laws of nature, such as as the Copernican system, the
attraction of gravitation, the relations of electricity and mag
netism, then the unreasonableness of objecting to scientific
associations, that they have not produced, and are not likely
to produce, such results, is still more apparent. Discoveries
of this kind, even though apparently referable to single au
thors, to particular periods of time, and to distinct courses of
research, are so only in a limited degree. They are the prod
uct of the whole condition of science at the time : they are
its consummate flower, its ripened fruit. Such discoveries
strike their roots far into the past ; they are not made, — they
have grown. The preparation of centuries has gradually
opened the way for them ; hundreds of minds have taken
part in the discovery, hundreds of years before it is raade.
At length the world of science is ripe for the grand result ;
the fulness of time is corae ; the gifted genius destined to
put the last hand to the work fs born, and the "discovery"
is made ; not seldom, perhaps, in popular acceptation, with
an exaggeration of its absolute novelty, an overrating of the
originality of the discoverer, and consequent injustice to his
predecessors. Pope beautifully says, —
"Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night; —
God said, 'Let Newton be;' — and all was Ught."
This, certainly, is very happfly said, by way of epigram
matic eulogy ; but it would not bear critical examination.
VOL. IL 80

634 AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION.
The iUustrious phflosopher, as just and modest as he was
great, did not so deera of himself Were the laws of nature
wholly hidden in darkness before the time of Newton ? Had
Copernicus, Tycho, Keppler, Galileo thrown no light upon
them ? For discoveries in this sense of the term, who will
undertake to say, that meetings like this do not furnish a
full proportion of the necessary preparation ?
So, too, — and perhaps this is a stfll more important reflec
tion, — after the discovery of some such general law is made,
the Avork of science is by no means exhausted.. Even if it
were true that scientific associations had no tendency to pro
mote discovery, in either sense of the word, it might stfll be
a matter of great importance, that they furnish occasions and
facflities for illustrating and diffusing raore widely the knowl
edge of the great laws of nature. This is a point on which,
if time permitted, and I Avere addressing an audience of young
men who needed encouragements to engage with ardor in
the pursuit of science,.I would gladly enlarge. I would say
to them. Fear not that the masters who have gone before you
have reaped the field of science so thoroughly, as to leave
neither harvest nor gleaning for their successors. True, in
deed, the Newtons have lived and taught ; not to supersede
and render superfluous, but to prepare the way for disciples
and followers, worthy to be called the Newtons of eifter
ages. The discovery of a great law is an enlargement, not
an exhaustion, of the domain of science. Each new truth is
a lever for the discovery of further truth. It may never be
given again to the human intellect (but who shall say that
it never will be given?) to attain another generalization, at
once of such divine simplicity and stupendous raagnitude as
the law of gravitation. But it raay with truth be said, that
the system of the universe, resting on that law, has been more
fuUy developed by the successors of Newton than by hiraself
This important truth, that a great discovery not only leads
to, but stands in need of further researches, is happily ex
pressed in a fine apostrophe of the poet Cowley to the phi
losopher Hobbes, which attracted my notice in taking up the
volume of his works at the bookseller's the day before yes-

AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION. 635
terday, and seemed to me so full of wisdom as to impress
itself upon my memory. Cowley addresses Hobbes as " the
great Columbus of the golden lands of new phflosophies."
Few persons, at the present day, would be disposed to admit
the claim of the phflosopher of Malmesbury to this magnifi
cent title. But the strain in which Cowley proceeds, how
ever uncouth in point of versification, is singularly acute and
discriminating. " Thou great Columbus of the golden lands of new phUosophies !
Thy task is harder much than his ; ,
For thy learned America is
Not oiUy found out first by thee.
And rudely left to future industry.
But thy eloquence and thy wit
Has planted, peopled, built and civUized it."
The verse is rude, but the lesson is significant. Columbus
may set foot on a continent before unseen by civilized man ;
Copernicus may sweep away the cycles and epicycles of the
Ptolemaic theory, and establish the sun on his central throne ;
and Newton may demonstrate the wondrous law which
binds every member of the system — forever attracted and
forever repelled — to that mysterious centre. But after all
these great discoveries have been made, there is not only
room, there is urgent demand, a great intellectual necessity,
for further progress. Other discoverers, other philosophers
roust i:ise to unfold the consequences of these primordial
truths ; to plant and people these scientific continents (if I
may be allowed to carry on Cowley's metaphor) with new
experiments and observations ; to bufld them up into harmo
nious systems ; to civilize them by a refined adaptation to the
wants and service of moral beings.
This is the work left to the mass of the scientific commu
nity, and no one can reasonably deny that an association like
ours is an approved and effective part of that system of con
certed action, by which men advantageously unite themselves
to accomplish desirable ends. And it is most cheering to
learn from the example of the great discoverers, that the

636 AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION.
materials for carrying on their work — the elements of fur
ther discovery — surround us on every side. There is no
error more gross than that the knowledge of the great truths
which forra the glory of modern science, must be directly
sought from the depths of the heavens above or of the abyss
below. And when philosophical analysis enables us, in some
degree, to penetrate to the mysteries of the earth we inhabit,
or of the mighty universe of which it forms so small a part,
it is by virtue of laws and principles exemplified as clearly
in the motes that cheaply people the sunbeam, as in the
mighty spheres which are held in their orbits by the sun.
The law of gravitation was suggested to Newton, not by the
magnificent spectacle of a comet drawn down to the sun
from the outskirts of the solar systera, but by an apple falling
frora a tree to the earth. The glass which I hold in my hand,
with the water contained in it, is of itself a richly stored
cabinet of scientific truth. By the ancients, the water, be
lieved to be a simple substance, was no doubt regarded chiefiy
as the element designed to moisten and fertilize the earth, to
quench the thirst of man, to separate Greece from the lands
of the barbarians. By a great progress of art, it came to
serve for the construction of a clepsydra. Modern science
early took note of the expansive powers of steam ; the Mar
quis of Worcester, Savery, and Newcomen atterapted, and
Bolton and Watt perfected, the raachinery which has made
the vapor of boiling water the life-spring of modern industry,
and in the hands of our own Fulton has converted it into the
great means of coraraerce and coraraunication around the
globe. Questioned by cheraical science, the same limpid
element is made to yield to Cavendish and Priestley the secret
of its gaseous composition, and thus becomes the starting
point of no inconsiderable portion of our modern chemistry ;
teaching us at the outset the- somewhat startling fact, that
aquafortis and the coraraon air we breathe consist of precise
ly the sarae ingredients, in proportions a little varied. Phys
iology here takes her turn ; and my friend opposite, who
favors me with an approving smile, (Professor Agassiz,) is
ready to subject the contents of the glass to the creative focus

AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION. 637
of his microscope, and to demonstrate the organization, cir
culation, and whole animal economy of orders of beings,
whose existence is apparent only under the higher powers.
Not content with the harvest of science to be reaped from
the water, our worthy president (Professor Henry) is think
ing of the glass. To his eye it is a tolerable cylinder. His
mind runs upon electricity, induction, and the relations of
galvanism and magnetism, to the illustration of which he
has himself so materially contributed. Here we reach the
magnetic telegraph, the electric clock, and their appli
cation to the measurement of differences of longitude, and
the observation smd record of celestial phenomena ; an appa
ratus so wonderful that, as we have heard in the sections, from
Professor Walker, a child of twelve years old, who sees it for
the first time, can observe and record the passage of a star
over the wires of the micrometer, more correctly than it
could be done by the most skilful observer in the ordinary
way. Thus we are carried back to a more accurate observa-
ion of the heavens, by that electric spark which Franklin
first drew from the clouds.
But it is time, sir, to think of performing the duty for
which I originally rose to address you. It is one of the most
pleasing incidents of the present meetings of the Association
Ihat they have been attended by so many ladies. Many of
the members of the Association, from a distance, have been
accompanied with their wives and daughters, who, together
with the ladies of Cambridge, have not only from day to day
honored our social table with their company, but have given
their dfligent attention in the sections. The Association has,
I understand, been favored in this way for the first time at
the present meeting. I am sure I speak for all those who
have taken part in the scientific transactions, that they have
been animated and encouraged by this unusual presence ; and
the persevering attendance of our fair friends to the close of
the session authorizes the hope that they have been gratified
listeners. How much our social meetings in this hall have
been enlivened by their presence I need not say. I trust the
example which they have set, the present year, wfll be fol-

638 AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC ASSOCIATION.
lowed at the future meetings of the Association. When we
recall the names of Caroline Herschel, of Mary Somerville, —
and may I not add of our own Maria Mitchell ? — we need no
arguments to show that the cultivation of science is by no
means the exclusive mission of man. The time may corae,
perhaps, when my successor in the duty I now perform will
be called upon to return the acknowledgments of the Asso
ciation, not only to the ladies who have honored the meetings
by their presence, but to those who have contributed to the
volumes of its Scientific Transactions.
I beg leave, sir, to submit the following motion : —
Resolved, That the thanks of the American Association for the Advance
ment of Science be given to the ladies who have honored the meetings of
the Association with their attendance.
The question on this resolution was put by the president,
and it was carried unanimously.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS.

After some observations upon the propriety of celebrating
the day on which the Pilgrims took their departure frora the
Old World, as well as that on which they landed in America,
Mr Everett proceeded as follows : —
It may be added, sh, in favor of a celebration of ihe seven
teenth of September, that it is not amiss that our commerao
ration of the Pilgriras should have its joyous as well as its
pensive aspect. There is a bright as well as a dark side to
their story. If we are led by the dreary snows and piercing
winds of December to dwell upon the recollection of their
sufferings, let us be wflling to yield to the influence of the
present delightful season, and trace their toils and sacrifices
into the bounteous heurvest of blessings for which we ought
to be grateful to their meraory. Of these blessings Ave are
not likely to overrate the importance ; nor whether our cele
brations are frequent or infrequent, in the summer or the
winter, are Ave at all in danger of exaggerating the conse
quences of that movement, in which the Pflgriras of New
England led the way, — I raean the colonization of New
England by voluntary emigration frora Old England.
I freely admit, sir, that consequences of all kinds, — politi
cal, social, and moral, — vitally affecting the Old World and
the New, have resulted from that movement which the first
* Remarks at the table at Plymouth, Mass., on the 17th of Septeraber,
1849, (Mr Webster in the chair ;) this day being the anniversary of the
day on Avhich the Mayflower took her final departure from Plymouth in
England. (639)

640 THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS.
settlers of New England did not anticipate, — which it did
not enter into their hearts distinctly to conceive. But inas
much as the raoveraent itself was deliberately planned for
objects analogous to those which have been accomplished,
and in the natural sequence of cause and effect, it appears to
me that the Pilgrims are fully entitled to the honors which
we are accustoraed to pay to their memories, as the founders
of our New England comraonwealths, and of so rauch of oui
coraraon America as traces its descent to New England. You
have justly observed, sir,' that Columbus was entitled to the
glory of his great discovery from the day he sailed from Pa
los. What had mere success to do with the mighty concep
tion of his mind ? He was entitled to it then or never, for
the historical fact of the discovery Avas an accident. He
safled in the hope of finding a western passage to India ; —
he found a new world on the way ; as modern astronomy,
launching into the heavens on a voyage of discovery for a
new planet at thirty-six or thirty-eight times the distance of
the earth frora the sun, found it at thirty. In like manner
the Pflgriras sought only a shelter for their own feeble flock ;
but they are not the less entitled to the credit of founding
our six New England republics. The corner stone of the
goodly edifice raay truly be said to rest on Plymouth rock.
Yes, sir, they Avere but a, handful ; just a hundred when
they landed frora the Mayflower, of whom one half were laid
beneath the sods of yonder rising ground, before it was
clothed with the next spring's verdure. They were a little
coramunity of Christians who, finding themselves wasting -
away in the country of their European exile, sought only a
corner of the earth where they could worship God without
restraint or fear ; but in this little company were folded up
the germs of future states, as truly as the future oak is
wrapped up in the acorn.
In fact, sir, before we look with disparagement upon the
insignificance of the enterprise of the Pilgrims, and feel dis
posed to deny them, on that account, a place in the list of
Lord Bacon's conditores imperiorum, we should do well to
.consider, that, in all human probability, the final success of

THE DEPARTURE OP THE PILGRIMS. 641
*
their undertaking was owing to its unambitious origin ; to the
fact that so few, and they so> hurable, were enlisted, in an
enterprise to all human calculation so unpromising, in a re
gion so distant, and at that time so utterly unimportant on the
map of the world. It was in all. probabUity precisely for
these reasons, that the little band of severe and thoughtful
refugees from the great world of Europe were alone able to
accomplish the mighty work of establishing a great; political
reform in connection with religious freedora, which was
undertaken -without success at the same tirae, or nearly the
same time, in three different portions of Europe ; at three of
the greatest centres of the world's civilization, by individuals
or bodies of men possessed By birth, or enabled to possess
themselves by statesmanship or force, of the powers and re
sources of ancient monarchies. This little company, with
John Carver at its head, laid the foundation, — the solid and
the eternal foundation, -r- of that Which Henry IV of France,
in the preceding generation, Gustavus Adolphus, of Sweden,
as the head of the Protestant cause in the north of Europe,
and Cromwell, in England, attempted in vain. They suc
ceeded for the very reason that, instead of being called in
Providence, to shake the pfllars of kingdoms and hierarchies,
and to raarch towards their end on the high and giddy paths
of politics and war, they were from a very humble station in
life, and called, humanly speaking, to act on a very hurable
theatre. It was owing mainly to this, that they not only
succeeded in all that was atterapted on the continent of Eu
rope, — that is, in laying a firm foundation for civil liberty on
the basis of religious freedom, — but in adding to it what
was attempted only in England^ and there without success, —
the superstructure of' republican government.
You have instructed and delighted us, sir, by sketching in
the most lurainous manner .the intellectual condition of Eng
land, and the leading minds which adorned and guided it at
the period of the Pflgrim emigration. Allow me, for a mo
ment, to pass to the continent, and specifically to compare
the enterprise of the Pilgrims wifh that great movement in
Protestant Germany, which commenced at the same tirae,
VOL. II. 81

642 THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS.
and Avhich, at the time, was regarded, not merely by the in
curious world, but by the friends of Protestant liberty, as
beyond all proportion the raore important movement. Curi
ous it is to reflect that, whfle the tale of the Pflgrims has,. in
the course of two centuries, taken its place among the few
great legends of humanity which are known throughout the
world, from the throne to the cottage, the history of the
Thirty Years' war must be studied in learned volumes on the
shelves of libraries, and for the most part, as far as concerns
us, in foreign tongues. This comparison-will show us how
difficult it is to correct great abuses in old countries by
means of violent revolutions, and will satisfy us that it was
the peculiar good fortune of'the Pflgrims that they were
called to operate on an hurable scale, with the inoffensive
weapons of personal sacrifice and moral influence. When
ever the great work is taken up by politicians and agitators,
by statesmen and heroes, it seems of^ necessity to fafl. The
mighty traditions of ages then present their unyielding front,
and interests closely twined round the very fibres of society
are felt, or feared to be, in danger. Parties are created, pas
sions enkindled ; and soon the purest causes, infected with
the poison of human policy and intrigue, decline and die
away. The English revolution of 1688 Avas an exception,
purchased, however, by the raiscarriages of half a century.
Our own revolution was a still more brflliant exception ; -and
they stand nearly alone in history.
The first steps of the exiles at Leyden, towards realizing
their project of emigration, were taken in 1618, and in this
sarae year the first raoveraents of the dreadful Thirty Years'
war began among the Protestants in Germany. The one
was the affair of a handful of persecuted religionists ; the
other drew into its vortex nearly all the great powers of Eu
rope. The purpose of the Pflgrims was known but to them
selves ; to a few of their brethren of the faith in England ;
and to half a dozen great personages about court, most of
whom bestowed upon it a supercilious and uncertain patron
age. The movement in Germany kindled the sympathies
and awoke the passions of every court and people, from

THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS. 643
London to Constantinople. It was really much the same
state of things as that Avhich has existed during the last
twelvemonth ; a similar contest, on nearly the same battle
fields, and for objects not materially different. It is interest
ing to see how little there is in the Old World that is posi
tively new under the sun. The colossal intervention of
Russia, a power not possessed of a European existence two
centuries ago, is the only quite novel feature in the recent
contests. Hume tells us that when the news reached Eng
land that the elector Palatine (the son-in-law of James I.)
was chosen king of Bohemia by the Protestants of that coun
try, just rushing into a Avar with Ferdinand of Austria, " the
whole kingdom was on fire to engage in the quarrel. Scarcely
was the ardor greater with which all the states of Europe, in
former ages, flew to the rescue of the Holy Land from the
dominion of the infidels." Singularly enough, the feeble
sect to which the Pilgrims belonged took an especial interest
in these outlandish wars. The daughter of King James —
wife to the elector Palatine — was believed to favor their
religious opinions. Worthy Mr Prince, in his New England
Chronology, which he judiciously commences with the crea
tion of Adam, speaks of the exceUent queen of Boheraia
"as the darling of the British Puritans." The first great
trial of arms, in this tremendous war, was the battle of
Prague, which was fought on the eighth of Noveraber, 1620 ; *
iand Cape Cod was seen from the Mayflower on the following
day. Two centuries and a quarter have passed away; I
wifl not say that the cause of constitutional and religious
liberty stfll stands exactly where it then did on the continent
of Europe ; but I should be sorry to be called upon to spell
out its progress from the manifestos of the red republicans in
France, which teach us that "property is theft," or from the
bulletins of General Oudinot, of Marshal Radetzky, or Prince
Paskievitch. Two centuries and a quarter have passed away.
Every generation has had its bloody weu:s ; almost every gen
eration has had its unfruitful revolution ; and the division
* Rapin's History of England, Vol. II. p. 200.

644 THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS.
lines between liberty and absolutism, on the continent of
Europe, run very nearly as they did then. I do not know,
upon the whole, that we rise from the perusal of the intelli
gence from the other side of the Atlantic, brought by the
last steamer, with better hopes for the cause of representative
free government in that region than were entertained Avhen
the battle of Prague was fought and lost, the day before the
first glimraer of the snow-clad sands of Cape Cod was caught
by the aching and tearful eyes of the Mayflower's company.
I believe, sir, I may say, without extravagance, that the
greatest triuraph of constitutional liberty since that time has
been its peaceful growth in this country. Less was lost on
that disastrous day, when an army of Protestants was crushed
beneath the walls of Prague, in the sight of the royal lady
who was " the darling of the British Puritans," than was
gained the next day, Avhen that poor weather-beaten bark
crept round the point of Provincetowu harbor, and dropped
her anchor on the coast of Araerica. May I not add, that
more was gained for the cause of real republicanism, when
plain John Carver was, by the choice of his associates, seated
in that still plainer oaken chair, which we have sometimes
seen at these Pilgrira festivals, than when the throne of Louis
Philippe, blazing with scarlet and gold, Avas carried off in
triuraph from the Tufleries, and burned on the public square,
by a famished Parisian mob, whose ideas of republicanism,
if we may judge from the events of the last sixty years,
are as definite as a blind man's ideas of color.
I do not claim all this contrast as a matter of special merit
on the part of the Pilgrims or their descendants. It was the
happiness of the state of things in wh.ich they were placed ;
if I may give the narae of happiness to a condition of so
much privation, tofl, and suffering. Still less would I taunt
the sincere and honest reformers of Europe with their mis
carriages, now or formerly. It is the misfortune of their
position, at the present day, that the remedies attempted for
the evils of the body politic eu-e worse than the disease, whfle
the disease is intolerable.
It is not my wish to eulogize the Pflgrims, but to do them

THE DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS. 645
justice ; and I wfll only say, in conclusion, that it is now
our great duty, in the changed condition of the cause to
which they consecrated their lives arid labors, to set a salu
tary example of the temperate enjoyment of liberty, to its
struggling friends in Europe. If we wish our American
principles to prevail in other countries, Ave must show that
they work out here the great objects for which men unite in
civfl society ; that religion and morals, liberty and law, order
and property, science, arts, and letters, and peace at home
and abroad, are safe under the asgis of republican freedom.

CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM.*

Atter making his personal acknowledgments to the Chair
and to Mr Webster, Mr Everett went on as foUoAvs : — '
You have been pleased, Mr President, to inform, the com
pany that I am a Norfolk man. I am, sir. I was born in
Dorchester, and my ancestor's, from the first settleraent of the
country, were born and bred in this prosperous town of Ded
hara. I am not ashamed of my descent. My forefathers
were humble men, farmers and raechanics, and pursued a
raost unambitious career. They left nothing to their de
scendants of either famb or fo'rtune, but a good name. But
as tiraes go, he is not the worst citizen who gives himself
with unpretending industry to a private career; content to
emb£u:k in the ship of state as a private passenger, and if need'
be, to work his passage before the raast. My course of life
has carried rae away from the paths trod by my ancestors.
But as I advance in years, 1 am inclined to think with his
excellency, that the pursuit of the farmer is raost conducive
-.jto virtue and happiness. I will not compare it invidiously
' with other occupations ; they are all lionorable and all re
spectable, when pursued by honest men and for honest
ends ; but I do think, sir, upon the whole, and for the mass of
mankind, that agriculture, as it is of necessity the only occu
pation which could be pursued by the majority, is in its
nature entitled to the preference. I believe it to be the occu-
* Remarks at the dinner of the Norfolk County Agricultural Society, at
Dedham, on the 26th of September, 1849, Hon. MarshaU P. WUder, piesi-
dent of the sqciety, in the chair. (64?)

CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM. 647
pation most favorable to health, to tranquillity of mind, to
simple manners, to frugal Tiabits, and to what is of utraost
consequence in a republican government — equedity of condi
tion. What more is wanted to make up an occupation in
life most favorable to happiness ? Certainly there is no other
pursuit, which, to the same degree lies, at 'the basis of the
entire social system. I am not speaking without warrant,
Mr President, for you have told us the same thing to-day in
better language. It is in fact the consenting judgment of
the world.
In the infancy of our race, men could express their feelings
of gratitude and wonder in reference to agriculture and its
fruits only by saying that the products of the soil were the
gifts of Heaven. Corn, wine, and ofl, the implements of hus-
l)andry, and the skill to use them, were, to their simple appre
hension, all given by the gods. The wisdom of raan was
not sufficient to account for the introduction of these benefi
cent gifts. The descriptions of China tell us that even to
this day, the sovereign of that erapire, the despotic master of
one third part of the human race, in order to show his high
esteem for agriculture, once in the year, holds the plough and
turns a furrow, in the presence of his court and of all the
highest dignitaries of the*^and. When we consider the al
most idolatrous homage paid by the Chinese to their eraperors,
we shall better appreciate the significance of a cereraony like
this. One cannot but recall the beautiful allusion of Thom
son, —

"In ancient times, the sacred plough employed
The kings and awful fathers of mankind ;
And some, with whom compared, your insect tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm
Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The plough, and greatly independent lived." ,

But Ave need not, sir, go back to the past, to find the times
when agriculture has been held in the highest estimation.

648 CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM.
The gentleman who has just taken his seat (Mr Webster)
will bear me out Avhen I say, thai, in England, at the present
day, it is the great interest. Land is the favorite investment,
though it rarely yields an income of more than three per
centum. As soon as a man becoraes possessed of a fortune
in England, he Buys land. If the estate be large, the greater
part will be leased to tenants ; but a considerable proprietor
generaUy retains a portion of land in his own hands. Every
thing pertaining , to its cultivation : — the iraproveraent of
the sofl, the contrivance of agricultural irapleraents, the
choice and succession of crops, the warfare against noxious
insects — receives a degree of attention, in that country,
hardly known here. The best talent, unwearied research,
and capital in abundance, are enlisted in the service of hjis-
bandry. Mr Webster, frora his own observation, Avill tell you
that the annual raeetings of the Royal Agricultural Society
are deemed of greatest interest by the most intelligent por
tion of the community. The prizes that are given at those
meetings are objects of competition to all, from the consort
of the queen down to the tenant farmer and the farm laborer.
At these festivals, persons belonging to the highest nobility
and to the wealthiest gentry in the kingdora are seen exara-
ining the condition of the aniraalfe at the pens, or carefully
inspecting the implements of husbandry in the machine yard.
The character of the agriculture of any region must de
pend on the soil and cliraate. Mr Webster has given us
an account of the root culture of England. We cannot have
it, as he has told us, to the sarae extent in New England,
although it will be carried, unquestionably, much farther than
it has been. Nor will our climate and soil permit us to cul
tivate, on a large scale, what may be called, in the temperate
region, the great staple of agriculture — that is, wheat. Much
less can we produce the staples of southern and tropical
climates. Still, however, I do not know that agriculture • is
not as iraportant an interest in this as in any other part of the
world. I believe that by the aid of our golden grain, the
Indian corn, (which I imagine wfll prove in the end the
most valuable gold dug out of the earth on either side of

CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM. 649
this continent, eastern or western,) — I believe that with tho
aid of Indian corn, the invaluable potato, and the other vege
table products adapted to our sofl and climate, we raay have
farms that will compare advantageously with those of any
part of the world. I raean farms on which a moderate out
lay of capital, judiciously invested and well worked, will
yield a reasonable profit ; and that is the most that can be
done any where ; for great speculative profits can never exist
in the pursuit of any great permanent business, and are of
course not to be taken into account in a comparison of this
kind. It is true that no skfll, that no thrift can make our
sofl yield the cotton plant, the sugar-cane, the tobacco —
what shall I call it — plant, or rather weed. But we have
no reason to regret them. On the contrary, it is these com
paratively barren plains, these sterile hill-sides, to which we
owe, in the last result, the prosperity of New Engla,nd. It
is precisely to these that we are indebted for that patient in
dustry which is more than a counterbalance for a rich alluvial
sofl, and for that aptitude for the arts and energy of purpose
which are vastly more productive of wealth than a genial
climate. Wlio does not know that it is precisely such a re
gion as that, in which Ave live, that has been at all times the
cradle of those inventions which seem to endow metal, and
wood, and stone, with muscular activity and living sense ;
which enable a man to say to this piece of machinery, framed
of wood and metal, "Go and remove the chaff from the
wheat," and to that structure of stone and wood, " Throw
out your revolving arms to the winds, and grind my corn
into bread " ? Where were these primitive machines, and the
thousand stfll more ingenious and complicated contrivances
of modern art, invented ? On a soil and beneath a climate
like our own. May I not go further, and say, that it is a soil
of moderate -fertility, beneath the climate of the temperate
regions, that has always been the cradle of constitutional
freedora, and of that passion for liberty, which are the great
hereditary glories of the Anglo-Saxon race? Poor as our
sofl, ungenial as our climate may he, it is precisely to these
VOL. II. 82

650 CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM.
that it is OAving, under Providence, that our farms are tiUed
by the arms of freemen.
There were some things, Mr President, that I thought to
say to you ; but Governor Briggs and Mr Webster have dealt
with my intended speech soraewhat as the farmer deals with
a barberry-bush on the side of his field. They have passed
their great breaking-up plough through it, and grubbed it aU
up. I will only speak of one circumstance which is going,
as I think, to prove more favorable to our agriculture than
has been generally supposed, and that is, the multiplication
of railroads. We have hitherto, perhaps, thought raore of the
Denefit resulting from these new facilities of coraraunication,
in connection with coraraerce and manufactures. But I be
lieve they are to do quite as much for our agriculture. I
think that this network of railroads thrown over the land, is.
to be of raore benefit to the husbandry interest of New Eng
land, than all the gold of California. It will put it in the
power of the farmer to get his supplies from the seaboard,
and to carry his produce to market, much raore advanta
geously than formerly. In short, sir, it will enable him to
live three days in one ; and that, if one lives wisely, is no
small matter.
There is another thing worthy of consideration. You
stated, sir, that our young men of enterprise had hitherto
coraraitted a great error, in leaving all other pursuits and
thronging to the city. I agree with you entirely. But a
counter-current is now taking place. It is getting to be much
more coraraon now than forraerly, when a man has acquired
the raeans of doing it, to go back to his native village, and
to seek a quiet retreat under the trees, beneath whose shade
he was born. This practice wfll be greatly facilitated by the
railroads. Within a distance of twenty-five or thirty miles
around the, metropolis, we see constantly springing up a crop,
of these neat little cottages. Men find that they can do busi
ness in town, and yet enjoy the pure air and free elbow-room
of the country, for the residence of their famflies, far away
from the smoke, and dust; and noisy streets of the city. This

CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM. 651
practice, sir, you will find, will prevail more and raore. It
has not only healthfulness to recommend it, but it is. in con
sonance with the deepest sentiments of our nature, which
bind us by the strongest associations to the homes of our
childhood and to the graves of our fathers. There is a charm
even in a single visit to one's native spot. I do assure you,
sir, that I have not been able, even for this single day, to
breathe the air of these fields where my fathers lived and
actgd their humble part for tAvo hundred years, without expe
riencing emotions that words fafl to describe.
"I feel the gales, that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow.
As, waving fresh your gladsome wing.
My weary soul ye seera to soothe.
And, redolent of joy and youth.
To breathe a second spring."
I look to this growing custom of returning to the native
village, after the meridian of life is passed, as a circumstance
tending greatly to the iraprovement of our agriculture. The
effects are already seen in the multiplication of fine farms,
neat and even elegant dwellings, capacious barns, substantial
and pennanent enclosures, fields under the highest cultivation,
and avenues of trees, planted for ornaraent and shade. This
last point is worth the particular attention of our fellow-citi
zens in the country. Tfll lately, perhaps, this generation,
following the bad example of the last, has not done quite so
nSieh in this way as might have been wished. It is a kind
of instinct in the settlement of a new country, to destroy
trees ; and it takes a good whfle to restore to the community
a disposition to spare, protect, and propagate them. Some
public-spirited individuals, however, in our country towns,
began to think of this matter, in the raiddle of the last cen
tury. Ther^ are in the interior of New England a great
miariy noble trees, planted eighty or one hundred years ago ;
and most certainly npthing grows out of the earth, and man
can put nothing upon it, so beautiful. I hope, my friends, we
shall let our children and grandchfldren enjoy the great

652 CATTLE SHOW AT DEDHAM.
corafort to be derived frora this source. Sir Walter Scott
represents one of his characters as saying that his father used
tp tell hira to be always putting down a tree. " It will be
growing, Jock, when you are sleeping." It will be growing,
sir, when we are sleeping to wake np raore. The acorn
which you cover with a couple of inches of earth, the seed
ling elm which you rescue in your garden from the spade,
Avill outlive half a dozen of our generations. Cicero speaks
of it as a kind of natural foresight of the continued existence
of man, that, men " planted trees which were to benefit a
coming generation."* Yes, sir, and if every man, before he
goes hence, would but take care to leave one good oak or
elra behind him, he would not have lived in vain. His chil
dren and grandchildren would bless his meraory.
I ara afraid I have spoken too long, sir, in this rambling
way ; but if you will allow me one other word, I will say that
there is a species of culture more important than any within
the range of material husbandry, — I mean the culture of
the mind. But I need not say much on this topic. You
have yourself, sir, in your instructive discourse, placed its
iraportance before the company in a clear light. Still more,
sir, ara I led to spare my remarks on this subject, when I
reflect that I am speaking in the presence of one«(Mr H.
Mann) whora I raay without impropriety call the very apostle
of this uninspired gospel. He has told you over and over
again that education is the great interest of every class in the
comraunity. I wUl only say, sir, that if the yeomen of New
England wish their principles to prevail, or their influence to
be perpetuated ov* the country, the only way in which they
can for any length of time effect this object, is to educate
their children to understand those principles, and firmly and
effectually to maintain thera.
Allow me, sir, in taking my seat, to thank you and this
company for your very kind attention, and to express my best
wishes for the prosperity of the Norfolk Agricultural Society.
»
» Tusc. Quaest. Lib. I. c. 14.

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.

When I rose this morning, Mr Chairman, the state of my
health and of the Aveather Avas such, that I feared it would
not be in my power to avafl myself of your kind invitation.
But since my arrival at Concord I have so much enjoyed the
patriotic excitement of the day and the place ; it has gratified
me so much to visit again these hallowed scenes ; 1 have
lisflned with so much pleasure to the eloquent discourse of
the orator of the day, and to the interesting and impassioned
addresses which have been made at the table, that I am quite
rea^y, as our venerable friend near me, Mr Amos Baker, said
in reference to the day we celebrate, to say that " all things
considered, I feel much better here than if I had staid at
home." It is truly gratifying to one, sir, who has taken the interest
that I have in former celebrations of this anniversary, an
interest to which you have had the goodness to allude in such
kind terms, to come back and revive the recoUections of earlier
days. The famfliar but freshly told tale of the nineteenth of
Aprfl, 1776, as narrated by the orator, falls like music on my
ear. I gaze with respectful admiration on these venerable
men, the survivors, the few and sole survivors, of the event
ful day, in which they bore so honorable a part. One of
them, (Mr Jonathan Harrington,) who has this moment been
assisted from the platform, " filled the fife " on that morning
* In reply to a toast given in honor of England, as the parent country, at
the celebration at Concord on the 19th of April, 1850, Judge E. R. Hoai in
the chair. (653)

654 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.
of perfl and glory at Lexington. The governor has just
narrated to you the incident whose heroic simplicity is un
surpassed in the annals of liberty. Whfle I was helping that
infirm old raan, a few rain utes' since, to draw on his outer g^-
ment, as I saw him trerabling with years, — the arra .which
held the fife on the nineteenth of Aprfl, 1775, now so feeble
and nerveless, — I was ready- to exclaim, since we have been
alluding to hira by the Christian name, " I am distressed for
thee, ray brother Jonathan ; very pleasant hast thou been
unto me."
I suppose, Mr Chairraan, that I am indebted for the honor
of being called upon to respond to the last toast, to the cir
cumstance that a few years ago I was the minister of the
United States in England. My residence there gave me full
opportunity of becoming acquainted Avith the feelings exist
ing in that country towards this. I have much pleasure in
saying that they are in harmony with those expressed in the
toast tovvards England. The events of this day have there
passed into the calm' region of history. From the highest
personages in the kingdom and the governraent, through all
the circles of society in which I had the means of observar
tion, I witnessed nothing but indication^of good wfll towards
the people of the United States. I therefore rejoice, sir, that
you have guarded against any interpretation of the proceed
ings of this day, inconsistent with a similar feeling on our
part towards the parent country. I was pleased to see the
English flag at half mast over the spot where*the two British
soldiers fell at the north bridge on the nineteenth of Aprfl.
I Avas gratified to hear the liberal sentiment of the orator, that
the account of hostilities was long since closed, and that
between the two kindred countries the future struggle should
be for preeminence in the arts of peace. I hold, indeed, sir,
that duty to those who met the perfls of the nineteenth of
April, 1775, and put all to risk for the liberties of themselves
and their children, requires that the great events of that day
should be kept in fresh reraerabrance. I feel it to be impos
sible, that we who inhabit these classical fields of our coun
try's freedom, who have seen and known some of the leading

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD. 655
actors of the great drama, should ever be insensible to its
interest. But I am sure that you and this intelligent com
pany agree with me in thinking, that we shall greatly mistake
the proper object of these commemorations, if we made them
the occasion of cherishing any unkind or bitter feeling towards
the country, between which and ourselves there are bonds of
kindness and grounds of friendship such as never existed
between any two other nations.
Why, sir, even at that moment of extreme exasperation
which preceded the breaking out of the war, there were men
in England, and those of the highest note for talent, station,
and character, who entertained the most friendly feelings
towards the colonies and their cause. The most eloquent
voices in parliament were heard on our side. When the
stamp act, in 1765, was received with a burst of opposition
from one end of this continent to the other. Lord Chatham
declared that he rejoiced that Araerica had resisted. It Avas
less than a month before the commencement of hostilities
that Burke pronounced that truly divine oration on " Con
ciliation with America," which, in my poor judgraent, excels
every thing, in the form of eloquence, that has come doAvn
to us from Greece or Rome. Less than a raonth it was be
fpre the nineteenth of Aprfl, 1775, that he said "My hold
of the colonies is in the close affiection which grows from
coraraon names, from kindred blood, from similar privfleges,
and equal protection. These are ties which, though light as
air, are as strong as links of iron." These kindly words, and
more like them, were uttered on the twenty-second of March.
On the nineteenth of April the curtain rose on that mighty
drama in the world's history, of which the quiet villages of
Lexington and Concord were the appointed theatre. When
that day's tidings reached England, they went to many a
generous heart. I often heard in that country a gentleman
of great literary eminence (I wish it* were proper to repeat
his name) say, that when the news of the nineteenth of April
arrived in England, his father, Avith a sorrowful countenance,
announced it to the famfly asserabled at prayers. He then
ordered a suit of full mourning. Some one asked him if he

656 THE N.INETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.
had lost a friend — a relative? "Yes," was the answer,
"many friends, many brethren, at one bloAV, in Lexington and
Concord, in America."
I do not of course raean, sir, that liberal men in England
in 1775 were in favor of the independence of America.
This was a result (I hardly need say) to which but a few of
the more ardent even of our« patriots had arrived. But as
soon as the necessity of this consummation was apparent, it
was embraced on the other side of the water quite as readily
as could have been expected. Even the prime rainister, Lord
North, whora we have been accustomed to regard, on this
side of the Atlantic, as the great promoter and the inflexible
prosecutor of the war, was desirous, two or three years before
that event took place, to retire from the ministry, that he
might be succeeded by those who could consistently make
peace with the United States. This fact was brought lo
light a few years since, by the extracts from the notes of
George III. to Lord North, published in the appendix *to the
sixth volume of President Sparks's edition of the Writings of
Washington. I had the opportunity, while in England, of
seeing all bf that correspondence, which has been preserved
in Lord North's family, and the fact alluded to is beyond
question. It was the personal and urgent appeals of the king
to Lord North Avhich alone induced the latter to remain in
office. It must be admitted that these facts place in no very
favorable light the inflexibility of the king and the compli
ance of the rainister. But we all reraeraber that when Presi
dent Adams, senior, was presented to George III. as the first
minister of the Unite'd States to England, the king magnan
imously said, " I was the last raan, Mr Adaras, . to wish the
independence of your country ; but I Avill be the first to re
spect it."
I have alluded to the starap act, with which, in raany points
of view, the Araerican •revolution begins. You recollect, I
dare say, sir, in that admirable speech of Burke, to which I
have referred, that he vindicates the colonies from the re
proach of having turned the great issues of civil liberty into
a money question. He reminds the House of Commons that

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD. 657
"the great contests for freedom in England were from the
earliest times chiefly upon the question of taxing," and it
was, as I have said, frora the ill-starred project of Mr George
Grenville to raise a revenue from America, (not, however, I
believe, original with him,) that the first movements of the
American revolution sprung. We have been gratified this
morning by a sight of several relics of those days, of various
kinds and great interest ; and I have thought, sir, you might
be pleased with the inspection of one which will at least have
the interest of novelty. I mean a specimen of tha.t ever-
memorable stamped paper, which, considering its great influ
ence in bringing on the American revolution, has played as
important a part in human affairs as any paper that was ever
made. We may alraost call it, as far, at least, as Araerica is con
cerned, as Pliny the elder does the paper raade of the Egyptian
papyrus, res qua constat immortalitas hominum. I hold a half
crown stamp in my hand. How I got it, sir, I believe I
shall not tell you. It is sufficient to say that 1 came by it
honestly, without infringing any man's rights and with
out violating any constitutional principle, which is saying a
good deal, considering what it is.
Yes, sir, that bit of dingy blue paper, stamped with the
two and sixpence sterling, created the United States of Amer
ica, and cost Great Britain the brightest jewel in her crown ;
an event, however, which, in all things except, the precious
blood that was shed ih the contest, and the sufferings of a
seven years' war, was the greatest blessing, in reference both
to political and material interests, which could have fallen to
the lot of either country. The continued subjection of
America to the restrictions of tlie colonial system, (even if
our fathers had carried the points iraraediately at issue,)
would have produced a prolonged state of feverish agitation
and ever-reviving controversy, utterly inconsistent with any
wholesome progress. On the other hand, the policy pursued
by England, if crowned with temporary success, would have
been attended or followed by the prostration of the barriers of
liberty in that country. The prophecy of Lord Chatham
would unquestionably have been fulfilled : " If America falls,
VOL. II. 83

658 THE NINETEElSTTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.
she wfll fall like the strong man, embracing the pillars of
state, and drag down the constitution along with her." As
to the raaterial interests proraoted by the separation, while
the progress of Araerica, since the adoption of the constitu
tion, exceeds in rapidity any thing recorded in history, that
of England (notwithstanding the treraendous shock of the
wars of the French revolution, and the load of debt entafled
by those wars upon her) has been scarcely less Eistonishing
than our own. I suppose there is no period of the history
of Great Britain in which she has grown so ranch in nura
bers, wealth, and extent of dorainion, as that which has
elapsed since the recognition of our independence. All that
could have been wrung frora us by the blue paper is but an
insignificant trifle corapared with the rich harvest of our mu
tually beneficial comraerce.
It cannot, of course, be necessary in this place, before this
audience, especially after what we have heard from the orator
of the day, to defend the principles of the American revolu'
tion, first sealed with blood, as they were, on the nineteenth
of Aprfl, 1775. The Araerican state papers of that day have
becorae the Pandects of civil liberty throughout the world.
To wars of aggression I am vehemently opposed. They are
remnants of savage barbarism, and disgrace our Christian
civilization. But when a war of self-defence, a war for those
rights which make it life to live, iS forced upon a people, it
raust be manfully met. That our revolutionary contest* was
such a war, is now admitted by the consent of mankind.
That the demands of our fathers were reasonable is shown
by the fact, that concessions far beyond those demands have
of late years been made by Great Britain to all her colonies
deemed capable of free institutions. Our neighbors in Can
ada are in the full enjoyment of a responsible government.
The royal governor is instructed to select his ministers, not
frora the party favorable to the crown, but frora the party
which possesses the majority in the provincial Parliament.
The crown, in a recent and most remarkable case, has refused
(though most strongly urged) to interpose its veto on a meas
ure carried by the popular party in that Parliament ; and what

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD. 659
may be regarded as throwing down the last buttress of the
colonial system, the great navigation act (the real, if not the
avowed, ultimate cause of the Araerican revolution) has
within a twelvemonth been repealed. The colonies are now
permitted to trade with foreign countries as freely as with
England. In a speech of great abflity in the British House
of Commons, at the present session of Parliament, the prime
minister (Lord John Russell) is reported to have said, "On
looking back to the origin of that unhappy contest, (the
American revolution,) I cannot but think it \vas not a single
error or a single blunder which got us into that contest, but
a series of repeated errors and repeated blunders ; of a policy
asserted, and then retreated from ; again asserted, and then
concessions made when they were too late, and of obstinacy
when it was unseasonable. I believe it was by such a course
we entered into that unhappy contest, with what were, at the
beginning of it, loyal provinces of England."*
It is twenty-five years, sir, to-day, since I first had the
honor of addressing my fellow-citizens at this place, and ex
erting myself, to the best of my ability, to freshen the recol
lections of the momentous day. Twenty-five years are a
great space in the life of an individual ; -but we are accus
tomed to regard it as a brief period in the life of a state.
But even in the life of the country, if length of time is meas
ured by the magnitude of the events crowded into it, one
might say that America has lived an age in this quarter of a
century. In 1825, we had but twenty-four states. We have
now thirty, and the thirty-first, our latest born sister Califor
nia, — with her golden locks, — is advancing across the con
tinent with youthful but vigorous step. Presenting herself
at the door of the Union, with her self-imposed, rather let me
say self-conferred, restriction, — a richer treeisure than all her
mines, — she is knocking for admission with a claim not long
to be resisted. When I addressed you in 1826, the popula-
* Lord John Russell's speech on the colonial question, on the Sth
of February, 1850.

660 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.
tion of the United States amounted to about eleven mfllions.
. It is believed that the enumeration of the present year will
carry it to twenty-four millions. Yes, sir,i within this period
of twenty-five years since sorae of us now present (alas ! sir,
that I must say some only) Avere assembled to lay the corner
stone of yonder monument, a new nation, of thirteen millions
not then in being, has grown up Avithin our borders', to whom,
as well as to ourselves, a precious heritage of political liberty .
was bequeathed by the raen of 1775. The few of us who
shall assemble here iu 1876, (they will' be very few indeed
of those who have reached my age,) at the close of the full
century, will be citizens of a kindred nation of fifty millions.
On one condition, however, to which I cannot but allude.
There is no law of our nature which makes such a national
growth, or any growth, a matter of absolute necessity under
all circumstances. I received by the last steamer a pamphlet
written by a raember of the French chamber of deputies, on
" the Declincy of France." * He states that the population
of France, Avhen she went into her revolution in 1789, Avas
thirty millions ; when she came out of it in 1816, it was but
thirty mfllions. In twenty-seven years, in which the United
States more than doubled their population, France had not
added a unit to her numbers. Yet, with the exception of the
first six or seven years, it was what is called a prosperous
period ; at any rate, a period of victory and glory. What
was the cause of this stationary condition of a country, seated,
like France, in the centre of Europe, and possessing all the
material eleraents of prosperity in a greater degree than al
most any other country in that quarter of the globe ? The
secret is soon told. The flower of her population was annu
ally decimated. The ripened grain does not more regularly
fall in its season beneath the reaper's sickle, than the flower
of her young raen was annually mowed down by the ruth-

* De la Decadence de la France, par M. Raudot, (de I'Yonne,) mem-
bre de I'Assemblie Legislative, Paris, 1850.

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD, 661
less scythe of the conscription. The car of Napoleon rolled
indeed in triumph over conquered Europe : —
¦ ^' O'er shields, and helms, and helm6d heads he rode
Of thrones and mighty dynasties prostrate ; "
but the bleaching bones of his subjects strewed the pathway
from the frozen clods of the north to the burning sands of
Syria. We are safe from foreign invasion. What the most power-
fifl state in Europe could not do in 1775, when our numbers
fell short of three mfllions, is not likely to be attempted again,
now that they have reached eight times that nuraber, and are
increasing with a rapidity which it raakes the head giddy to
calculate. No, sir, the wars which we have to dread — the
wars, if any such, to chastise our sins, are lying in wait for
us in the storehouse of Providence (a catastrophe which
Heaven avert) — will be wars of aggression, or wars in which
our foes will be those of our OAvn political household. A
higher than human wisdom has taught us, that every king
dom divided against itself is brought to desolation ; and if
ever this more than kingdom of ours, — this imperial family
of states, spread out between the two great oceans of the
globe, — *
"Bridging the way, Europe ¦with Asia joined,"
to gather as it were into her bosom the riches of both hemi
spheres and either sea, — I say, sir, if this mighty family of
states, in the Providence of God and by the madness of men,
shall ever be divided against itself, it will be brought to deso
lation. Along this curiously indented frontier of neighbor
ing states, fitted, dovetailed into each other, like the fingers
of hands approaching in friendship, the line of demarcation
Avill soon be run with blood and fire. Our raighty rivers,
that bear the world's commerce east and west from the Atlan
tic coast to the interior, or which, sparkling down the conti
nent frora north to south, as if the great circles of the globe
were chased in living silver along its surface, — these stupen
dous rivers, which spring from arctic snoAvs and pour into the

662 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD.
sea beneath the tropics, wfll becorae like the rivers of the Old
World, the Rhine and the Danube, the Euphrates and the
Indus, the boundaries of alien and hostile races, whose eter
nal border wars have fixed upon their necks the eternal yoke
of mflitary despotism. This it Avas which, in the raorning
of the world, brought the bearaing forehead of Asia — queen
of nations, cradle of mankind — to the dust. This it was
that struck down .the short-lived civilization of Greece and
Rorae, and overwhelraed it with a millennium, not of grace,
but of barbarism. And if I read aright the signs of the
tiraes, it is this which is even now shaking the social system
of continental Europe to its foundation. Is it not plain as
day, if Germany on the one hand, and Italy on the other, had
been united in well-compacted, constitutional confederacies,
resting on an historical basis, cemented by a coraraon national
feeling, and possessing tribunals for the araicable adjustment
of public controversies, instead of referring them to the bloody
and abominable umpirage of Aisjar, that Hungary, and- Lom
bardy, and Rorae, and Sicily, instead of being trarapled under
the iron hoof of foreign and despotic power, raight at this
moraent have been enjoying all the blessings of freedora and
peace? And if we, blessed by the wisdora of our forefa
thers with such a safeguard against anarchy and wars, should
rashly cast it away, what words of condemnation will ade
quately describe our folly ?
The laws of huraan nature, like those of the physical uni
verse, are the same in both hemispheres. Like causes will
produce like effects. Our fathers, in the days that tried men's
souls, grasped at a union of the colonies as the ark of their
safety. They formed a union in the act of declaring their
independence. They formed a union before they attempted
a constitution. This Avas

" A hoop of gold to bind their brothers in.
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion.
As force per force the age will pour it in.
Should never leak though it do work an stiong
As aconitum."

THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL AT CONCORD. 663
But I forbear, sir, to enlarge upon this all-important therae ;
' and I 'offer you as a toast, in taking ray seat, —
The Nineteenth of April, 1775, and the Principles
OF Constitutional Freedom which our Fathers sealed
with their Blood • — May thet be peacefullt diffused
throughol*t the world, till evert human being shall
partake the blessing.

THE BIBLE.*

Mr President :
I have cheerfully complied with the request that 1 would
address the present meeting, although nothing would seem to
be more superfluous in this comraunity, than to recoraraend
the distribution of the Bible. To say any thing new on the
subject is hopeless ; to repeat Avhat has been better said before,
unprofitable. It raay be, however, that our reverence of the
Bible is very rauch a traditionary sentiment ; that we thank
it is a book which ought to be read and circulated, because
our fathers thought so before us. It may be that our impres
sions on this subject are not those deep and* distinct irapres
sions which men form in reference to the important Tausiness
affairs of life ; and Avhich we certainly ought to strive to form
on this subject, if it be, as I firmly believe, vitally connected
with the well-being of society, even in a temporal point of
view ; although this, of course, is the lowest ground on which
we would wish to recoraraend the operations of the Bible
Society to public favor.
For these reasons, sir, it raay be useful from time to
time to turn our thoughts to this subject ; to ask ourselves
why it is important that the Bible should be circulated, that
it should be placed in the hands of every one that can read,
and that all should be taught to read, if for no other reason,
that they may be able to read the Bible ; for such I take to
be the principle of the Massachusetts Bible Society.
* A Speech made at the Annual Meeting of the Massachusetts Bible
Society in Boston, on the 27th of May, 1850, Shnon Greenleaf, Esq., presi
dent of the society, in the chair. (664)

THE BIBLE. 665
It might be, perhaps, sufficient answer to this inquiry, to
say that the Bible contains the records of our religion. What
ever reasons there are for our attachment to it, .are so many
reasons for circulating the Bible. If we wish Christianity to
be extended ; if we would give the widest possible jurisdiction
to its law ; if Ave would confer tbe blessuig of its hopes and
promises on the largest possible number ; if we would infuse
its elevating and purifying spirit more and raore widely in
the world, — we must think it wise and proper, nay, natural
and necessary, to diffuse these, its authentic records, as" exten
sively as possible.
It may, however, be objected (for, if I raistake not, it has
been) that this is unnecessary, and if unnecessary, even inex
pedient, for the proposed end. It raay be said that the diffu
sion of religious knowledge had better be left to the studies
and ministrations of the clergy ; that the maintenance of
religion had better repose on the public offices and ordinances
of the church ; that it is not necessary nor desirable to make
it a subject of indiscriminate popular inquiry and cooperation.
Some such view of the subject is, I believe, entertained by
the Roman Catholic church, though I say this with diffidence
and under correction ; for I have learned to place scarce ahy
reliance on the judgments which the different comraunions
of Christians forra of each olher, however entire their good
faith and honesty of purpose. But however this may be, no.
such objection to the circulation of the Scriptures is suggest
ed by the principles which lie at the basis of our coraraon
Protestantism. Nothing could be farther from my thoughts than to under
value the importance of a learned and faithful clergy, or of
the stated administration of the offices and ordinances of reli
gion; But who will deny that, for their most effectual influ
ence on the world, it is necessary that they should have a
religiously instructed and a religiously disposed coraraunity
to act upon ? And I confess I know not whence this instruc
tion and predisposition are to be hoped for, if not frora the
distribution of the Bible. I do not 'say that the possession
of a copy of the Scriptures by a family wiU insure its being
VOL. |i. 84

666 THE BIBLE.
read, nor that when read it will always be read with intelli
gence, reverence, and profit. But certainly the possession
of the sacred» volume is, in the order of things, the condition
precedent for obtaining these results. They are not sure to
happen with it, but they are sure not to happen without it.
It may be safely left, I will .not say to every serious and de
vout person, but to every raan of common sense, to say, what
state of the coramunity is best prepared to listen Avith advan
tage to the intelligent preaching of the gospel ; in what state
of the community the public offices of religion are most
likely to meet with a cordial support — one in which there is
a Bible in every farafly, with the ordinary chances of its
being in sorae wholly neglected, in others treated only with
a cold conventional respect; or a coraraunity in which the
Bible is never seen but in a church, nor heard buf from the
pulpit. I think, sir, we shaU find, on reflection, that Christianity,
more than any other religion ever offered to the faith or reason
of man, is the religion of the Book ; for such, I need not
say, is the meaning of the Bible — the Book or Books. The
splendid and graceful mythology of Greece, the pompous
and solemn idolatry of Rorae, rested on no such basis. This
is the first point of discriraination between them and the
true faith, that the latter goes forth frora the written word ;
and it has been practically felt in every age, that there was
no hope of its maintenance and support but in the distribu
tion and transmission of the record. The want of the art of
printing in ancient tiraes of course prevented any thing like
the astonishing results in the Avay of multiplying the Bible
produced by the mechanical facflities of the press ; but the
effectual provision which was made for the translation of the
Scriptures from age to age is something quite noticeable, and
must be regarded as a very strflcing fact in the order of Prov
idence ; eminently significant of the nature of the influences
by which the religion, of which they are the record, was to
be maintained and transmitted.
This topic has been very judiciously alluded to, in a some
what different connection, by the reverend gentleman (Mr

THE BIBLE.

667

HiU) who preceded me ; but it is one of so much importance
that I venture to ask your attention to it for a few raoraents'
though it may seem to lie a little out of the range of remark
usual on occasions of this kind. ' It wfll be adraitted, I think
sir, thai there is a natural disposition on the part of a priest
hood — it was erainentiy so with the priesthood of Egypt,
the country in which the first western version of the Old
Testament was made — to retain exclusively in their own
hands all the engines of religious influence. The Egyptian
priesthood carried this so far, as to raake a mystery of the
hieroglyphical characters in which their sacred traditions
were recorded ; in consequence of which, the knowledge of
these characters was lost for ages, and has but lately been
recovered, and that imperfectly. Now, in direct opposition to
this tendency, (which is probably innate in man,) there have
been in all ages and countries, in Avhich the Scriptures ha^
been received as the rule of faith, counter influences at work,
which have insured the prepgiration of a series of translations
into the vernacular idiom. As the Avorld has moved onward,
as people after people has been gathered into the household
of nations, and dialect after dialect has grow4i up into an
independent tongue, in opposition to the instinct of class to
which I have alluded, — there has ever been found an occa
sion, an efficient demand, a providential call, for a new trans
lation of the Bible, by which the ancient and venerable
record has been made intelligible to each new people in each
new tongue.
This probably began at an earlier period than that to which
our historical accounts, go back. There were paraphrases
and versions of the Old Testament (Chaldee, Samaritan, and
Syriac) at a very early period, of whose connection with the
vicissitudes of the times and the regions we are ignorant.
But when, in consequence of the entire breaking down of
the political system of Western Asia by the conquests of
Alexander and his successors, a large portion of the Jewish
people had been driven westward, contrary to the course of
their former dispersions, which had been eastward, we find
the books of the Old Testament immediately translated into

668 THE BIBLE.
Greek at Alexandria. Thus were the Hebrew Scriptures
first brought within the reach of the European world. I
have never been surprised at the legendary miracles with
which the accounts of the preparation of this venerable ver
sion were garnished, for I see the hand of Providence as dis
tinctly manifested in it as in any event in the raoral history
of our race. When the appointed tirae had come, the writ
ings of Moses, of David, and Isaiah, locked up in a dialect
which was wasting away in the cities of Judah and on the
hills of Palestine, (a region at best not as large as our New
England,) were transfused into the far-reaching, widely-
spoken tongue, which had become the language of govern
ment, of commerce, and of phflosophy, frora the raouths of
the Rhone to the In4us. And in this language, and at this
critical juncture of religious history, though their authors
vfkie Jews, the books bf the New Testament were written
in Greek. When another stupendous revolution, or rather
series of revolutions, had transferred the sceptre of empire
to Rome, and the Latin language had acquired an alraost ex
clusive predominance in Western Europe and Northern Africa,
with some extension in the East, araong the first intellectual
phenomena of the new order of things Ave find the old Italic
version of the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, the parent of
the Vulgate and so many subsequent translations. In this
way, by raeans of the Roman language, which did not exist
as a dialect on the lips of men when the earlier books of the
Old Testament were written, — the language of a people
who, in the days of Moses and David, were wandering a wild
clan along the banks of the Tiber, — through this singular me
diura, — rather let me say this awe-inspiring instrumentality,
— these old Hebrew voices — mute aud unintelligible as
originally uttered — are rendered audible and significant to
the Western church and Avorld. And then, as we descend the
line of history, as the Latin and Greek, great world-dialects,
become obsolete, — dying, dead languages, as we significant
ly call them, — and new tongues are created by the mysteri
ous power of the vocal faculty, we are sure to behold, as was
so weU observed by Mr Hfll, as an invariable consequence,

THE BIBLE. 669
often as the first result of the change, a new translation of
the Scriptures. Nowhere is this so sure to be the case as in
the great national stock to which we belong. Gothic and
Saxon antiquity has handed down to us, through the wreck
of the dark ages, nothing older than portions of the para
phrases and versions of the Scriptures, which were made in
those dialects respectively, not long after the introduction
of Christianity into Germany and Britain. Indeed, in the
ancient Gothic tongue I am not sure that any thing has sur
vived but portions of the translation of the New Testament.
Thus great and wide-spread families of men have been
broken up or have sflently passed away, and the tongues they
spoke have ccEised to be a medium of living uitercourse ;
hordes of indigenous shepherds (indigenous we call them)
grow up into enlightened states ; wild tribes of nomadic con
querors pour down from the north and ripen into polished
commonwealths J undiscovered continents and islands filled
with strange races are made, as it Avere, to emerge from the
deep ; languages that are dying out mingle on the canvas of
human fortune with languages that are coming in, like the
melting images of the illusive glass, till it is impossible to
tell where one begins or the • other ends ; but the Word of
God is heard along the line of the ages, distinct amidst the
confusion, addressing an intelligible utterance to each succes
sive race in the great procession of humanitv. The miracle
of Pentecost becomes the law of huraan progress, and nations
that have sprung into being, cycles of ages since Moses, and
the prophets, and the apostles wrofe, still hear them speaking,
every raan in his own language.
It wiU be said, perhaps, that what has thus happened to
the Scriptures has also happened to the profane literature of
Greece and Rorae, and that we may read Homer and Virgil
as we read the Old and New Testament, in a translation.
To some extent this is true, as far as the parallel applies to
the Greek Scriptures ; but I need not say that, as far as the
ancient literature of Western Asia is concerned, nothing has
descended to us but the Scriptures of the Old Testament.
Of the language of the Phoenicians, the people who are

670 THE BIBLE.
supposed to have invented the alphabet, nothing has escaped
destruction but ten or twelve lines preserved in a Latin play,
and even that fragment representing the language as spoken
in a colony. But if any one is disposed to infer from the pres
ervation of some of the Latin and Greek classics that there was
no other principle of vitality concerned in the transmission
of the Scriptures, I may state in reply the undoubted fact,'
that, as far as we can thread the chain of cause and effect,
it is Christianity which was mainly instrumental in this result.
It was not the knowledge of the Latin and Greek which
kept the Bible from perishing, while they were the temporary
vehicles of its circulation ; it was the study of the Scriptures
and the labors of Christian raen which mainly contributed to
prevent those languages frora dying out. But for the organ
ization of the Christian church and the ecclesiastical uses
made of the Greek and Latin, the language of Cicero and
Demosthenes raight have shared the fate of those of Egypt
and Assyria, On the other hand, if there had been a version
of the Old Testaraent into the language and character of
ancient Egypt or ancient Assyria, the sculptured sides of the
obelisks and temples of Memphis and Thebes would not
have remained a mystery and a riddle for ages ;- nor would
the arroAV-headed inscriptions of the wonderful ruins of Nim-
roud and Persepolis still defy the sagacity of tbe learned
world. They would have been as intelligible as Hebrew or
Arabic. »
It is not my purpose, sir, to urge the importance of the
Scriptures in connection with human learning in any of its
branches ; nor to intimate that there is any thing miraculous
in their preservation frora reraote antiquity; although we
cannot, I think, doubt them to have been the objects of an
overruling and disposing Providence. What I have wished
to point out to the consideration of the society and the as
sembly is, that kind of instinct — if I may so call it — which
has led the church, (by which I understand the mass of be
lievers,) in all ages, to provide for the reading of the Scrip
tures by the generality of mankind ; and this in opposition
to the interest which the professed depositaries of religious

THE BIBLE. g.-.
truth have in most, perhaps in aU, other cases, shown, to
monopolize the knowledge of it. I cannot but think that it
is a strong argument in favor of the circulation of the Scrip
tures as a basis of religious belief, deduced from the experi
ence of the world in all periods of history.
There is another consideration of a practical nature, which
I should be glad to offer to the meeting, if I have not exceed
ed my allowance of time. We aU have pretty strong,, and as
I think just, impressions of the superiority of Christendom
over the Mahometan, Hindoo, and Pagan countries. Our
civilization, I know, is still very imperfect, impaired by
many a vice which disgraces our Christian nurture, — by
many a woe which "Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe.
The worse for what it soUs."
But when we compare the condition of things in Christen?
dom with that Avhich prevafls in the countries just naraed, we
find that all the evfls Avhich exist among us prevail there in
a greater degree, while they are subject to innumerable oth
ers, so dreadful as to make us almost ready to think it were
better for the mass of the population, humanly speaking, if
they had never been born. Well, now, Mr. Chairman, what
maketh us to differ ? I know of no final and sufficient cause
but the different character of Christianity, and the religions
which prevail in Turkey, Persia, India, China, and the other
semi-civilized or barbarous countries ; and this difference, as
far as I know, is accurately reflected in their sacred books re
spectively. I mean, sir, that the Bible stands to the Koran
and the Vedas in the same relation as that in which Chris
tianity stands to Mahometanisra, or Brahraanism, or Buddhisra ;
or Christendom to Turkey, Hindostan, or China.
We should all, I believe, more fully appreciate the value
of the Scriptures, if we corapared thera with other books as-
suraing the character of sacred. I have not done it so much
as I wish I had; but one reason — a main one — has been,
the extrerae repulsiveness of those books which I have tried

672 THE BIBLE.
to read. I have several tiraes in my life attempted to read
the Koran. I have done so lately. I have approached it
with a highlf excited literary curiosity. I have felt a strong
desire to penetrate this great mystery of the Arabian desert.
As I have, in some quiet Turkish town, (for in the provincial
Turkish towns there is little of the bustle of our western
life,) listened at the close of day to the clear, calm voice of
the muezzin, from the top of the graceful rainaret, caUing
the faithful to evening prayer, — as I have mused on the
vicissitudes of all human things, beneath the venerable dome
of St Sophia's, — I have, I may say, longed to find some
rational ground of sympathy between Christianity and Islam ;
but any thing more repulsive and uninviting than the Koran
I have seldora atterapted to peruse, even Avhen taken up with
these kindly feelings. And yet, sir, you are Well aware that
it is not conceived in a spirit of hostility to the Old and New
Testament, but recognizes them both ^a divine revelation.
With such portions of the sacred books of the Hindoos as
have fallen in ray way, the case is far worse. They contain,
it is true, some elevated moral sentiments of an ascetic cast,
and sorae strains inspired by a sense of the beauties of nature.
But the mythological system contained in thera is a tissue of
monstrosities and absurdities, by turns so revolting and nau
seous as to defy perusal, except frora sorae strong motive of
duty or of literary curiosity, which would prompt the investi
gation. I really believe that few things would do more to raise
the Scriptures in our estimation, than to compare the Bible
with the Koran and the Vedas. It is not a course of reading to
be generally recommended. A portion of the books are
scarce, and, as I have said, their contents eminently repulsive;
but I will venture to say to those whose professional duty it
is to maintain the sacred character of the Christian Scrip
tures, that I know of scarce any line of reading which might
be taken up with greater advantage, for the purpose of fair
comparison, than that of the sacred books, as they are called,
of the Mahometans and Hindoos.
One word more, sir, and I have done. It is sometiraes
«ib}'»cted to an indiscriminate distribution of the Bible, that

THE BIBLE.

673

it may be perverted, misunderstood, neglected, and abused.
And what means of improvement, what instrument of Chris
tian benevolence, is not subject to the sarae drawback ? The
fault is in the raind of raan, subject to error, to the blinding
effect of passion, to the debasement of vice, in all that he
does, and in all that is dpne for him. There are things in
the Bible hard to be understood. And what is there, if we
strive to go beyond the mere outside, which does not contain
things hard to be understood ? Even our exact sciences, con
structed upon ideas which are the creation of our own minds,
are full of difficulties. When we turn frora revealed truth to
the teachings of human speculatists on duty and morals, do
we not encounter on the threshold those terrible problems of
"Providence, foreknowledge, wUl, and fate —
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,"
problems that have tasked the unaided understanding of man
ever since he began to think and to reason ? For myself,
sir, I am more and more uiclined to believe that the truth is
presented to us in the Bible in the form best eidapted to the
infinite variety of the character and talent, intellectual and
moral, to which it is addressed. It is not such a Bible as the
wit of man would have conceived ; but it is such a one as the
nature and wants of man called for. The acceptance it has
found, alike in ancient and modern times, with the learned
and the ignorant, the old and the young, the high and the
low, the prosperous and the wretched, shows that it is really
adapted in itself, not to one country, age, or class, but to man ;
that it speaks to the unchanging wants, and sorrows, and
fraflties, and aspirations of the human heart.

the end.

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