Skip to main content

Full text of "Importance of Practical Education and Useful Knowledge: Being a Selection ..."

See other formats 


This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 

We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 



at |http : //books . google . com/ 



i 




d^ 



''^ri. 



it;Di^,';-^^^■-.v, ;• .si^. 





^N. 



It 



\ 



\ 




x^^^ 



r- 



IMPORTANCE 



PRACTICAL EDUCATION 



USEFUL KNOWLEDGE: 



A SELECTION FROM HIS ORATIONS AND OTHER 
DISCOURSES, 



BY EDWARD EVERETT. 



NEW YORK: 

HARPER A BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 
1854. 



I\1 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840, by 

Marsh, Capen, Lyon, and Webb, 
io tbe Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachasetts. 

fePUCATlOW 



AUTHOR'S ADVERTISEMENT. 



This Volume contains a selection from the orations 
and speeches delivered by the Author, on various pub- 
lic occasions, within the last sixteen years. Although 
most of them refer to the subject of Education, in some 
one of its numerous aspects, it cannot be expected of 
the collection to form a systematic whole, exhibiting 
the unity of a single treatise. As several of them were 
delivered on occasions of precisely the same character^ 
there is a repetition of some of the ideas and illustra- 
tions, scarcely to be avoided, under the circumstances 
of the case. 

The reader is requested to advert to the date of the 
original delivery of the different orations and speeches, 
which compose the Volume. They contain some ref- 
erences, which could not conveniently be altered, to 
things as they existed at the time, and which have 
since undergone change. The cases are such, howev- 
er, it is believed, that no erroneous impression will be 
produced on the mind, by leaving the text as it origi- 
nally stood. It will even sometimes be found, that the 
original statement affords the means of an instructive 
comparison with the present state of things, in matters 
pertaining to the progress of the country. 

Of the addresses contained in this Volume, those 
delivered before 1836 are found in the general collec- 

541500 



tion of the Author's orations, published in that year. 
Those of subsequent date have never before been col- 
lected. The speech made at the School Convention, 
at Taunton, has never appeared in a separate form ; 
and the remarks at the School Convention, at Tisbury, 
are now for the first time published. 

The addresses, which have before appeared, have 
been subjected, to a careful revision, for this edition, 
especially with a view to their adaptation for youthful 
readers. Several of the marginal references and other 
explanations have been made for their information, by 
the intelligent and accurate Supervisor of the publio^ 
tion, Mr. Joseph W. Ingraham, to whom the Author 
feels himself under great obhgations, for the care with 
which the Volume has been carried through the press. 
The Glossary, an important addition to the Work, will, 
it is believed, be found to contain a more than usual 
amount of valuable information. 

The Volume is now respectfully dedicated to the 
rising generation of the country, with ardent wishes for 
their improvement, virtue, and happiness. 



CONTENTS. 



The CIRCUMStANCES FAVORABLE TO LITERARY IM- 
PROVEMENT IN AMERICA, . 7 

An Oration, pronounced at Cambridge, before the Societj 
of Phi Beta Kappa, August 26, 1824. 

First settlement of new England, . • • • 44 
Oration delivered at Plymouth, December 22, 1824. 

On the importance of scientific knowledge to 
practical men, and on the encouragements 
to its pursuit, 73 

Substance of Addresses delivered before several Institutions 
for Scientific Improvement. 

Lecture on the workingmen's party, . . .113 

Delivered before the Charlestown Lyceum, October, 1830. 

Advantage of useful knowledge to working- 
men, 138 

An Address delivered as the Introduction to the Franklin 
Lectures, in Boston, November 14, 1831. 

Education in the west, . . . . . . • .162 

Speech at a Public Meeting held at St. Paul's Church, Bos- 
ton, May 22, 1833, on behalf of Kenyon College. 

Education of mankind, 172 

An Address before the Phi Beta Kappa Society in Yale 
College, New Haven, Connecticut, August 20, 1833. 

Benefits of a general diffusion of knowledge, 213 

Address delivered before the Literary Societies of Amherst 
College, August 25, 1836. 
1* 



6 contents, * 

On superior and popular education, .... 249 

An Address delivered before the Adelphic Union Society of 
Williams College, on Commencement Day, August 16, 
1837. 

The importance op the mechanic arts, . . » 280 

An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Charitable 
Mechanic Association, September 20, 1837, on Occasion 
of their first Exhibition and Fair. 

Education the nurture of the mind, ... 299 

Substance of Remarks, made at the County Convention of 
the Friends of Education, held at Tisbury, on the Island 
of Martha's Vineyard, August 16, 1838. 

Accumulation, property, capital, credit, . . 307 

An Address delivered before the Mercantile Library Asso- 
ciation, at the Odeon, in Boston, September 13, 1838. 

The importance of education in a i^ipublic, . 334 

Substance of Remarks made at a County Common-School 
Convention, held in Taunton, October 10, 1838. 

Glossary, • 349 

Index, 397 



EDUCATION AND KNOWLEDGE. 



THE CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO LIT- 
ERARY IMPROVEMENT IN AMERICA * 

Mr, President, and Gentlemen, — ^In discharging 
the honorable trust, which you have assigned to me, on 
this occasion, I am anxious, that the hour, which we 
pass together, should be exclusively occupied with those 
reflections, which belong to us, as scholars. Our asso- 
ciation in this fraternity is academical ; we entered it, 
before our Alma Mater dismissed us from her venerable 
roof; and we have now come together, in the holydays, 
from every variety of pursuit, and every part of the 
Country, to meet on common ground, as the brethren of 
one literary household. The duties and cares of life, 
like the Grecian states, in times of war, have proclaim- 
ed to us a short armistice, that we may come up, in 
peace, to our Olympia. 

On this occasion, it has seemed proper to me, that 
we should turn our thoughts, not merely to some topic 
of literary interest, but to one which concerns us, as 
American scholars. I have accordingly selected, as the 
subject of our inquiry, the circumstances peculiarly 

CALCULATED TO PROMOTE THE PROGRESS OF IMPROVE- 
ifENT, AND TO FURNISH THE MOTIVES TO INTELLECTUAL 
EXERTION, IN THE UnITED StATES OP AmERICA. In 

• An Oration, pronounced at Caitibridge, before the Society of Phi 
B«ta Kappa, Angnst 26, 1824. 



. . . . - - .. 

? . .. . ...^Iiy^UMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

' ••" * ''" * ,. ; t ,,: /••, • • 

the 'discussion of this subject, that curiosity, which every 
scholar naturally feels, in tracing and comparing the 
character of the higher civilization of different countries, 
is dignified and rendered practical, by the important 
connexion of the inquiry, with the condition and pros- 
pects of his Native Land. 

I am aware that such inquiries are apt to degenerate 
into fanciful speculations, and doubtful refinements. 
Why Asia has, almost without exception, been the abode 
of sonift form of despotism, and Europe more propitious 
to liberty ; — ^why the civilization of the Egyptians was of 
a character so melancholy and perishable ; that of the 
Greeks so elegant, versatile, and life-giving ; that of the 
Romans so stern and tardy, till they became the imita- 
tors of a people, whom they conquered and despised, 
but never equalled ; — ^why tribes of barbarians, from the 
North and Eastj not supposed to differ, essentially, from 
each other, at the time of their settlement in Europe, 
should have laid the foundation of national characters so 
dissimilar, as those of the Spaniards, French, Germans, 
and English ; — are questions, to which such answers, 
only, can be given, as will be just and safe, in propor- 
tion as they are general and comprehensive. It is diffi- 
cult, even in the case of the individual man, to point 
out precisely the causes, under the operation of which, 
members of the same community, and even of the same 
family, grow up, with characters the most diverse. It 
must, of course, be much more difficult to perform the 
same analysis on a subject so vast as a nation, composed 
of communities and individuals, greatly differing from 
each other, all subjected to innumerable external influ- 
ences, and working out the final result, not less by mu- 
tual counteraction, than cooperation. 

But as, in the formation of individual character, there 
are causes of undisputed and powerful operation, so, in 
national character, there are causes, equally undisputed, 
of growth and excellence, on the one hand, and of de- 
generacy and ruin, on the other. It belongs to the phi- 
losophy of history, to investigate these causes ; and, if 



IJTERAIir DCPROYEBfENT IN ABIERICA. 9 

possible, to point out the drcumstances, which, as fur- 
nishing the motives, and giving the direction, to intel- 
lectual effort in different nations, have had a chief 
agency in making them what they were, or are. Where 
it is done judiciously, it is in the highest degree curi- 
ous, thus to trace physical or politicid facts into moral 
and intellectual consequences, and great historical re- 
sults ; and to show, how climate, geographical position, 
local topc^raphy, institutions, single events, and the 
influence of the characters of individuals, have fixed the 
pursuits and decided the destiny of nations. 

In pursuing such inquiries, we may be led to the con- 
clusion, that the physical effect of a tropical climate 
enervates a people, and fits them to become the sub- 
jects of despotism ; though it may render them, also, 
formidable instruments of desolating but transitory con- 
quest, under the lead of able and daring chiefs. We 
may find that a broad river, or a lofty chain of moun- 
tains, by stopping the march of war or of emigration, 
becomes the boundary, not merely of governments, but 
of languages and literature, of institutions and charac- 
ter. We may sometimes think we can trace extraor- 
dinary skill, in the liberal arts, to the existence of a 
quarry of fine marble. We may see popular eloquence 
springing out of popular institutions, and, in its turn, 
greatly instrumental in affecting the fortunes of free 
states. We may behold the spirit of a lawgiver or re- 
former perpetuated by codes and institutions, for ages. 
We may trace the career of colonial settlements, insu- 
lar states, tribes fortified within Alpine battlements, or 
scattered over a smiling region of olive gardens and 
vineyards : — and deduce the political and historical ef- 
fects of these physical causes. 

These topics of rational curiosity and liberal specula- 
tion, as I have already intimated, acquire practical im- 
portance, when the land in which we live is the subject 
of investigation. When we turn the inquiry to our own 
Country ; when we survey its natural features, search 
its history, and examine its institutions, to see, what are 



10 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

• 

the circumstances which are to excite and guide the 
popular mind ; it then becomes an inquiry of the highest 
mterest^ and worthy the attention of every patriotic 
scholar. We then dwell, not on a distant, uncertain, 
perhaps fabulous, past, but on an impending future, 
teeming with life, and action, and pjibUc fortune; a 
future, toward which we are daily and rapidly swept 
forward, and with which we stand in the dearest con- 
nexion, that can bind the generations of men together ; 
a future, which our own characters, actions, and prin- 
ciples, may influence, for good or evil, for lasting glory 
or shame* We then strive, as far as our poor philoso- 
phy can do it, to read the Country's reverend auspices ; 
to cast its great horoscope in the national sky, where 
some stars are waning, and some have set. We en- 
deavor to ascertain, whether the soil, which we love, as 
that where our fathers are laid, and we shall presently 
be laid with them, is likely to be trod, in times to come, 
by an enUghtened, virtuous, and free, people. 

I. The first circumstance, of which I shall speak, as 
influencing the prc^ess of improvement, and furnish- 
ing the motives to intellectual effort among us, is the 
new form of poUtical society, established in the United 
States. It is not my purpose to detain you with so trite 
a topic, as the praises of free political institutions ; but 
to ask your attention to the natural operation of a rep- 
resentative republican system, on the character of a 
people. I call this, a new form of political society. 
The ancient Grecian republics, indeed, were free 
enough, within the walls of the single cities, of which 
many of them were wholly or chiefly composed ; while, 
toward the confederate or tributary states, the govern- 
ment too often assumed the form of a despotism, more 
capricious, and not less arbitrary, than that of a single ty- 
rant. Rome was never the abode of genuine, well-regula- 
ted liberty. The remark just made of the Grecian repub- 
lics extends to the Roman, for the greater portion of 
its history ; while, within the walls of the city, the state 
of the Commonwealth fluctuated between the evils of 



LrrcaiRT mpROVEiiENT in aiurica. 11 

an oppressive aristocracy and a factious populace. The 
rudiments of a representative legislature are to be found, 
in the estates of some of the governments of continen 
tal Europe, and far more distinctly and effectually de- 
veloped in the British Parliament ; but a uniform and 
complete representative system, organized by a written 
constitution of government, is original in this Country. 
Here, for the first time, the whole direction and influ- 
ence of affairs, and all the great organic functions of 
the body politic, are subjected, direcUy or indirectly, — 
the executive and legislative functions, directly, — to free 
popular choice. Whatsoever quickening influence re- 
sides in pubUc honors and trusts, and in the cheerful 
consciousness of the individual possession of the most 
momentous political rights, is here exerted, directly, on 
the largest mass of men, with the smallest possible de- 
ductions. As a despotism, like that of Turkey or Per- 
sia, is, by all admission, the form of government least 
favorable to the intellectual progress of a people, it 
would seem equally certain, that the further you recede 
from such a despotism, in the establishment of a system 
of popular and constitutional liberty, the greater the 
assurance that the universal mind of the country will 
be powerfully and genially excited. 

But it is objected, that, under an elective government, 
of very limited powers, like those of the United States, 
we lose that powerful spring of action, which exists in 
the patronage of strong hereditary governments, and 
must proceed from the Crown. I believe it is a preva- 
lent opinion, abroad, among those who entertain the 
most friendly sentiments toward the American institu- 
tions, that we must consent to dispense with something 
of the favorable influence of princely and royal patron- 
age on letters and the arts, and find our consolation in 
the political benefits of a republican -government. It 
may be doubted, however, whether this view be not en- 
tirely fallacious. It is by no means to be inferred from 
the fact, that brilliant geniuses have adorned the courts 
of monarchs, that such geniuses would not have existed 



12 CIRCUMSTANCES FATORABLi: TO 

under any other form of government. The patronage 
that rewards does not necessarily create. 

It is more important, however, to be observed, that the 
evils of centralization are as evident, in reference to the 
encou^ragement of the general mind of the people, as they 
are in regard to a contented acquiesence in political 
administration. Whatever is gained, for those who 
enjoy it, by concentrating a powerful patronage in the 
capital, and in the central administration, is lost, in the 
neglect and discouragement of the distant portions of the 
state, and its subordinate institutions. It must be re- 
collected, that our representative system extends far be- 
yond the election of the high officers of the National 
and State governments. It pervades our local and mu- 
nicipal organizations, and probably exercises, in them, 
the most efficient and salutary part of its influence. 
In the healthful action of this representative system, 
whatever virtue there is in patronage is made to per- 
vade the repubUc, like the air ; to reach the furthest, 
and descend to the lowest. It is made not only to co- 
operate with the successful, and decorate the prosper- 
ous, but to cheer the remote, " to remember the forgot- 
ten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken." 
Hitherto, the faculties of men have had but one weary 
pilgrimage to perform, — to travel up to Court. By an 
improvement on the Jewish polity, which enjoined a 
visit, thrice a year, to the Holy City, the theory of pat- 
ronage, in question, requires a constant residence at the 
favored spot. Provincial has become another term for 
inferior and rude; and unpolite, which once meant 
only rural, has been made to signify something little 
better than barbarous. As it is, in the nature of things, 
a small part, only, of the population of a large state, 
wliich can thus bring itself, or by happy chance can 
fall, into the sphere of metropolitan favor, it follows, 
that the mass of the people are cut off from the oper- 
ation of those motives to exertion, which flow from the 
hope or the possession of patronage. 

The auspicious influence of patronage is not^ on any 



LITERARY IMPROVEMENT IN AMERICA. 13 

system of distribution, to be sought, in its direct appli- 
cation to the support of men of genius and learning. 
Its best operation is in the cheerful effect of kindly 
notice and intelligent audience. Talent indeed desires 
to earn a support, but not to receive a dole. It is 
rightfully urged, as the great advantage of our system, 
that the encouragements of society extend as widely 
as its burdens, and search out, and bring forward, what- 
soever of ability and zeal for improvement are contain- 
ed in any part of the land. I am persuaded, that, 
mainly in this equable diffusion of rights and privileges, 
lies the secret of the astonishing developement of intel- 
lectual energy, in this Country. Capacity and opportu- 
nity, the twin sisters, who can scarce subsist but with 
each other, are brought together. These little local 
republics are schools of character ; nurseries of mind. 
The people, who are to choose,* and from whose num- 
ber are to be chosen, by their neighbors, all those, who, 
either in higher or lower stations, are intrusted with the 
management of affairs, feel the strongest impulse to 
mental activity. They read, and think, and form judge- 
ments on important subjects. In an especial manner, 
they are moved to make provision for education. 
With all its deficiencies, our system of public schools, 
— founded, in the infancy of the Country, by the colo- 
nial legislature, and transmitted to our own days, — is 
superior to any system of public instruction, (with pos- 
sibly a single exception,) which has ever been establish- 
ed by the most enlightened states of the Old World. 
Hasty prejudices, against representative republics, have 
been drawn from the disorders of the ill-organized de- 
mocracies of the ancient world. Terrific examples of 
license and anarchy, in Greece and Rome, are quoted, 
to prove, that man requires to be protected from him- 
self, forgetting the profound wisdom wrapped up in 
the familiar inquiry, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes 1* 
But to reason from the states of Greece, to our consti- 

* Who shall guard the keepers ? 

^ E. £• 



14 CIRCT7MSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

tutions of government, is to be deceived by schoolboy 
analogies. From the first settlement of New England, 
one of the most prominent traits of the character of our 
population has been, to provide and to diffuse the 
means of education. The village schoolhouse and the 
village church are the monuments of our republican- 
ism ; to read, to write, and to discuss grave affairs, in 
their primary assemblies, are the licentious practices of 
our democracy. 

But, in this acknowledged result of our system of gov- 
ernment, another objection is taken to its influence, as 
far as literary progress is concerned. It is urged, that, 
though it may be the effect of our institutions, to exeite 
the mind of the people, they excite it too much in a 
political direction ; that the division and subdivision of 
the Country into states and districts, and the equal dif- 
fusion of pohtical privileges and powers among the whole 
population, and the constant recurrence of elections, 
however favorable to civil liberty, are unfriendly to 
learning ; that they kindle only a political ambition ; 
and particularly, that they seduce the aspiring youth, 
from the patient and laborious vigils of the student, to 
plunge prematurely into the conflicts of the forum. 

I am inclined to think, that, as far as the supposed 
facts exist, they are the necessary result of the pres- 
ent stage of our national progress, and not an injurious 
effect of representative government. Our system is 
certainly an economical one, both as to the number of 
persons employed, and the compensation of public ser- 
vice. It cannot, therefore, draw more individuals frc«n 
other pursuits into public life, than would be employed 
under any other form or system of government ; nor 
hold out stronger inducements, or brighter rewards. It 
is obvious, that the administration of the government 
of a country, whether it be liberal, or absolute, or mix- 
ed, is the first thing to be provided for. Some persons 
must be employed in making and administering the 
laws, before any other human interest can be attended 
to. The Fathers of Plymouth formed themselves into a 



LITEIIARY IMPROTEMENT IN AMERICA. 15 

conyention, to cnrganize a compact of government, be- 
fore they left the Mayflower. This was natural, wise. 
Had they, while yet on ship-board, talked of founding 
learned societies, or engaged in the discussion of philo- 
sophical problems, it would have been insipid pedantry. 
As the organization and administration of the govern- 
ment are, in the order of time, the first of mere human 
concerns, they must ever retain a paramount import- 
ance. Every thing else must come in by opportunity ; 
this, of necessity, must be provided for : otherwise, Ufe 
is not safe, property is not secure, and there is no per- 
manence in the social institutions. The first efibrts, 
therefore, of men, in building up a new state, are, of 
necessity, political. But where else in the world, did 
the foundation of the college ever follow, so closely, on 
that of the republic, as in Massachusetts ? In the early 
stages of society, when there is a scanty population, its 
entire force is required for administration and defence. 
We are receding from this stage, but have not yet 
reached that, in which a crowded population produces 
a large amount of cultivated talent, not needed for the 
service of the state. 

As far, then, as the talent and activity of the Coun- 
try are at present called forth, in a political direction, it 
is fairly to be ascribed, not to any supposed incompati- 
bility of popular institutions with the cultivation of let- 
ters, but to the precise point, in its social progress, 
which the Country has reached. A change of govern- 
ment would produce no change, in this respect Can 
any man suppose, other things remaining the same, 
that the introduction of an hereditary sovereign, an or- 
der of nobility, a national church, a standing army, and 
a military police, would tend to a more general and 
more fruitful developement of mental energy, or great- 
er leisure, on the part of. educated men, to engage in 
literary pursuits? It is obviously as impossible, that 
any such effect should be produced, as that the suppos- 
ed producing cause should be put in action, in this 
Country. By the terms of the supposition, if such a 



16 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

change were made, the leading class of the community, 
the nobles, would be politicians, by birth ; as much tal- 
ent would be required to administer the state ; as much 
physical activity, to defend it. If there were a class, as 
there probably would be, in the horizontal division of 
society, which exists under such governments, not tak- 
ing an interest in politics, it would be that, which, un- 
der the name of the peasantry, supplies, in most other 
countries, the place of, perhaps, the most substantial, 
uncorrupted, and intelligent, population on earth, — ^the 
American Yeomanry. We are not left to theory, on 
this point. There are portions of the American Con- 
tinent, eariier settled than the United States, gov- 
erned, from the first, by absolute power, and posses- 
sing all the advantages, which can flow from what is 
called a strong government. It may be safely left to 
the impartial judgement of mankind, to compare the 
progress, either of general intelligence, or of higher lit- 
erature, in ^hose portions of the Continent, and in the 
United States. 

Again, it cannot be thought a matter of little mo- 
ment, that, under a free government, the cultivation of 
letters always has been, and unquestionably always will 
be, deemed as honorable a pursuit, as any, to which the 
attention can be devoted. Under other forms of gov- 
ernment, a different standard of respectability exists. 
Hereditary rank, of necessity, takes precedence ; and all 
the institutions of society are made to regard the acci- 
dents of birth as more important than personal merit. 
The choicest spirits of Europe, for ten generations, 
have been trained up to the feeling, that government 
and war are the only callings, worthy of noble blood. 
In those foreign countries, where the political institutions 
have been most improved, and the iron yoke of feudalism 
most effectually broken, that is, in other words, where 
the people have been restored to their rights, we be- 
hold, as the invariable consequence, a proportionate in- 
tellectual progress. What could be more preposterous, 
than to attribute this progress to the remnants of the 



LITERARY IMPROVE&TENT IN AMERICA. 17 

feudal system, which still remain, rather than to the 
free principles and popular institutions which have suc- 
ceeded it ; and to deny to such institutions, in their per- 
fect organization, in tins Country, a tendency to produce 
the same happy effects, which their partial introduction 
has every where else produced ? 

It cannot but be, that the permanent operation of a 
free system of constitutional and representative govern- 
ment, should be favorable to the culture of mind, be- 
cause it is itself in conformity with that law of Nature, 
by which mind is distributed. The mental energy of a 
people, which you propose to call out, the intellectual 
capacity, which is to be cultivated and improved, has 
been equally diffused, throughout the land, by a sterner 
leveller, than ever marched in the van of a revolution, 
— ^the impartial providence of God. He has planted 
the germs of intellect, alike in the city and the coun- 
try ; by the beaten way-side, and in the secluded val- 
ley, and solitary hamlet. Sterling native character, 
strength and quickness of mind, the capacity for bril- 
liant attainment, are not among the distinctions, which 
Nature has given, exclusively, to the higher circles of 
life. Too often, in quiet times, they perish, in the ob- 
scurity, to which a false organization of society con- 
signs them. And the reason why, in dangerous, con- 
vulsed, and trying, times, there generally happens an 
extraordinary developement of talent, unquestionably 
is, that, in such times, whatever be the nominal form 
of the government, necessity, for the moment, pro- 
claims the Republic. 

What happens in a crisis of national fortune, under 
all governments, is, in this respect, the steady and 
natural operation of our political institutions. Their 
foundation, at last, is in dear Nature. They do 
not consign the gi^ater part of the social system to 
torpidity and mortification. They send out a vital 
nerve, to every member of the community, however 
remote, by which it is brought into living conjunction 
and strong sympathy with the kindred intellect of the 
2* 



18 CIBCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

nation. They encourage Nature to perfect her work, 
on the broadest scale. By providing systems of uni- 
versal and cheap education, they multiply, indefinitely, 
the numbers of those to whom the path is opened, for 
further progress ; and thus bring up remote, shrinking, 
unpatronized talent, into the cheerful field of compe- 
tition. The practical operation of popular institutions 
of government, provides, in innumerable ways, a de- 
mand for every species of intellectual effort, not merely 
within the circle of a capital, but throughout the land. 
In short, wherever man has been placed by Providence, 
endowed with rational capacities of improvement, there 
the genius of the republic visits him, with a voice of 
encouragement and hope. Every day, he receives, 
from the working of the social system, some new assu- 
rance, that he is not forgotten, in the multitude of the 
people. He is called to do some act, to assert some 
right, and to enjoy some privilege ; and he is elevated, 
by this consciousness of his social importance, from the 
condition of the serf or the peasant, to that of the free- 
man and the citizen. 

In thus maintaining, that the tendency of our popu- 
lar institutions, at the present stage of our national pro- 
gress, to excite a diffusive interest in politics, is in no 
degree unfriendly to the permanent intellectual im- 
provement of the Country, it is not intended to assert, 
that the peculiar and original character of these insti- 
tutions will produce no corresponding modification of 
our literature. The reverse is, unquestionably, the 
fact. It may safely be supposed, that, with the growth 
of the Country, in wealth and population, as the vari- 
ous occasions of a large, enterprising, and prosperous 
community, placed on the widest theatre of action ever 
opened to man, call into strong action, and vigorous 
competition, the cultivated talent 9f the Country, some 
peculiar tone, form, and proportion, will be given to its 
literature, by the nature of its pohtical institutions, and 
Jhe social habits founded on them. Literature, is but 
a more perfect communication of man with man, and 



LITERAB.T mPROYEMENT IN AMERICA. 19 

mind with mind. It is the judgement, the memory, 
the ima^nation; discoursing, recording, or musing 
aloud. It is the outward expression of the intellectual 
man ; or, if not this, it is poor imitation. What, there- 
fore, affects the man, affects the literature ; and it may 
be assumed, as certain, that the peculiarity of our polit- 
ical institutions will be represented in the character of 
our intellectual pursuits. Government, war, commerce, 
manners, and the stage of social progress, are reflected 
in the literature of a country. No precedent exists, to 
teach us what 'direction the mind will most decisively 
take, under the strongest excitements to action, unre- 
strained by the power of government, but greatly in- 
fluenced by public sentiment, throughout a vastly-ex- 
tensive and highly-prosperous country, into which the 
civiUzation of older states has been rapidly transfused. 
This condition of things is, evidently, entirely novel, 
and renders it impossible to foresee, what garments our 
native muses will weave to themselves. To foretell our 
literature would be to create it. There was a time, be- 
fore an epic poem, a tragedy, an historical composition, 
or a forensic harangue, haid ever been produced, by 
the wit of man. It was a time of vast and powerful 
empires, and of populous and wealthy cities. We 
have no reason to think, that any work, in either of 
those departments of literature, (with the exception, 
perhaps, of smne meager chronicle, which might be 
called history,) was produced by the early Ethiopians, 
the Egyptians, or the Ass3rrians. Greece herself had 
been settled a thousand years, before the gcJden age 
of her literature. At length, the new and beautiful 
forms, in which human thought and passion developed 
themselves in that favored rq^ion, sprang up, and un- 
der the excitement of free political institutions. Before 
the epos, the drama, the oration, the history, appeared, 
it would, of course, have been idle for the philosopher 
to form conjectures, as to the paths, ^hich would be 
struck out by the kindling genius of the age. He, 
who could form such an anticipation, could and would 



20 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

realize it, and it would be anticipation no longer. 
The critic is ages behind the poet. Epic poetry was 
first conceived of, when the gorgeous vision of the 
Iliad, not in its full detail of circumstances, but in the 
dim fancy of its leading scenes and bolder features, 
burst into the soul of Homer. 

Equally impossible to execute were the task to mark 
out, beforehand, the probable direction, in which the 
intellect of this Country will move, under the influence 
of institutions, as new and peculiar as those of Greece, 
and so organized, as to secure the bfest blessings of 
popular government, without the evils of anarchy. But 
if, as no one will deny, our pk>litical system brings more 
minds into action, on equal terms; extends the advan- 
tages of education, more equally, throughout the com- 
munity ; if it provide a prompter and wider circulation 
of thought ; if, by raising the character of the masses, 
it swell, to tens of thousands and milhons, those " sons 
of emulation, who crowd the narrow strait where honor 
travels," it would seem not too much, to anticipate 
new varieties and peculiar power in the literature, 
which is but the voice and utterance of all this mental 
action. The instrument of communication may receive 
improvement ; the written and spoken language acquire 
new vigor; possibly, forms of address wholly new will 
be devised. Where great interests are at stake, great 
concerns rapidly succeeding each other, depending on 
almost innumerable wills, and yet requiring to be ap- 
prehended in a glance, and explained in a word ; where 
movements are to be given to a vast population, not by 
transmitting orders, but by difiusing opinions, exciting 
feelings, and touching the electric cord of sympathy ; 
there, language and expression will become intense, and 
the old processes of communication must put on a vigor 
and a directness, adapted to the condition of things. 

Our Country is called, as it is, practical ; but this 
is the element for intellectual action. No strongly- 
marked and high-toned literature, poetry, eloquence, 
or philosophy, ever appeared, but under the pressure of 



LITERA&T IMPROVEMENT IN AMERICA. SI 

great interests, great enterprises, perilous risks, and 
dazzling rewards. Statesmen, and warriors, and poets, 
and orators, aiid artists, start up under one and the 
same excitement. They are all branches of one stock. 
They form, and cheer, and stimulate, and, what is 
worth all the rest, understand, each other ; and it is as 
truly the sentiment of the student, in the recesses of 
his cell, as of the soldier in the ranks, which breathes 
in the exclamation, 

'* To all the sons of sense proclaim, 
On^ glorious hour of crowded life 
Is worth an age without a name." 

Let us now inquire, how history and experience con- 
firm the foregoing speculations. Here, we shall be met, 
at the outset, and reminded of the splendid patronage 
bestowed by strong governments on literature ; patron- 
age of a kind, which necessarily implies the centraliza- 
tion of the resources of the state, and is consequently 
inconsistent with a representative system. We shall 
be told of the rich establishments, and liberal pensions ; 
of museums founded, libraries collected, and learned 
societies sustained ; by Ptolemies, Augustuses, and Lou- 
ises, of ancient and modern times. Then, we shall be 
directed to observe the fruit of this noble patronage, in 
the wonders of antiquarian and scientific lore, which 
it has ushered into the world; the Thesauruses and 
Corpuses, from which the emulous student, who would 
understand all things, recoils in horror, and in the con- 
templation of which, meek-eyed Patience folds her 
hands, in despair. 

When we have reflected on these things-, and turn 
our thoughts back to our poor republican land ; to our 
frugal treasuries, and the cautioii with which they are 
dispensed; to our modest private fortunes, and the 
thrift with which they are, of necessity, hoarded ; to 
our scanty public libraries, and the plain brick walls 
within which they are deposited ;— we may be apt to 
form gloomy auguries of the influence of free pofitical 
institutions on letters. Here, then, we might, with ad- 



22 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

vantage, perhaps, scrutinize the real character of this 
vaunted patronage, and inquire what it has actually 
done for the pure original literature of any people. 
How much was unfruitful pomp and display, and how 
much mere favoritism; and of the expensive literary 
enterprises, to which I have alluded, how many may hv 
compared to the Pyramids; — stupendous monuments 
of labor and power, of little value to the eye of taste, 
and of no benefit to man. 

But let us examine, more carefully, the experience 
of former ages, and see how far their political institu- 
tions, as they have been more or less popular, have 
been more or less productive of intellectual excellence. 
When we make this examination, we shall be gratified 
to find, that the precedents are all in favor of liberty. 
The greatest efforts of human genius have been made, 
where the nearest approach to free institutions has ta- 
ken place. There shone not forth 'one ray of intellec- 
tual light, to cheer the long and gloomy ages of the 
Memphian and Babylonian despots. Not an historian, 
not an orator, not a poet, as has been already observed, 
is heard of in their annals. When you ask, what was 
achieved by the generations of thinking beings, — ^the 
millions of men, whose natural genius was as bright as 
that of the Greeks, nay, who forestalled the Greeks, in 
the first invention of many of the arts, — ^you are told, 
that they built the pyramids of Memphis, the temples 
of Thebes, the tower of Babylon ; and carried Sesostris 
and Ninus upon their shoulders, from the West of Af- 
rica to the Indus. Mark the contrast, in Greece. With 
the first emerging of that country, into the light of po- 
litical liberty, the poems of Homer appear. Some 
centuries, alike of political confusion and literary dark- 
ness, follow, and then the great constellation of their 
geniuses seems to rise at once. The stormy eloquence 
and the deep philosophy, the impassioned drama and 
the grave history, were all produced for the entertain- 
ment of the " fierce democratic" of Athens. 

Here, then, the genial influence of liberty on letters, 



LITXBABT mPBOYEMSNT IN AMEBICA. 23 

# 

ig strongly put to the test. Athens was certainly a 
free state ; free to licentiousness, free to madness. The 
rich were arbitrarily pillaged, to defray the public ex- 
penses; the great were banished, to appease the en- 
vy of their rivals ; the wbe sacrificed to the ftiry of 
the populace. It was a state, in short, where liberty 
existed, with most of the imperfections, which have 
sometimes led the desponding to love and praise des- 
potism. Still, however, it was for this lawless, merciless 
people, that the most chaste and accomplished litera- 
ture, which the world has known, was produced. The 
philosophy of Plato was the attraction, which drew the 
young men of this factious city to a morning's walk in 
the oUve gardens of the academy. Those tumultuous 
assemblies of Athens, which rose in their wrath, and to 
a man, and clamored for the blood of Phocion, required 
to be addressed in the elaborate and thricen^peated 
orations of Demosthenes. 

No! the noble and elegant arts of Greece grew 
up in no Augustan age. They enjoyed neither royal 
nor imperial patronage. Unknown, before, in the 
world, strangers on the Nile and on the Euphrates, 
they sprang, at once, into Ufe, in a region not unUke 
our own New England, — iron-bound, sterile, but free. 
The imperial astronomers of Chaldsea went up al- 
most to the stars, in their observatories; but it was 
a Greek, who first foretold an eclipse, and measured 
the year. Some happy genius in the East invented 
the sJphabet, but not a line has reached us of profane 
literature, in any of their languages ; and it is owing 
to the embalming power of Grecian genius, that the 
invention itself has been transmitted to the world. The 
Egyptian architects could erect structures, which, after 
three thousand years, are still standing, in their un- 
couth , original majesty ; but it was only on the barren 
soil of Attica, that the beautiful columns of the Parthe- 
non and the Theseum could rest, which are standing also. 

With the decline of liberty in Greece, began the 
decline of her letters and her arts, though her tumul- 



24 CIRCUMSTANCES FAyOltA]6LE TO 

tuous democracies were succeeded by liberal and ac- 
complished princes. Compare the literature of the Al- 
exandrian, with that of the Periclean age; how cold, 
pedantic, and imitative ! Compare, I will not say, the 
axes, the eggs, the altars, and the other frigid devices 
of the pensioned wits in the museum at Alexandria, but 
compare their best productions, with those of indepen- 
dent Greece ; Callimachus with Pindar, Lycophron with 
Sophocles, Aristophanes of Byzantium with Aristotle, 
and ApoUonius the Rhodian with Homer. When we 
descend to Rome, to the Augustan age, the famed era 
of Maecenas, we find one uniform work of imitation, 
often of translation. The choicest spirits seldom rise 
beyond a happy transfusion of the Grecian masters. 
Horace translates Alcseus, Terence translates Menander, 
Lucretius translates Epicurus, Virgil translates Homer, 
and Cicero, I had almost said, translates Demosthenes 
and Plato. But the soul of liberty did burst forth from 
the lips of Cicero; "her form had not yet lost all its 
original brightness ;" her inspiration produced in him 
the only specimens of a purely original literature, which 
the Romans have transmitted to us. After him, their 
literary history is written in one line of Tacitus ; Glis- 
cente adulatione^ magna ingenid deterrebantur.* The 
fine arts revived, a little, under the princes of the Fla- 
vian house, but never rose higher than a successful 
imitation of the waning excellence of Greece, executed 
by her fugitive artists. With the princes of this line, 
the arts of Rome expired, and Constantino the Great 
was obliged to tear down an arch of Trajan for sculp- 
tures, to adorn his own. Finally, a long period of 
military and barbarous despotism succeeded, which 
buried letters and arts in one grave with national inde- 
pendence. 

In modern times, the question, as to the distinct 
efiect of political institutions on learning, has become 
greatly complicated, in consequence of the large num- 
ber of separate states, into which the civilized world is 

* As adulation increased, great minds were deterred. 



LITERARY IMPROT£H£NT IN AMERICA. 25 

divided, and the easy and rapid communication between 
them. The consequence is, that a powerful impulse, 
given to mind in one country, under the influence of 
causes favorable to its progress, may be felt, to some 
extent, in other countries, where no such causes exist. 
Upon the whole, however, the history of modern liter- 
ature bears but cold testimony to the genial influence 
of the governments, under which it has grown up. 
Dante and Petrarch composed their beautiful works in 
exile ; Boccaccio complains, in the most celebrated of 
his, that he was transfixed with the darts of envy and 
calumny; MachiaveUi was pursued by the party of 
the Medici, for resisting their tyrannical designs ; Guic- 
ciardini retired, in disgust, to compose his history, in 
voluntary exile ; Galileo confessed, in the prisons of the 
Inquisition, that the earth did not move ; Ariosto lived 
in poverty; and Tasso, the victim of dejection and 
despair.* Cervantes, aifter he had immortalized him- 
self, in his great work, was obliged to write on, for 
bread. The whole French Academy was pensioned, 
to crush the great Corneille. , Racine, after living to 
see his finest pieces derided, as cold and worthless, 
died of a broken heart. The divine genius of Shak- 
speare owed but Uttle to patronage, for it raised him to 
no higher rank than that of a subaltern actor in his 
own, and Ben Jonson's plays. The immortal Bacon 
made disastrous wreck of his greatness, in a court, 
and is said, (falsely I trust,) to have begged a cup of 
beer, in his old age, and begged it in vain. The most 
valuable of the pieces of Selden were written in that 
famous resort of great minds, the tower of London. 
Milton, surprised by want, in his infirm old age, sold 
one of the first productions of the human mind for five 
pounds. The great boast of Enghsh philosophy was 
expelled from his place, in Oxford, and kept in banish- 
ment, " the King having been given to understand," to 
use the words of Lord Sunderland, who ordered the 

^Martinelli, in his edition of the Decamerone, cited in the Introdao 
tion to Sidney's Discourses on Government, edition of 1751, p. 84. 



26 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

expulsion, " that one Locke has, upon several occasions, 
behaved himself very factiously against the government." 
Dryden was compelled to sacrifice his genius, to the 
spur of immediate want. Otway was choked with a 
morsel of bread, too ravenously swallowed, after a long 
fast. Johnson was taken to prison, for a debt of five 
shillings ; and Burke petitioned for a professorship at 
Glasgow, and was denied. When we consider these 
facts, and the innumerable others of which these are a 
specimen, we may probably be led to the conclusion, 
that the appearance of eminent geniuses, under the 
forms of government subsisting in Europe, furnishes no 
decisive proof that they are the most friendly to intel- 
lectual progress. 

II. The next circumstance, worthy of mention, as 
peculiarly calculated to promote the progress of im 
provement, and to furnish motives to intellectual exer 
tion, in this Country, is the extension of one government, 
one language, and, substantially, one character, over so 
vast a space as the United States of America. Hith- 
erto, in the main, the world has seen but two forms of 
political government, free governments in small states, 
and arbitrary governments in large ones. Though va- 
rious shades of both have appeared, at different times, 
in the world, yet, on the whole, the political ingenuity 
of man has never before devised the method of extend- 
ing purely popular institutions, beyond small districts, 
or of governing large states, by any other means than 
military power. The consequence has been, that the 
favorable effect of free institutions, on intellectual prog- 
ress, has never been developed, on the largest scale. 
But, though favorable to the improvement of the mind, 
under any circumstances, it is evident, that, in order to 
their full effect, in bringing forth the highest attainable 
excellence, they must be permanently estabhshed, in an 
extensive region and over a numerous people. Such 
is the state of things existing in this Country, and for the 
first time in the world, and for which we are indebted to 
the fearless application of the representative principle. 



LITERARY IMAOYEMENT IN ABIERICA* 27 

The effect upon literature must eventually be, to give 
elevation, dignity, and generous expansion, to every 
species of mental effort. A great nationality is the pa- 
rent of great thoughts. Literature is the voice of the 
age and of the state. The extent, the resources, the 
destiny, of the Country are imaged forth in the concep- 
tion of its leading minds. They are but the oi^ans of 
the race from which they are descended, the land in 
tvliich they live, and the patriotic associations under 
which they have been educated. These furnish their 
language and elevate their thoughts. Under an im- 
pulse like the prophetic enthusiasm of old, they feel ' 
and utter the sentiments, which are inspired by the sys- 
tem of which they are the members. As the mind 
goes forth, to enter into communion or conflict with 
millions of kindred spirits, over a mighty realm, it di- 
lates, with a noble consciousness of its vocation. It 
disdains mean thoughts, and looks down on narrow in- 
terests ; and strives to speak a noble word, which will 
touch the heart of a great people. 

This necessary connexion between the extent of a 
country, and its intellectual progress, was, it is true, of 
more importance in antiquity, than it is at the present 
day, because, at that period of the world, owing to po- 
litical causes, on which we have not time to dwell, 
there was, upon the whole, but one civilized and culti- 
vated people, at a time, upon the stage ; and the mind 
of one nation found no sympathy, and derived no aid, 
from the mind of another. Art and refinement followed 
in the train of political ascendancy, from the East to 
Greece, and from Greece to Rome. In the modem 
world, a combination of political, intellectual, and even 
mechanical, causes, (for the art of printing is among the 
most powerful of them,) has produced an extension of 
the highest civilization, over a large family of states, 
existing contemporaneously, in Europe and America. 
This circumstance might seem to mould the civilized 
portion of mankind into one republic of letters ; and 
make it, comparatively, a matter of indifference to anv 



88 CIRCUMSTANCES PJMiDRABLE TO 

individual mind, whether its lot was cast in a small or 
a large, a weak or a powerful, state. It must be free- 
ly admitted, that this is, to some extent, the case ; and 
it is one of the great advantages of the modern over the 
ancient civilization. And yet, a singular fatality im- 
mediately presents itself, to neutralize, in a great de- 
gree, the beneficial effects of this enlarged and diffused 
civilization on the progress of letters in any single state. 
It is true, that, instead of one sole country, as in antiq- 
uity, where the arts and refinements find a home, there 
are, in modem Europe, seven or eight, equally entitled 
to the general name of cultivated nations, and in each 
of which, some minds of the first order have appeared. 
And yet, by the multiplication of languages, an obsta- 
cle, all but insuperable, has been thrown in the way of 
the free progress of genius, in its triumphant course, 
from region to region. The muses of Shakspeare and 
Milton, of Camoens, of Lope de Vega and Calderon, 
of Corneille and Racine, of Dante and Tasso, of Goethe 
and Schiller, are comparative strangers to each other. 
Certainly it is not intended, that these illustrious minds 
are unknown beyond the limits of the lands, in which 
they were trained, and to which they spoke. But who 
is ignorant, that not one of them finds a full and hearty 
response, from any other people but his own ; nay, who 
does not know, that the writings of some of them are 
a sealed book, except to those who read them in the 
mother tongue ? 

This evil was so keenly felt, in the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries, that the Latin language was 
widely adopted as a dialect common to scholars. We 
see men like Luther, Calvin, Erasmus, Bacon, and 
Grotius, who could scarce have written a line, with- 
out exciting the admiration of their contemporaries, 
driven to the use of a tongue, which none but the 
learned could understand. For the sake of addres- 
sing the scholars of other countries, these great men, 
and others like them, in many of their writings, were 
willing to cut themselves off, from all sympathy with 



LITERARY IMPBOYEMENT IN AMERICA* 29 

the mass of those, whom, as patriots, they must have 
wished most to instruct. In works of pure science 
and learned criticism, this is of the less consequence ; 
for, being independent of sentiment, it matters less, 
how remote from real life, the symbols by which their 
ideas are conveyed. But, when we see a writer, like 
Milton, who, as much as any other, whom England 
has ever produced, was a master of the music of his 
native tongue ; who, besides all the beauty of thought 
and imagery, knew better than most other men, how to 
breathe forth his thoughts and images, 

** In notes, with many a winding bout. 
Of linked sweetness, long drawn oat. 
With wanton heed and giddy canning. 
The melting voice through mazes running, 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony ;" 

when we see a master of Enghsh eloquence, thus gifted, 
choosing a dead language, — ^the dialect of the closet, a 
tongue without an echo from the hearts of the people, — 
as the vehicle of his defence of that people's rights ; 
asserting the cause of Englishmen in the language, as 
it may be truly called, of Cicero ; we can only measure 
the incongruity, by reflecting what Cicero would him- 
self have thought and felt, if called to defend the cause 
of Roman freedom, not in the language of the Roman 
citizen, but in that of the Chaldeans or Assyrians, or 
some people still further remote in the history of the 
world. And yet, Milton could not choose but employ 
this language ; for he felt that in this, and this alone, 
he could speak the word, *' with which all Europe rang 
from side to side." 

There is little doubt, that the prevalence of the Latin 
language, among modern scholars, was a great cause, 
not only of the slow progress of letters, among the lower 
ranks, but of the stiffness and constraint of the vernac- 
ular style of most scholars themselves, in the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries. That the reformation in 
religion advanced with such rapidity is, in no small de- 
3* 



80 CIRCUMSTANCES FAYORABLE TO 

gree, to be attributed to the translations of the Scrip- 
tures and the use of hturgies, in ,the modern tongues. 
The preservation, in legal acts, in England, of a strange 
language, — ^I will not offend the majesty of Rome, by 
calling it Latin,— down to so late a period as 1730, 
may be one reason, why the practical forms of admin- 
istering justice have not been made to keep pace with 
the progress of reform, in some other departments. 
With the establishment of populeir institutions, under 
Cromwell, among various other legal improvements,* 
very many of which were speedily adopted by our 
plain-dealing forefathers, the records of the law were 
ordered to be kept in English ; " A novelty," says the 
learned commentator on the English laws, " which, at 
the Restoration, was no longer continued, practisers 
having found it very difficult to express themselves so 
concisely or significantly in any other language but 
Latin."t 

Nor are the other remedies more efficacious, which 
have been attempted for the evil of a multiplicity of 
tongues. Something iis done by trsmslations, and some- 
thing by the study of foreign languages. But that no 
effectuaJ transfusion of the hi^er literature of a coun- 
try can take place, in the way of translation, is matter 
of notoriety ; and it is a remark of one of the few, who 
could have courage to make such a remark^ Madame 
de Stael, that it is impossible, fully to comprehend the 
literature of a foreign tongue. The general preference, 
till lately, given to Young's Night Thoughts and Os- 
sian, over all the other English poets, in many parts of 
the continent of Europe, seems to confirm the justice 
of the observation. 

There is, indeed, an influence of exalted genius, co- 
extensive with the earth. Something of its power will 
be felt, in spite of the obstacles of different languages, 
remote regions, and other times. But its true empift, 

* See a number of them» in Lord Somers's "^acts. Vol. L 
t Blackstone's Commentaries, Vol. III. p. 422. 



LITEIIABT IMPROVEMENT IN AMEBIC A. 31 

its sovereign sway, must be felt at home, and over the 
hearts of kindred men. A charm, which nothing can 
borrow, nothing counterfeit, and for which there is no 
substitute, dwells in the simple sound of our mother 
tongue. Not analyzed, nor reasoned upon, it unites 
the simple associations of early life with the maturest 
conceptions of the understanding. The heart is wiUing 
to open all its avenues to the language, in which its in- 
fantile caprices were soothed ; and, by the curious effi- 
cacy of the principle of association, it is this echo from 
the feeble dawn of life, which ^ves to eloquence much 
of its manly power, and to poetry much of its divine 
charm. This intelligence of the import of our native 
language, is the first intellectual capacity that is devel- 
oped in children, and when, by age or misfortune, 

** the ear 13 all unstrung. 
Still, still, it loves the lowland tongue.*' 

What a noble prospect is opened, in this connexion, 
for the circulation of thought and sentiment in our coun- 
try ! Instead of that multiplicity of dialect, by which 
mental communication and sympathy between different 
nations are cut off in the Old World, a continually ex- 
panding realm is opened to American intellect, in the 
community of our language, throughout the wide spread 
settlements of this Continent. The enginery of the 
press is here, for the first time, brought to bear, with 
all its mighty power, on the minds and hearts of men, 
in exchanging inteUigence, and circulating opinions, un- 
checked by diversity of language, over an empire more 
extensive than the whole of Europe. 

And this community of language, all important as it 
is, is but a part of the manifold brotherhood, which al- 
ready unites the growing millions of America. In Eu- 
rope, the work of international alienation, which begins 
in diversity of language, is consummated by diversity of 
government, institutions, national descent, and nation- 
al prejudices. In crossing the principal rivers, channels, 
and mountains, in that quarter of the world, you are 



32 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

met, not only by jiew tongues, but by new forms of gov- 
ernment, new associations of ancestry, new and often 
hostile objects of national pride and attachment. While, 
on the other hand, throughout the vast regions included 
within the limits of our republic, not only the same 
language, but the same laws, the same national govern- 
ment, the same republican institutions, and common 
ancestral associations prevail. Mankind will here ex- 
ist and act in a kindred mass, such as was scarcely 
ever before congregated on the earth's surface. The 
necessary consequences ^f such a cause overpower the 
imagination. What would be the effect, on the intel- 
lectual state of Europe, at the present day, were all her 
nations and tribes amalgamated into one vast empire, 
speaking the same tongue, united into one political sys- 
tem, and that a free one, and opening one broad, unob- 
structed pathway for the interchange of thought and 
feehng, from Lisbon to Archangel? If effects must 
bear a constant proportion to their causes ; if the ener- 
gy of thought is to be commensurate with the masses 
which prompt it, and the masses it must penetrate ; if 
eloquence is to grow in fervor with the weight of the 
interests it is to plead, and the grandeur of the assem- 
blies it addresses ; if efforts rise with the glory that is 
to crown them ; in a word, if the faculties of the human 
mind, as we firmly believe, are capable of tension and 
achievement altogether indefinite ; 

Nil actum reputans, dum quid superesset agendum ;* 

then, it is not too much to say, that a new era will open 
on the intellectual world, in the fulfilment of our Coun- 
try's prospects. 

By the sovereign efficacy of the partition of pow- 
ers between the National and State governments, in 
virtue of which the National government is relieved 
from all the odium of internal administration, and the 
State governments are spared the conflicts of foreign 
politics, all bounds seem removed from the possible ex- 

♦ *• Thinking nought done, while aught remains to do." 



LITERART fHPROYEMENT IN AMSRICA. 38 

tension of our country, but the geographical limits of 
the continent. Instead of growing cumbrous, as it 
increases in size, there never was a moment, since 
the first settlement in Virginia, when the poIitiaJ sys- 
tem of America moved with so firm and bold a step, 
as at the present day. Should our happy Union con- 
tinue, this great continent, in no remote futurity, will 
be filled up with a homogeneous population ; with tlie 
mightiest kindred people known in history; our lan- 
guage will acquire an extension, which no other ever 
possessed ; and the empire of the mind, with nothing 
to resist its sway, will attain an expansion, of which, 
as yet, we can but partly conceive. The vision is too 
magnificent to be fully borne ; — a mass of two or three 
hundred millions, not chained to the oar, Uke the same 
number in China, by a stupefying despotism, but held 
in their several orbits of nation and state, by the grand 
representative attraction; bringing to beaY, on every 
point, the concentrated energy of such a host ; calling 
into competition so many minds; uniting, into one 
great national feeling, the hearts oif so many freemen ; 
all to be guided, persuaded, moved, and swayed, by the 
master spirits of the time ! 

III. Let me not be told that this is a chimerical im- 
agination of a future indefinitely removed ; let me not 
hear repeated the poor jest of an anticipation of " two 
thousand years," — of a vision, that requires for its ful- 
filment, a length of ages beyond the grasp of any rea- 
sonable computation. It is the last point of peculiarity 
in our condition, to which I invite your attention, as 
affecting the progress of intellect, that the country is 
growing, with a rapidity , hitherto entirely without ex- 
ample in the world. For the two hundred years of our 
existence, the population has doubled itself in periods 
of less than a quarter of a century. In the infancy of 
the country, and while our numbers remsdned within the 
limits of a youthful colony, a progress so rapid as this, 
however important, in the principle of growth disclosed, 
was not yet a circumstance strongly to fix the attention. 



34 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVOBABLE TO 

But, arrired at a population of ten millions, it is a 
fact of extreme interest, that, within less than twenty- 
five years, these ten millions will have swelled to twen- 
ty ; that the younger members of this audience will be 
citizens of the largest civilized state on earth ; that, in 
a few years more than one century, the American pop- 
ulation will equal the fabulous numbers of the Chinese 
empire. This rate of increase has already produced 
the most striking phenomena. A few weeks after the 
opening of the Revolutionary drama, at Lexington, the 
momentous intelligence, that the first blood was spilt, 
reached a party of hunters beyond the AUeghariies, who 
had wandered far into the western wilderness. In pro- 
phetic commemoration of the glorious event, they gave 
the name of Lexington to the spot of their encampment 
in the woods. That spot is now the capital of a State 
as large as Massachusetts ; from which, in the language 
of one of her own citizens, whose eloquence is the 
ornament of his country, the tide of emigration, still 
further westward, is more fully pouring, than from any 
other in the Union.* 

I need not say, that this astonishing increase of num- 
bers is by no means the best measure of our country's 
growth. Arts, agriculture, all the great national inter- 
ests, all the sources of national wealth, are growing in a 
ratio still more rapid. In our cities, the intensest activ- 
ity is apparent ; in the country, every spring of pros- 
perity, from the smallest improvement in husbandry, to 
the constructions of canals and rail-roads across the con- 
tinent, is in vigorous action. Abroad, our vessels are 
beating the pathways of the ocean white ; on the inland 
frontier, the nation is journeying on, like a healthy gi- 
ant, with a pace more like romance, than reality. 

These facts, and thousands like them, form one of 
those peculiarities in our country's condition, which will 
have the most powerful influence on the minds of its 
children. The population of some of the states of Eu- 

* Mr. Clay's Speech on Internal Improvement 



LITERART IMPROYEMENT IN AMERICA* 35 

rope has reached its term. In some, it is declining, in 
some stationary ; and in the most prosperous, under the 
extraordinary impulse of the last part of the eighteenth 
century, it doubles itself but about once in seventy-five 
years. In consequence of this, the process of social 
transmission is heavy and slow. Men, not adventitiously 
favored, come late into life, and the best years of exist- 
ence are exhausted in languishing competition. The 
man ^ows up, and, in the stern language of one of 
their most renowned economists,* finds no cover laid 
for him, at Nature's table. The smallest ofllicial provis- 
ion is a boon, at which great minds are not ashamed 
to grasp ; the assurance of the most frugal subsistence, 
commands the brightest talents, and the most laborious 
studies ; poor wages pay for the unremitted labor of the 
most curious hands ; and it is the smallest part of the 
population, only, that is within the reach even of these 
humiliating springs of action. 

We need not labor to contrast this state of things with 
the teeming growth and rapid progress of our own Coun- 
try. Instead of being shut up, as it were, in the pris- 
on of a stationary, or a slowly prc^essive, community, 
the emulation of our countrymen is drawn out and 
tempted on, by an horizon constantly receding before 
them. New nations of kindred freemen are springing 
up, in successive periods, shorter, even, than the ac- 
tive portion of the life of man. " While we spend our 
time," says Burke, on this topic, " in deliberating on 
the mode of governing two milUons in America, we 
shall find we have millions more to manage."! Many 
individuals are in this house, who were arrived at years 
of discretion, when these words of Burke were uttered, 
and the two millions, which Great Britain was then to 
manage, have grown into ten, exceedingly unmanage- 
able. The most affecting view of this subject is, that it 
puts it in the power of the wise, and good, and great, to 

* Mr. Malthas. » 

t Speech on Conciliation with America, March 22, 1776* 



36 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

gather, while they live, the ripest fruits of their labors. 
Where, in human history, is to be found a contrast, Uke 
that, which the last fifty years have crowded into the 
lives of those favored men, who, raising their hands or 
their voices, when our little bands were led out to the 
perilous conflict with one of the most powerful empires 
on earth, have lived to be crowned with the highest 
honors of the Republic, which they estabUshed ? Hon- 
or to their gray hairs, and peace and serenity to the eve- 
ning of their eventful days ! 

Though it may never again be the fortune of our 
country to bring within the compass of half a century 
a contrast so dazzling as this, yet, in its grand and 
steady progress, the career of duty and usefulness will 
be run by all its children, under a constantly increas- 
ing excitement. The voice, which, in the morning of 
life, shall awaken the patriotic sympathy of the land, 
will be echoed back, by a community, incalculably 
swelled, in all its proportions, before that voice^ shall be 
hushed in death. The writer, by whom the noble fea- 
tures of our scenery shall be sketched, with a glowing 
pencil, the traits of our romantic early history gathered 
up, with filial zeal, and the peculiarities of our character 
seized, with delicate perception, cannot mount so rap- 
idly to success, but that ten years will add new millions 
to the numbers of his readers. The American states- 
man, the orator, whose voice is already heard in its 
supremacy, from Florida to Maine, whose intellectual 
empire already extends beyond the limits of Alexan- 
der's, has yet new states and new nations starting into 
being, the wiUing subjects of his sway. 

This march of our population, westward, has been 
attended with consequences, in some degree novel, in 
the history of the human mind. It is a fact, somewhat 
difficult of explanation, that the refinement of the an- 
cient nations seemed comparatively devoid of an elas- 
tic and expansive principle. With the exception of the 
colonies in Asia Minor, the arts of Greece were en- 
chained to her islands and her coasts; they did not 



LITERARY IMPROYEMENT* IN AMSRICA. 37 

penetrate the interior, at least, not in every direction. 
The language and hterature of Athens were as much 
unknown, to the north of Pindus, at a distance of two 
hundred miles from the capital of Grecian refinement, 
as they were in Scythia. Thrace, whose mountain tops 
may almost be seen from the porch of the temple of 
Minerva, at Sunium, was the proverbial abode of barbar- 
ism. Though the colonies of Greece were scattered 
on the coasts of Asia, of Italy, of France, of Spain, and 
of Africa, no extension of their population, far inward, 
took place, and the arts did not penetrate beyond the 
walls of the cities, where they were cultivated. 

How different is the picture of the diffusion of the 
arts and improvements of civilization, from the coast to 
the interior of America! Population advances west- 
ward, with a rapidity, which numbers may describe, in- 
deed, but cannot represent, with any vivacity, to the 
mind. The wilderness, which one year is impassable, is 
traversed, the next, by the caravans of the industrious 
emigrants, who go to follow the setting sun, with the 
language, the institutions, and the arts, of civilized life. 
It is not the irruption of wild barbarians, sent to visit 
the wrath of God on a degenerate empire ; it is not the 
inroad of disciplined banditti, marshalled by the in- 
trigues of courts and kings. It is the human family, 
led out to possess its broad patrimony. The states 
and nations, which are springing up in the valley of the 
Missouri, are bound to us, by the dearest ties of a com- 
mon language, a common government, and a common 
descent. Before New England can look with coldness 
on their rising myriads, she must forget that some of 
the best of her own blood is beating in their veins ; that 
her hardy children, with their axes on their shoulders, 
have been among the pioneers, in this march of human- 
ity ; that, young as she is, she has become the mother 
of populous states. What generous mind would sac- 
rifice, to a selfish preservation of local preponderance, 
the deUght of beholding civilized nations risirfg up in 
the desert ; and the language, the manners, the institu- 

4 E. E. 



38 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

tions, to which he has been reared, carried, with his 
household gods, to the foot of the Rocky Mountains ? 
Who can forget, that this extension of our territorial 
limits is the extension of the empire of all we hold dear ; 
of our laws, of our character, of the memory of our 
ancestors, of the great achievements in our history? 
Whithersoever the sons of the thirteen States shall 
wander, to southern or western chmes, they will send 
back their hearts to the rocky shores, the battle fields, 
the infant settlements, of the Atlantic coast. These are 
placed beyond the reach of vicissitude. They have be- 
come already matter of history, of poetry, of eloquence. 

Divisions may spring up, ill blood may burn, parties 
be formed, and interests may seem to clash ; but the 
great bonds of the nation are linked to what is passed. 
The deeds of the great men, to whom this Country 
owes its origin and growth, are a patrimony, I know, 
of which its children will never deprive themselves. 
As long as the Mississippi and the Missouri shall flow, 
those men, and those deeds, will be remembered on 
their banks. The sceptre of government may go, 
where it will ; but that of patriotic feeling can never 
depart from Judah. In all that mighty region, which 
is drained by the Missouri and its tributary streams, — 
the valley coextensive, in this Country, with the temper- 
ate zone, — ^will there be, as long as the name of Amer- 
ica shall last, a father, that will not take his children on 
his knee, and recount to them the events of the twen- 
ty-second of December, the nineteenth of April, the 
seventeenth of June, and the fourth of July ? 

This, then, is the theatre, on which the intellect of 
America is to appear, and such, the motives to its ex- 
ertion ; such, the mass to be influenced by its energies ; 
such, the crowd to witness its efforts ; such, the glory 
to crown its success. If I err, in this happy vision of 
my country's fortunes, I thank God, for an error so 
animating. If this be false, may I never know the 
truth. Never may you, my friends, be under any other 
feeling, than that a great, a growing, an immeasurably 



UTERABY DfFXOTEHKNT IN AMEBICA. 39 

expanding, coiintry is calling upon you for your best 
services. The name and character of our Alma Mater 
have already been carried by some of our brethren thou- 
sands of miles from her venerable walls ; and thousands 
of miles still further westward, the communities of 
kindred men are fast gathering, whose minds and hearts 
will act in sjrmpathy with yours. 

The most powerful motives call on us, as scholars, 
for those efforts, which our common country demands 
of all her children. Most of us are of that class, who 
owe whatever of knowledge has shone into our minds, 
to the free and popular institutions of our native land* 
There are few of us, who may not be permitted to 
boast, that we have been reared in an honest poverty, 
or a frugal competence, and owe every thing to those 
means of education, which are equally open to all. 
We are summoned to new enei^ and zeal, by the high 
nature of the experiment we are appointed in Provi- 
dence to make, and the grandeur of the theatre on 
which it is to be performed. At a moment of deep 
and general agitation, in the old world, it pleased 
Heaven to open this last refuge of humanity. The 
attempt has begun, and is going on, far from foreign 
corruption, on the broadest scale, and under the most 
benignant prospects ; and it certainly rests with us to 
solve the great problem in human society; to settle, 
and that forever, the momentous question, — ^whether 
mankind can be trusted with a purely popular system? 

One might almost think, without extravagance, that 
the departed wise and good, of all places and times, are 
looking down, from their happy seats, to witness what 
shall now be done by us ; that they, who lavished their 
treasures and their blood, of old, who labored and suf- 
fered, who spake and wrote, who fought and perished, 
in the one great cause of Freedom and Truth, are now 
hanging from their orbs on high, over the last solemn 
experiment of humanity. As I have wandered over 
the spots, once the scene of their labors, and mused 
among the prostrate columns of their Senate Houses 



40 CIRCUMSTANCES FAYORABLE TO 

and Forums, I have seemed almost to hear a voice, 
from the tombs of departed ages ; from the sepulchres 
of the nations, which died before the sight. They 
exhort us, they adjure us, to be faithful to our trust. 
They implore us, by the long trials of stru^ling hu- 
manity ; by the blessed memory of the departed : by 
the dear faith, which has been plighted by pure hands, 
to the holy cause of truth and man ; by the awful 
secrets of the prison houses, where the sons of freedom 
have been immured ; by the noble heads which have 
been brought to the block ; by the wrecks of time, by 
the eloquent ruins of nations, they conjure us not to 
quench the light which is rising on the world. Greece 
cries to us, by the convulsed Ups of her poisoned, dy- 
ing Demosthenes; and Rome pleads with us, in the 
mute persuasion- of her mangled TuUy. They address 
us, each and all, in the glorious appeal of Milton, to 
one, who might have canonized his memory in the 
hearts of the friends of liberty, but who did most 
shamefully betray the cause : " Reverere tantam de te 
expectationem, spem patriae de te unicam. Reverere 
vultus et vulnera tot fortium virorum, quotquot pro 
libertate tam strenue decertarunt, manes etiam eorum 
qui in ipso certamine occubuerunt. Reverere exterarum 
quoque civitatum existimationem de te atque sermones ; 
quantas res de libertate nostr^ tam fortiter part&, de nos- 
tra republica tam gloriose exorta sibi polhceantur ; quae 
si tam cito quasi aborta evanuerit, profecto nihil aequo 
dedecorosum huic genti atque periculosum fuerit."* 

Yes, my friends, such is the exhortation, which calls 
on us to exert our powers, to employ our time, and 

*Have regard to the expectations which are formed of yon, to the 
singular hope which yoar Country reposes in your character. Rever- 
ence the countenances and the wounds of so many brave men, who 
have thus strenuously fought for liberty, yea, the memory of those, 
who have fallen in the contest. Respect the judgement and the lan- 
guage of foreign nations, concerning you ; the lofly anticipations which 
they have cherished of our liberty, so bravely achieved, and of our 
commonwealth, so nobly established ; which, if destined so rapidly to 
perish, as an untimely birth, truly there could be nothing equally dis- 
graceful and perilous for this people. — Milton' t JDefensio Secunda, 



LITERARY IMFROTEMEKT IN AMERICA* 41 

consecrate our labors, in the cause of our native land. 
When we engage in that solemn study, the history of 
our race ; when we survey the progress of man, from 
his cradle in the East, to these limits of his wandering ; 
when we behold him forever flying westward from civil 
and religious thraldom, over mountains and seas, seeking 
rest and finding none, but still pursuing the flying bow 
of promise, to the glittering hills which it spans in Hes- 
perian climes, we cannot but exclaim, with Bishop 
Berkeley, the generous prelate of England, who be- 
stowed his benefactions, as well as blessings, on our 
Country ; 

*' Westward the course of Empire takes its way ; 
The four first acts already past, 
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; 
Time's noblest oflTsprmg is the last.'* 

In that high romance, if romance it be, in which the 
great minds of antiquity sketched the fortunes of the 
ages to come, they pictured to themselves a favored re- 
gion beyond the ocean ; a land of equal laws and happy 
men. The primitive poets beheld it, in the Islands of 
the Blest ; the Doric bards fancied it, in the Hyperbo- 
rean regions ; the Sage of the Academy placed it in 
the lost Atlantis ; and even the sterner spirit of Seneca 
could discern a fairer abode of humanity, in distant 
regions then unknown. We look back upon these 
uninspired predictions, and almost recoil from the obli- 
gation they imply. By us must these bright dreams be 
realized, by us must be fulfilled these high visions, which 
burst in trying hours upon the longing hearts of the 
champions of truth. There are no more continents or 
worlds to be revealed ; Atlantis hath arisen from the 
ocean ; the furthest Thule is reached ; there are no 
more retreats beyond the sea, no more discoveries, no 
more hopes. 

Here, then, a mighty work is to be performed, or nev- 
er, by the race of mortals. The mariy who looks with 
tenderness on the sufferings of good men in other 
times ; the descendant of the PUgrims, who cherishes 
4# 



43 CIRCUMSTANCES FAVORABLE TO 

the memory of his fathers ; the patriot, who feels an 
honest glow at the majesty of the system of which he 
is a member ; the scholar, who beholds, with rapture, 
the long-sealed book of truth opened for all to read 
without prejudice ; these are they, by whom these 
auspices are to be accomplished. Yes, brethren, it is 
by the intellect of the country, that the mighty mass 
is to be inspired ; that its parts are to communicate and 
sympathize with each other, its natural progress to be 
adorned with becoming refinements, its strong sense 
uttered, its principles asserted, its feehngs interpreted 
to its own children, to other regions, and to after ages. 
Meantime, the years are rapidly passing away and 
gathering importance in their course. With the pres- 
ent year, [1824,] will be completed the half century 
from that most important era in human history, — ^the 
commencement of our Revolutionary War. The jubi- 
lee of our national existence is at hand. The space 
of time, that has elapsed, since that momentous date, 
has laid down in the dust, which the blood of many 
of them had already hallowed, most of the great men 
to whom, under Providence, we owe our national ex- 
istence and privileges. A few still survive among us, 
to reap the rich fruits of their labors and sufferings ; 
and ONE* has yielded himself to the united voice, of a 
people, and returned, in his age, to receive the grati- 
tude of the nation, to whom he devoted his youth. It 
is recorded, on the pages of American history, that 
when this friend of our country appUed to our commis- 
sioners, at Paris, in 1776, for a passage in the first ship 
they should despatch to America, they were obliged 
to answer him, (so low and abject was then our dear 
native land,) that they possessed not the means, nor 
the credit, suflUcient for providing a single vessel, in all 
the ports of France. " Then," exclaimed the youthful 
hero, " I will provide my own ;" and it is a literal fact, 
that, when all America was too poor, to offer him so 

* General Lafayette was present, at the delivery of this Address. 



LTTERART DCPROITEMENT IN AMEEICA. 43 

much as a passage to her shores, he left, in his tender 
youth, the bosom of home, of happiness, of wealth, of 
rank, to plunge in the dust and blood of our inauspicious 
struggle ! 

Welcome, friend of our fathers, to our shores ! Hap- 
py are our eyes, that behold those venerable features ! 
Enjoy a triumph, such as never conqueror nor monarch 
enjoyed, the assurance, that, throughout America, there 
is not a bosbm, which does not beat with joy and grati- 
tude, at the sound of your name ! You have already 
met and saluted, or will soon meet, the few that remain, 
of the ardent patriots, prudent counsellors, and brave 
warriors, with whom you were associated, in achieving 
our liberty. But you have looked round, in vain, for 
the faces of many, who would have Hved years of pleas- 
ure on a day lUce this, with their old companion in 
arms and brother in peril. Lincoln, and Greene, and 
Knox, and Hamilton, are gone ; the heroes of Saratoga 
and ITorktown have fallen, before the enemy that con- 
quers all. Above all, the first of heroes and of men, 
the. friend of your youth, the more than friend of his 
Country, rests in the bosom of the soil he redeemed. 
On the banks of his Potomac, he Hes in glory and in 
peace. You will revisit the hospitable shades of Mount 
Vernon, but him, whom you venerated as we did, you 
will not meet at its door. His voice of consolation, 
which reached you in the dungeons of Olmutz, cannot 
now break its silence, to bid you welcome to his own 
roof. But the grateful children of America will bid 
you welcome, in his name. Welcome! thrice wel- 
come! to our shores! and whithersoever, throughout 
the limits of the continept, your course shall take you, 
the ear that hears you shall bless you, the eye that sees 
you shall give witness to you, and every tongue ex- 
claim, with heartfelt joy, Welcome! welcome, La 
Fayette ! 



44 riRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND * 

Amidst all the proud and grateful feelings, which the 
return of this anniversary must inspire, in the bosom of 
every child of New England, a deep solicitude oppres- 
ses me, lest I should fail in doing justice to the men 
and to. the events, which we are met to commemorate. 
This solicitude, I would hope, is no mere personal feel- 
ing. I should be unworthy to address you, on this oc- 
casion, could I, from the selfish desire of winning your 
applause, devote the moments of this consecrated day to 
any cold speculations, however ingenious or original. 
Gladly would I give utterance to the most familiar com- 
monplaces, could I be so happy in doing it, as to excite 
or strengthen the feelings, which belong to the time and 
the place. Gladly would I repeat to you those senti- 
ments, which have been so often uttered and welcomed 
on this anniversary ; sentiments, whose truth does not 
change in the change of circumstances ; whose power 
does not wear out with time. It is not by pompous epi- 
thets or lively antitheses,that the exploits of the Pilgrims 
are to be set forth by their children. We can only do 
this worthily, by repeating the plain tale of their suffer- 
ings, by dwelling on the circumstances, under which 
their memorable enterprise was executed, and by catch- 
ing that spirit, which led them across the ocean, and 
guided them to the spot where we stand. We need no 
voice of artificial rhetoric, to celebrate their names. The 
bleak and deathlike desolation of Nature proclaims, 
with touching eloquence, the fortitude and patience of 
the meek adventurers. On the bare and wintry fields 
around us, their exploits are written, in characters, 
which will last, and tell their tale to posterity, when 
brass and marble have crumbled into dust. 

* Oration delivered at Plymouth, December, 22, 1824. 



FIKST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND 45 

The occasion, which has called us together, is cer- 
tainly one, to which no parallel exists, in the history of 
the world. Other countries have their national festi- 
vals. They commemorate the birthdays of their illus- 
trious children ; they celebrate the foundation of im- 
portant institutions. Momentous events, victories, ref- 
ormations, revolutions, awaken, on their anniversaries, 
the grateful and patriotic feelings of posterity. But we 
commemorate the birthday of all New England ; the 
foundation, not of one institution, but of all the institu- 
tions, the settlements, the communities, the societies, 
the improvements, comprehended within our broad and 
favored borders. 

Were it only as an act of rare adventure ; were it a 
trait in foreign, or ancient history ; we should fix upon 
the achievement of our fathers, as one of the noblest 
deeds, in the annals of the world. Were we attracted 
to it, by no other principle, than that sympathy we feel, 
in all the fortunes of our race, it could lose nothing, it 
must gain, in the contrast, with whatever history or tra- 
dition has preserved to us of the wanderings and settle- 
ments of the tribes of man. A continent, for the first 
time, effectually explored ; a vast ocean, traversed by 
men, women, and children, voluntarily exiling them- 
selves from the fairest portions of the Old World ; and 
a great nation grown up, in the space of two centuries, 
on the foundations, so perilously laid, by this pious 
band : — ^point me to the record, to the tradition, nay, to 
the fiction, of any thing, that can enter into competition 
with it. It is the language, not of exaggeration, but 
of truth and soberness, to say, that there is nothing, in 
the accounts of Phoenician, of Grecian, or of Roman 
colonization, that can stand in the comparison. 

What new importance, then, does not the achieve- 
ment acquire for us, when we consider, that it was the 
deed of our fathers ; that this grand undertaking was 
accomplished on the spot where we dwell ; that the 
mighty r^on, they explored, is our native land ; that 
the unrivalled enterprise, they displayed, is not merely 



46 FIRST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND. 

a fact, proposed to our admiration, but is the source of 
our being ; that their cruel hardships are the spring of 
our prosperity ; that their weary banishment gave us a 
home ; that to their separation from every thing which 
is dear and pleasant in hfe, we owe all the comforts, 
the blessings, the privileges, which make our lot the 
envy of mankind ! 

These are the wellknown titles of our ancestors, to 
our gratitude and veneration. 

But there seems to me this peculiarity, in the na- 
ture of their enterprise, that its grand and beneficent 
consequences are, with the lapse of time, constantly 
unfolding themselves, in an extent, and to a magnitude, 
beyond the reach of the most sanguine promise. In 
the frail condition of human affairs, we have often 
nothing left us to commemorate, but heroic acts of val- 
or, which have resulted in no permanent effect ; great 
characters, that have stru^led nobly, but in vain, 
against the disastrous combinations of the times ; and 
brilliant triumphs of truth and justice, rendered, for 
the present, unproductive, by untoward and opposite 
events. It is almost the peculiar character of the en- 
terprise of our pilgrim forefathers, — ^successful, indeed, 
in its outset, — ^that it has been more and more success- 
ful, at every subsequent point, in the Une of time. 
Accomplishing all they projected ; what they project- 
ed was the least part of what has been accomplished. 
Forming a design, in itself grand, bold, and even ap- 
paUing, for the risks and sacrifices it required ; the ful- 
fihnent of that design is the least thing, which, in the 
steady progress of events, has flowed from their coun- 
sels and their efforts. Did they propose to themselves 
a refuge, beyond the sea, from the religious and politi- 
cal tyranny of Europe ? They achieved not that, alone, 
but they have opened a wide asylum to all the victims 
of oppression throughout the world. We, ourselves, 
have seen the statesmen, the generals, the kings, of the 
elder world, flying, for protection, to the shadow of our 
institutions. Did they look for a retired spot, inofien- 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OT NEW ENGLAND. 47 

sive for its obscurity, and safe in its remoteness, where 
the little church of Leyden might enjoy the freedom of 
conscience ? Behold the mighty regions, over which, in 
peaceful conquest, — victoria sine clade^* — ^they have 
borne the banners of the cross ! Did they seek, beneath 
the protection of trading charters, to prosecute a fru- 
gal commerce, in reimbursement of the expenses of their 
humble establishment ? The fleets and navies of their 
descendants are on the furthest ocean ; and the wealth 
of the Indies is now wafted, with every tide, to the 
coasts, where, with hook and line, they painfuUy gath* 
ered up their humble earnings. In short, did they, in 
tjjpir brightest and most sanguine moments, contemplate 
a thrifty, loyal, and prosperous, colony, p^ioned off, 
like a younger son of the imperial housenold, to an 
humble and dutiful distance ? Behold the spectacle of 
an independent and powerful RepubUc, founded on the 
shores, where some of those are but lately deceased, 
who saw the first-bom of the pilgrims I 

And shall we stop here ? Is the tale now told ; is 
the contrast now complete ; are our destinies all fulfill- 
ed ; are we declining, or even stationary ? My friends, 
I tell you, we have but begun ; we are in the very 
morning of our days; our numbers are but a unit; 
our national resources, but a pittance; our hopeful 
achievements in the political, the social, and the intel- 
lectual, nature, are but the rudiments of what the chil- 
dren of the Pilgrims must yet attain. If there is any 
thing certain, in the principles of human and social 
progress ; if there is any thing clear in the deductions 
from past history ; if there is any, the least, reliance to 
be placed on the conclusions of reason, in regard to the 
nature of man, — the existing spectacle of our country's 
growth, magnificent as it is, does not suggest even an 
idea of what it must be. I dare adventure the predic- 
tion, that he, who, two centuries hence, shall stand 
where I stand, and look back on our present condition, 

* Conquest without slaughter. 



48 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

from a distance, equal to that from which we contem- 
plate the first settlement of the Pilgrims, will sketch a 
contrast far more astonishing; and will speak of our 
times, as the day of small things, in stronger and juster 
language, than any in which we can depict the poverty 
and wants of our fathers. 

But we ought to consecrate this day, not to the 
promise, nor even the present blessings, of our condi- 
tion, except so far as these are connected with the 
memory of the Pilgrims. The twenty-second of De- 
cember belongs to them ; and we ought, in consisten- 
cy, to direct our thoughts to the circumstances, under 
which their most astonishing enterprise was achieved. 
I shall hope to have contributed my mite towards our, 
happy celeoration, if I can succeed in pointing out a 
few of those circumstances, of the first emigration to 
our country, and particularly of the first emigration to 
New England, from which, under a kind Providence, 
has flowed, not only the immediate success of the 
undertaking, but the astonishing train of consequen- 
ces,, auspicious to the cause of liberty, humanity, and 
truth. 

I. Our forefathers regarded, with natural terror, the 
passage of the mighty deep. Navigation, notwith- 
standing the great advances which it had made in the 
sixteenth century, was yet, comparatively speaking, in 
its infancy. The very fact, that voyages of great length 
and hazard were successfully attempted, in small vessels, 
(a fact, which, on first view, might seem to show a high 
degree of perfection in the art,) in reality proves, that it 
was as yet but imperfectly understood. That the great 
Columbus should put to sea, for the discovery of a new 
passage across the Western Ocean to India, with two 
out of three vessels unprovided with decks, may, indeed, 
be considered the effect, not of ignorance of the art of 
navigation, but of bitter necessity. But that Sir Fran- 
cis Drake, near a hundred years afterwards, the first 
naval commander who ever sailed round the earth, en- 
joying the advantage of the royal patronage, and aided 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGULND. 49 

by the fruits of no little personal experience, should 
have embarked on his voyage of circumnavigation, with 
five vessels, of which the largest was of one hundred, 
and the smallest of fifteen, tons,* must be regarded 
as proof, that the art of navigation, in the genera- 
tion preceding our ancestors, had not reached that 
point, where the skilful adaptation of means to ends 
supersedes the necessity of extraordinary intrepidity, 
aided by not less extraordinary good fortune. It was, 
therefore, the first obstacle, which presented itself to 
the project of the Pilgrims, that it was to be carried 
into execution, across the ocean, which separates our 
continent from the rest of the worlci. Notwithstanding, 
however, this circumstance, and the natural effect it 
must have had on their minds, there is no doubt, that 
it is one of those features, in our natural situation, to 
which America is indebted, not merely for the imme- 
diate success of the enterprise of settlement, but for 
much of its subsequent prosperity. 

The rest of the world, though nominally divided into 
three continents, in reality consists of but one. Eu- 
rope, Asia, and Africa, are separated by no natural 
barriers, which it has not been easy, in every age, for 
an ambitious invader to pass. The consequence has 
been, on the whole, unfavorable to social progress. 
The extent of country, inhabited, or rather infested, by 
barbarous tribes, has always far outweighed the civil- 
ized portions. More than once, in the history of the 
world, refinement, learning, arts, laws, and religion, 
with the wealth and prosperity they have created, have 
been utterly swept away, and the hands moved back, 
on the dial-plate of time, in consequence of the irrup- 
tion of savage hordes into civilized regions. Were the 
early annals of the East, as amply preserved, as those 
of the Roman empire, they would, probably, present 
us with accounts of revolutions on the Nile, and the 
Euphrates, as disastrous as those, by which the civil- 

* Biographia Britannica, III. 1732. 

%} E. £» . 



50 FIEST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND. 

ized world was shaken, in the first centuries of the 
Christian era. Till an ocean interposes its mighty 
barrier, no region is secure from foreign violence. The 
magnificent temples of Egypt were demolished, in the 
sixth century before our Saviour, by the hordes, which 
Cambyses had collected from the steppes of Central 
Asia. The vineyards of Burgundy were wasted, in the 
third century of our era, by roving savages, from beyond 
the Caucasus. In the thirteenth century, Gengis Khan 
and his Tartars swept Europe and Asia, from the Bal- 
tic to the China Sea. And Ionia and Attica, the gar- 
dens of Greece, are still, under the eyes of the leading 
Christian powers of Europe, beset by remorseless bar- 
barians, whose fathers issued, a few centuries ago, from 
the Altai Mountains. 

Nor is it the barbarians, alone, who have been tempt- 
ed, by this facility of communication, to a career of 
boundless plunder. The Alexanders and the Csesars, 
the Charlemagnes and the Napoleons, the founders of 
great empires, the aspirers at universal monarchy, have 
been enabled, by the same circumstance, to turn the 
annals of mankind into a tale of war and misery. When 
we descend to the scrutiny of single events, we find that 
the nations, who have most frequently and most imme- 
diately suffered, have been those, most easily approached 
and overrun ; and that those, who have longest or most 
uniformly maintained their independence, have done it, 
by virtue of lofty mountains) wide rivers, or the sur- 
rounding sea. 

In this state of things, the three united continents of 
the Old World do not contam a single spot, where any 
grand scheme of human improvement could be attempt- 
ed, with a prospect of fair experiment and full success, 
because there is no spot, safe from foreign interference ; 
and no member of the general system, so insignificant, 
that his motions are not watched, with jealousy, by all 
the rest. The welfare and progress of man, in the most 
favored region, instead of proceeding, in a free and 
natural course, dependent on the organization and con- 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND. 51 

dition of that region alone, can only reach the point, 
which may be practicable in the general result of an 
imme'nsely-complicated system, made up of a thousand 
jarring members. 

Our country accordingly opened, at the time of its 
settlement, and still opens, a new theatre of human de- 
velopement. Notwithstanding the prodigious extent 
of commercial intercourse, and the wide grasp of na%al 
power, among modern states, and their partial effect 
in bringing us into the political system of Europe, we 
are yet essentially strangers to it ; placed at a distance 
which retards, and for every injurious purpose, neutral- 
izes, all peaceful communication, and defies all hostile 
approach. To this, it was owing, that so little was 
here felt of the convulsions of the civil wars, which fol- 
lowed in England, soon after the emigration of our fa- 
thers. To this, in a more general view, we are indebt- 
ed, for many of our peculiarities as a nation ; for our 
steady colonial growth, our establishment of indepen- 
dence, our escape amidst the political storms, which, 
during the last thirty years, have shaken the empires 
of the earth. To this, we shall still be indebted, and 
more and more, with the progress of our Country, 
for the originality and stability of national character. 
Hitherto, the political effects of our seclusion, behind 
the mighty veil of waters, have been the most important. 
Now, that our political foundations are firmly laid; 
that the work of settlement, of colonization, of inde- 
pendence, and of union, is all done, and happily done, 
we shall reap, in other forms, the salutary fruits of our 
remoteness from the centres of foreign opinion and 
feeling. 

I say not this, in direct disparagement of foreign 
states ; their institutions are doubtless as good, in many 
cases, as the condition of things now admits ; or, when 
at the worst, could not be remedied by any one body, 
nor by any one generation, of men. But, without dis- 
paraging foreign institutions, we may be allowed to pre- 
fer our own ; to assert their excellence, to seek to main- 



52 FIRST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND. 

tain them on their original foundations, on their true 
principles, and in their unmingled purity. That great 
word. Independence, which, if first uttered in 1776, 
was most auspiciously anticipated in 1620, comprehends 
much more, than a mere absence of foreign jurisdiction. 
I could almost say, that if it rested there, it would 
scarcely be worth asserting. In every noble, in every 
trte, acceptation, it implies, not merely an Americaq 
government, but an American character, an American 
feeling. To the formation of these, nothing will more 
powerfully contribute, than our geographical distance 
from other parts of the world. 

In these views, there is nothing unsocial; nothy^ 
hostile to a friendly and improving connexion of distant 
regions with each other, or to the profitable interchange 
of the commodities, which a bountiful Providence has 
variously scattered over the earth. For these, and all 
other desirable ends, the perfection, to which the art of 
navigation is brought, affords abundant means of con- 
quering the obstacles of distance. At this moment, the 
trade of America has penetrated to the interior of Asia 
Minor, the plains of Tartary, the centre of Hindostan 
and China, and the remotest isles of the Indian ocean. 
While ambition and policy, by intrigue and bloodshed, 
are contesting the possession of a few square miles of 
territory, our peaceful commerce has silently extended 
its jurisdiction, from island to island, from sea to sea, 
from continent to cojitinent, till it holds the globe in its 
grasp. 

But, while no one can doubt the mutual advantages 
of a judiciously-conducted commerce, or be insensible 
of the good, which has resulted to the cause of human- 
ity, from the cultivation of a peaceful and friendly in- 
tercourse with other climes, it is yet beyond question, 
that the true principle of American policy, to which the 
whole spirit of our institutions, not less than the geo- 
graphical features of the country, invites us, is separa- 
tion from Europe. Next to union at home, which 
ought to be called^ not so much the essential condition 



F^6T SETTLEMI&NT OT NEW £KOLAKI>; 68 

of our national existetice as our existence itself, sepa«* 
ration from all other countries is the great principle, 
by which we are to prosper. It is toward this, that 
our efforts, public and private, ought to tend; and 
we shall rise or decline in strength, improvement, and 
worth, as we obey or violate this principle. This 
is the voice of Nature, which did not in vain disjoin 
our Continent from the Old World; nor reserve it, 
beyond the ocean, for fifty centuries, only that it might 
become a common receptacle for the exploded prin- 
ciples, the degenerate examples, and the remediless 
corruptions, of other states. This is the voice of our 
history, which traces every thing, excellent in our char- 
acter, and prosperous in our fortunes, to dissent, non- 
conformity, departure, resistance, and revolution. This 
is taught us, by the marked peculiarity and essential 
novelty which display themselves in our whole physical, 
political, and social, existence. 

And it is a matter of sincere congratulation, that, 
under the healthy operation of natural causes, very par- 
tially accelerated by l^slation, the current of our pur- 
suits and industry, without deserting its former channels, 
is throwing a broad and swelling branch into the interi- 
or. Foreign commerce, the natural employment of an 
enterprising people, whose population is accumulated on 
the seacoast, and whose neutral services were invited by 
a world in arms, is daily reverting to a condition, of 
more equal participation among the various maritime 
states, and is, in consequence, becoming less productive 
to any one. While America remains, and will always 
remain, among the foremost commercial and naval 
states, an ample portion of our resources has already 
taken a new direction. We profited of the dissensions 
of Europe, which threw her trade into our hands. We 
are now profiting of the pacification of Europe, in the 
application to our own soil, our own mineral and vege- 
table products, our water-courses and our general inter- 
nal resources, of a part of the capital thus accumulated. 

This circumstance is, in a general view, most gratify- 
5* 



54 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

ing ; inasmuch as it creates a new bond of mutual de- 
pendence, in the variety of our natural gifts, and in the 
mutual benefits rendered each other by the several sec- 
tional interests of the country. The progress is likely 
to be permanent and sure, because it has been mainly 
brought about in the natural order of things, and with 
little legislative interference. Within a few years, what 
a happy change has taken place! The substantial 
clothing of our industrious classes is now the growth 
of the American soil, and the texture of the American 
loom ; the music of the water-wheel is heard on the 
banks of our thousand rural streams ; and enterprise 
and skill, with wealth, refinement, and prosperity, in 
their train, having studded the seashore with populous 
cities, are making their great " progress" of improve- 
ment through the interior, and sowing towns and villa- 
ges, as it were, broadcast, through the country ! 

II. If our remote position be so important among the 
circumstances, which favored the enterprise of our fath- 
ers, and have favored the growth of their settlements, 
scarcely less so, was the point of time, at which those 
settlements were commenced. 

When we cast our eyes over the annals of our race, 
we find them to be filled with a tale of various fortunes ; 
the rise and fall of nations ; periods of light and dark- 
ness ; of great illumination, and of utter obscurity ; and 
of all intermediate degrees of intelligence, cultivation, 
and liberty. But in the seeming confusion of the nar- 
rative, our attention is arrested by three more conspicu- 
ous eras, at unequal distances in the lapse of ages. 

In Egypt, we still behold, on the banks of the Nile, 
the monuments of an improved age; — a period, no 
doubt, of high cultivation and of great promise. Be- 
neath the influence of causes, which are lost in the depth 
of antiquity, but which are doubtless connected with the 
debasing superstitions and poHtical despotism, which 
prevailed in that Country, this period passed away, and 
left scarce a trace of its existence, beyond the stupen- 
dous and mysterious structures, — ^the temples, the obe- 



riRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 53 

lisks, and the pjrramids, — ^which yet bear witness to an 
age of great power and cultivated art, and mock the 
curiosity of mankind, by the records inscrutably carved 
on their surfaces.* 

Passing over an interval of one thousand years, we 
reach the second epoch of light and promise. With the 
progress of freedom, in Greece, tliat of the mind kept 
pace ; and an age, both of achievement and of hope, 
succeeded, of which the influence is still felt in the 
world. But the greater part of mankind were too bar- 
barous, to improve by the example of this favored cor- 
ner ; and though the influence of its arts, letters, and 
civilization, was wonderfully extensive and durable ; 
though it seemed to revive at the court of the Roman 
Caesars, and still later, at that of the Arabian Caliphs ; 
yet, not resting on those popular institutions, and popu- 
lar principles, which can alone be permanent, because 
alone natural, it slowly died away, and Europe, and the 
world, relapsed into barbarity. 

The third great era of our race is the close of the 
fifteenth century. The use of the mariner's compass, 
and the invention of the art of printing, had furnished 
the modern world, with two engines of improvement 
and civilization, either of which was far more efficacious, 
than all united, known to antiquity. The Reformation, 
also, about this time, disengaged Christianity, itself one 
of the most powerful instruments of civilization, from 
those abuses, which had hitherto greatly impaired its 
beneficent influence on temporal affairs ; and, at this 
most chosen moment, in the annals of the world, Amer- 
ica was discovered. 

It would not be difficult, by pursuing this analysis, to 
show, that the precise period, when the settlement of 
our coasts began, was peculiarly auspicious to the foun- 
dation of a new and hopeful system. 

Religious reformation was the original principle, 
which kindled the zeal of our pilgrim fathers ; as it has 

♦ This remark was made, before the snccessfal attempts of Dr. 
Young and M. Champollion to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphics. 



56 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

been so often acknowledged to be the master principle 
of the greatest movements in the modern world. Ths 
religions of Greece and Rome were portions of the 
poUtical systems of these countries. The Scipios, the 
Crassuses, and Julius Csesar himself, were high priests. 
It was, doubtless, owing, in part, to this example, that, 
at an early period after the first introduction of Chris- 
tianity, the heads of the Church so entirely mistook the 
spirit of this religion, that, in imitation of the splendid 
idolatry, which was passing away, they aimed at a new 
combination of Church and State, which received but 
too much countenance, from the policy of Constantine. 
This abuse, with ever multiplying and aggravated^ fca- 
lamitous consequences, endured, without any effectual 
check, till the first blow was aimed at the supremacy of 
the papal power, by Phihp the Fair, of France, in the 
fourteenth century, who laid the foundation of the liber- 
ties of the Gallican church, by what may be called the 
Catholic Reformation. 

After an interval of two hundred years, this example 
was followed and improved upon by the Princes in 
Germany, who espoused the Protestant Reformation 
of Luther, and in a still more decisive manner, by 
Henry the Eighth, in England ; at which period, we 
may accordingly date the second great step in the march 
of religious liberty. 

Much more, however, was yet to be effected, toward 
the dissolution of the political bond between Church 
and State. Hitherto, a domestic was substituted for a 
foreign yoke, and the rights of private conscience had, 
perhaps, gained but little in the exchange. In the 
middle of the sixteenth century, and among the exiles, 
whom the tyranny of Queen Mary had driven to the 
free cities on the Rhine, the ever-memorable sect of 
Puritans arose. On their return to England, in the 
reign of Queen Elizabeth, they strenuously opposed 
themselves to the erection and peculiarities of the Eng- 
lish national Church. 

Nearly as we have now reached, both in simplicity 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OP NEW ENGLAND. M 

of principle and point of time, to our pilgrim forefath 
ers, there is <me more purifying process to go through, 
one more generation to pass away. The major part of 
the Puritans themselves, while they rejected some of 
the forms, and disliked the organization of the English 
Church, adhered, in substance, to the constitution of 
the Genevan Church, and their descendants were will- 
ing, a century later, to accept of an establishment by 
law in Scotland. 

It remained, therefore, to shake off the last badge 
of subjection, and take the last step in the progress of 
reform, by asserting the independence of each single 
church. This principle may be considered as firmly 
established, from the time of John Robinson, who may 
be called the father of the Independent churches. His 
own, at Leyden, was the chief of these, and fidelity 
to their principles was the motive of their departure 
from Holland, and the occasion of their settlement at 
Plymouth. 

Although there are many persons, entitled to great re- 
spect, who will not concur in the foregoing statement, of 
the nature of the dissent of our forefathers from the church 
of England, yet none, on alaige view of the subject, will 
be unwilling to allow, that this was the great age of gen- 
eral improvement. It was the age, when the discover- 
ies of the Spanish, Portuguese, and English, navigators 
had begun to exert a stimulating influence on the world 
at lai^ ; and the Old continent and the New, like the 
magnetic poles, commenced those momentous processes 
of attraction and repulsion, from which, so much of the 
activity of both has since proceeded. It was the period, 
when the circulation of knowledge had become gener- 
al ; and books, in all languages, were in the hands of 
a very large class, in every country. The history of 
Europe, in all its states, shows the extent and vehe- 
mence of the consequent fermentation. With their 
new engines of improvement and new principles of 
right, the communities of men rushed forward in the 



58 riBST SETTLEBIENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

course of reform ; some with firmness and vigor, pro- 
portioned to the greatness of the object in view ; most 
with tumult and desperation, proportioned to the dura- 
tion and magnitude of their injuries; and none with 
entire success. The most that was effected, in the 
most fortunate states, was a compromise, between the 
new claims and the old abuses. Absolute kings stipu- 
lated to be no longer absolute ; and free citizens pre- 
ferred what they called petitions of right. In this way, 
and after infinite struggles, a tolerable foundation for 
considerable practical liberty was laid on two princi- 
ples, in the abstract false, as principles of government, 
— ^that of acquiescence on the part of the sovereign, and 
prescription in favor of the people. So firmly estab- 
lished are these principles, by consent of the statesmen 
of the freest country in Europe, as the best and only 
foundation of civil rights, that, so late as the last years 
of the eighteenth century, a work, of ingenuity seldom, 
of eloquence never, surpassed, was written by Mr. 
Burke, to prove, that the people of England have not a 
right to appoint and to remove their rulers ; and that, 
if they ever had the right, they deliberately renounced 
it, at what is called the glorious revolution of 1688, for 
themselves and their jJbsterity forever-. 

The work of reform is, of course, rendered exceed- 
ingly difficult, in Europe, by the length of time for 
which great abuses have existed, and the extent to 
which these abuses are interwoven witli the whole sys- 
tem. We cannot but regard it as the plain interposi- 
tion of Providence, that, at the critical point of time, 
when the most powerful springs of improvement were 
in operation, a chosen company of pilgrims, who were 
actuated by these springs of improvement, in all their 
strength, who had purchased the privilege of dissent 
at the high price of banishment from the civilized 
world, and who, with the dust of their feet, had sha- 
ken off many of the abuses and errors which had been 
accumulating, for thousands of years, came over to 



iriBST 8ErrLE>I£NT or NEW ENGLAND* 59 

these distant, unoccupied shores. I know not that the 
work of thorough reform could be safely trusted to any 
other hands. I can credit their disinterestedness, when 
they maintain the equality of ranks ; for no rich forfeit- 
ures of attainted lords await them in the wilderness. 
I need not question the sincerity witli which they assert 
the rights of conscience ; for the plundered treasures 
of an ancient hierarchy are not to seal their doctrine. 
They rested the edifice of their civil and religious lib- 
erties, on a foundation, as pure as the snows around 
them. Blessed be the spot, the only one on earth, 
where such a foundation was ever laid 1 Blessed be 
the spot, the only one on earth, where man has attempt- 
ed to establish the good, without beginning with the 
sad, the odious, the often suspicious, task of pulling 
down the bad ! 

III. Under these auspices, the Pilgrims landed on 
the coast of New England. They found it a region of 
moderate fertility, offering an unsubdued wilderness to 
the hand of labor, with a climate, temperate, indeed, 
but, compared with that which they had left, vei^ng 
somewhat near to either extreme; and a soil, which 
promised neither gold nor diamonds, nor any thing but 
what should be gained from it by patient industry. 
This was but a poor reality for that dream of Oriental 
luxury, with which America had filled the imaginations 
of men. The visions of Indian wealth, of mines of 
silver and gold, and fisheries of pearl, with which the 
Spanish adventurers in Mexico and Peru had astonish- 
ed the ears of Europe, were but poorly fulfilled on the 
bleak, rocky, and sterile, plains of New England. No 
doubt, in the beginning of the settlement, these circum- 
stances operated unfavorably on the growth of the colo- 
ny. In the nature pf things, it is mostly adventurers, 
who incline to leave their homes and native land, and risk 
the uncertainty of another hemisphere ; and a climate 
and soil like ours furnished but little attraction to the 
adventuring class. Captain Smith, in his zeal to pro- 
mote the growth of New England, is at no little pains 



60 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

to show, that the want of mineral treasures was amply 
compensated by the abundant fishery of the coast ; and 
having sketched, in strong colors, the prosperity and 
wealth of the states of Holland, he adds, " Divers, I 
know, may allege many other assistances, but this is 
the chiefest mine, and the sea the source of those silver 
streams of their virtue, which hath made them now the 
very miracle of industry, the only pattern of perfection 
for these affairs ; and the benefit of fishing is that pri- 
mum mx)bile* that turns all their spheres to this height 
of plenty, strength, honor, and exceeding great admi- 
ration."! 

While we smile at this overwrought panegyric, on 
the primitive resource of our fathers, we cannot but 
acknowledge, that it has foundation in truth. It is, 
doubtless, to the untempting qualities of our climate 
and soil, and the conditions of industry and frugality, 
on which alone the prosperity of the colony could be 
secured, that we are to look for a full share of the final 
success of the enterprise. 

To this, it is to be ascribed, that the country itself 
was not preoccupied by a crowded population of sav- 
ages, like the West India Islands and Mexico, who, 
placed upon a soil, yielding, almost spontaneously, a 
^superabundance of food, had multiplied into populous 
umpires, and made a progress in the arts, which served 
no other purpose, than to give strength and permanence 
to some of the most frightful systems of despotism, that 
ever afflicted humanity ; systems, uniting all that is 
most horrible in depraved civilization and wild barbari- 
ty. The problem, indeed, is hard to be solved, in what 
way, and by what steps, a continent, possessed by sav- 
age tribes, is to be lawfully occupied and colonized by 
civilized man. But this question was divested of much 
of its practical difficulty, by the scantiness of the native 
population, which our fathers found in New England, 

* The first cause of motion, the mninspring, the first impulse, 
t Smith's Generall Historie. Vol. II. p. 185, Richmond Edit. 



^IRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND; Cl 

and the migratory life, to which the necessity of the 
chase reduced them. It is owing to this, that the an- 
nals of New England exhibit no scenes, hke those which 
were acted in Hispaniola, in Mexico, and Peru; no 
tragedies Uke those of Anacaona, of Guatimozin, and 
of Atahualpa ; no statesman like Bobadilla ; no heroes 
like Pizarro and Cortes ; 

**No dark Ovando, no religious Boyle.'* 

The qualities of our climate and soil enter largely, 
in other ways, into that natural basis, on which our 
prosperity and our freedom have been reared. It is 
these, which distinguish the smiling aspect of our busy, 
thriving villages, from the lucrative desolation of the 
sugar islands, and all the wide-spread, undescribed, 
indescribable, miseries, of the colonial system of mod- 
ern Europe, as it has existed, beyond the barrier of 
these mighty oceans, in the unvisited, unprotected, and 
unavenged, recesses of either India. We have had 
abundant reason to be contented with this austere sky, 
this hard, unyielding soil. Poor as it is, it has left us 
no cause to sigh for the luxuries of the tropics, nor to 
covet the mines of the southern regions of our hemi- 
sphere. Our rough and hardly subdued hill-sides, and 
barren plains, have produced us that, which neither 
ores, nor spices, nor sweets could purchase; which 
would not spring in the richest gardens of the despotic 
East. The compact numbers and the strength, the 
general intelligence and the civilization, which, since 
the world began, were never exhibited beneath the sul- 
try line, have been the precious product of this iron- 
bound coast. The rocks and- the sands, which would 
yield us neither the cane nor the coffee tree, have yield 
ed us, not only an abundance and a steadiness in re- 
sources, rarely consistent with the treacherous profusion 
of tropical colonies, but the habits, the manners, the 
institutions, the industrious population, the schools and 
the churches, beyond all the wealth of all the Indies. 

6 £. E. 



6^ TTRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND* 

** Man is the nobler growth our soil supplies. 
And souls are ripened in opr northern skies." 

Describe to me, a country, rich in veins of the pre- 
cious metals, that is traversed by good roads. Inform 
me of the convenience of bridges, where the rivers 
roll over golden sands. Tell me of a thrifty, prosper- 
ous village of freemen, in the miserable districts where 
every clod of the earth is kneaded up for diamonds, 
beneath the lash of the task-master. No, never ! while 
the constitution, not of states, but of human nature, 
remains the same ; never, while the laws, not of civil 
society, but of God, are unrepealed, will there be a 
hardy, virtuous, independent yeomanry, in regions, 
where two acres of untilled banana will feed a hundred 
men. It is idle to call that ybod, which can never feed 
a free, intelligent, industrious population. It is not 
food ; it is dust ; it is chaff; it is ashes ; there is no 
nourishment in it, if it be not carefully sown, and pain- 
fully reaped, by laborious freemen, on their own fee- 
simple acres. ' 

IV. Nor ought we to omit to say, that, if our fore- 
fathers found, in the nature of the region to which they 
emigrated, the most favorable spot for the growth of a 
free and happy state, they themselves sprang from the 
land, the best adapted to furnish the habits and prin- 
ciples essential to the great undertaking. In an age, 
that speculates, and speculates to important purpose, 
on the races of fossil animals, of which no living spec- 
imen has existed since the Deluge, and which com- 
pares, with curious criticism, the dialects of languages, 
which ceased to be spoken, a thousand years ago, it 
cannot be called idle, to inquire, which, of the different 
countries of modern Europe, possesses the qualities, 
that best adapt it to become the parent nation of a new 
and free state. I know not, in fact, what more mo 
mentous question, in human affairs, could be asked, 
than that which regards the most hopeful lineage of a 
collective empire. But, without engaging in so exten- 
sive a discus^on, I may presume, that there is not one 



FIRST SETTLEMENT 07 NEW ENGLAND* 63 

who hears me that does not feel it a matter of congrat- 
ulation and joy, that our fathers were Englishmen. 

No character is perfect among nations, more than 
among men ; but it must needs be conceded, that, after 
our own Country, England is the most favored abode 
of liberty ; or rather, that, besides our own, it is the 
only land, where liberty can be said to exist ; the only 
land, where the voice of the sovereign, is not stronger 
than the voice of the law. We can scarce revolve, 
with patience, the idea, that we might have been a 
Spanish colony, a Portuguese colony, or a Dutch colo- 
ny. We can scarcely compare, with coolness, the in- 
heritance of those institutions, which were transmitted 
to us, by our fathers, with that which we must have 
received from almost any other country ; absolute gov- 
ernment, military despotism, and the " holy inquisition.'' 
What would have been the condition of this flourish- 
ing and happy land, had these been the institutions, on 
which its settlement was founded ? There are, unfor- 
tunately, too many materials for answering this ques- 
tion, in the history of the Spanish and Portuguese 
settlements on the American continent, from the first 
moment of unrelenting waste and desolation, to the 
distractions and conflicts, of which we ourselves are 
the witnesses. What hope can there be, for the colo- 
nies of nations, which possess, themselves, no spring of 
improvement; and tolerate none in the regions over 
which they rule ; whose administration sets no bright 
examples of poHtical independence ; whose languages 
send out no reviving lessons of sound and practical 
science, (afraid of nothing that is true,) of manly liter- 
ature, of free speculation ; but repeat, with every ship 
that crosses the Atlantic, the same debasing voice of 
despotism, credulity, superstition, 9,nd slavery ? 

What citizen of our republic is not grateful, in the 
contrast which our history presents ? Who does not 
feel, what reflecting American does not acknowledge, 
the incalculable advantages derived to this land, out of 
the deep foundations of civil, intellectual, and moral, 



64 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAItd. 

truth, from which we have drawn in England ? Whalt 
American does not feel proud, that he is descended 
from the countrymen of Bacon, of Newton, and of 
Locke ? Who does not know, that, while every pulse 
of civil liberty, in the heart of the British empire, beat 
warm and full in the bosom of our fathers ; the sobri- 
ety, the firmness, and the dignity, with which the cause 
of free principles struggled into existence here, con- 
stantly found encouragement and countenance from 
the sons of liberty there ? Who does not remember, 
that, when the Pilgrims went over the sea, the prayers 
of the faithful British confessors, in all the quarters of 
their dispersion, went over with them, while their aching 
eyes were strained, till the star of hope should go up 
in the western skies ? And who will ever forget, that, 
in that eventful struggle, which severed this mighty 
republic from the British crown, there was not heard, 
throughout our continent in arms, a voice, which spoke 
louder for the rights of America, than that of Burke or 
of Chatham, within the walls of the British parliament, 
and at the foot of the British throne ? No : for myself 
I can truly say, that, after my native land, I feel a ten- 
derness and a reverence for that of my fathers. The 
pride I take in my own Country makes me respect that 
from which we are sprung. In touching the soil of 
England, I seem to return, like a descendant, to the 
old family seat ; to come back to the abode of an aged 
and venerable parent. I acknowledge this great con- 
sanguinity of nations. The sound of my native lan- 
guage, beyond the sea, is a music to my ear, beyond 
the richest strains of Tuscan softness, or Castilian maj- 
esty. I am not yet in a land of strangers, while sur- 
rounded by the manners, the habits, the institutions 
under which^I have been brought up. I wander, de- 
lighted, through a thousand scenes, which the historians, 
the poets, have made familiar to us ; of which the 
names are interwoven with our earliest associations. I 
tread, with reverence, the spots, where I can retrace 
the footsteps of our suffering fathers ; the pleasant land 



FIRST SETTLEBfENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 65 

of their birth has a claim on my heart. It seems to me 
a classic, yea, a holy land, rich in the memory of the 
great and good, the martyrs of liberty, the exiled her- 
alds of truth ; and richer, as the parent of this land of 
promise in the West. 

I am not, — I need not say, I am not, — ^the panegy- 
rist of England. I am not dazzled by her riches, nor 
awed by her power. The sceptre, the mitre, and the 
coronet, — ^stars, garters, and blue ribands, — seem, to me, 
poor things for great men to contend for. Nor is my 
admiration awakened by her armies, mustered for the 
battles of Europe ; her navies, overshadowing the ocean ; 
nor her empire grasping the furthest East. It is these, 
and the price of guilt and blood by which they are 
maintained, which are the cause, why no friend of lib- 
erty can salute her with undivided affections. But it 
is the refuge of free principles, though often persecut- 
ed ; the school of religious liberty, the more precious 
for the struggles to which it has been called ; the tombs 
of those who have reflected honor on all who speak the 
English tongue ; it is the birthplace of our fathers, the 
home of the Pilgrims ; it is these, which I love and 
venerate in England. I should feel ashamed of an 
enthusiasm for Italy and Greece, did I not also feel it, 
for a land Uke this. In an American, it would seem 
to me degenerate and ungrateful, to hang, with passion, 
upon the traces of Homer and Virgil, and follow, with- 
out emotion, the nearer and plainer footsteps of Shak- 
speare and Milton ; and I should think him cold in his 
love for his native land, who felt no melting in his 
heart, for that other native land, which holds the ashes 
of his forefathers. 

V. But it was not enough, that our fathers were of 
England : the masters of Ireland, and the lords of Hin 
dostan, are of England, too. But our fathers were Eng- 
lishmen, aggrieved, persecuted, and banished. It is a 
principle, amply borne out by the history of the great 
and powerful nations of the earth, and by that of none, 
more than the country of which we speak, that the best 
6* 



66 FUtST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND* 

fruits and choicest action, of the commendable qualities 
of the national character, are to be found on the side 
of the oppressed few, and not of the triumphant many. 
As in private character, adversity is often requisite to 
give a proper direction and temper to strong qualities, 
so the noblest traits of national character, even under 
the freest and most independent of hereditary govern- 
ments, must sometimes be sought, in the ranks of a 
protesting minority, or of a dissenting sect. Never was 
this truth more clearly illustrated, than in the settlement 
of New England. 

Could a common calculation of policy have dictated 
the terms of that settlement, no doubt our foundations 
would have been laid beneath the royal smile. Con- 
voys and navies would have been solicited to waft our 
fathers to the coast ; armies, to defend the infant com- 
munities ; and the flattering patronage of princes and 
lords, to espouse their interests in the councils of the 
mother country. Happy, that our fathers enjoyed no 
such patronage ; happy, that they fell into no such pro- 
tecting hands ; happy, that our foundations were silent- 
ly and deeply cast in quiet insignificance, beneath a 
charter of banishment, persecution, and contempt ; so 
that, when the royal arm was at length outstretched 
against us, instead of a submissive child, tied down by 
former graces, it found a youthful giant in the land, 
born amidst hardships, and nourished on the rocks, in- 
debted for no favors, and owing no duty. From the 
dark portals of the star chamber, and in the stern text 
of the acts of uniformity, the Pilgrims received a com- 
mission, more efficient than any that ever bore the roy- 
al seal. Their banishment to Holland was fortunate ; 
the decline of their little company, in the strange land, 
was fortunate ; the difficulties, which they experienced 
in getting the royal consent to banish themselves to this 
wilderness, were fortunate ; all the tears and heart- 
breakings, of that ever-memorable parting at Delfthaven, 
had the happiest influence on the rising destinies of 
New England. All this purified the ranks of the set- 



riKST 8STTLEKENT OT NEW SNGLAICD. 67 

tiers. These rough touches of fortune brushed oflf the 
light, uncertain, selfish spirits. They made it a grave, 
solemn, self-denying expedition. They cast a broad 
shadow of thought and seriousness over the cause, and, 
if this sometimes deepened into melancholy and bit- 
terness, can we find no apology for such a human weak- 
ness? 

It is sad, indeed, to reflect on the disasters, which 
this little band of Pilgrims encountered. Sad, to see a 
portion of them the prey of unrelenting cupidity, treach- 
erously embarked in an unseaworthy ship, which they 
are soon obliged to abandon, and crowd themselves in- 
to one vessel ; — one hundred persons, besides the ship's 
company, in a vessel of one hundred and sixty tons. 
One is touched, at the story of the long, cold, and wea- 
ry, Autunmal passage ; of the landing on the inhospit- 
able rocks, at this dismal season ; where they are de- 
serted, before long, by the ship, which had brought 
them, and which seemed their only hold upon the world 
of fellow-men, a prey to the elements and to want, and 
fearfully ignorant of the numbers, the power, and the 
temper, of the savage tribes, that filled the unexplored 
continent, upon whose verge they had ventured. But 
all this wrought tc^ether for good. These trials of 
wandering and exile, of the ocean, the Winter, the wil- 
derness, and the savage foe, were the final assurance of 
success. It was these, that put far away from our fa- 
thers' cause, all patrician softness, all hereditary claims 
to preeminence. No effeminate nobility crowded into 
the dark and austere ranks of the Pilgrims. No Carr 
nor VilUers desired to lead on the ill-provided band of 
despised Puritans. No well-endowed clergy were de- 
sirous, to quit their cathedrals, and set up a splendid 
hierarchy in the frozen wilderness. No craving gov- 
ernors were anxious to be sent over to our cheerless 
El Dorados of ice and of snow. No, they could not 
say they had encouraged, patronised, or helped, the Pil- 
grims. They could not afterwards fairly pretend to 
reap, where they had not strown ; and, as our fathers 



68 FIRST SETTLEMENT Or NEW ENGLAND. - 

reared this broad and solid fabric with p^ins and watch- 
fulness, unaided, barely tolerated, it did not fall, when 
the arm, which had never supported, was raised to de- 
stroy. 

Methinks I see it, now, that one sohtary, adventurous 
vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with 
the prospects of a future state, and bound across the 
unknown sea. I behold it, pursuing, with a thousand 
misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns 
rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and Winter 
surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the 
sight of the wished-for shore. I see them, now, scan- 
tily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffo- 
cation in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pur- 
suing a circuitous route ; and now, driven in fury be- 
fore the raging tempest, on the high and giddy waves. 
The awful voice of the storm howls through the rig- 
ging. The laboring masts seem straining from their 
base ; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard ; the 
ship leaps, as it were, madly, from billow to billow ; the 
ocean breaks, and settles with engulfing floods over 
the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight, 
against the staggered vessel. I see them, escaped 
from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate un- 
dertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' 
passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and 
weary from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provis- 
ioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master 
for a draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but 
water on shore, without shelter, without means, sur- 
rounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume of his- 
tory, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, 
what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers. 
Tell me, man of military science, in how many months 
were they ajl swept off* by the thirty savage tribes, enu- 
merated within the early limits of New England ? Tell 
me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, 
on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled^ 
languish on the distant coast? Student of history^ 



F2KST SETTLEMENT OF NEW £NGLAN2>« 69 

cmnpare fen* me the bafSed projects, the deserted settle- 
ments, the abandoned adventures, of other times, and 
find the parallel of this. Was it the Winter's storm, 
beating upon the houseless heads of women and cliil- 
dren? was it hard labor and spare meals? was it dis- 
ease ? was it the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady 
of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken 
heart, aching in its last moments, at the recollection of 
the loved and left, beyond the sea ? — ^was it some, or 
«ill, of these, united, that hurried this forsaken company 
to their melancholy fate ? And is it possible, that nei- 
ther of these causes, that not all combined, were able 
to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possible, tliat from a 
beginning, so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much 
of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress 
so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, 
a promise yet to be fulfilled, so glorious ? 

Such, in a very inadequate statement, are some of 
the circumstances, under which the settlement of our 
country began. The historian of Massachusetts, after 
having given a brief notice of Carver, of Bradford, of 
Winslow, of Brewster, of Standish, and others, adds, 
" These were the founders of the colony of Plymouth. 
The settlement of this colony occasioned the settlement 
of Massachusetts Bay ; which was the source of all the 
other colonies of New England. Virginia was in a dy- 
ing state, and seemed to revive and flourish from the 
example of New England. I am not preserving from 
obUvion," continues he, " the names of heroes, whose 
chief merit is the overthrow of cities, of provinces, and 
empires ; but the names of the founders of a flourish- 
ing town and colony, if not of the whole British empire 
in America."* This was the judicious reflection of 
Hutchinson, sixty years ago, when the greatest tribute 
to be paid to the Fathers of Plymouth was, that they 
took the lead in colonizing the British possessions in 
America. What, then, ought to be our emotions, as 

* HatcliiDson'i History of Massachnsettt Bay, Vol. II. Appendix, 
p. 46t. 



70 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

we meet, on this anniversary, upon the spot, where the 
first successful foundations of the great American re- 
public were laid ? 

Within a short period, an incident has occurred, 
which, of itself, connects, in the most gratifying asso- 
ciation, the early settlement of New England, with the 
present growth and prosperity of our wide-extended 
republic. Within the past year, the sovereign hand of 
this great confederacy of States has been extended, for 
the restoration and security of the harbor, where, on 
the day we celebrate, the germ of the future growth of 
America was comprehended within one weather-beaten 
vessel, tossing upon the tide, on board of which, in the 
words of Hutchinson, the Fathers of New England, by a 
solemn instrument, "formed themselves into a proper 
democracy." Two centuries, only, have elapsed, and 
we behold a great American representation convened, 
from twenty-four independent and flourishing repubHcs, 
taking under their patronage the local interests of the 
spot where our fathers landed, and providing, in the 
same act of appropriation, for the removal of obstacles 
in the Mississippi and the repair of Plymouth beach. 
I know not in what words a more beautiful commenta- 
ry could be written, on our early infancy or our happy 
growth. There were members of the national Congress 
which made that appropriation, I will not say from dis- 
tant states, but from different climates ; from regions 
which the sun in the heavens does not reach in the 
same hour that he rises on us. Happy community of 
protection ! Glorious brotherhood ! Blessed fulfilment 
of that first timorous hope, that warmed the bosoms of 
our fathers ! 

Nor is it even our mighty territory, to which the in- 
fluence of the principles and example of the fathers of 
New England is confined. While I utter the words, a 
constitution of republican government, closely imitated 
from ours, is going into operation in the States of the 
Mexican confederation, a region more extensive than 
all our territories east of the Mississippi. Further south. 



FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND* 71 

one of the provinces of Central America, the republic 
of Guatimala, has sent its envoys to solicit a union with 
us. Will posterity believe, that such an offer was made 
and refused, in the age, that saw England and Spain 
rushing into war for the possession of a few uninhabited 
islets on the coast of Patagonia ? Pass the isthmus of 
Darien, and we behold the sister republic of Colombia, 
a realm two thirds as large as Europe, ratifying her first 
solemn treaty of amity and commerce with the United 
States ; while still onward to the south, in the valleys 
of the Chilian Andes, and on the banks of La Plata, in 
states not less vast than those already named, consti- 
tutions of republican government are in prosperous ope- 
ration, founded on our principles, and modelled on our 
forms. When our commissioners visited those coun- 
tries, in 1817, they found the books, most universally 
read among the people, were, the constitutions of the 
United States and of the several States, translated into 
the language of the country ; while the public journals 
were filled with extracts from the celebrated * Defence' 
of these consuiuiions, written by that venerable de- 
scendant of the Pilgrims, who still lives to witness the 
prosperous operation of the governments, which he did 
so much to establish.* 

I do not fear that we shall be accused of extrava- 
gance, in the enthusiasm we feel at a train of events, 
of such astonishing magnitude, novelty, and conse- 
quence, connected by associations so intimate, with the 
day we now hail ; with the events we now celebrate ; 
with the Pilgrim Fathers of New England. Victims of 
persecution! how wide an empire acknowledges the 
sway of your principles ! Apostles of liberty ! what 
millions attest the authenticity of your mission ! Meek 
champions of truth ! no stain of private interest or of 
innocent blood is on the spotless garments of your re- 
nown ! The great continents of America have become, 



* John Adams, formerly President of the United States. He died 
at Quincy, July 4, 1826. 



72 FIRST SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

at length, the theatre of your achievements ; the At- 
lantic and the Pacific, the highways of communication, 
on which your principles, your institutions, your exam- 
ple, are borne. From the oldest abodes of civilization, 
the venerable plains of Greece, to the scarcely explored 
range of the Cordilleras, the impulse you gave, at length, 
is felt. While other regions revere you as the leaders 
of this great march of humanity, we are met, on this 
joyful day, to offer to your memory our tribute of filial 
affection. The sons and daughters of the Pilgrims, we 
have assembled on the spot, where you, our suffering 
fathers, set foot on this happy shore. Happy, indeed, 
it has been for us ! O ! that you could have enjoyed 
those blessings, which you prepared for your children ! 
Could our comfortable homes have shielded you, from 
the Wintry air ! could our abundant harvests have sup- 
, plied you, in time of famine ! could the broad shield 
of our beloved country have sheltered you, from the 
visitations of arbitrary power ! We come, in our pros- 
perity, to remember your trials ; and here, on the spot 
where New England began to be, we come, to learn of 
you, our Pilgrim Fathers, a deep and lasting lesson of 
virtue, enterprise, patience, zeal, and faith 1 



DfPOilTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE. 73 



ON THE IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOW- 
LEDGE, TO PRACTICAL IVIEN, AND ON THE 
ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT.* 

The chief object of the Mechanics' Institute is, to dif- 
fusa useful knowledge among the mechanic class of the 
community. It aims, in general, to improve and in- 
fonn the minds of its members; and particularly to 
illustrate and explain the principles of the various arts 
of life, and render them familiar to that portion of the 
community, who are to exercise these arts as their oc- 
cupation in society. It is also a proper object of the 
Listitute, to point out the connexion between the me- 
chanic arts and the other pursuits and occupations, and 
show the foundations, which exist in our very nature, 
for a cordial union between them all. 

These objects recommend themselves strongly and 
obviously to general approbation. While the cultiva- 
tion of the mind, in its more general sense, and in con- 
nexion with morals, is as important to mechanics as 
to any other class, nothing is plainer, than that those, 
whose livelihood depends on the skilful practice of the 
arts, ought to be instructed, as far as possible, in the 
scientific principles and natural laws, on which the arts 
are founded. This is necessary, in order that the arts 
themselves should be pursued to the greatest advantage ; 
that popular errors should be eradicated; that every 
accidental improvement in the processes of industry, 
which offers itself, should be readily taken up and pur- 
sued to its principle ; that false notions, leading to waste 
of time and labor, should be prevented from gaining 
-ar retaining currency; in short, that the useful, like 
ihe ornamental, arts of life, should be carried to the 
point of attainable perfection. 

*■ The following Essay contains the substance of Addresses delivered 
by the Author, before several institutions for scientific improvement 
7 E. E. 



74 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTITIC KNOWLEDGE, 

The history of the progress of the human mind 
shows us, that, for want of a diffusion of scientific 
knowledge, among practical men, great evils have re- 
sulted, both to science and practice. Before the inven- 
tion of the art of printing, the means of acquiring and 
circulating knowledge were few and ineffectual. The 
philosopher was, in consequence, exclusively a man of 
study, who, by Hving in a monastic seclusion, and by 
delving into the few books which time had spared, — 
particularly the works of Aristotle and his commenta- 
tors, — succeeded in mastering the learning of the day ; 
learning, mostly of an abstract and metaphysical nature. 
Thus, living in a world, not of practice, but speculation, 
and seldom bringing his theories to the test of observa- 
tion, his studies assumed a visionary character. Hence 
the projects for the transmutation of metals, — a notion 
not originating in any observation of the qualities of 
the different kinds of metals, but in reasoning, a prio- 
ri, on their supposed identity of substance. So deep 
rooted was this delusion, that a great part of the natural 
science, of the middle ages, consisted in projects to 
convert the baser metals into gold. It is plain, that 
such a project would no more have been countenanced, 
by intelligent, well-informed persons, practically con- 
versant with the nature of the metals, than a project 
to transmute pine into oak, or fish into flesh. 

In hke manner, by giving science wholly up to the 
philosophers, and making the practical arts of life merely 
a matter of traditionary repetition, from one generation 
to another of uninformed artisans, much evil, of an 
opposite kind, was occasioned. Accident, of course, 
could be the only source of improvement; and, for 
want of acquaintance with the leading principles of 
mechanical philosophy, the chances were indefinitely 
multiplied, against these accidental improvements. For 
want of the diffusion of information, among practical 
men, the principles, prevailing in an art, in one place, 
were unknown, in other places ; and processes, existing 
at one period, were liable to be forgotten, in the lapse 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 75 

of time. Mysteries and secrets, easily kept, in such a 
state of things, and cherislied by tlieir possessor, as a 
source of monopoly, were so common, that mystery 
is still occasionally- used, as synonymous with trade. 
This also contributed to the loss of arts, once brought 
to perfection, such as that of staining glass, as practised 
in the middle ages. Complicated machinery was out 
of the question ; for it requires, for its invention and 
improvement, the union of scientific knowledge and 
practical skill. The mariner was left to creep along 
the coast, while the astronomer was casting nativities ; 
and the miner was reduced to the most laborious and 
purely mechanical processes, to extract the precious 
metals from the .ores that really contained them, while 
the chemist, who ought to have taught him the method 
of amalgamation, could find no use for mercury, but as 
a menstruum, by which baser metals could be turned 
into gold. 

At the present day, this state of things is certainly 
changed. A variety of popular treatises, and works 
of reference, have made the great principles of natural 
science generally accessible. It certainly is in the pow- 
er of almost every one, by pains and time properly be- 
stowed, to acquire a decent knowledge of every branch 
of practical philosophy. But still, it would appear, 
that, even now, this part of education is not on the 
right footing. Generally speaking, even now, all actual 
instruction, in the principles of natural science, is con- 
fined to the colleges; and the colleges are, for the 
most part, frequented, only by those intended for pro- 
fessional life. The elementary knowledge of science, 
which is communicated at the colleges, is, indeed, use- 
ful, in any and every calling; but it does not seem 
right, tliat none but those intended for the pulpit, the 
bar,^r the profession of medicine, should receive in- 
struction in those principles, which regulate the opera- 
tion of the mechanical powers, and lie at the foundation 
of cennlicated machinery ; which relate to the naviga- 
tion of the seas, the smelting and refining of metals. 



7G IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

the composition and improvement of soils, the reduction 
to a uniform whiteness of the vegetable fibre, the mix- 
ture and application of colors, the motion and pressure 
of fluids in large masses, the nature of light and heat, 
the laws of magnetism, electricity, and galvanism. It 
would seem, that this kind of knowledge was more im- 
mediately requisite, for those who are to be employed 
in making or' using labor-saving machinery, who are to 
traverse the ocean, to lay out and direct the construc- 
tion of canals and rail-roads, to build steam-engines and 
hydraulic presses, to work mines, and to conduct large 
agricultural and manufacturing establishments. Hith- 
erto, with some partial exceptions, little has been done 
systematically, to afford, to those engaged in these pur- 
suits, that knowledge, which, however convenient to 
others, would seem essential to them. There has been 
scarce any thing, which could be called education for 
practical life ; and those persons, who, in the pursuit 
of any of the useful arts, have signalized themselves, 
by the employment of scientific principles, for the in- 
vention of new processes, or the improvement of the 
old, have been self-educated men. 

I am aware, that it is often made an argument 
against scientific education, that the greatest discover- 
ies and inventions have been either the production of 
such self-educated men, or have been struck out by 
accident There certainly is some truth in this. So 
long as no regular system of scientific education, for 
the working classes, exists, it is a matter of necessity, 
that, if any great improvement be made, it must be ei- 
ther the result of accident, or the happy thought of 
some powerful native genius, who forces his way, with- 
out education, to the most astonishing results. This, 
however, is no more the case, with respect to the useful 
arts and the mechanical pursuits, than with respect^o all 
the other occupations of society ; and it would continue 
to be the case, after the establishment of the best sys- 
tem of scientific education. We find, in every pursuit 
and calling, some instances of remarkable men, who, 



ANB ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 77 

without an early education, adapted to the object, have 
raised themselves to great eminence. Lord Chancel- 
lor King, in England, was a grocer, at that period «f 
life, which is commonly spent in academical study, by 
those destined for the profession of the law. Chief 
Justice Pratt, of New York, having been brought up a 
carpenter, was led, by a severe cut from an axe, which 
unfitted him for work, to turn his attention to the law. 
Franklin,* who seemed equally 4;o excel, in the conduct 
of the ordinary business of life, in the sublimest studies 
of philosophy, and in the management of the most diffi- 
cult state afiairs, was bred a printer. All these calUngs 
are quite respectable, but no one would think of choos- 
ing either of them, as the school of the lawyer, judge, 
or statesman. The fact, that the native power of genius 
sometimes makes its way, against all obstacles, and un- 
der every discouragement, proves nothing, as to the 
course which it is expedient for the generahty of men 
to pursue. The safe path to excellence and success, 
in every caUing, is that of appropriate preliminary edu- 
cation, diligent application to learn the art, and assi- 
duity in practising it. I can perceive no reason, why 
this course should not be followed, in reference to the 
mechanical, as well as the professional, callings. The 
instances of eminent men, like those named, and many 
others that might be named, such as Arkwright and 
Harrison,! who have sprung from the depths of pover- 
ty, to astonish and benefit mankind, no more prove that 
education is useless to the mechanic, than the corres- 
ponding examples prove that it is useless to the states- 
man, jurist, or divine. 

Besides, it will perhaps be found, that the great men, 
like those I have named, instead of being instances to 
show that education is useless, prove only, that, occa- 

♦ A notice of Franklm forms one of the volnmes of * The School 
Library.' 

t For biographical notices of Arkwright and Harrison, see a Work 
entitled, ' The Pnrsait of Knowledge nnder Difficnlties,' forming a 
part of * The School Library.* 
7* 



78 IBIPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

sionally, men, who commence their education late, are 
as successful, as those who commence it early. It fol- 
lows, from this, not that an early education is no bene- 
fit, but that the want of it may sometimes be made up, 
in later years. It might be so made up, no doubt, of- 
tener than it is ; and it is, in this Country, much more 
frequently than in any other. 

The foundation of a great improvement is, al c^ cfien 
a single conception, which suggests itself to vl r.i^Ln of 
strong but uneducated mind; and who has tL^ good 
fortune, afterwards, to receive, from others, tl/j.t aid, 
in executing his projects, without which, the in ;. : ;: re- 
mising conception might have perished undcvcicped. 
Thus, Sir Richard Arkwright wanted education, but 
was endowed with a wonderful quickness of mind. 
What particular circumstances awakened his mechan- 
ical taste, we are not told. There is some reason to 
think, that this, hke other strongly-marked aptitudes, 
may partly depend on the pecuhar organization of the 
body, which is exactly the same in no two men. The 
daily observation of the operation of the spinning-wheel, 
in the cottages of the peasantry of Lancashire, (England,) 
gave him a full knowledge of the existing state of the 
art, which it was his good fortune to improve, to a de- 
gree which is even yet the wonder of the world. He 
conceived, at length, the idea of an improved machine 
for spinning. And in this conception, — not improbably 
a flash across the mind, the work of an instant, — lay 
all his original merit. But this is every thing. Amer- 
ica was discovered, from the moment that Columbus* 
firmly grasped the idea, that, the earth being spherical, 
the Indies might be reached, by sailing on a westerly 
course. If the actual discovery had not been made, for 
ages after the death of Columbus, he would, neverthe- 
less, in publishing this idea to the world, have been the 
pilot that led the way, whoever had followed his guid- 

♦ For an acconnt of the Life and Voyages of Colnmbus, see Vol. I 
of * The School Library,' larger Series; and Vo^ XL of the 
gmaller or Juvenile Series. 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 79 

ance. Sir Richard Arkwright, having formed the 
conception of his spinning machine, had recourse to a 
watchmaker, to execute his idea. But how mrely could 
it happen, that circumstances would put it in the power 
of a person, — ^himself ignorant and poor, — to engage 
the cooperation of an intelHgent watchmaker ! 

Neither is it intended, that the education which we 
recommend, should extend to a minute acquaintance 
with the practical application of science to the details 
of every art. This would be impossible, and does not 
belong to preparatory education. We wish, only, that 
the general laws and principles should be so taught, as 
greatly to multiply the number of persons competent to 
carry forward such casual suggestions of improvement 
as may present themselves, and to bring their art to that 
state of increasing excellence, which all arts reach, by 
long-continued, intelligent cultivation. 

It may further be observed, with respect to those 
great discoveries, which seem to be produced by happy 
accidents and fortuitous suggestion, that such happy 
accidents are most likely to fall in the way of those, who 
are on the look-out for them; — those whgse mental 
eyesight has been awakened and practised to behold 
them. The world is informed of all the cases in which 
such fortunate accidents have led to useful and brilliant 
results ; but their number would probably appear smal- 
ler than it is now supposed to be, were such a thing 
possible as the negative history of discovery and im- 
provement. No one can tell us, what might have been 
done, had every opportunity been faithfully improv- 
ed, every suggestion sagaciously caught up and follow- 
ed out. No one can tell, how often the uneducated 
or unobservant mind has approached to the very verge 
of a great discovery, — has had some wonderful inven- 
tion almost thrust upon it, — ^but without effect. The 
ancients, as we learn from many passages in the Greek 
and Latin classics, were acquaint^ with convex lenses, 
but did not apply them to the construction of magnify- 
ing glasses or telescopes. They made use of seal-rings 



80 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTITIC KNOWLEDGE, 

with inscriptions; and they marked their flocks with 
brands, containing the owner's name. In each of these 
practices, faint rudiments of the art of printing are con- 
cealed. Cicero, in one of his moral works, (T)e Natura 
Deorum,*) in confuting the error of those philosophers, 
who taught that the world was produced by the for- 
tuitous concourse of wandering atoms, uses the follow- 
ing language, as curious, in connexion with the point 
I would illustrate, as it is beautiful in expression, and 
powerful in argument : — " Here," says he, " must I not 
wonder, if there should be a man, who can persuade 
himself, that certain solid and separate bodies are borne 
about by force or weight, and that this most beautiful 
and finished world is formed by their accidental meet- 
ing ? Whoever can think this possible, I do not see 
why he cannot also believe, that, if a large number of 
forms of the one and twenty letters, (of gold or any 
like substance,) were thrown any where together, the 
annals of Ennius might be made out from them, as 
they are cast on the ground, so as to be read in order ; 
a thing which I know not if it be within the power of 
chance to effect, even in a single verse." How very 
near an approach is made, in this remark, to the inven- 
tion of the art of printing, fifteen hundred years before 
it took place ! 

How slight and familiar was the occurrence, which 
gave to Sir Isaac Newtonf the first suggestion of his 
system of the universe ! This great man had been driv- 
en, by the plague, from London to the country, and 
had left his library behind him. Obliged to find occu- 
pation, in the activity of his own mind, he was led, in 
his meditations, to trace the extent of the principle 
which occasioned the fall of an apple, from the tree, in 
the garden where he passed his solitary hours. Com- 
mencing with this familiar hint, he followed it out, to 

* On the nature of the gSds. 

t For a notice of Sir Isaac Newton, see the first Volume of < The 
Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,* in ' The School Li- 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 81 

that universal law of gravity, which binds the parts of 
the earth and ocean tc^ether, which draws the moon to 
the earth, the satellites to the planets, the planets to the 
sun, and the sun itself, with its attendant worlds, toward 
some grand and general point of attraction for that infin- 
ity of systems, of which the several stars are the centres. 
How many hundreds of thousands of men, since the 
creation of the world, had seen an apple fall from a 
tree ! How many philosophers had speculated, pro- 
foundly, on the system of the universe ! But it required 
the talent of a man placed, by general consent, at the 
head of the human race, to deduce from this familiar 
occurrence on the surface of the earth, the operation of 
the primordial law of Nature, which governs the move- 
ments of the heavens, and holds the universe together. 
Nothing less than his sagacity could have made the 
deduction, and nothing less than a mathematical skill, 
and an acquaintance with the previously ascertained 
principles of science, such as falls to the lot of very few, 
would have enabled Newton to demonstrate the truth 
of his system. 

Let us quote another example, to show that the most 
obvious and familiar facts may be noticed, for ages, with- 
out effect, till they are observed by a sagacious eye, and 
scrutinized with patience and perseverance. The ap- 
pearance of lightning, in the clouds, is as old as the 
creation ; and certainly, no natural phenomenon forces 
itself more directly on the notice of men. The existence 
of the electric fluid, as excited by artificial means, was 
familiarly Jtnown to philosophers, a hundred years be- 
fore Franklin ; and there are a few vague hints, prior 
to his time, that lightning is an electrical appearance. 
But it was left for Franklin^ distinctly to conceive that 
proposition, and to institute an experiment, by which it 
should be demonstrated. The process, by which he 
reached this great conclusion, is worth remembering. 
Dr. Franklin had seen the most familiar electrical exper- 
iments performed at Boston, in 1745, by a certain Dr. 
Spence, a Scotch lecturer. His curiosity being excited^ 



82 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

by witnessing these experiments, he purchased the whole 
of Dr. Spence's apparatus, and repeated the experi- 
ments at Philadelphia. Pursuing his researches, with 
his own instruments, and others which had been liberal- 
ly presented to the Province of Pennsylvania, by the Pro- 
prietor, Mr. Penn, and by Dr. Frankhn's friend, Mr. Col- 
linson, our illustrious countryman rapidly enlarged the 
bounds of electrical science, and soon arrived at the 
undoubting conviction, that the electrical fluid and 
lightning are identical. But he could not rest, till he 
had brought this truth to the test of demonstration, and 
he boldly set about an experiment, upon the most ter- 
rific element in Nature. He at first proposed, by means 
of a spire, which was erecting in Philadelphia, to form 
a connexion between the region of the clouds and an 
electrical apparatus ; but the appearance of ahou's kite, 
in the air, suggested to him a readier method. Having 
prepared a kite, adapted for the purpose, he Vvxat out 
into a field, accompanied by his son, to whom alone, 
he had imparted his design. The kite was raijed, hav- 
ing a key attached to the lower end of the coid, and 
being insulated, by means of a silken thread, hj which 
it was fastened to a post. A heavy cloud, appaiently 
charged with lightning, passed over the kite ; but no 
signs of electricity were witnessed in the apparatus. 
Franklin was beginning to despair, when he saw the 
loose fibres bristling from the hempen cord. He imme- 
diately presented his knuckle to the key, and received 
the electrical spark. Overcome by his feelings, at the 
consummation of this great discovery, " he heaved a 
deep sigh, and, conscious of an immortal name, felt 
that he could have been content, had that moment been 
liis last." How easily it might have been his last, was 
shown by the fact, that when Professor Richman, a 
few months afterwards, was repeating this experiment 
at St. Petersburgh, a globe of fire flashed from the con- 
ducting-rod to his forehead, and killed him on the spot. 
Brilliant as Dr. Frankhn's discoveries in electricity 
were, and much as he advanced the science, by his sa- 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 83 

gacious experiments and unwearied investigations, a 
rich harvest of further discoveries was left by him to the 
succeeding age. The most extraordinary of these is, 
the discovery of a modification of electricity, which bears 
the name of the philosopher by whom it was made known 
to the world ; — I refer, of course, to Galvanism. Lewis 
Galvani was an anatomist, in Bologna. On a table in 
his study, lay some frogs, which had been prepared for 
a broth, for his wife, who was ill. An electrical ma- 
chine stood on the table. A student of Galvani acci- 
dentally touched the nerve, on the inside of the leg of 
one of the frogs, and convulsions immediately took place 
in the body of the animal. Galvani himself was not 
present at the moment, but this curious circumstance 
caught the attention of his wife, — a lady of education 
and talent, — who ascribed it to some influence of the 
electrical machine. She informed her husband of what 
had happened, and it was his opinion, also, that the 
electrical machine was the origin of the convulsions. A 
long-continued and patient course of investigation cor- 
rected this error, and established the science of Galvanic 
electricity, nearly as it now exists, and which has proved, 
in the hands of Sir Humphrey Davy, the agent of the 
most brilliant and astonishing discoveries. Frogs have 
been a common article of food, in Europe, for ages ; 
but it was only when they were brought into the study 
of the anatomist, and fell beneath the notice of a saga- 
cious eye, that they became the occasion of this brilliant 
discovery. 

In all these examples we see, that, whatever be the 
first origin of a great discovery or improvement, science 
and study are required to perfect and illustrate it. The 
want of a knowledge of the principles of science has often 
led men to waste much time on pursuits, which a better 
acquaintance with those principles would have taught 
them "were hopeless. The patent office, in every coun- 
try where such an institution exists, contains, perhaps, 
as many machines, which show the want, as the posses- 
sion, of sound scientific knowledge. Besides urisuccess- 



84 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

ful essays at machinery, holding forth a promise of fea 
sibihty, no little ingenuity, and much time and money, 
have been lavished on a project, which seems, in mod- 
ern times, to supply the place of the philosopher's stone 
of the alch3niiists ; — I mean, a contrivance for perpet- 
ual motion ; a contrivance inconsistent with the law of 
gravity. A^familiar acquaintance with the principles of 
science is useful, not only to guide the mind to the discov 
ery of what is true and practical, but to protect it from 
the delusions of an excited imagination, ready to waste 
itself, in the ardor of youth, enterprise, and conscious 
ingenuity, on that, which the laws of Nature herself 
have made unattainable. 

Such are some of the considerations, which show the 
general utiHty of scientific education, for those engaged 
in the mechanical arts. Let us now advert to some of 
the circumstances, which ought, particularly in the Uni- 
ted States of America, to act as encouragements, to the 
young men of the country, to apply themselves earnest- 
ly, and, as far as it can be done, systematically, to the 
attainment of such an education. 

I. And, first, it is beyond all question, that what are 
called the mechanical trades of this Country are on a 
much more liberal footing than they are in Europe. 
This circumstance not only ought to encourage those 
who pursue them, to take an honest pride in improve- 
ment, but it makes it their incumbent duty to do so. 
In almost every country of Europe, various restraints 
are imposed on the mechanics, which almost amount 
to slavery. Much censure has been lately thrown 
on the journeymen printers of Paris, for entering into 
combinations not to work for their employers, and for 
breaking up the power-presses, which were used by the 
great employing printers. I certainly shall not under- 
take to justify any acts of illegal violence, and the de- 
struction of property. But, when you consi^r, that 
no man can be a master-printer, in France, without a 
license, and that only eighty licenses were granted in 
Paris, it is by no means wonderful, that the journeymen, 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 85 

forbidden by law to set up for themselves, and prevent- 
ed, by the power-presses, from getting work from oth- 
ers, should be disposed, after having carried through one 
revolution for the government, to undertake another for 
themselves. Of what consequence is it, to a man, for- 
bidden by the law to work for his living, whether Charles 
X., or Louis Philip, is king ? ♦ 

In England, it is exceedingly difficult for a mechan- 
ic to obtain a settlement, in any town except that in 
which he was born, or where he served his apprentice- 
ship. The object of imposing these restrictions is, of 
course, to enforce on each |)arish, the maintenance of 
its native poor ; and the resort of mechanics, from place 
to place, is permitted, only on conditions with which 
many of them are unable to comply. The consequence 
is, they are obliged to stay where they were born ; 
where, perhaps, there are already more hands than can 
find work ; and, from the decline of the place, even 
the established artisans want employment. Chained to 
such a spot, where chance and necessity have bound 
him, the young man feels himself but half free. He is 
thwarted in his choice of a pursuit for life, and obliged 
to take up with an employment against his preference, 
because there is no opening in any other. He is de- 
pressed, in his own estimation, because he finds himself 
unprotected in society. The least evil, Ukely to befall 
him, is, that he drags along a discouraged and unpro- 
ductive existence. He more naturally falls into dissi- 
pation and vice, or enlists in the army or navy ; while 
the place of his nativity gradually sinks into decay. ^ 

In other countries, singular institutions exist, impos- 
ing oppressive burdens on the mechanical classes. I 
refer, now, more particularly, to the corporations, guilds, 
or crafts, as they are called, that is, to the companies 
formed by the members of a particular trade. These 
exist, with great privileges, in every part of Europe ; in 
Germany, there are some features in the institution, as 
it seems to me, peculiarly oppressive. The difierent 
crafts, in that Country, are incorporations, recognised 

O E. E. 



bd IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

by law, governed by usages of great antiquity, with 
funds to defray the corporate . expenses, and in each 
considerable town, a house of entertainment is selected, 
as the house of call, (or harbor, as it is styled,) of each 
particular craft. No one is allowed to set up as a mas- 
ter-workman, in any trade, unless he is admitted as a 
freeman, or ^member of the craft ; and such is the sta- 
tionary condition of most parts of Germany, that, as I 
understand, no person is admitted as a master-work- 
man, in any trade, except to supply the place of some 
one deceased, or retired from business. When such a 
vacancy occurs, all those, desirous of being permitted 
to fill it, present a piece of work, which is called their 
masterpiece, being offered to obtain the place of a mas- 
ter-workman. Nominally, the best workman gets the 
place ; but you will easily conceive, that, in reality, 
some kind of favoritism must generally decide the ques- 
tion. Thus is every man obliged to submit to all the 
chances of a popular election, whether he shall be al- 
lowed to work for his bread ; and that, too, in a coun- 
try where the people are not permitted to have any 
agency in choosing their rulers. 

But the restraints on journeymen, in that Country, 
are still more oppressive. As soon as the years of ap- 
prenticeship have expired, the young mechanic is obliged, 
in the phrase of the country, to wander y for three years. 
For this purpose, he is furnished, by the master of the 
craft in which he has served his apprenticeship, with 
a duly-authenticated wandering book, with which he 
goes forth, to seek employment. In whatever city he 
arrives, on presenting himself, with this credential, at 
the house of call, or harbor, of the craft in which he 
has served his time, he is allowed, gratis, a day's food 
and a night's lodging. If he wishes to get employment, 
in that place, he is assisted in procuring it. If he does 
not wish to get employment, or fails in the attempt, he 
must pursue his wandering; and this lasts, for three 
years, before he can be any where admitted as a mas- 
ter. I have heard it argued, that this system had the 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 87 

advantage of circulating knowledge, from place to place, 
and imparting to the young artisan the fruits of travel 
and intercourse with the world. But, however benefi- 
cial travelUng may be, when undertaken by those who 
have the taste and capacity to profit by it, I cannot but 
think, that, to compel every young man, who has just 
served out his time, to leave his home, in the manner 
I have described, must bring his habits and morals in- 
to peril, and be regarded rather as a hardship, than as 
an advantage. There is no sanctuary of virtue, like 
home. 

You will see, from these few hints, the nature of 
some of the restraints and oppressions, to which the 
mechanical industry of Europe is subjected. Where- 
ever governments and corporations thus interfere with 
private industry, the spring of personal enterprise is un- 
bent. Men are depressed, with a consciousness of liv- 
ing under control. They cease to feel a responsibility 
for themselves, and, encountering obstacles, whenever 
they step from the beaten path, they give up improve- 
ment, as hopeless. I need not, in the presence of this 
audience, remark on the total difference of things in 
America. We are apt to think, thflt the only thing, in 
which we have improved on other countries, is our po- 
htical constitution, whereby we choose our rulers, in- 
stead of recognising their hereditary right. But a much 
more important difference, between us and foreign coun- 
tries, is wrought into the very texture of our society ; 
it is, that generally pervading freedom from restraint, 
in matters like those I have just specified. In England, 
it is said, that forty days' undisturbed residence in a 
parish gives a journeyman mechanic a settlement, and 
consequently entitles him, should he need it, to sup- 
port, from the poor rates of that parish. To obviate 
this effect, the magistrates are on the alert, and instant- 
ly expel a new-comer from their limits, who does not 
possess means of giving security, such as few young 
mechanics command. A duress like this, environing 
the young man, on his entrance into life, upon every 



88 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

side, and condemning him to imprisonment, for life, on 
the spot where he was born, converts the government 
of the country, whatever be its name, into a des- 
potism. 

II. There is another consideration, which invites the 
artisans of this Country to improve their minds ; it is 
the vastly wider field which is opened to them, as the 
citizens of a new country ; and the proportionate call 
which exists, for labor and enterprise, in every depart- 
ment. In the Old World, society is full. In every 
country, but England, it has long been full. It was in 
that Country not less crowded, till the vast improve- 
ments in machinery and manufacturing industry were 
made, which have rendered it, in reference to manu- 
factures and commerce, what ours is, still more r€>mark- 
ably, in every thing, a new country, a country of urgent 
and expansive demand, where new branches of employ- 
ment are constantly opening, new kinds of talent called 
for, new arts struck out, and more hands employed, in 
all the old ones. In different parts of our Country, the 
demand is of a different kind, but it is active and stirring 
every where. 

. It may not be without use, to consider the various 
causes of this enlargement of the field of action, in this 
Country. 

The first and perhaps the main cause is, the great 
abundance of good land, which lies open, on the easiest 
conditions, to every man who wishes to avail himself 
of it. Land of the first quaUty can be purchased, at the 
rate of one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre. This 
circumstance, alone, acts like a safety-valve to the great 
social steam-engine. There can be no very great pres- 
sure, any where, in a community, where, by travelling 
a few hundred miles into the interior, a man can buy 
land at the rate of an acre for a day's work. This was 
the first stimulus, applied to the condition of things, in 
this Country, after the Revolutionary War, and it is still 
operating, in full force. 

The next powerful spring to our industry was fell 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 89 

in the navigating interest. This languished, greatly, 
under the old Confederation, being crushed by foreign 
competition. The adoption of the Constitution breath- 
ed the breath of life into it. By the duty on foreign 
tonnage, and by the confinement of the privilege of an 
American vessel to an American-built ship, our com- 
mercial marine sprang into existence, with the rapidity 
of magic, and, under a peculiar state of things in Eu- 
rope, appropriated to itself the carrying trade of the 
world. 

Shortly after this stimulus was applied to the indus- 
try of the Northern and Middle States, the Southern 
States acquired an equally prolific source of wealth, un- 
expected, and rapid beyond example in its operation ; 
— ^I mean, the cultivation of cotton. In 1789, the hope 
was expressed, by southern members of Congress, that, 
if good seed could be procured, cotton might be raised 
in the Southern States, where, before that time, and 
for several years after, not a pound had been raised for 
exportation. The culture of this beautiful staple was 
encouraged, by a duty of three cents a pound, on im- 
ported cotton ; but it languished, (qf some time, on ac- 
count of the difficulty of separating the seed from the 
fibre. At length, Eli Whitney,* of Connecticut, in- 
vented the saw^n ; and so prodigiously has this cul- 
ture increased, that it is calculated that the cotton crop, 
of last year, amounted to one million of bales, of at 
least three hundred pounds each. 

In 1807, the first successful essays were made with 
steam navigation. The progress, at first, was slow. 
In 1817, there was not such a thing, as a regular line 
of steam-boats on the western waters. Nearly four 
hundred steam-boats now ply those waters, and half as 
many navigate the waters of the Atlantic coast. 
I The embargo and war created the manufactures of 

♦ For a notice of Whitney's cotton-gin, see Vol.1, of *.The Usefnl 
Arts, considered in connexion with the Applications of Science,' by 
Jacob Bigelow, M. IX., forming the eleventh volame of * The School 
Library.' 

8* 



90 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

the United States. Before that period, nothing was 
done, on a large scale, in the way of manufactures. 
With some iluctuations in prosperity, they have suc- 
ceeded in establishing themselves on a firm basis. A 
laboring man can now buy two good shirts, well made, 
for a dollar. Fifteen years ago, they would have cost 
him three times that sum. 

Still more recently, a system of internal improve- 
ments has been commenced, which will have the effect, 
when a little further developed, of crowding within a 
few years, the progress of generations. Already, Lake 
Champlain, from the north, and Lake Erie, from the 
west, have been connected with Albany. The Dela- 
ware and Chesapeake Bays have been united. A ca- 
nal is nearly finished, in the upper part of New Jersey, 
from the Delaware to the Hudson, by which coal is al- 
ready despatched to our market. Another route is laid 
out, across the same State, to connect New York, by 
a rail-road, with Philadelphia. A water-communication 
has been opened, by canals, half way from Philadelphia 
to Pittsburgh. Considerable progress is made, both on 
thp rail-road and the canal, which are to unite Balti- 
more and Washington with the Ohio river. A canal 
of sixty miles in length is open, from Cincinnati to Day- 
ton, in the State of Ohio ; and another, of more than 
three hundred miles in extent, to connect Lake Erie 
with the Ohio, is two thirds completed.* 

I mention these facts, (which, though among the most 
considerable, are by no means all, of the same charac- 
ter, which might be quoted,) not merely, as being in 
themselves curious and important; though this they 
are, in a high degree. My object is, to turn your atten- 
tion to their natural effect, in keeping up a constant and 
high demand for labor, art, skill, and talent of all kinds, 
and their accumulated fruits, that is, capital ; and there- 
by particularly inviting the young, to exert themselves 

* Most of the works here mentioned, as being in progress, in 1827, 
are now (1840) completed, and innumerable others have since been 
undertaken or projected. 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PUBSUIT* 91 

strenuously, to take an active, industrious, and honora- 
ble part, in a community, which has sucli a variety of 
employments and rewards for all its members. The 
rising generation beholds before it not a crowded com- 
munity, but one where labor, both of body and mind, 
is in greater request, and bears a higher relative price, 
than in any other country. When it is said that labor 
is dear in this Country, this is not a mere commercial 
proposition, like those which fill the pages of the price 
current ; but it is a great moral fact, speaking volumes, 
as to the state of society, and reminding the American 
citizen, particularly the young man who is beginning 
life, that he lives in a country, where every man car- 
ries about with him the thing in greatest request ; where 
the labor and skill of the human hands, and every kind 
of talent and acquisition, possess a relative importance, 
elsewhere unknown ; in other words, where an indus- 
trious man is of the greatest consequence. 

These considerations are well calculated to awaken 
enterprise, to encourage effort, to support perseverance ; 
and we behold, on every side, that such is their effect. 
I have already alluded to the astonishing growth of our 
navigation, after the adoption of the Federal constitution. 
It affords an example, which will bear dwelling upon, of 
American enterprise, placed in honorable contrast with 
that of Europe. In Great Britian, and in other coun- 
tries of Europe, the India and China trade was, and to 
a great degree still is, locked up, by the monopoly en- 
joyed by affluent companies, protected and patronised 
by the state, and clothed, themselves, in some cases, 
with imperial power. The territories of the British 
East India Company are computed to embrace a pop- 
lation of one hundred and fifteen millions of souls. 
The consequence of this state of things was, not the ac- 
tivity, but the embarrassment, of the commercial inter- 
course with the East. Individual enterprise was not 
awakened. THe companies sent out, annually, their 
unwieldy vessels, of twelve hundred tons burden, com- 
manded by salaried captains, to carry on the commerce. 



92 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

which was secured to them, by a government monop 
oly, and which, it was finnly beUeved, could not be 
carried on, in any other way. Scarcely was American 
Independence declared, when our moderate-sized mer- 
chant vessels, built with economy, and navigated with 
frugality, doubled both the great capes of the world. 
The northwestern coast of America began to be crowd- 
ed. Not content with visiting old markets, our intelli- 
gent shipmasters explored the numerous islands of the 
Indian Archipelago. Vessels from Salem and Boston, 
of two and three hundred tons, went to ports in those 
seas, that had not been visited, by a foreign ship, since 
the days of Alexander the Great. The intercourse be- 
tween Boston and the Sandwich Islands was uninter- 
rupted. A man would no more have thought of boast- 
ing, that he had been round the world, than that he 
had been to Liverpool. After Lord Anson and Cap- 
tain Cook had, by order and at the expense of the 
British government, made their laborious voyages of 
discovery and exploration in the Pacific Ocean, and on 
the coast of America, it still remained for a merchant 
vessel, from Boston, to discover and enter the only 
considerable river that flows into the Pacific, from Behr- 
ing's Strait to Cape Horn. Our fellow-citizen^, Captain 
Gray, piloted the British admiral, Vancouver, into the 
Columbia river, over which, the British government now 
claims jurisdiction, partly on the ground of prior dis- 
covery. 

This is a single instance of the propitious effect, on 
individual enterprise, of the condition of things under 
which we live. But the work is not all done ; it is, in 
fact, hardly begun. This vast continent is, as yet, no- 
where fully stocked, — almost every where thinly peo- 
pled. There are yet mighty regions of it, in which 
the settler's axe has never been heard. These remain, 
and portions of them will long remain, open for coming 
generations, a sure preservative against the evils of a 
redundant population on the seaboard. The older 
parts of the country, which have been settled by the 



AND ENCOUBAOEMENTS TO ITS PUB8UIT* 93 

hosbandman, and reclaimed from the state of nature, 
are now to be settled, again, by the manufacturer, the 
engineer, and the mechanic. First settled by a civiliz- 
ed, they are now to be settled by a dense, population. 
Settled by the hard labor of the human hands, they are 
now to be settled by the labor-saving arts, by machin- 
ery, by the steam-engine, and by internal improvements. 
Hitherto, the work to be done was that, which nothing 
but the tough sinews of the arm of man could accom- 
phsh. This work, in most of the old States, and some 
of the new ones, has been done, and is finished. It 
was performed, under incredible hardships, fearful dan- 
gers, with heart-sickening sacrifices, amidst tl^e perils 
of savage tribes, and of the diseases incident to a soil, 
on which deep forests, for a thousand years, had been 
laying their deposit, and which was now, for the first 
time, opened To the sun. The kind, the degree, the 
intensity, of the labor, which has been performed by the 
men who settled this Country, have, I am sure, no 
parallel in history. I believe, if a thrifty European 
farmer from Norfolk, in England, or from Flanders, a 
vine-dresser from Burgundy, an olive-gardener from 
Italy, under the influence of no stronger feelings than 
such as actuate the mass of the stationary population 
of those countries, were set down, in a North American 
forest, with an axe on his shoulder, and told to get his 
living, that his heart would fail him at the sigh^ What 
has been the slow work of two thousand years, in Eu- 
rope, has here been effected in two hundred, unques- 
tionably under the cheering moral effect of our free 
institutions. We have now, in some parts of the Uni- 
ted States, reached a point in our prc^ess, where, to a 
considerable degree, a new form of society will appear ; 
in which the wants of a settled country, and a com- 
paratively dense population, will succeed to those of a 
thin population, scattered over a soil, as yet but partial- 
ly reclaimed. We shall henceforth feel, more and more, 
the want of improved means of communication. We 
must, in every direction, have turnpike roads, unob- 



94 IMPORTANCE OP SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

structed rivers, canals, rail-roads, and steam-boats. The 
mineral treasures of the earth, — metals, coals, ochres, 
fine clay, limestone, gypsum, salt, — are to be brought 
to light, and applied to the purposes of the arts, and 
the service of man. Another immense capital, which 
Nature has invested for us, in the form of water-power, 
(a natural capital, which I take to be fully equal to the 
steam capital of Great Britain,) is to be turned to ac- 
count, by being made to give motion to machinery. 
Still another vast capital, lying unproductive, in the 
form of land, is to be realized, and no small part of it, 
for the first time, by improved cultivation. All the 
manufactures are to be introduced, on a large scale ; 
the coarser, where it has not been done, without delay ; 
and the finer, in rapid succession, and in proportion to 
the acquisition of skill, the accumulation of capital, and 
the improvement of machinery. With these, will grow 
up, or increase, the demand for various institutions for 
education ; the call for every species of intellectual ser- 
vice ; the need for every kind of professional assistance, 
a demand rendered still more urgent, by a political or- 
ganization, of itself in the highest degree favorable to 
the creation and diflfusion of energy, throughout the 
Commonwealth. 

These are so many considerations, which call on the 
rising generation of those destined for the active and 
mechaniiftl arts, to improve their minds. It is only in 
this manner, that they can effectually ascertain the true 
bent of their own faculties, and, having ascertained it, 
employ themselves, with greatest success, in the way 
for which Providence has fitted them. It is only in 
this manner, that they can make themselves highly 
respected in society, and secure to themselves the lar- 
gest share of those blessings, which are the common 
objects of desire. In most of the countries of the older 
world, the greatest part of the prizes of life are literally 
distributed by the lottery of birth. Men are born to 
wealth, which they cannot alienate; to power, from 
which they cannot, without a convulsion of the bodj 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 95 

politic, be removed ; or to poverty and depression, from 
which, generally speaking, they cannot emerge. Here, 
it rarely happens, that, even for a single generation, an 
independence can be enjoyed, without labor and dili- 
gence bestowed on its acquisition and preser\'ation ; 
while, as a general rule, the place, to which each indi- 
vidual shall rise in society, is precisely graduated on the 
scale of capacity and exertion, — in a word, of merit. 
Every thing, therefore, that shows the magnitude and 
growth of the country, its abundance and variety of 
resources, its increasing demand for all the arts, both 
of ornament and utihty, is another reason, calling upon 
the emulous young men, of the working classes, to enter 
into the career of improvement, where there is the full- 
est scope for generous competition, and every talent, 
of every kind, is sure to be required, honored, and re- 
warded. 

There is another reflection, which ought not to be 
omitted. The rapid growth and swift prosperity of the 
country have their peculiar attendant evils, in addition 
to those inseparable from humanity. To resist the pro- 
gress of these evils, to provide, seasonably and effica- 
ciously, the moral and reasonable remedy of those dis- 
orders of the social system, to which it may be more 
particularly exposed, is a duty to be performed by the 
enlightened and virtuous portion of the mass of the com- 
munity, quite equal, in importance, to any otJier duty, 
which they are called to discharge. In Europe, it is 
too much the case, that the virtuous influences, which 
operate on the working classes, come down from the 
privileged orders, while the operatives, as they are call- 
ed, are abandoned to most of the vices of the most pro- 
lific source of vice, — ignorance. It is of the utmost 
importance, in this Country, that the active walks of 
life should be filled by an enlightened class of men, 
with a view to the security and order of the communi- 
ty, and to protect it from those evils, which have been 
thought, in Europe, to be inseparable from the great 
increase of the laboring population. What is done, in 



96 IMPORTANCE OP SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

Other countries, by gens d^armes and horse*guanls, 
must here be done by pubHc sentiment, or not at all. 
An enlightened moral public sentiment must spread its 
wings over our dwellings, and plant a watchman at our 
doors. It is perfectly well known, to all who hear me, 
that, as a class, the mechanic and manufacturing popu- 
lation of Europe is regarded as grossly depraved ; while 
the agricultural population, with as little exception, is 
set down as incurably stupid. This conviction was so 
prevalent, that many of the most patriotic of our citi- 
zens were opposed to the introduction of manufactures 
among, us, partly on the ground, that factories are, in 
iheir nature, seminaries of vice and immorality. Thus 
far, this fear has been most happily relieved, by experi^ 
ence ; and it is found, that those establishments are as 
little open to reproach, on the score of morals, as any 
other in the community. Our mechanic and agricul- 
tural population will, in this part of the country, support 
the comparison, for general intelligence and morality, 
with any in the world. This state of things, if it can 
be rendered permanent, is a great social triumph, and 
will be, to America, a juster subject of self-gratulation, 
than any thing belonging merely to the political, eco- 
nomical, and physical, growth of the community. It 
deserves the consideration of every patriot, that the 
surest way of perpetuating and diffusing this most 
enviable state of things, — ^this most desirable of all the 
advantages, which we can have over the Old World, — 
is, to multiply the means of improving the mind, and 
put them within the reach of all classes. An intelligent 
class can scarce ever be, as a class, vicious ; never, as 
a class, indolent. The excited mental activity operates 
as a counterpoise to the stimulus of sense and appe- 
tite. The new world of ideas ; the new views of the 
relations of things ; the astonishing secrets of the phys- 
ical properties and mechanical powers, disclosed to the 
well-informed mind, present attractions, which, unless 
the character is deeply sunk, are sufficient to counter- 
balance the taste for frivolous or corrupt pleasures; 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 97 

and thus, in the end, a standard of character is crea* 
ted in the community, which, though it does not inva- 
riably save each individual, protects the virtue of the 
mass. 

III. I am thus brought to the last consideration, which 
I shall mention, as an encouragement to the mechanic 
classes to improve their minds ; and that is, the com- 
paratively higher rank, which our institutions assign to 
them, in the political system. One of the great causes, 
no doubt, of the enterprise and vigor, which have already 
distinguished our countrymen, in almost every pursuit, 
is, the absence of those political distinctions, which are 
independent of personal merit and popular choice. It 
is the strongest motive that we can suggest, for unre- 
mitted diUgence in the acquisition of useful knowledge, 
on the part of the laborious classes, that they have a 
far more responsible duty to discharge to society, than 
ever devolved on the same class, in any other commu- 
nity. Every book of travels, not less than every oppor- 
tunity of personal (rf>servation, informs us of the deplor- 
able ignorance of a great part of those, by whom the 
work of the community is done, in foreign countries. 
In some parts of England, this class is more enlightened, 
than it is on the continent of Europe ; and in that 
Country, great efforts are making, at the present time, — 
and particularly through the instrumentality of institu- 
tions like that, under the auspices of which we are 
now assembled, — ^to extend the means of education to 
those who have hitherto been deprived of them. But 
it is a party question among them, not how far it is right 
and proper, but how far it is prudent and safe, to en- 
lighten the people ; and, while the liberal party in Eng- 
land are urgent for the diffusion of useful knowledge, 
to prevent the people from breaking out into violence 
and revolution, the opposite party exclaim against a 
further diffusion of knowledge, as tending to make the 
people discontented with their condition. I remember 
to have seen, not long since, a charge to the grand jury, 
by an English judge, in which the practice of boxing is 



98 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

commendedj and the fear is expressed, that popular ed- 
ucation has been pushed too far ! 

The man who should, in this Country, express the 
opinion, that the education of the people foreboded ill 
to the state, would merely be regarded as wanting com- 
mon judgement and sagacity. We are not only accus- 
tomed to that state of things, but we regard it as our 
great blessing and privilege, to which the higher orders 
in Europe look forward, as the fearful result of bloody 
revolutions. The representative system, and our stat- 
ute of distributions, are regarded by us, not as horrors 
consequent upon a convulsion of society, but as the 
natural condition of the body politic. 

This condition of the country, however, is not to be 
regarded merely as a topic of lofty political declamation. 
Its best effects are, and must be, those which are not 
immediately of a political character. If the mass of 
the people behold no privileged class, placed invidious- 
ly above them ; if they choose those who make and 
administer the laws ; if the extent of public expenditure 
is determined by those who bear its burden, — ^this, 
surely, is well ; but, if the mass of the people, here, 
were what it is in most parts of Europe, it may be 
doubted, whether such a system would not be too good 
for them. Who would like to trust his life and fortune 
to a Spanish jury, or a Neapolitan jury? Under the 
reign of Napoleon, an attempt was made to introduce 
the trial by jury, not only into France, but into some 
of the dependent kingdoms. It has been stated, that, 
when the peasants of some of these countries were 
empannelled in the jury-box, they not only considered 
it an excessively onerous and irksome duty, but showed 
themselves utterly incapable of discharging it, with 
sufficient discretion and intelligence. 

The great use, then, to be made of popular rights, 
should be, popular improvement. Let the young man, 
who is to gain his living by his labor and skill, remem- 
ber that he is a citizen of a free state ; that on him 
and his contemporaries it greatly depends, whether he 



AND ENCOURAGEMEMTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 99 

will be prosperous, himself, in his social condition, 
and whether a precious inheritance of social blessings 
shall descend, unimpaired, to those who come after 
him ; that there is no important difference in the situ- 
ation of individuals, but that which they themselves 
cause or permit to exist ; that, if something of the ine- 
quality, in the goods of fortune, which is inseparable 
from human things, exist in this Country, it ought to 
be viewed only as another excitement to that industry, 
by which, nine times out of ten, wealth is acquired, 
and still more, to that cultivation of the mind, which, 
next to the moral character, makes the great difference 
between man and man. The means of education are 
already ample and accessible ; and it is for the majori- 
ty of the conununity, by a tax, of which the smallest 
proportion falls on themselves, to increase these means 
to any desirable extent. 

These remarks apply, with equal force, to almost 
every individual. There are some considerations, which 
address themselves, more exclusively, to the ardent 
mind, emulous of the praise of excelling. Such cannot 
realize, too soon, that we live in an age of improve- 
ment ; an age, in which investigation is active and suc- 
cessful, in every quarter ; and in which, what has been 
effected, however wonderful, is but the brilliant prom- 
ise of what may further be done. The important dis- 
coveries, which have been made in almost every de- 
partment of human occupation, speculative and practi- 
cal, within less than a century, are almost infinite. 

To speak only of those which minister most directly 
to the convenience, of man, — ^what changes have not 
been already wrought, in the condition of society; 
what addition has not been made, to the wealth of na- 
tions and the means of private comfort, by the inven- 
tions, discoveries, and improvements, of the last hun- 
dred years? High in importance, among these, are 
the increased facilities for transportation. By the use 
of the locomotive steam-engine, upon rail-roads, pas- 
sengers and merchandise may now be conveyed, from 



100 IMPORTANCE OP SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE^ 

place to place, at the rate of fifteen and even twenty 
miles an hour. Although not to be compared with 
this, the plan of M'Adam is eminently useful, consist- 
ing, as it does, of a method, by which a surface, as 
hard as a rock, can be carried along, over any founda- 
tion, at an expense not much greater, and, under some 
circumstances, not at all greater, than that of turnpike 
roads on the old construction. By the chemical pro- 
cess of bleaching, what was formerly done by exposure 
to the sun and air, for weeks, is now done, under cover, 
in a few days. By the machinery for separating the 
seed from the staple of cotton, the value of every acre 
of land, devoted to the culture of this most important 
product, has, to say the least, been doubled. By the 
machinery for carding, spinning, and weaving, cotton, 
the price of a yard of durable cotton cloth has been 
reduced, from half a dollar to a few cents. Lithography 
and stereotype printing are destined to have a very 
important influence, in enlarging the sphere of the op- 
erations of the press. By the invention of gas lights, 
an inflammable air, yielding the strongest and purest 
flame, is extracted in a laboratory, and conducted, un- 
der ground, all over a city, and brought up wherever it 
is required, in the street, in the shop, in the dwelling- 
house. The safety-lamp enables the miner to walk, 
unharmed, through an atmosphere of explosive gas. 
And, last and chiefest, the application of steam, as a 
general moving power, is rapidly extending its effect, 
from one branch of industry to another, from one 
interest to another, of the community, and bids fair, 
within no distant period, to produce the most essential 
changes in the social condition of the world. All these 
beautiful, surprising, and most useful, discoveries and 
improvements have been made, within less than a cen- 
tury ; most of them, within less than half that time. 

What must be the effect of this wonderful multipli 
cation of ingenious and useful discoveries and improve 
ments ? Undoubtedly this, that, in addition to all their 
immediate beneficial consequences, they will lead to 



Aia> ENCOURAGEHENTS T0> I^S '•PbRSUTT: • • '^<wf 

farther discoveries, and still greater improvements. Of 
that vast system, which we call Nature, and of which, 
none but its Author can comprehend the whole, the 
laws and the properties, that have as yet been explored, 
unquestionably form but a portion, connected with a 
grand succession of parts yet undiscovered, by an in- 
dissoluble although an unseen chain. Each new truth 
that is found out, besides its own significance and value, 
is a step to the knowledge of further truth, leading off 
the inquisitive mind, on a new track, and upon some 
higher path ; in the pursuit of which, new discoveries 
are made, and the old are brought into new and unex- 
pected connexions. 

The history of human science is a collection of facts, 
which, while it proves the connexion with each other 
of truths and arts, at first view remote and disconnected, 
encourages us to scrutinize every department of knowl- 
edge, however trite and famiUar it may seem, with a 
view to discovering its relation with the laws and prop- 
erties of Nature, comprehended within it, but not yet 
disclosed. The individual, who first noticed the attrac- 
tive power of magnetic substances, was gratified, no 
doubt, with observing a singular and inexplicable prop- 
erty of matter, which he may have applied to some ex- 
periments, rather curious than useful. The man, who 
afterwards observed the tendency of a magnetized body 
toward the poles of the earth, unfolded a far more cu- 
rious and important law of Nature, but one which, rest- 
ing there, was productive of no practical consequences. 
Then came the sagacious individual, who, attaching the 
artificial magnet to a traversing card, contrived the 
means of steering a vessel, in the darkest night, across 
the high seas. To him, we cannot suppose that the 
important consequences of his discovery were wholly 
unperceived ; but since, in point of history, near two 
centuries passed away, before they were extensively de- 
veloped, we can hardly suppose, that the inventor of the 
mariner's compass caught more than a glimpse of the 
nature of his invention. The Chinese are supposed to 



' rOft''- 'IMPWTiAlfl&W SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

have been acquainted with it, as also with the art of 
printing, from time immemorial, without having derived, 
from either, any of those results, which have changed 
the aspect of modern Europe. Then came Columbus^ 
Guided by the faithful pilot, which watches when the 
eye of man droops, — ^the patient little steersman, which 
darkness does not blind, nor the storm drive from its 
post, — Columbus discovered a New World ; — a glorious 
discovery, as he, no doubt, felt it to be, both in antici- 
pation and achievement. But it does not appear, that 
even Columbus had indulged a vision more brilliant, than 
that of a princely inheritance for his own family, and a 
rich colony for Spain ; — a vision, fulfilled in his own 
poverty and chains, and in the corruption and degen- 
eracy of the Spanish monarchy. And yet, from his dis- 
covery of America, so disastrous to himself and country, 
have sprung, directly or indirectly, most of the great 
changes of the political, commercial, and social, condi- 
tion of man, in modern times. It is curious, also, to 
Reflect, that, as the Chinese, from time immemorial, (as 
has just been remarked,) have possessed the mariner's 
compass and the art of printing, to little purpose ; so 
they, or some people in their neighborhood, on the north- 
eastern coast of Asia, either with the aid of the compass, 
or merely by coasting frcwn island to island, appear to 
have made the discovery of America, on the western 
side of the continent, ages before it was discovered 
by Columbus, on the eastern side, without, however, 
deriving from this discovery, any beneficial conse- 
quences, to the Old World or the New. It was left 
for the spirit of civilization, awakened in western Eu- 
rope, toward the close of the fifteenth century, to 
develope and put in action the great elements of pow- 
er and light, latent in this discovery. 

Its first effect was the establishment of the colonial 
system, which, with the revolution in the financial state 
of Europe, occasioned by the opening of the American 
mines, gave, eventually, a new aspect to both hemi- 
spheres. What the sum total of all these consequences 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 103 

has been, may be partly judged, from the fact, that the 
colonization of the United States is but one of them. 
The further extension of adventures of discovery was 
faciUtated by new scientific inventions and improve- 
ments. The telescope was contrived, and, from the 
movements of the? heavenly bodies, more accurately ob- 
served, tables of longitude were constructed, which gave 
new confidence to the navigator. He now visits new 
shores, lying in difierent climates, whose productions, 
transplanted to other regions, or introduced into the 
commerce of the world, give new springs to industry, 
open new sources of wealth, and lead to the cultivation 
of new arts. It is unnecessary to dwell on particulars ; 
but who can estimate the full effect, on social affairs, 
of such products as sugar, coffee, tea, rice, tobacco, the 
potato, cotton, indigo, the spices, the dye-woods, the 
mineral and fossil substances, newly made to enter into 
general use and consumption ; the discovery, transpor- 
tation, and preparation of which, are so many unforeseen 
effects of former discoveries ? Each of these, directly 
or indirectly, furnisheti new materials for the mind to act 
upon; new excitement to its energies. Navigation, 
already extended, receives new facilities, from the use 
of the chronometer. The" growing wealth of the com- 
munity increases the demand for all the fabrics of in- 
dustry ; the wonderful machinery for carding, spinning, 
and weaving, is contrived ; water and vapor are made 
to do the work of human hands, and almost of human 
intellect ; as the cost of the fabric decreases, the demand 
for it multiplies, geometrically, and furnishes an ever- 
growing reward for the exertions of the ever-active spirit 
of improvement. Thus, a mechanical invention may 
lead to a geographical discovery ; a physical cause, to 
a political or an intellectual effect. A discovery results 
in an art ; an art produces a comfort ; a comfort, made 
cheaply accessible, adds family on family to the pop- 
ulation ; and a family is a new creation of thinking, 
reasoning, inventing, and discovering, beings. Thus, 
instead of arriving at the end, we are at the beginnii^ 



104 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

of the series, and ready to start, with recruited num- 
bers, on the great and beneficent career of useful know- 
ledge. 

What, then, are these great and beneficial discover- 
ies, in their origin ? What is the process which has led 
to them ? They are the work of rational man, operat- 
ing upon the materials existing in Nature, and observ- 
ing the laws and properties of the physical world. The 
Creator of the universe has furnished us the material ; 
it is all around us, above us, and beneath us : in the 
ground under our feet ; the air we breathe ; the waters 
of the ocean, and of the fountains of the earth ; in the 
various subjects of the kingdoms of Nature. We can- 
not open our eyes, nor stretch out our hands, nor take 
a step, but we see, and handle, and tread upon, the 
things, from which the most wonderful and useful dis- 
coveries and inventions have been deduced. What is 
gunpowder, which has changed the chamcter of mod- 
ern warfare ? It is the mechanical mixture of some of 
the most common and least costly substances. What 
is the art of printing ? A contrivttnce less curious, as a 
piece of mechanism, than a musical box. What is the 
steam-engine? An apparatus for applying the vapor 
of boihng water. What is vaccination ? A trifling ail, 
communicated by a scratch of the lancet, and capable 
of protecting human life against one of the most dread- 
ful maladies to which.it is exposed. 

And are the properties of matter all discovered ? its 
laws all found out ? the uses to which they may be ap- 
plied all detected ? I cannot believe it. We cannot 
doubt, that truths, now unknown, are in reserve, to re- 
ward the patience and the labors of future lovers of truth, 
which will go as far beyond the brilliant discoveries of 
the last generation, as these do beyond all that was 
known to the ancient world. The pages are infinite, 
in that great Volume, which was written by the Hand 
Divine, and they are to be gradually turned, perused, 
and announced, to benefited and grateful generations, 
by genius and patience ; especially by patience ; by im- 



AND ENCOURAGEBfENTS TO ITS PUKSUIT. 106 

tiring, enthusiastic, self-devoting patience. The prog- 
ress, which has been made in art and science, is indeed 
vast. We are ready to think a pause must follow ; that 
the goal must be at hand. But there is no goal ; and 
there can be no pause ; for art and science are, in them- 
selves, progressive and infinite. They are moving pow- 
ers, animated principles; they are instinct with life; 
they are themselves the intellectual life of man. Noth- 
ing can arrest them, which does not plunge the entire 
order of society into barbarism. There is no end to 
truth, no bound to its discovery and application ; and a 
man might as well think to build a tower, from the top 
of which he could grasp Sirius in his hand, as prescribe 
a limit to discovery and invention. 

Never do we more evince our arrogant ignorance, than 
when we boast oiw knowledge. True Science is modest ; 
for her keen, sagacious eye discerns, that there are deep, 
undeveloped mysteries, where the vain sciolist sees all 
plain. We call this an age of improvement, as it is. But 
the Italians, in the age of Leo X., and with great reason, 
said the same of their age ; the Romans, in the time of 
Cicero, the same of theirs; the Greeks, in the time 
of Pericles, the same of theirs; and the Assyrians 
and Egyptians, in the flourishing periods of their an- 
cient monarchies, no doubt, the same of theirs. In pas- 
sing from one of these periods to another, prodigious 
strides are often made ; and the vanity of the present 
age is apt to flatter itself, that it has climbed to the 
very summit of invention and skill. A wiser posterity 
at length finds out, that the discovery of one truth, the 
investigation of one law of Nature, the contrivance of 
one machine, the perfection of one art, instead of nar- 
rowing, has widened the field of knowledge still to be 
acquired, and given to those who came after, an ampler 
space, more numerous data, better instnmients, a higher 
point of observation, and the encouragement of living 
and acting in the presence of a more intelligent age. 
It is not a century, since the niimber of fixed stars was 
estimated at about three thousand. Newton had count- 



106 IMPORTANCE OT SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE^ 

ed no more. When Dr. Herschel had completed hi« 
great telescope, and turned it to the heavens, he calcu- 
lated, that two hundred and fifty thousand stars passed 
through its field, in a quarter of an hour ! 

It may not irreverently be conjectured to be the har- 
monious plan of the universe, that its two grand ele- 
ments of mind and matter should be accurately adjusted 
to each other ; that there should be full occupation, in 
the physical world, in its laws and properties, and in 
the moral and social relations connected with it, for the 
contemplative and active powers of every created intel- 
lect. The imperfection of human institutions has, as 
far as man is concerned, disturbed the pure harmony 
of this great system. On the one hand, much truth, 
discoverable even at the present stage of human im- 
provement, as we have every reason to think, remains 
undiscovered. On the other hand, thousands and mil- 
lions of rational minds, for want of education, oppor- 
tunity, and encouragement, have remained dormant and 
inactive, though surrounded, on every side, by those 
qualities of things, whose action and combination, no 
doubt, still conceal the sublimest and most beneficial 
mysteries. 

But a portion of the intellect, which has been placed 
on this goodly theatre, is wisely, intently, and success- 
fully active ; ripening, even on earth, into no mean sim- 
ilitude of higher natures. From time to time, a chosen 
hand, sometimes directed by what is called chance, but 
more commonly guided by reflection,^ experiment, and 
research, touches, as it were, a spring, until then unper- 
ceived ; and, through what seemed a blank and impen- 
etrable wall, the barrier to all farther progress, a door 
is thrown open, into some before unexplored hall, in 
the sacred temple of truth. The multitude rushes in, 
and wonders that the portals could have remained 
concealed, so long. When a brilliant discovery or in- 
vention is proclaimed, men are astonished, to think how 
long they have lived on its confines, without penetrat- 
ing its nature. 



JkKD ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 107 

It is now a hundred years, since it was found out 
that the vapor of boiling water is, as we now think it, 
the most powerful mechanical agent within the control 
of man. And yet, even after the contrivance of the 
steam-engine, on a most improved construction, and 
although the thoughts of numerous ingenious mecha- 
nicians were turned to the subject, and various experi- 
ments made, it was left for our fellow-citizen, Fulton, 
in a successful application of this agent, as brilliant as 
its first discovery, to produce another engine, — ^the 
steam-boat, — of incalculable utility and power. The 
entire consequences of this discovery cannot yet be pre- 
dicted : but there is one prediction, relative to it, and 
that among the first ever made, which has been most 
calamitously fulfilled. When the interests of Mr. Ful- 
ton, under the laws of New York, were maintained by 
Mr, Emmet, at the bar of the legislature of that State, 
at the close of his argument, he turned to his client, in 
an affecting apostrophe ; and, after commending the dis- 
interestedness with which he devoted his time, talents, 
and knowledge, to enterprises and works of public util- 
ity, to the injury of his private fortunes, he added: 
"Let me remind you, however, that you have other 
and closer ties. I know the pain I am about to give, 
and I see the tears I make you shed. But by that love, 
I speak, — by that love, which, Uke the light of heaven, 
is refracted in rays of different strength, upon your wife 
and children, which, when collected and combined, 
forms the sunshine of your soul ; — by that love I do ad- 
jure you, provide, in time, for those dearest objects of 
your care. Think not, I would instil into your mind a 
mean or sordid feeling; but now, that wealth is passing 
through your hands, let me entreat you to hoard it, 
while you have it." And then, after sketching the 
dangers which threatened his ia^erests, as guarantied by 
the laws of the State, Mr. Emmet prophetically added : 
" Yes, my friend, my heart bleeds, while I utter it, but 
I have fearful forebodings, that you may hereafter find, 
in public faith, a broken staff for your support, and re- 



108 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, 

ceive, from public gratitude, a broken heart for your 
reward." From the time this prediction was uttered, 
the stupendous consequences of the invention of Fulton 
have been, every day, more and more amply developed. 
It has brought into convenient neighborhood with each 
other, some of the remotest settlements on the waters 
of the United States. It has made the Mississippi nav- 
igable up stream as well as down, (which it hardly was 
before,) incredibly accelerating, in time of peace, the 
settlement of its mighty valley, and . making it, hence- 
forth, safe from attack, in time of war. It has added, 
beyond all estimate, to the value of the time, and to the 
amount of the capital, of a large portion of the popula- 
tion of the country; and, without impairing the im- 
portance of these benefits to America, has as signally 
imparted them, or similar benefits, to Europe, and the 
rest of the civilized world. While these grand devel- 
opements of the character of Fulton's invention have 
been taking place, the life, the estate, the family, of the 
great inventor, have, one after another, been sacrificed 
and crushed. Within a few months after the eloquent 
appeal, just recited, was made, Fulton actually died of 
disease contracted by exposure in the gratuitous ser- 
vice of the public. In a few years, a decision of the 
Supreme Court of the United States scattered the re- 
mains of his property to the winds ; and twice or thrice, 
since that period, has an appeal been made to Congress, 
on behalf of his orphan children, for such a provision 
as would spare them from the alternative of charity or 
starvation, — and it has been made in vain.* 

But it is time to return to the facts, with which I was 
illustrating the wonderful advances made, from time to 
time, in the cultivation or application of the most fa- 
miliar arts. As far back as human history runs, the 
use of the distaff and Ipom is known ; but it is not yet 

* At the time this passage was pronounced, before the Colombian 
Institute, in the hall of the House of Representatives, an application in 
favor of the family of Fulton was before Congress, on the report of a 
Committee, of which the Author was a member. 



AND ENCOURAGEMENTS TO ITS PURSUIT. 109 

one hundred years since Sir Richard Arkwright* was 
born, — the poor journeyman barber, the youngest of 
thirteen children, who began and perfected the most 
important improvements in the machinery for manu- 
facturing cotton, which (as has been stated on the most 
respectable English authority) " bore the English na- 
tion triumphantly through the wars of the French revo- 
lution," and are unquestionably of greater value to her 
than all her colonies, from Hindostan to Labrador. 

The ocean which lies between America and Europe 
may be crossed in a fortnight ; but, after the fleets of 
Tyre, of Carthage, of Rome, and of the maritime pow- 
ers of the middle ages, had been, for thousands of 
years, accustomed to navigate the sea, it was reserved 
for a poor Genoese pilot, begging his way from court 
to court, and by the simple process of sailing on one 
course as long as he had water to float his ship, to dis- 
cover a New World. 

Our geographical knowledge shows us, that we do 
not, like so many generations of our predecessors, live 
within the reach of 6ther undiscovered continents ; but 
we do unquestionably live, act, and speculate, within 
the reach of i)roperties and powers of things, whose 
discovery and application (when they take place) will 
effect changes in society, as great as those produced by 
the magnet, the discovery of America, the art of print- 
ing, or the steam-boat. We do doubtless live within 
the reach of undiscovered worlds of science, art, and 
improvement. No royal permission is requisite to 
launch forth on the broad sea of discovery that sur- 
rounds us, — ^most full of novelty where most explored ; 
and it may yet be reserved, for the modest and secluded 
lover of truth and votary of science, in the solitude of 
his humble researches, or the intelligent mechanic, in 
the discharge of his daily labors, to lay open such laws 
of matter, as will affect the condition of the civilized 
world. 

This, then, is the encouragement we haive, to engage 
* See note on page 77. 
10 E. £. 



110 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE^ 

in any well-conceived enterprise for the diflusion of 
useful knowledge and the extension of general improve- 
ment. Wherever there is a human mind, possessed of 
the common faculties, and placed in a body organized 
with the common senses, there is an active, intelligent 
being, competent, with proper cultivation, to the dis- 
covery of the highest truths, in the natural, the social, 
and the political, world. It is susceptible of demonstra- 
tion, if demonstration were necessary, that the number 
of useful and distinguished men, which are to benefit 
and adorn society around us, will be exactly propor- 
tioned, upon the whole, to the means and encourage- 
ments to improvement, existing in the community ; and 
every thing, which multiplies these means and encour- 
agements, tends, in the same proportion, to the multi- 
plication of inventions and discoveries, useful and hon- 
orable to man. The mind, although it does not stand 
in need of high culture, for the attainment of great ex- 
cellence, does yet stand in need of some culture, and 
cannot thrive and act without it. When it is once awak- 
ened, and inspired with a consciousness of its own pow- 
ers, and nourished into vigor by the intercourse of kin- 
dred minds, either through books or living converse, it 
does not disdain, but it needs not, further extraneous aid. 
It ceases to be a pupil ; it sets up for itself; it becomes 
a master of truth, and goes fearlessly onward, sounding 
its way, through the darkest regions of investigation. 
But it is almost indispensable, that, in some way or 
other, the elements of truth should be imparted from 
kindred minds ; and, if these are wholly withheld, the 
intellect, which, if properly cultivated, might have soar- 
ed with Newton to the boundaries of the comet's orbit, 
is chained down to the wants and imperfections of mere 
physical life, unconscious of its own capacities, and un- 
able to fulfil its higher destiny. 

Contemplate, at this season of the year,* one of the 
magnificent oak trees of the forest, covered with thou- 
sands and thousands of acorns* There is not one of 
*^ The month of November 



JLNB ENC0UBAGEMENT8 TO ITS PUBSUIT. Ill 

those acorns, that does not cany within itself the germ 
of a perfect oak, as lofty and as wirfe-spreading as the 
parent stock ; which does not enfold the rudiments of a 
tree, that would strike its roots in the soil, and lift its 
branches toward the heavens, and brave the storms of 
a hundred Winters. It needs, for this, but a handful 
of soil, to receive the acorn as it falls, a little moisture 
to nourish it, and protection from violence till the root 
is struck. It needs but these ; and these it does need, 
and these it must have ; and for want of them, trifling 
as they seem, there is not one out of a thousand, of 
those innumerable acorns, which is destined to become 
a tree. 

Look abroad, through the cities, the towns, the vil- 
lages, of our beloved Country, and think of what mate- 
rials their population, in many parts already dense, and 
every where rapidly growing, is, for the most part, made 
up. It is not made up of lifeless enginery, of animated 
machines, of brute beasts, trained to subdue the earth : 
but of rational, intellectual beings. There b not a 
mind, of the hundreds of thousands in our community, 
that is not capable of making large progress in useful 
knowledge ; and no one can presume to tell, or limit, 
the number of those, who are gifted with all the talent 
required for the noblest discoveries. They have natu 
rally all the senses and all the faculties, — I do not 
say, in as high a degree, but who shall say in no de- 
gree ? — ^possessed by Newton, or Frankhn, or Fulton. 
It is but a Uttle, which is wanted, to awaken every one 
of these minds to the conscious possession and the ac- 
tive exercise of its wonderful powers. But this Uttle, 
generally speaking, is indispensable. How much more 
wonderful an instrument is an eye than a telescope ! 
Providence has furnished this eye ; but art must con- 
tribute the telescope, or the wonders of the heavens 
remain unnoticed. It is for want of the little, that hu- 
man means must add to the wonderful capacity for im- 
provement born in man, that by far the greatest part 
of the intellect, innate in our race, perishes undevel- 



112 IMPORTANCE OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE. 

oped and unkno>vn. When an acorn falls upon an 
unfavorable spot, and decays there, we know the extent 
of the loss, — it is that of a tree, like the one from 
which it fell ; but when the intellect of a rational be- 
ing, for want of culture, is lost to the great ends for 
which it was created, it is a loss, which no one can 
measure, either for time or for eternity. 



TH£ WOEKINGHEN's PABTT. 118 



LECTURE ON THE WORKINGMEN'S PARTY .• 

Man is, by nature, an active being. He is made to 
labor. His whole organization, mental and physical, is 
that of a hard-working being. Of his mental powers, 
we have no conception, but as certain capacities of in- 
tellectual action. His corporeal faculties are contrived 
for the same end, with astonishing variety of adaptation. 
Who can look only at the muscles of the hand, and 
doubt that man was made to work ? Who can be con- 
scious of judgement, memory, and reflection, and doubt 
that man was made to act ? He requires rest, but it is 
in order to invigorate him for new efforts ; to recruit 
his exhausted powers ; and, as if to show him, by the 
very nature of rest, that it is Means, not End : that 
form of rest, which is most essential and most grateful, 
sleep, is attended with the temporary suspension of the 
conscious and active powers, — an image of death. Na- 
ture is so ordered, as both to require and encourage 
man to .work. He is created with wants, which can- 
not be satisfied without labor ; at the same time, that 
ample provision is made by Providence, to satisfy them 
with labor. The plant springs up, and grows on the 
spot, where the seed was cast by accident. It is fed 
by the moisture, which saturates the earth, or is held 
suspended in the air ; and it brings with it a suflicient 
covering to protect its delicate internal structure. It 
toils not, neither doth it spin, for clothing or food. But 
man is so created, that, let his wants be as simple as 
they will, he must labor to supply them. If, as is sup- 
posed to have been the case, in primitive ages, he lives 
upon acorns and water, he must draw the water from 
the spring ; and, in many places, he must dig a well in 
tlie soil ; and he must gather the acorns from beneath 

* Delivered before the Charlestown Lycenm, October, 1830 
10* 



114 THE WORKINGMEn's PARTY. 

the oak, and lay up a store of them, for Winter. He 
must, in most climates, contrive himself some kind of 
clothing, of barks or skins ; must construct some rude 
shelter ; prepare some kind of bed, and keep up a fire. 
In short, it is well known, that those tribes of our race, 
which are the least advanced in civilization, and whose 
wants are the fewest, have to labor the hardest for their 
support ; but, at the same time, it is equally true, that, 
in the most civilized countries, by far the greatest amount 
and variety of work are done ; so that the improvement, 
which takes place in the condition of man, consists, not 
in diminishing the amount of labor performed, but in 
enabling men to work more, or more efficiently, in the 
same time. A horde of savages will pass a week in the 
most laborious kinds of hunting ; following the chase, 
day after day ; their women, if in company with them, 
carrying their tents an^ their infant children on their 
backs ; and all be worn down, by fatigue and famine ; 
and, in the end, they will, perhaps, kill a buffalo. The 
same number of civilized men and women would, prob- 
ably, on an average, have kept more steadily at work, 
in their various trades and occupations, but with much 
less exhaustion ; and the products of their industry would 
have been vastly greater ; or, what is the same thing, 
much more work would have been done. 

It is true, as man rises in improvement, he would be 
enabled, by his arts and machinery, to satisfy the pri- 
mary wants of life, with less labor ; and this may be 
thought to show, at first glance, that man was not in- 
tended to be a working being ; because, in proportion 
as he advances in improvement, less work would be re- 
quired to get a mere livelihood. But here we see a 
curious provision of Nature. In proportion as our bare 
natural wants are satisfied, artificial wants, or civilized 
wants, show themselves. And, in the very highest state 
of improvement, it requires as constant an exertion to 
satisfy the new wants, which grow out of the habits and 
tastes of civilized life, as it requires, in savage life, to 
satisfy hunger and thirst, and keep from freezing. In 



THE WORKINGMEn's PABTT. IIS 

Other words, the mnate desu^ of improving our condi- 
tion keeps us all in a state of want. We cannot be 
so well off that we do not feel obliged to work, either 
to insure tlie continuance of what we now have, or to 
increase it. The man, whose honest industry just gives 
him a competence, exerts himself, that he may have 
something against a rainy day ;— and how often do we 
hear an affectionate father say, he is determined to 
spare no pains, to work in season and out of season, in 
order that his children may enjoy advantages denied to 
himself! 

In this way, it is pretty plain, that Man, whether 
viewed in his primitive and savage state, or in a highly 
improved condition, is a working being. It is his des- 
tiny, the law of his nature, to labor. He is made for 
it, and he cannot live without it ; and the Apostle Paul 
summed up the matter, with equal correctness and point, 
when he said, that " if any would not work, neither 
should he eat." 

It is a good test of principles, like these, to bring 
them to the standard of general approbation or disap- 
probation. There are, in all countries, too many per- 
sons, who, from mistaken ideas of the nature of happi- 
ness, or other less reputable causes, pass their time in 
idleness, or in indolent pleasures. But I believe no 
state of society ever existed, in which the energy and 
capacity of Idbior were not commended and admired, or 
in which a taste for indolent pleasure was commended 
or admired, by the intelligent part of the conununity. 
When we read the lives of distinguished men, in any 
department, we find them almost always celebrated for 
the amount of labor they could perform. Demosthenes, 
JuUus Caesar, Henry the Fourth of France, Lord Ba 
con. Sir Isaac Newton, Franklin, Washington, Napo- 
leon, — different as they were in their intellectual and 
moral qualities, — ^were all renowned, as hard workers. 
We read, how many days they could support the fa- 
tigues of a march ; how early they rose, how late they 
watched ; how many hours they spent in the field, in 



*16 THE WORKINGMEN^S PAKTT. 

the cabinet, in the court, in the study ; how many sec- 
retaries they kept employed ; in short, how hard they 
worked. But who ever heard of its being said of a man, 
in commendation, that he could sleep fifteen hours out 
of the twenty-four, that he could eat six meals a day, 
and that he was never weary of his easy-chair ? 

It would be curious to estimate by any safe standard, 
the amount, in value, of the work of all kinds, perform- 
ed in a community. This, of course, cannot be done 
with any great accuracy. The pursuits of men are 
so various, and the different kinds of labor are so dif- 
ferent in the value of their products, that it is scarce- 
ly possible to bring the aggregate to any scale of calcu- 
lation. But we may form a kind of general judgement 
of the value of the labor of a community, if we look 
about us. All the improvements, which we behold on 
the face of the earth ; all the buildings, of every kind, 
in town and country ; all the vehicles employed on the 
land and water ; the roads, the canals, the wharfs, the 
bridges ; all the property, of all kinds, which is accu- 
mulated throughout the world; and all that is con- 
sumed, from day to day and from hour to hour, to sup- 
port those who live upon it, — all this is the product of 
labor ; and a proportionate share is the product of the 
labor of each generation. It is plain, that this compre- 
hensive view is one, that would admit of being carried 
out into an infinity of details, which would furnish the 
materials rather for a volume than a lecture. But, as it 
is the taste of the present day to bring every thing down 
to the standard of figures, I will suggest a calculation, 
which will enable us to judge of the value of the labor, 
performed* in the community in which we live. Take 
the population of Massachusetts, for the sake of round 
numbers, at six hundred thousand souls.* I presume it 
will not be thought extravagant, to assume that one in 
six performs, every day, a good day's work, or its equiv- 
alent. If we allow nothing for the labor of five out of 
six, (and this, certainly, will cover the cases of those too 

* In 1830. 



THE WORKIKGMEK's PABTT. 117 

young and too old to do any work, or who can do only 
a part of a day's work,) and if we also allow nothing 
for those whose time is worth more than that of the day- 
laborer, we may safely assume that the sixth person 
performs, daily, a vigorous efficient day's work, of body 
or mind, by hand or with tools, or partly with each, 
and that this day's work is worth one dollar. This will 
give us one hundred thousand dollars a day, as the 
value of the work done in the State of Massachusetts. 
I have no doubt that it is much more ; for this would 
be very little more than it costs the population to sup- 
port itself, and allows scarce any thing for accumulation, 
which is constantly taking place, to a great extent. It 
will however show, sufficiently, the great amount of the 
labor done in this State, to take it as coming up, at 
least, to one hundred thousand dollars per day. 

It appears then, first, that man is, by his nature, a 
working being ; and, secondly, that the daily value of 
his work, estimated merely in money, is inunensely 
great, in any civilized community. 

I have made these preliminary remarks, as an intro- 
duction to some observations, which I propose to sub- 
mit, in the remainder of this lecture, on the subject of 
"a workingmen's party." Towards the organization 
of such a party, steps have been taken, in various parts 
of the country. It is probable, that a great diversity 
of views exists, among those who have occupied them- 
selves upon the subject, in different places. This cir- 
cumstance, and the novelty of the subject in some of 
its aspects, and its importance in all, have led me to 
think, that we might pass an hour, profitably, in its 
contemplation. 

I wiU observe, in the first place, then, that if , as 1 
have endeavored to show, man is, by nature, a work- 
ing being, it would follow, that a workingmen's par- 
ty is founded in the very principles of our nature. 
Most parties may be considered as artificial, in their 
very essence ; many are local, temporary, and personal. 
What will all our political parties be, a hundred years 



118 THE WORKINGMEn's PARTT. 

hence? What are they now, in nine tenths of the 
habitable globe ? Mere nonentities. But the workings 
men's party, however organized, is one that must sub- 
sist in every civilized country, to the end of time. In 
other words, its first principles are laid in our nature. 

The next question, that presents itself, is. What is 
the general object of a workingmen's party? I do 
not now mean, what are the immediate steps, which 
such a party proposes to take ; but, what is the main 
object and end, which it would secure. To this, I sup- 
pose I may safely answer, that it is not to carry this or 
that political election ; not to elevate this or that candi- 
date for office, but to promote the prosperity and wel- 
fare of workinginen ; that is, to secure to every man 
disposed to work, the greatest freedom, in the choice 
of his pursuit, the greatest encouragement and aid, in 
pursuing it, the greatest security, in enjoying its fruits : 
in other words, to make work, in the greatest possi- 
ble degree, produce happiness. 

The next inquiry seems to be, Who belong to the 
workingmen's party? The general answer, here, is 
obvious, — All who do the work, or are actually willing 
and desirous to do it, and prevented only by absolute 
inability, such as sickness or natural infirmity. Let us 
try the correctness of this view, by seeing whom it 
would exclude and whom it would include. 

This rule, in the first place, would exclude all bad 
men ; that is, those who may work, indeed, but who 
work for immoral and unlawfiil ends. This is a very 
important distinction, and, if practically applied and 
vigorously enforced, it would make the workingmen's 
party the -purest society that ever existed, since the 
time of the primitive Christians. It is greatly to be 
feared, that scarce any of the parties, that divide the 
community, are sufficiently jealous, on this point ; and 
for the natural reason, that it does not lie in the very 
nature of those parties. Thus, at the polls, the vote of 
one man is as good as the vote of another. The vote 
of the drunkard counts one ; the yote of the temperate 



119 

man counts but one. For this reason, the mere party 
politician, if he can secure the vote, is apt not to be 
very inquisitive about the temperance of the voter. He 
may even prefer the intemperate to the temperate ; for, 
to persuade the temperate man to vote with him, he 
must give him a good resison ; the other will do it for 
a good drink. 

But the true principles of the workingmen's party 
require, not merely that a nmn should work, but that 
he should work in an honest way, and for a lawful ob- 
ject. The man, who makes forged money, probably 
works harder than the honest engraver, who prepares 
the notes, for those authorized by law to issue them. But 
he would be repelled, with scorn, if he- presented him- 
self as a member of the workingmen's party. The 
man, who passes his life, and gains a wretched, preca- 
rious subsistence, by midnight trespasses on his neigh- 
bor's grounds ; by stealing horses from the stall, and 
wood from the pile ; by wrenching bars and bolts, at 
night, or picking pockets, in a crowd, probably works 
harder, (taking uncertainty and anxiety into the calcu- 
lation, and adding, as the usual consequence, a term of 
years in the compulsory service of the State,) than the 
average of men pursuing honest industry, even of the 
most laborious kind : but this hard work would not en- 
title him to be regarded as a member of the working- 
men's party. 

If it be inquired, who is to be the judge, what kind 
of work is not only no title, but an absolute disqualifica- 
tion, for admission to the workingmen's party, on the 
score of dishonesty, we answer, that, for all practical 
purposes, this must be left to the law of the land. It 
is true, that, under cover and within the pale of the law, 
a man may do things morally dishonest, and such as 
ought to shut him out of the party. But it is danger- 
ous to institute an inquisition into the motives of indi- 
viduals ; and so long as a man does nothing which the 
law forbids, in a country where the people make the 
laws, he ought, if not otherwise disqualified, to be ad- 
mitted as a member of the party. 



120 THE WORKINGMEn's PARTY. 

The next question regards idlers. If we exclude 
from the workingmen's party, all dishonest and im- 
moral workers, what are we to say to the case of the 
idlers ? In general terms, the answer to thig question 
is plain ; they, too, must be excluded. With what pre- 
tence of reason, can an idler ask to be admitted into the 
association of workingmen, unless he is willing to qual- 
ify himself, by going to work ; and then, he ceases to 
be an idler. In fact, the man, who idles away his time, 
acts against the law of his nature, as a working being. 
It must be observed, however, that there are few cases, 
where a man is merely an idler. In almost every case, 
he must be something worse, such as a spendthrift, a 
gamester, or an intemperate person ; a bad son, a bad 
husband, and a bad father. If there are any persons de- 
pendent on him for support ; if he idles away the time, 
which he ought to devote to maintaining his wife, and 
his children, or his aged parents, he then becomes a 
robber ; a man, that steals the bread out of the mouths of 
his own family, and rends the clothes off their backs. 
He is as much more criminal than the common highway 
robber, who takes the stranger's purse, on the turnpike 
road, as the ties of duty, to our parents and children, 
are beyond those of common justice, between man and 
man. But I suppose it would not require much argu- 
ment, to show that .the person, who leaves to want 
those whom he ought to support, even if he does not 
pass his idle hours in any criminal pursuit, has no right 
to call himself a workingman. 

There is a third class of men, whose case deserves 
consideration, and who are commonly called busybod- 
ies. They are as different from real workingmen, as 
light is from darkness. They cannot be called idlers, 
for they are never at rest ; nor yet workers, for they 
pursue no honest, creditable employment. So long as 
they are merely busybodies, and are prompted in theii' 
officious, fluttering, unproductive activity, by no bad 
motive and no mali^ant passion, they cannot, perhaps, 
be excluded from the party, though they have really no 



THE WORKUVGMENS PABTT. 121 

claim to be admitted into it. But here, too, the case 
of a mere busybody scarce ever occurs. This character 
is almost always something more ; a dangerous gossip, 
a tattling mischiefmaker, a propagator, too frequently 
an inventor, of slander. He repeats, at one fireside, 
with additions, what he had heard, at another, under 
the implied obligation of confidence ; he often takes 
the lead in uneasy and inconsiderate movements, safely 
intrenched behind his neighbor, whom he pushes into 
trouble. He is very fond of writing anonymous libels, 
in the newspapers, on men of whom he knows nothing. 
Such men, — and there are too many of them,—- ought 
to be excluded from the party. 

Shutting out, then,.all who work dishonestly, and all 
who do not work at all, and admitting the busybodies 
with great caution, the workingmen's party compre- 
hends all those, by whom the work of the community 
is really done ; all those, who, by any kind of honest 
industry, employ the talent which their Creator has giv 
en them. All these form one party, one great compre- 
hensive society, and this, by the very law of our nature. 
Man is not only, as I observed in the beginning, a work- 
ing being ; but he is a being, formed to work in socie- 
ty ; and, if the matter be carefully analyzed, it will be 
found, that civilization, — that is, the bringing men out 
of a savage into a cultivated state, — consists in multiply- 
ing the number of pursuits and occupations ; so that 
the most perfect society is one, where the largest num- 
ber of persons are prosperously employed, in the great- 
est variety of ways. In such a society, men help each 
other, instead of standing in each other's way. The 
further this division of labor is carried, the more persons 
must unite, harmoniously, to effect the common ends. 
The lai^r the number, on which each depends, the 
larger the number, to which each is useful. 

This union of different kinds of workmen, in one 
harmonious society, seems to be laid, in the very struc- 
ture and organization of man. Man is a being, consist- 
ing of a body and a soul. These words are soon utter- 
11 . E. E, 



122 THE WORKINGSfEN's PARTT. 

ed, and they are so often uttered, that the mighty truth, 
which is embraced in them, scarce ever engages our 
attention. But man is composed of body and soul. 
What is body? It is material substance; it is clay, 
dust, ashes. Look at it, as you tread it, unorganized, 
beneath your feet ; contemplate it, when, after having 
been organized and animated, it returns, by a process 
of corruption, to its original state. Matter, in its ap 
pearance to us, is an unorganized, inanimate, cold, dull, 
and barren, thing. What it is, in its essence, no one, 
but the Being who created it, knows. The human 
mind can conceive of it, but in a negative way. What 
is the soul 1 Its essence is as little known to us, as that 
of body ; but its qualities are angelic, divine. It is the 
soul, which thinks, reasons, invents, remembers, hopes, 
and loves. It is the soul, which Uves ; for, when the 
soul departs from the body, all its vital powers cease ; 
and it is dead : and what is the body, then ? 

Now the fact, to which I wish to call your attention, 
is, that these two elements, one of which is akin to the 
poorest dust on which we tread, and the other of which 
is of the nature of angelic, and even of divine intelli- 
gence, are, in every human being, without exception, 
brought into a most intimate and perfect union. We 
can conceive, that it might have been different. We 
believe in the existence of incorporeal beings, of a na- 
ture higher than man ; and we behold, beneath us, in 
brutes, plants, and stones, various orders of material 
nature, rising, one above another, in organization ; but 
none of them (as we suppose) 'possessing mind. We 
can imagine a world, so constituted, that all the in- 
tellect would have been by itself, pure and disem- 
bodied ; and all the material substance by itself, unmix- 
ed with mind; and acted upon by mind, as inferior 
beings are supposed to be acted upon by angels. But 
in constituting our race, it pleased the Creator to bring 
the two elements into the closest union ; to take the 
body from the dust ; the soul from the highest heaven ; 
and mould them into one being. 



THC WORKINGiaN's PABTT. 128 

The consequence is, that the humblest bborer, who 
works with his hands, possesses within him a soul, 
endowed with precisely the same faculties as those, 
which, in Franklin, in Newton, or Shakspeare, have 
been the light and the wonder of the world. On the 
other hand, the mpst gifted and ethereal genius whose 
naind has fathomed the depths of the heavens,* and 
comprehended the whole circle of truth, is enclosed in 
a body, subject to the same passions, infirmities, and 
wants, as the man whose life knows no alternation, but 
labor and rest, appetite and indulgence. 

Did it stop here, it would be merely an astonishing 
fact, in the constitution of our natures. But it does 
not stop here. In consequence of the union of the two 
principles, in the human nature, every act, that a man 
performs, requires the agency both of body and mind. 
His mind cannot see, but through the optic eyeglass ; 
nor hear, till the drum of his ear is affected by the vi- 
brations of the air. If he would speak, he puts in action 
the complex machinery of the vocal organs ; if he writes, 
he employs the muscular system of the hands ; nor can 
he satisfactorily perform the operations of thought, ex- 
cept in a healthy state of the body. A fit of the tooth- 
ache, proceeding from die irritation of a nerve about as 
big as a cambric-thread, is enough to drive an under- 
standing, capable of instructing the world, to the verge 
of insanity. On the other hand, there is no operation 
of manusd labor, so simple, so mechanical, which does 
not require the exercise of perception, reflection, mem- 
ory, and judgiement ; the same intellectual powers, by 
which the highest truths of science have been discover- 
ed and illustrated. 

The degree, to which any particular action (or series 
of actions united into a pursuit) shall exercise the in- 
tellectual powers, on the one hand, or the mechanical 
powers, on the other, of course, depends on the nature 
of that action. The peasant, whose life, from childhood 
to the grave, is passed in the field ; the New Zealander, 
• who goes to war, when he is hungry, devours his pris- 



124 THE workinomen's partt. 

oners, and leads a life of cannibal debauch, till he has 
consumed them all, and then goes to war again ; the 
Greenlander, who warms himself with the fragments of 
wrecks and drift-wood thrown upon the glaciers, and 
feeds himself with blubber ; seem all to lead lives re- 
quiring but little intellectual action ;. and yet, as I have 
remarked, a careful reflection would show that there is 
not one, even of them, who does not, every moment of 
his life, call into exercise, though in an humble degree, 
all the powers of the mind. In like manner, the phi- 
losopher, who shuts himself up in his cell, and leads a 
contemplative existence among books or instruments 
of science, seems to have no occasion to employ, in their 
ordinary exercise, many of the capacities of his nature, 
for physical action ; although he, also, as I have observ- 
ed, cannot act, or even thmk, but with the aid of his 
body. 

The same Creator, who made man a mixed being 
composed of body and soul, having designed him for 
such a world as that in which we live, has so constitu- 
ted the world and man who inhabits it, as to aflbrd 
scope for great variety of occupations, pursuits, and con- 
ditions, arising from the tastes, characters, habits, vir- 
tues, and even vices, of men and communities. For 
the same reason, that, though all men are alike compos- 
ed of body and soul, yet no two men, probably, are ex- 
actly the same, in respect to either ; — ao provision has 
been made by the Author of our being, for an infinity 
of pursuits and employments, calling out, in degrees as 
various, the peculiar powers of both principles. 

But I have already endeavored to show that there is 
no pursuit and no action, that does not require the uni- 
ted operation of both ; and this, of itself, is a broad, nat- 
ural foundation, for the union, into one interest, of all 
in the same community, who are employed in honest 
work, of any kind ; namely, that, however various their 
occupations, they are all working with the same instru- 
ments, — ^the organs of the body and the powers of the 
mind. 



THE WORKHraUCN's PABTT. 125 

But we may go a step farther, to remark the beauti- 
ful process, by which Providence has so interlaced an^ 
wrought up together the pursuits, interests, and wants, 
of our nature, that the philosopher, whose home seems 
less on earth than among the stars, requires, for the 
prosecution of his studies, the aid of numerous artific- 
ers in various branches, of mechanical industry ; and, 
in return, furnishes the most important faciUties to the 
humblest branches of manual labor. Let us take, as a 
single instance, that of astronomical science. It may 
be safely said, that the wonderful discoveries of mod- 
em astronomy, and the philosophical system depend- 
ing upon them, could not have existed, but for the fcf- 
escope. The want of the telescope kept astronomical 
science in its infancy, among the ancients. Although 
Pythagoras, one of the earliest Greek philosophers, is 
supposed to have had some conception of the elements 
of the Copernican system, yet we find no general and 
practical improvement resulting from it. In fact, it 
sunk beneath the false theories of subsequent philoso- 
phers. It was only from the period of the discoveries 
made by the telescope, that the science advanced, with 
sure and rapid progress. Now the astronomer does not 
make telescopes. I presume it would be impossible for 
a person, who employed, in the abstract study of astro- 
nomical science, time enough to comprehend its pro- 
found investigations, to learn and practise the trade of 
making glass. It is not less true, that those, employed 
in making the glass could not, in the nature of things, 
be expected to acquire the scientific knowledge, re- 
quisite for carrying on those arduous calculations, ap- 
plied to bring into a system the discoveries, made by 
the magnifying power of the telescope. I might ex- 
tend the same remark to the other materials, of which 
a telescope consists. It cannot be used, to any pur- 
pose of nice observation, without being very carefully 
mounted, on a frame of strong metal; which de- 
mands the united labors of the mathematical-instru- 
ment-maker and the brass-founder. Here, then, in 
11* 



126 

taking but one single step out of the philosopher's ob- 
servatory, we find he needs an instrument, to be pro- 
duced by the united labors of the mathematical-instru- 
ment-maker, the brass-founder, the glass-polisher, and 
the maker of glass, — four trades.* He must also have 
an astronomical clock ; and it would be easy to count 
up half a dozen trades, which, directly or indirectly, 
are connected in making a clock. 

But let us go back to the objectglass of the telescope. 
A glass-factory requires a building and furnaces. The 
man, who makes the glass, does not make the building. 
But the stone and brick mason, the carpenter, and the 
blacksmith, must furnish the greater part of the labor 
and skill, required to construct the building. When it is 
built, a large quantity of fuel, wood and wood-coal, or 
mineral coal, of various kinds, or all together, must be 
provided ; and then, the materials, of which the glass 
is made, and with which it is colored, some of which 
are furnished, by conunerce, from different and distant 
regions, and must be brought in ships, across the sea. 
We cannot take up any one of these trades, without 
immediately finding that it connects itself with numer- 
ous others. Take, for instance, the mason, who builds 
the furnace. He does not make his own bricks, nor 
burn his own lime ; in common cases, the bricks come 
from one place, the limeitfrom another, the sand from 
another. The brickmaker does not cut down his own 
wood. It is carted or brought in boats to his brick- 
yard. The man, who carts it, does not make his own 
wagon ; nor does the person, who brings it in boats, 
build his own boat. The man, who makes the wagon, 
does not make its tire. The blacksmith, who makes 
the tire, does not smelt the ore; and the forgeman, 
who smelts the ore, does not build his own furnace, 
(and there we get back to the point whence we start- 
ed,) nor dig his own mine. The man, who digs the 
mine, does not make the pickaxe, with which he digs 

* The allusion is here to the simplest form of a telescope. Th« 
illastration would be stronger, in the case of a reflector. 



THE WORKINGMEn's PARTY. 127 

It ; nor the pump, with which he keeps out the water. 
The man, who makes the pmnp, did not discover the 
principle of atmospheric pressure, which led to pump- 
making ; that was done by a mathematician, at Flor- 
ence,* experimenting, in his chamber, on a glass tube. 
And here we come back, again, to our glass ; and to 
an instance of the close connexion of scientific research, 
with practical art. It is plain, that this enumeration 
might be pursued, till every art and every science were 
shown to run into every other. No one can doubt this, 
who will go over the subject, in his own mind, begin- 
ning with any one of the processes of mining and work- 
ing metals, of ship-building and navigation, and the 
other branches of art and industry, pursued in civilized 
communities. 

If, then, on the one hand, the astronomer depends, 
for his telescope, on the ultimate product of so many 
arts; in return, his observations are the basis of an 
astronomical system, and of calculations of the move- 
ments of the heavenly bodies, which furnish the mariu- 
er with his best guide across the ocean. The prudent 
shipmaster would no more think of sailing for India, 
without his Practical NavigatoTy than he would with- 
out his compass ; and this Navigator contains tables, 
drawn from the highest walks of astronomical science. 
Every first mate of a vessel, who works a lunar obser- 
vation, to ascertain the ship's longitude, employs tables, 
in which the most wonderful discoveries and calcula- 
tions of Newton, La Place, and Bowditch, are inter- 
woven. 

I mention this, as but one of the cases, in which as- 
tronomical science promotes the service and convenience 
of common life ; and perhaps, when we consider the 
degree to which the modern extension of navigation 
connects itself with industry, in all its branches, this 
may be thought suflicient. I will only add, that the 
cheap convenience of an almanac, which enters into the 
comforts of every fireside in the Country, could not be 

♦ Torricelli. 



128 THE workingmen's party. 

enjoyed, but for the labors and studies of the profound- 
est philosophers. Not that great learning or talent is 
now required, to execute the astronomical calculations 
of an almanac, although no inconsiderable share of each 
is needed for this purpose ; but because, even to per- 
form these calculations requires the aid of tables, which 
have been gradually formed on the basis of the pro- 
foundest investigations of the long line of philosophers, 
who have devoted themselves to this branch of science. 
For, as we observed on the mechanical side of the illus- 
tration, it is not one trade, alone, which is required, to 
furnish the philosopher with his instrument, but a great 
variety ; so, on the other hand, it is not the philosopher, 
in one department, who creates a science out of noth- 
ing. The observing astronomer furnishes materials to 
the calculating astronomer, and the calculator derives 
methods from the pure mathematician ; and a long suc- 
cession of each, for ages, must unite their labors, in a 
great result. Without the geometry of the Greeks and 
the algebra of the Arabs, the analysis of Newton and 
Leibnitz might never have been invented. 

Examples and illustrations, equally instructive, might 
be found, in every other branch of industry. The man 
who will go into a cotton mill, and contemplate it, from 
the great water-wheel that gives the first movement, 
(and still more, from the steam-engine, should that be 
the moving power ;) who will observe the parts of the 
machinery, and the various processes of the fabric, till 
he reaches the hydraulic press, with which it is made 
into a bale, and the canal or rail-road, by which it is 
sent to market, may find every branch of trade, and 
every department of science, literally crossed, inter- 
twined, interwoven, with every other, like the woof and 
the warp of the article manufactured. Not a little of 
the spinning machinery is constructed on principles, 
drawn from the demonstrationsuof transcendental math- 
ematics ; and the processes of bleaching and dying, now 
practised, are the results of the most profound research- 
es of modern chemistry. And if this does not satisfy 



th^ inquirer, let him trace the cotton to the plantation, 
where it grew, in Georgia or Alabama ; the indigo to 
Bengal ; the oil to the olive of Italy, or the fishing- 
grounds of the Pacific ocean ; let him consider Whit- 
nejr's cotton-gin ;* Whittemore's carding-machine ;♦ 
the power-loom ;* and the i^nnning apparatus ;* and all 
the arts, trades, and sciences, directly or indirectly con- 
nected with these ; and I believe he will soon agree, 
that one might start frcwn a yard of coarse printed cot- 
t<Mi, which costs ten cents, and prove out of it, as out 
of a text, that every art and science under heaven had 
been concerned in its fabric. 

I ought, here, to allude, also, to some of those pur- 
suits, which require the ability to exercise, at the same 
time, on the part of the same individual, the faculties, 
both of the intellectual and physical nature, or which 
unite very high and low degrees of mental power. I 
have no doubt that the talent for drawing and painting, 
possessed by some men to such an admirable degree, 
depends, partly, on a p)eculiar organic structure of the 
eye and of the muscles of the hand, which gives them 
their more delicate perceptions of color, and their great- 
er skill in delineation. These, no doubt, are possessed 
by many individuals, who want the intellectual talent, 
the poetic fire, required for a great painter. On the 
other hand, I can conceive of a man's possessing the 
invention and imagination of a painter, without the eye 
and the hand required to embody, on the canvass, the 
ideas and images in his mind. When the two unite, 
they make a Raphael or a Titian ; a Wilkie or an AU- 
ston. An accomplished statuary, such as Canova or 
Chantrey, must, on the one hand, possess a soul filled 
with all grand and lovely images, and have a livmg con- 
ception of ideal beauty ; and, on the other hand, he 
must be a good stonecutter, and able to take a hammer 
and a chisel in his han#, and go to work on a block of 

♦ For a description of all which, see. Bigelow's * Useful Arts,' coa- 
■titnting Volumes XI. and XII., of the larger series of ' Ths School 
Library.' 



130 THE WORKINGUEn's PARTY. 

marble, and chip it down, to the lip of Apollo or the 
eyelid of Venus. The architect must be practically 
acquainted with all the materials of building, — ^wood, 
brick, mortar, and stone ; he must have the courage and 
skill to plant his moles against the heaving ocean, and 
to hang his ponderous domes and gigantic arches in 
the air; while he must have taste, to combine the 
rough and scattered blocks of the quarry into beauti- 
ful and majestic structures ; and discern, clearly, in his 
mind's eye, before a sledge has been lifted, the eleva- 
tion and proportions of the temple. The poet must 
know, with a schoolmaster's precision, the weight of 
every word, and what vowel follows most smoothly on 
what consonant ; at the same time, that his soul must 
be stored with images, feelings, and thoughts, beyond 
the power, of the boldest and most glowing language to 
do more than faintly shadow out. The surgeon must, 
at once, have a mind naturally gifted and diligently 
trained, to penetrate the dark recesses of organic life ; 
and a nerve and tact, which will enable him to guide 
his knife among veins and arteries, out of sight, in the 
living body of an agonizing, shrieking fellow-creature, 
or to take a lancet in his left hand, and cut into the 
apple of the eye. The lawyer must be able to reasTon 
from the npblest principles of human duty, and the most 
generous feelings of human nature ; he must fully com- 
prehend the mighty maze of the social relations; he 
must carry about with him, a stock of learning, almost 
boundless ; he must be a sort of god to men and com- 
munities, who look up to him, in the hour of the dear- 
est peril of their lives and fortunes ; and he must, at 
the same time, be conversant with a tissue of the most 
senseless fictions and arbitrary technicalities that ever 
disgraced a liberal science. The merchant must be able 
to look, at the same moment, at the markets and ex- 
changes of distant countries andiother hemispheres, and 
combine considerations of the political condition, the 
natural wants, the tastes and habits, of different parts of 
the world ; and he must be expert at figures, understand 



THE workikgmi:n's pa&tt. 131 

book-keeping, by double entry, and know as well how 
to take care of a quarter chest of tea, as a cargo of spe- 
cie. The general-in-chief must be capable of calcula- 
ting, for a twelvemonth in advance, the result of a con- 
test, in which all the power, resource, and spirit of two 
great empires enter and struggle, on land and by sea ; 
and he must have an eye that can tell, at a glance, 
and on the responsibility of his life, how the stone walls, 
and trenched meadows, the bams, and the woods, and 
the crossroads, of a neighborhood, will favor or resist the 
motions of a hundred thousand men, scattered over a 
space of five miles, in the fury of the advance, the storm 
of battle, the agony of flight, covered with smoke, dust, 
and blood. 

It was my intention to subject the art of printing to 
an analysis of the trades, arts, and sciences connected 
with it ; but I have not time to do it full justice, and 
the bare general idea need not be repeated. I will 
only say, that, beginning with the invention which bears, 
in popular tradition, the name of Cadmus, — ^I mean the 
invention of alphabetical signs, to express sounds, — and 
proceeding to the discovery of convenient materials for 
writing, and the idea of written discourse ; thence, to 
the preparation of manuscript books*; and thence, to the 
fabric, on a large scale, of linen and cotton paper, the 
invention of movable types and the printing-press, the 
art of engraving on metal, of stereotype printing, and 
of the power-press, — ^we have a series of discoveries, 
branching Out into others, in every department of hu- 
man pursuit ; connecting the highest philosophical prin- 
ciples with the results of mere manual labor, and pro- 
ducing, in the end, that system of diffusing and multi- 
pl)ring the .expression of thought, which is perhaps the 
glory of our human nature. Pliny said, that the Egyp- 
tian reed was the support, on which the immortal fame 
of man rests. He referred to its use, in the manufac- 
ture of paper. We may, with greater justice, say as 
much of the manufacture of paper from rags, and of 
the printing-press, neither of which was known to Pliny, 



182 THE workingmen's fartt. 

But, with all the splendor of modern discoveries and 
improvements in science and art, I cannot but think, 
that he, who, in the morning of the world, first con- 
ceived the idea of representing sounds by visible signs, 
took the most important step, in the march of improve- 
ment. This sublime conception was struck out in the 
infancy of mankind. The name of its author, his na- 
tive country* and the time when he lived, are known 
only by very uncertain tradition ; but, though all the 
intelligence of ancient and modern times, and in the 
most improved countries, has been concentred into a 
focus, burning and blazing upon this one spot, it has 
never been able to reduce it to any simpler elements, 
nor to improve, in the slightest degree, upon the origi- 
nal suggestion of Cadmus. 

In what I have thus far submitted to you, you will 
prcAably have remarked, that I have illustrated, chiefly, 
the connexion with each other of the various branches 
of science and art ; of the intellectual and physical prin- 
ciples. I have not distinctly shown the connexion of 
the moral principle, in all its great branches, with both. 
This subject would well form the matter of a separ- 
ate essay. But its elementary ideas are few and plain. 
The arts and sciences, whose connexion we have point- 
ed out, it is plain, require for their cultivation a civilized 
state of society. They cannot thrive in a community 
which is not in a state of regular political organization, 
under an orderly system of government, uniform ad- 
ministration of laws, and a general observance of the 
dictates of public and social morality. Further, such a 
community cannot exist, without institutions, of various 
kinds, for elementary, professional, and moral education ; 
and connected with these, are required the services of 
a large class of individuals, employed, in various ways, 
in the business of instruction ; from the meritorious 
schoolmistress, who teaches the little child its A, B, C, 
to the moralist, who lays down the great principles of 
social duty, for men and nations, and the minister of 
Divine truth, who inculcates those sanctions, by which 



THK WORKINOMEN's PAIIXT. 133 

God himself enforces the laws of reason. There must, 
also, be a class of men, competent, by their ability, ed- 
ucation, and experience, to engage in the duty of mak* 
ing and administering the law ; for, in a lawless soci- 
ety, it is impossible that any improvement should be 
permanent. There must be another class, competent 
to afford relief to the sick, and thus protect our frail 
natures frc«n the power of the numerous foes that assail 
them. 

It needs no words to show, that all these pursuits 
are, in reality, connected with the ordinary work of so- 
ciety, as directly as the mechanical trades, by which it 
is carried on. For instance, nothing would so serious- 
ly impair the prosperity of a community, as an unsound 
and uncertain administration of justice. This is the 
last and most fatal symptom of decline, in a state. A 
conmiunity can bear a very considerable degree of po- 
litical despotism, if justice is duly administered, between 
man and man. But, where a man has no security that 
the law will protect him, in the enjoyment of his proper- 
ty ; where he cannot promise himself a righteous judge- 
ment, in the event of a controversy with his neighbor ; 
where he is not sure, when he lies down at night, that 
his slumbers are safe ; there, he loses the great motives 
to industry and probity; credit is shaken; enterprise 
disheartened, and the state declines. The profession, 
therefore, which is devoted to the administration of jus- 
tice, renders a service to every citizen of the communi- 
ty, as important as to those whose immediate affairs 
require the aid of legal counsel. 

In a very improved and civilized community, there 
are also numerous individual^ who, without being em- 
ployed in any of the common branches of industry or 
of professional pursuit, connect themselves, neverthe- 
less, with the prosperity and happiness of the public, 
and fill a useful and honorable place in its service. 
Take, for instance, a man like Sir Walter Scott,* who, 

♦ Sir Walter Scott died at^Abbotsford, (Scotland,) September 21, 
18S2, ia the sixty-second year of his age. 

12 £. E. 



134 

probably, never did a day's work in his life, in the ordi* 
nary acceptation of the term, and who has, for some 
years, retired from the subordinate station he filled, in 
the profession of the law, as sheriff of the county and 
clerk of the court. He has written and published at 
least two hundred volumes, of wide circulation. What 
a vast amount of the industry of the community is 
thereby put in motion! — ^The booksellers, printers, 
papermakers, pressmakers, typemakers, bookbinders, 
leatherdressers, inkmakers, and various other artisans 
required to print, publish, and circulate, the hundreds 
and thousands of volumes of the different works which 
he has written, must ' be almost numberless. I have 
not the least doubt, that, since the series of his publica- 
tions began, if all, whose industry, directly or remotely, 
has been concerned in them, not only in Great Britain, 
but in America, and on the continent of Europe, could 
be brought together, and stationed, side by side, as the 
inhabitants of the same place, they would form a town 
of very considerable size. Such a person may fairly be 
ranked as a workingman. 

And yet, I take this to be the least of Sir Walter 
Scott's deserts. I have said nothing of the service ren- 
dered to every class, and to every individual in every 
class, by the writer, who beguiles of their tediousness 
the dull hours of life ; who animates the principle of 
goodness, within us, by glowing pictures of struggUng 
virtue ; who furnishes our young men and women with 
books, which they may read with interest, and not have 
their morals poisoned, as they read them. Our habits, 
our principles, our characters, whatever maybe our pur- 
suit in life, depend verj^ much on the nature of our 
youthful pleasures, and on the mode in which we learn 
to pass our leisure hours. And he, who, with the bles- 
sing of Providence, has been able, by his mental efforts, 
to present virtue, in her strong attractions, and vice, in 
her native deformity, to the rising generation, has ren- 
dered a service to the public, greater, even, than his, who 
invented the steam-engine or the mariner's compass 



THS WOKKINGMEn's PABTr* 135 

I have thus endeavored to show, in a plain manner, 
that there is a close and cordial union between the va- 
rious pursuits and occupations, which receive the atten* 
tion of men, in a civilized commimity : — ^that they are 
links of the same chain, every one of which is essential 
to its strength. 

It will follow, as a necessary consequence, as the 
dictate of reason, and as the law of Nature, that every 
man in society, whatever his pursuit, who devotes him- 
self to it, with an honest purpose, and in the fulfilment 
of the social duty which Providence devolves upon him, 
is entitled to the good fellowship of each and every oth- 
er member of the community ; that all are the parts of 
one whole, and that, between those parts, as there is but 
one interest, so there should be but one feeling. 

Before I close this lecture, permit me to dwell, for a 
short time, on the principle, which I have had occa- 
sion to advance, that the immortal element of our na- 
ture, — ^the reasoning soul, — ^is the inheritance of all our 
race. As it is this, which makes man superior to the 
beasts that perish ; so it is this, which, in its moral and 
intellectual endowments, is the sole foundation for the 
only distinctions between man and man, which have 
any real value. This reflection shows the importance of 
institutions for education and for the diffusion of knowl- 
edge. It was no magic, no miracle, which made New- 
ton, and Franklin, and Fulton. It was the patient, ju- 
dicious, long-continued cultivation of powers of the 
understanding, eminent, no doubt, in degree, but not 
differing, in kind, from those which are possessed by 
every individual in this assembly. 

Let every one, then, reflect, especially every person 
not yet past the forming period of his life, that he car- 
ries about, in his frame, as in a casket, the inost glorious 
thing, which, this side heaven, God has been pleased to 
create, — an intelligent spirit. To describe its nature, 
to enumerate its faculties, to set forth what it has done, 
to estimate what it can do, would require the labor of 
a life devoted to the history of man. It would be vain. 



136 THE WORKINGMEn's PABTT. 

on this occasion and in these limits, to attempt it. But 
let any man compare his own nature with that of a plant, 
of a brute beast, of an idiot, of a savage ; and then con- 
sider, that it is in mind, alone, and the degree to which 
he improves it, that he differs, essentially, from any of 
them. 

And let no one think he wants opportunity, encour- 
agement, or means. I would not undervalue these, any 
or all of them ; but, compared with what the man does 
for himself, they are of little account. Industry, tem*^ 
perance, and perseverance, are worth more than all the 
patrons that ever lived in all the Augustan ages. It is 
these, that create patronage and opportunity. The 
cases of our Franklin and Fulton are too familiar, to bear 
repetition. Consider that of Sir Humphrey Davy, who 
died in 1829, and who was, in scHne ^departments of 
science, the first philosopher of the age.* He was bom 
at Penzance, in Cornwall, one of the darkest corners 
of England ; his father was a carver of wooden images 
for signs, and figure-heads, and chimney-pieces. He 
himself was apprenticed to an apothecary, and made his 
first experiments in chemistry with his master's phials 
and gallipots, aided by an old syringe, which had been 
given him by the surgeon of a French vessel, wrecked on 
the Land's End. From the shop of the apothecary, he 
was transferred to the office of a surgeon ; and never 
appears to have had any other education, than that of a 
Cornish school, in his boyhood. Such was the begin- 
ning of the career of the man, who, at the age of twen* 
ty-two, was selected, by our own countryman. Count 
Rumford, (himself a self-taught benefactor of mankind,) 
to fill the chair of chemistry at the Royal Institution, in 
London ; such was the origin and education of the man, 
who discovered the metallic basis of the alkalies and the . 
earths ; invented the safety-lamp ; and placed himself, 
in a few years, in the chair of the Royal Society of 

♦ The sketch of Sir Humphrey Davy, which follows, to the end of 
the lecture, is abridged from the article in the Annual Biography for 

issa. 



THE WORKINGMEN^S PARTY. 137 

London, and at the head of the chemists of Europe. 
Sir Humphrey Davy's most brilliant discoveries were 
effected by his skilful application of the galvanic elec- 
tricity, a principle, whose existence had been detected, 
a few ye£u*s before, by an Italian philosopher, from no- 
ticing the contractions of a frog's limb ; a fact, which 
shows how near us, in every direction, the most curious 
facts lie scattered by Nature. With an apparatus con- 
trived by himself, to collect and condense this powerful 
agent, Sir Humphrey succeeded in decomposing the 
earths and the alkalies ; and in extracting from common 
potash, the metal (before unknown) which forms its 
base ; possessing, at seventy degrees of the thermome- 
ter, the lustre and general appearance of mercury ; at 
fifty degrees, the appearance of polished silver, and the 
softness of wax ; so light, that it swims in water 5 and 
so inflammable, that it takes fire, when thrown on ice. 

These are, perhaps, but brilUant novelties ; though 
connected, no doubt, in the great chain of cause and 
effect, with principles of art and science, conducive to 
the service of man. But the invention of the safety- 
lamp, which enables the miner to walk, with safety, 
through an atmosphere of explosive gas, and has already 
preserved the lives of hundreds of human beings, is a 
title to glory and the gratitude of his fellow men, which 
the most renowned destroyer of his race might envy. 

The counsels of such a man, in his retirement and 
seasons of meditation, are worth listening to. I am sure 
you will think I bring this lecture to the best conclusion, 
by repeating a sentence from one of his moral works : — 

" I envy," says he, " no quality of the mind or intellect, 
in others ; not genius, power, wit, nor fancy ; but, if I 
could choose what would be most delightful, and, I be- 
lieve, most useful to me, I should prefer a firm relig- 
ious BELIEF to every other blessing." 
12* 



138 ABTAMTAGE OF USEFI7L KNOWLEDGE. 



ADVANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE TO 
WORKINGMEN.* 

Notwithstanding the numerous institutions for pro- 
moting useful knowledge, in our community, it was still 
found, that many were excluded from the benefit of 
them. The number of persons, that can be accommo- 
dated in any one hall, is, of course, limited ; and it has 
been thought desirable to make the attempt to provide 
an additional course of lectures, on the various branch- 
es of useful knowledge, for the benefit of those, who 
have not had it in their power, for this or any other 
reason, to obtain access to the other institutions, which 
have set so praiseworthy an example, in this work of 
public utility. We are assembled, this evening, to 
make the beginning of this new course of popular in- 
struction. 

The plan of this course of lectures was suggested at 
so late a period, this year, that it may not, perhaps, be 
possible, the present season, to carry it fully into effect, 
in such a manner as is wished and designed, in ref- 
erence to the choice and variety of subjects. It is in- 
tended, eventually, that it should extend to the various 
branches of natural science. It will impart useful in- 
formation, relative to the Earth, the Air, and the Ocean ; 
the wonders of the heavens ; and the mineral treasures 
beneath the surface of the globe. It may extend to the 
different branches of natural history, and acquaint you 
with the boundless variety of the animated creation. 
The various properties of bodies will form a prominent 
subject of consideration, as the basis of so many of the 
arts and trades, and the sources from which so many 
of the wants of man are supplied. In like manner, the 
various natural powers, the agency of fire, water, steam, 

* An Address delivered as the introduction to the Franklin Lectures, 
in Boston, November 14, 1831. 



TO WORKIKOlfEN. 139 

and weight, which, in* their various combinations, pro- 
duce the wonders of improved machinery, by v^hich in- 
dustry is facilitated, and the most important fabrics are 
furnished, cheaply and abundantly, will not be overlook- 
ed. It may be supposed, that a due share of attention 
will be paid to the geographical survey of the globe, to 
the history of our own race, the fortunes of the several 
nations, into which mankind have been divided, and 
the characters of great and good men, who, long after 
they have departed from hfe, survive in the gratitude 
and admiration of their fellow-men. A general and 
intelligible view of the constitution and laws of the 
country, in which we have the happiness to live, tend- 
ing, as it will, to enlighten us in the discharge of our 
duties, as citizens, will no doubt be presented to you, 
by some, who will take a part in these lectures. Nor 
will they, I venture to hope, be brought to a close, with- 
out having occasionally directed your thoughts to those 
views of our nature, which belong to man, as a rational 
and immortal being, and to those duties and relations 
which appertain to us, as accountable agents. 

The general plan of these lectures extends to these 
and all other branches of sound and useful knowledge ; 
to be treated in such order, as circumstances may sug- 
gest ; and with such variety and selection of subjects, 
and fulness of detail, as the convenience of the lec- 
turers and the advantage of the audience may dictate. 
They have been called the Franklin Lectures, in honor 
of our distinguished townsman, the immortal Franklin,* 
the son of a tallow-chandler, and the apprentice to a 
printer, in this town ; a man, who passed all his early 
years, and a very considerable portion of his life, in 
manual industry; and who was chiefly distinguished 
by his zealous and successful efforts for the promotion 
of useful knowledge. His name has given lustre to the 
highest walks of science, and adorns one of the proud- 
est pages of the history of our Country and the world, 

* For a life of Franklin, see one of the yolumes of ' The School 

LXBBAKT.' 



140 ADVANTAGE OP USEPtTL KNOWLEDGE 

But we have thought it was still more a name of hope 
and promise, for an institution like this, which aims to 
promote useful knowledge (the great study of his life) 
among that class of our fellow-citizens, from which it 
was ever his pride himself to have sprung. 

It would seem, at the commencement of a course of 
public instruction of this kind, a pertinent inquiry. Why 
should we endeavor to cultivate and inform our minds, 
by the pursuit of knowledge ? 

This question, to which the good sense of every 
mdividual furnishes, without meditation, Sbme general 
reply, demands a full and careful answer. I shall en- 
deavor, in this address, to state some of the reasons, 
which go to furnish such an answer. 

All men should seek to cultivate and inform their 
minds, by the pursuit of useful knowledge, as the great 
means of happiness and usefulness. 

All other things being equal, the pursuit and attain- 
ment of knowledge are, at the time, the surest source 
of happiness. I do not mean, that knowledge will make 
up for the want of the necessaries and comforts of life : 
it will not reUeve pain, heal sickness, nor bring back 
lost friends. But if knowledge will not do this, igno- 
rance will do it still less. And it may even be affirmed, 
and all, who have made the experiment, themselves, 
will testify to the truth of the remark, that nothing 
tends more to soothe the wounded feelings, to steal 
away the mind from its troubles, and to fill up the wea- 
riness of a sick chamber and a sick bed, than, for in- 
stance, some intelligible, entertaining, good book, read 
or Hstened to. 

But knowledge is still more important, as the means 
of being useful ; and the best part of the happiness, 
which it procures us, is of that purer and higher kind, 
which flows from the consciousness that, in some way 
or other, by example or positive service, we have done 
good to our fellow-men. One of the greatest modem 
philosophers said that knowledge is power ; but it is 
power, because it is usefulness. It gives men influence 



TO WORKINGIIEN. 141 

over their fellow-men, because it enables its possessors 
to instruct, to counsel, to direct, to please, and to serve, 
their fellow-men. Nothing of this can be done, with- 
out the cultivation and improvement of the mind. 

It is the mind, which enables us to be useful, even 
with our bodily powers. What is strength, without 
knowledge to apply it ? What are the curiously-organ- 
ized hands, without skill to direct their motion ? The 
idiot has all the bodily organs and senses of the most 
intelligent and useftil citizen. 

It is throi^h mind, that man has obtained the mas- 
tery of Nature and all its elements, and subjected the 
inferior races of animals to himself. Take an unin- 
formed savage, a brutalized Hottentot ; in short, any 
human being, in whom the divine spark of reason has 
never been kindled to a flame ; and place him on the 
seashore, in a furious storm, when the waves are roll- 
ing in, as if the fountains of the deep were broken up. 
Did you not know, from certain experience, that man, 
by the cultivation of his mind, and the application 
of the useful arts, had actually constructed vessels, in 
which he floats securely, on the top of these angry 
waves, you would not think it possible, that a being, 
like that we have mentioned, could for one moment 
resist their fury. It is related of some of the North- 
American Indians, a race of men who are trained, from 
their infancy, to the total suppression of their emotions 
of every kind, and who endure the most excruciating 
torments, at the stake, without signs of suffering, that, 
when they witnessed, for the first time, on the western 
waters of the United States, the spectacle of a steam- 
boat underway, moving along, without sails or oars, and 
spouting fire and smoke, even they could not refrain 
from exclamations of wonder. Hold out a handful of 
wheat or Indian corn to a person wholly uninformed 
of their nature, and ignorant of the mode of cultivating 
them, and tell him, that, by scattering these dry kernels 
abroad, and burying them in the cold, damp earth, you 
can cause a harvest to spring up, sufficient for a Win« 



143 ABVANTAOE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

ter's supply of food, and he will think you are mocking 
him, by vain and extravagant tales. But it is not the 
less true, that, in these instances as in all others, it 
is the mind of man, possessed of the necessary knowl- 
edge and skill, that brings into useful operation, for the 
supply of human want, and the support and comfort of 
human life, the properties and treasures of the natural 
world, the aid of inferior animals, and even our own 
physical powers. 

When, therefore, we improve our minds, by the ac- 
quisition of useful knowledge, we appropriate to our- 
selves, and extend to others to whom we may impart 
our knowledge, a share of this natural control over all 
other things, which Providence has granted to his ra- 
tional children. 

It cannot, it is true, be expected to fall to the lot of 
many individuals, by extending their knowledge of the 
properties and laws of the natural world, to strike out 
new discoveries and inventions, of the highest impor- 
tance. It is as much as most men can hope, and prom- 
ise themselves, to be enabled to share the comfort and 
benefit of the unnumbered improvements, which, from 
the beginning of time, have been made by others ; and 
which, taken together, make up the civilization of man. 
Still, there are examples, in almost every age, of men, 
who, by the happy effects of their individual pursuit 
of useful knowledge, have conferred great benefits upon 
all mankind. I presume, that, in consequence of three 
inventions, — that of the machinery for spinning cotton, 
that of the power-loom, and that of the mode of separa- 
ting the seed of the cotton plant from the fibrous por- 
tion to which it adheres, — the expense of necessary 
clothing is diminished, two thirds, for every man in 
Europe and America.* In other words, the useful 
knowledge, imparted to the world by the authors of 
these inventions, has enabled every man, woman, and 
child, in the civilized world, as far as clothing is con- 

* See notet oo pagei 77, 89, 144. 



TO WORKINOMEN* 143 

cemed, to live at one third of the former cost. We 
are struck with astonishment, when we behold these 
curious machines; when we look, for instance, at a 
watch, and see a few brass wheels, put in motion by a 
small piece of elastic steel, counting out the hours and 
minutes, by night and by day, and even enabling the 
navigator to tell how many miles he has sailed, upon 
the waste ocean, where there are no marks or monu- 
ments, by which he can measure his progress. But 
how much more wonderful is the mind of man, which, 
in the silence of the closet, turned in upon itself, and 
deeply meditating upon the properties and laws of mat- 
ter, has contrived this wonderful machine ! 

The invention of the power-loom, by Mr. Cartwright, 
beautifully illustrates the strength tod reach of the in- 
tellectual principle, resolutely applied to a given object. 
In consequence of Arkwright's machinery for spin- 
ning, it was soon found, that there would be a difficul- 
ty in weaving all the yarn that could be spun. It was 
remarked, in a company where Mr. Cartwright was 
present, in 1784, that, in order to remedy this evil, 
Mr. Arkwright must exercise his ingenuity, and invent 
a weaving mill, in order to work up the yarn which 
should be spun in his spinning mUls. The subject was 
discussed; and it was pronounced by the gentlemen 
present, who were manufacturers from Manchester, in 
England, to be impossible. Mr. Cartwright thought 
otherwise : he said, there had been lately exhibited, in 
London, a machine for playing chess ; and he felt quite 
sure, that it could not be more difficult to construct a 
machine to weave cloth, than a machine which could 
go through all the movements of such a complicated 
game. Mr. Cartwright was a clergyman, forty years 
old, and had never given his attention to the subject of 
machinery. This subject, however, was so strongly on 
his mind, that, sometime afterwards, he resolved to 
make the attempt, to invent a weaving machine. He 
had not, at that time, it appears, ever seen even a 
common loom. But, reasoning upon the nature of the 



144 ADVANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

processes, necessary to be gone through, to cross the 
threads in such a way as to make a piece of cloth, he 
hit upon the plan of a loom, and, with the assistance 
of a carpenter and blacksmith, he made one. It was 
a very rude machine. " The warp," says Mr. Cart- 
wright, " was laid perpendicularly ; the reed fell with a 
force of at least half a hundred weight, and the springs, 
which threw the shuttle, were strong enough to throw 
a Congreve rocket." Besides this, it required the 
strength of two powerful men to work it, and that at a 
slow rate, and for a short time. But the principle was 
there. Mr. Cartwright now went and examined the 
looms of common form, and soon succeeded in con- 
structing one, very nearly resembhng the power-looms 
which are now in use. In the account of this interest- 
ing invention, which I am quoting,* it is said, that 
" Dr. Cartwright's children still remember often seeing 
their father, about this time, walking to and fro, appa- 
rently in deep meditation, and occasionally throwing 
his arms from side to side ; on which they used to be 
told, that he was thinking of weaving and throwing the 
shuttle." Some tune after he had brought his first 
loom to perfection, a manufacturer, who had called up- 
on him to see it at work, after expressing his admira- 
tion at the ingenuity displayed in it, remarked, that, 
wonderful as Mr. Cartwright's mechanical skill was, 
there was one thing that would effectually baffle him, 
and that was, the weaving of patterns in checks, or, in 
other words, the combining, in the same web, of a pat- 
tern or fancy figure with the crossing colors that make 
the check. Mr. Cartwright made no reply to this ob- 
servation, at the time ; but, some weeks after, on re- 
ceiving a second visit, from the same person, he had 
the pleasure of showing him a piece of muslin, of the 
description mentioned, beautifully woven by machinery. 
The man was so much astonished, that he declared, 

♦ « Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' Vol. II., page 286, 
in the larger series of * The School Libbabt.' 



TO WORKINOMEN. 145 

that something more than human agency must have 
been concerned in the fabric* 

The wonderful residts of the sagacity and perseve- 
rance of Fulton, in carrying into effect the conceptions of 
his mind, on the subject of steam navigation, still more 
nobly illustrate the creative power of the human intel- 
lect ; but it is a matter too famiUar, to need comment. 

It must not, however, be supposed, from the instances 
I have chosen to show the amount of good which may 
be done, by the exercise of the mental powers, that it is 
confined to the material comforts of life ; to steam-boats, 
looms, or machinery for spinning. Far from it. The 
true and most pecuhar province of its efficacy is, the 
moral condition. Think of the inestimable good, con- 
ferred on all succeeding generations, by the early set- 
tlers of America, who j&rst established the system of 
public schools, where instruction should be fiimished, 
gratis, to all the children in the community. No such 
thing was before known, in the world. There were 
schools and colleges, supported by funds, which had 
been bequeathed by charitable individuals ; and, in con- 
sequence, most of the common schools of this kind, in 
Europe, were regarded as estabUshments for the poor. 
So deep-rooted is this idea, that, when I have been ap 
plied to, for information, as to our public schools, fixMn 
those parts of the United States where no such system 
exists, I have frequently found it hard to obtain credit, 
when I have declared, that there was nothing disrepu- 
table, in the public opinion here, in sending children to 
schools supported at the public charge. The idea of free 
schools for the whole people, when it first crossed the 
minds of our forefathers, was entirely original ; but how 
much of the prosperity and happiness of their children 
and posterity has flowed from this living spring of pub- 
lic intelligence! The same may be said of Sunday 

* The power-loom was applied to the weaving of cotton, in the Uni- 
ted States, in 1813, by Messrs. F. C. Lowell and Patrick T. Jackson, 
aided by Mr, Paul Moody, without an acquaintance with ehe machin- 
ery applied to this purpose, in England, except by ger ^ral description. 
13 £• E. 



146 



ADVANTAGE OF USETUL KNOWLEDGE 



schools, which have proved a blessing of inestimable 
value, in Europe and An^erica, and particularly to thou- 
sands who are deprived of the advantages of other in- 
stitutions. It is probable, that instruction is now giv- 
en, in the Sunday schools, to more than a million and a 
half of pupils, by more than one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand teachers. This plan was the happy suggestion 
of an humble individual, — a printer, — ^who contempla- 
ted, at first, nothing but the education of the destitute 
«*and friendless children in his immediate neighborhood. 
After laboring in this noble field of usefulness for twenty 
jeax9y and among the class of population most exposed 
to the temptations to crime, he had the satisfaction of 
being able to say, that, out of three thousand schol- 
ars, he had heard of but one, who had been sent to 
jail, as a criminal.* Who would not be ashamed to 
compare the pure and happy renown of the man, that 
had extended, by the su^estion of this simple but be- 
fore untried plan of education, the blessings of instruc- 

* See a very interesting address, at the celebration of the Sunday- 
school jubilee, or the fiftieth year from the institution of Sunday 
schools, by Robert Raikes : delivered at Charleston, South Carolina, 
September 14, 1831, by Thomas Smith Grimke. I find, however, the 
following statement, in a public print, of the accuracy of which I 
have no means of judging : 

* ' The credit of originatbg these institutions has usually been given 
to Mr. Raikes, a newspaper proprietor, of Gloucester, who died some 
years ago. It now appears, however, from statements and documents 
of unquestionable authenticity, that the plan of the first school of this 
description, which was established in Gloucester, in 1780, originated 
with the Rev. Thomas Stock, head master of the cathedral school of 
that city. Mr. Stock, who was in narrow circumstances, communica- 
ted the details of his plan to Mr. Raikes, when the latter assisted him 
with his purse ; and, having taken a very active and zealous part, in 
promoting the establishment of Sunday schools, he ultimately obtained 
all the merit of being their founder. Mr. Raikes, who is undoubtedly 
entitled to much credit for his benevolent exertions in the cause of 
education, lived to see two hundred and fifty thousand children enrolled 
in these schools. The number now enjoying the benefit of instruction 
on the Sabbath, in England, is one million two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand. At Bu-mingham, the system has been carried to a much greater 
extent, than in any other town in England, nearly thirteen thousand 
Sunday-school pupils having been mustered there, on the occasion of 
•lie late jubilee.** 



TO W0RKIN6MEN. 147 

tion to a million and a half of his fellow-creatures, with 
the &lse and unmerited glory, which has been awarded 
to conquerors, whose wars have hurried their millions 
of victims to cruel and untimely death ! 

This topic might be illustrated, perhaps, still more 
powerfully, by depicting the evils which flow from ig- 
norance. These are deplorable enough, in the case of 
the individual ; although, if he live surrounded by an 
intelligent community, the disastrous consequences are . 
limited. But the general ignorance of large numbers, 
and entire classes of men, acting under the unchnstened 
stimulus of the passions, and excited by the various 
causes of discontent, which occur in the progress of 
human affairs, is often productive of scenes, which make 
humanity shudder. I know not, that I could produce 
a more pertinent illustration of this truth, than may be 
found in the following extract from a foreign journal. 
It relates to the outrages, committed by the peasantry, 
in a part of Hungary, in consequence of the ravages of 
thie cholera, in that region. 

" The suspicion, that the cholera was caused by poi- 
soning the wells, was universal among the peasantry of 
the counties of Zips and ZempUn, and every one was 
fully convinced of its truth. The first commotion arose 
in Klucknow, where, it is said, some peasants died, in 
consequence of tddng the preservatives ; whether by an 
immoderate use of medicine, or whether they thought 
they were to take chloride of lime internally, is not 
known. This story, with a sudden and violent break- 
ing out of cholera, at Klucknow, led the peasants to a 
notion of the poisoning of the wells, which spread like 
ightning. In the sequel, upon the attack of the estate 
of Count Czaki, a servant of the chief bailiff was on the 
point of being murdered, when, to save his Ufe, he of- 
fered to disclose something important. He said, that 
he received from his master two pounds of poisonous 
powder, with orders to throw it into the wells, and, with 
an axe over his head, took oath publicly, in the church, 
to the truth of his statement. These circumstances, and 



148 ADVANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

the fact, that the peasants, when they forcibly entered 
the houses of the land-owners, every where found chlo^ 
ride of lime, which they took for the poisonous powder, 
confirmed their suspicions, and drove the people to 
madness. In this state of excitement, they committed 
the most appalling excesses. Thus, for instance, when 
a detachment of thirty soldiers, headed by an ensign, 
attempted to restore order in Klucknow, the peasants, 
who were ten times their number, fell upon them ; the 
soldiers were released, but the ensign was bound, tor- 
tured with scissors and knives, then beheaded, and his 
head fixed on a pike, as a trophy. A civil officer, in 
company with the military, was drowned, his carriage 
broken, and chloride of lime being found in the car- 
riage, one of the inmates was compelled to eat it, till 
he vomited blood, which again confirmed the notion 
of poison. On the attack of the house of the Lord, at 
Klucknow, the Countess saved her life by piteous en- 
treaties ; but the chief bailifi*, in whose house chloride 
of lime was unhappily found, was killed, together with 
his son, a littie daughter, a clerk, a maid, and two 
students, who boarded with him. So the bands went 
from village to village ; wherever a nobleman or a phy- 
sician was found, death was his lot ; and, in a short 
time, it was known, that the high constable of the 
county of Zemplin, several counts, nobles, and parish 
priests, had been murdered. A clergyman was hanged, 
because he refused to take an oath that he had thrown 
poison into the well ; the eyes of a countess were put 
out, and innocent children cut to pieces. Count Czaki, 
having first ascertained that his family was safe, fled 
:from his estate, at the risk of his life, but was stopped 
at Kirchtrauf, pelted with stones, and wounded all over, 
torn fi'om his horse, and only saved by a worthy mer- 
chant, who fell on him, cr)dng, * Now I have got the 
rascal.' He drew the Count into a neighboring con- 
vent, where his wounds were dressed, and a refuge af- 
forded him. His secretary was struck from his horse 
with an axe, but saved, in a similar manner, and in the 



TO WORKINGMEN. 149 

evening ccmveyed with his master to Leutschau. But 
enough of these horrible scenes." 

It is by no means my purpose, on this occanon, to 
attempt even a sketch of what the judicious exercise 
of the intelligent principle has enaUed men to do, for 
the improvement of their fellow-men. Enough, I ven- 
ture to hope, has been said, to put all, who favcnr me 
with their attention, upon the reflection, that it is only 
by its improvement, that it is possible for a man to ren- 
der himself useful to man ; and, consequently, that it is 
in this way, alone, that he can taste the highest and 
purest pleasure which our natures can enjoy, that which 
proceeds frcxn the consciousness of having been useful 
to others. 

But it is ^me, that I should make a few remarks, on 
another subject, which would seem appropriately to be- 
long to this occasion. 

An idea, I fear, prevails, that truths, such as I have 
now attempted to illustrate, are obvious enough, in 
themselves, but that they apply only to men of literary 
education, to professional characters, and persons of 
fortune and leisure ; and that it is out of the power of 
the other classes of society, and those who pass most 
of their time in manual labor and mechaniqal industry, 
to engage in the pursuit of knowledge, with any hope 
of being useful to themselves and others. 

This, I believe to be a great error. I trust we may 
regard the meeting of this numerous audience, as a sat- 
isfactory proof that you consider it an error ; and that 
you are persuaded that it is in your power, to enjoy 
the pleasures and the benefits which flow from the pur- 
suit of useful knowledge. 

What is it, that we wish to improve ? The mind. 
Is this a thing monopolized by any class of society ? 
God forbid : it is the heritage with which he has en- 
dowed all the children of the great family of man. Is 
it a treasure belonging to the wealthy? It is talent 
bestowed, alike, on rich and poor ; high and low. But 
this is not all ; mind is, in all men, and in every man 
13* 



150 ADVANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

the same active, living, and creative, principle ; it is the 
man himself. One of the renowned philosophers of 
heathen antiquity beautifully said, of the intellectual 
faculties, I csdl them not miney but me. It is these, 
which make the man ; which are the man. I do not 
say, that opportunities, that wealth, leisure, and great 
advantages for education, are nothing ; but I do say, 
they are much less, than is commonly supposed ; I do 
say, as a general rule, that the amount of useful knowl- 
edge which men acquire, and the good they do with it, 
are, by no means, in direct proportion to the degrees to 
which they have enjoyed what are commonly caUed the 
great advantages of life. Wisdom does sometimes, but 
not most commonly, feed her children with a silver 
spoon. I believe it is perfectly correct, to say that a 
small proportion, only, of those who have been most 
distinguished for the improvement of their minds, have 
enjoyed the best advantages for education. I do not 
mean to detract, in the least, from the advantages 
of the various seminaries for learning, which public 
and private liberality has founded, in our Country. 
They serve as places, where a large number of persons 
are prepared for their employment, in the various occu- 
pations which the pubUc service requires. But, I re- 
peat it, of the great benefactors of our race ; the men, 
who, by wonderful inventions, remarkable discoveries, 
and extraordinary improvements, have conferred the 
most eminent service on their fellow-men, and gained 
the highest names in history ; by far the greater part 
have been men of humble origin, narrow fortunes, small 
advantages, and jself-taught. 

And this springs from the nature of the mind of man, 
which is not, like a vessel, to be filled up from without ; 
into which, you may pour a little, or pour much ; and 
then measure, as with a gauge, the degrees of knowl- 
edge imparted. The knowledge, that can be so im- 
parted, is the least valuable kind of knowledge ; and the 
man, who has nothing but this, may be very learned, 
but cannot be very wise. We do not invite you to 



TO WORKINGMEN. 151 

these lectures, as if their object would be attained, when 
you have heard the weekly address. It is to kindle the 
understanding to the consciousness of its own powers ; 
to make it feel within itself, that it is a living, spiritual 
thing ; to feed it, in order that it may itself begin to act 
and operate, to compare, contrive, invent, improve, and 
perfect. This is our object ; — an object, as much with- 
in the reach of every man who hears me, as if he had 
taken a degree in the best college in Christendom. 

In this great respect, tho most important that touch- 
es human condition, we are all equsJ. It is not more 
true, that all men possess the same natural senses and 
organs, than that their minds are endowed with the 
same capacities for improvement, though not, perhaps, 
all in the same degree. The condition in which they 
are placed is certainly not a matter of entire indiffer- 
ence. The child of a savage, born in the bosom of a 
barbarous tribe, is, of course, shut out from all chance 
of sharing the improvements of civilized conununities. 
So, in a conmiunity, like our own, an infant, condenmed 
by adverse circumstances to a life of common street 
beggary, must be considered as wholly out of the reach 
of sAl improving influences. But Shakspeare, whose 
productions have been the wonder and delight of all 
who speak the English language, for two hundred years, 
was a runaway youth, the son of a woolcomber, who 
obtained his living in London, by holding horses at the 
door of the theatre, for those who went to the play ; 
and Sir Richard Arkwright,* who invented the machin- 
ery for spinning cotton, of which I have already spoken, 
was the youngest of thirteen children of a poor peas- 
ant, and, till he was thirty years of age, followed the 
business of a travelling barber. 

As men bring into the world with them an equal in- 
tellectual endowment ; that is, minds equally suspepti- 
ble of improvement ; so, in a community, like that in 
which we have the happiness to Kve, the means of im- 

* 8ee not« on page 77. 



102 ABYAMTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

provenient are much more equally enjoyed, than might, 
at first, be supposed. Whoever has learned to read, 
possesses the keys of knowledge ; and can, whenever 
he pleases, not only unlock the portals of her temple, 
but penetrate to the inmost halls and most secret cabi- 
nets. A few dollars, the surplus of the earnings of the 
humblest industry, are sufficient to purchase the use of 
books, which contain the elements of the whole circle 
of useful knowledge. 

It may be thought that a considerable portion of the 
community want time to attend to the cultivation of 
their minds. But it is only necessary to make the ex*' 
periment, to find two things ; one, how much useful 
knowledge can be acquired in a very little time ; and 
the other, how much time can be spared, by good man- 
agement, out of the busiest day. Generally speaking, 
our duties leave us time enough, if our passions .would 
but spare us ; our labors are much less urgent, in their 
calls upon us, than our indolence and our pleasures. 
There are very few pursuits in life, whose duties are so 
incessant, that they do not leave a little time, every day, 
to a man whose temperate and regular habits allow him 
the comfort of a clear head and a cheerful temper, in 
the intervals of occupation ; and then there is one day 
in seven, which is redeemed to us, by our blessed reli- 
^on, from the calls of life, and affords us all time 
enough, for the improvement of our rational and im- 
mortal natures. 

It is a prevalent mistake, to suppose that any class 
of men have much time to spend, or do spend much 
time, in mere contemplation and study. A small num- 
ber of literary men may do this ; but the great majority 
of professional men, — ^lawyers, doctors, and ministers, 
men in public station, rich capitalists, merchants, — men, 
in short, who are supposed to possess eminent advan- 
tages, and ample leisure to cultivate their minds, are 
very much occupied with the duties of life, and con- 
stantly and actively employed in pursuits, very uncon- 
genial to the cultivation of the mind and the attainment 



TO WORKINGMEN. 153 

oi useful knowledge. Take the case of an eminent 
lawyer, in full practice. He passes his days in his oi- 
fice, giving' advice to clients, often about the most un 
interesting and paltry details of private business, or in 
arguing over the same kind of business, in court ; and, 
when it comes night, and he gets home, tired and har 
assed, instead of sitting down to rest or to read, he has 
to study out another perplexed cause, for the next day ; 
or go before referees ; or attend a political meeting, and 
make a speech ; while every moment, which can be re- 
garded, in any degree, as leisure time, is consumed by 
a burdensome correspondence. Besides this, he has 
his family to take care of. It is plain, that he has no 
more leisure for the free and improving cultivation of 
his mind, independent of his immediate profession, than 
if he had been employed, the same number of hours, in 
mechanical or manual labor. One of the most common 
complaints of professional men, in all the professions, 
is, that they have no time to read ; and I have no doubt 
there are many such, of very respectable standing, who 
do not, in any branch of knowledge, not connected 
with their immediate professions, read the amount of 
an octavo volume in the course of a season. 

There is, also, a time of leisure, which Providence, 
in this climate, has secured to almost every man, who 
has any thing which can be called a home ; I mean, 
our long Winter evenings. This season seems provid- 
ed, as if expressly, for the purpose of furnishing those 
who labor, with ample opportunity for the improvement 
of their minds. The severity of the weather, and the 
shortness of the days, necessarily limit the portion of 
time which is devoted to industry, out of doors ; and 
there is little to tempt us abroad, in search of amusement. 
Every thing seems to invite us to -employ an hour or 
two, of this calm and quiet season, in the acquisition 
of useful knowledge and the cultivation of the mind. 
The noise of Ufe is hushed ; the pavement ceases to 
resound with the din of laden wheels, and the tread of 
busy men; the glaring sun has gone down, and the 



154 ADVANTAGfi OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

moon and the stars are left to watch, in the heavens, 
over the slumbers of the peaceful creation. The mind 
of man should keep its vigils with them; and, while 
his body is reposing from the labors of the day, and his 
feelings are at rest from its excitements, he should seek, 
in some amusing and instructive page, a substantial 
food for the generous appetite for knowledge. 

If we needed any encouragement, to make these ef- 
forts to improve our minds, we might find it, in every 
page of our Country's history. Nowhere do we meet 
with examples, more numerous and more brilliant, of 
men who have risen above poverty, and obscurity, and 
every disadvantage, to usefulness and an honorable 
name. Our whole vast continent was added to the 
geography of the world, by the persevering eflTorts of 
an humble mariner, the great Columbus, who> by the 
steady pursuit of the enlightened conception which he 
had formed, of the figure of the earth, before any navi- 
gator had acted upon the belief that it was round, dis- 
covered the American continent. He was the son of a 
Genoese pilot; a pilot and seaman, himself; and, at 
one period of his melancholy career, was reduced to 
beg his bread, at. the doors of the convents, in Spain. 
But he carried within himself, and beneath an humble 
exterior, a spirit, for which there was not room in Spain, 
in Europe, nor in the then known world ; and which 
led him on to a height of usefulness and fame, beyond 
that of all the monarchs that ever reigned. 

The story of our Franklin cannot be repeated too 
often ; — ^the poor Boston boy ; the son of an humble 
tradesman ; brought up a mechanic, himself; a stranger 
at colleges, till they showered their degrees upon him ; 
who rendered his Country the most important services, 
in establishing her Independence ; enlarged the bounds 
of philosophy, by a new department of science ; and 
lived to be pronounced, by Lord Chatham, in the Brit- 
ish House of Peers, an honor to Europe and the age 
in which he lived. 

Why should I speak of Greene, who left his black- 



TO WORKINGMEN. 155 

smith's furnace, to command an anny in the Revolu- 
tionary War; the chosen friend of Washington, and, 
next to him, perhaps, the military leader, who stood 
highest in the confidence of his Country ? 

West, the famous painter, was the son of a Quaker, 
in Pennsylvania ; he was too poor, at the beginning of 
his. career, to purchase canvass and colors ; and he rose, 
eventually, to be the first artist in Europe, and President 
of the Royal Academy, at London. Count Rumford 
was the son of a farmer, at Wobum : he never had the 
advantage of a college education, but used to walk down 
to Cambridge, to hear the lectures on natural philoso- 
phy. He became one of the most eminent philosophers 
in Europe ; founded the Royal Institution, in London, 
and had the merit of bringing forward Sir Humphrey 
Davy, as the lecturer on chemistry, in that establish- 
ment. Robert Fulton was a portrait painter, in Penn- 
sylvania, without friends or fortune. By his successful 
labors, in perfecting steam-navigation, he has made 
himself one of the greatest benefactors of man. Whit- 
ney, the son of a Massachusetts farmer, was a machin- 
ist. His cotton-gin, according to Jud^ Johnson, of 
the Supreme Court of the United States, has trebled 
the value of all the cotton lands at the South, and has 
had an incalculable influence on the agricultural and 
mechanical industry of the world. Whittemore. of 
West Cambridge, the person who invented the machm- 
ery for the manufacture of cards, possessed no other 
means of improvement, than those which are within 
the reach of every temperate and industrious man. 
Several, in this audience, were probably acquainted 
with the modest and sterling merit of the late Paul 
Moody. To the efforts of his self-taught mind, the 
early prosperity of the great manufacturing estabUsh- 
ments, at Waltham and Lowell, is, in no small degree, 
owing. I believe I may say, with truth, that not one 
of these individuals enjoyed, at the outset, opportuni- 
ties for acquiring useful knowledge, superior to those 
in the reach of every one who hears me. 



156 ADVANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

, These are aU departed ; but we have, living am<Mig 
us, illustricHis instances of men, who, without early ad- 
vantages, but by the resolute improvement of the few 
^opportunities thrown in their way, have rendered them- 
selves, in like manner, useful to their fellow-men ; the 
objects of admiration, to those who witness their attain- 
ments, and of gratitude, to those who reap the fruit of 
their labors. 

On a late visit to New Haven, I saw exhibited a most 
beautiful work of art ; two figures, iji marble, represent- 
ing the affecting scene of the meeting of Jephthah and 
his daughter, as described in the Bible. The daughter, 
a lovely young woman, is represented as going forth, 
with the timbrel in her hand, to meet her father, as he 
returns in triumph, from the wars. Her father had 
rashly vowed to sacrifice to the Lord the first living 
thing which he should meet, on his return ; and, as his 
daughter runs forth to embrace him, he rends his gar- 
ments, and turns his head in agony, at the thought of 
his vow. The young maiden pauses, astonished and 
troubled at the strange reception. This pathetic scene 
is beautifully represented, in two marble figures, of 
most exquisite taste, finished in a style, which would do 
credit to a master in the art. They are the work of a 
self-taught artist, Mr. Augur, of New Haven, who began 
life, I have been informed, as a retailer of liquors. This 
business he was obliged to give up, under a heavy load 
of debt. He then turned his attention to carving in 
wood ; and, by his skill and thrift, in that pursuit, suc- 
ceeded in pajdng off the debts of his former establish- 
ment, to the amount of several thousand dollars. Thus 
honorably placed at liberty, he has since devoted him- 
self to the profession of a sculptor, and, without educa- 
tion, without funds, without instruction, he has risen, at 
once, to extraordinary proficiency in this difficult and 
beautiful art, and bids fair to enrol his name among the 
distinguished sculptors of the day.* 

I scarce know if I may venture to adduce an instance, 
* See New-England Magazine, Vol. L, page 418. 



TO WORKINGllXir. 157 

nearer hcnne, of the most praiseworthy and successful 
cultivation of useful knowledge, on the part of an indi- 
vidual, without education, busily employed in mechani- 
cal industry. I have the pleasure to be acquainted, in 
one of the neighboring towns, with a person, who was 
brought up to the trade of a leatherdresser, and has all 
his life worked, and still works, at this business.*^ He 
has devoted his leisure hours, and a portion of his hon- 
orable earnings, to the cultivation of useful and elegant 
learning. Under the same roof, which covers his store 
and workshop, he has the most excellent Ubrary of 
English books, f(»r its size, with which I am acquaint- 
ed. The books have been selected with a good judge- 
ment, which would do credit to the most accomplished 
scholar, and have been imported from England, by him- 
self. What is more important than having the books, 
their proprietor is well acquainted with their contents. 
Among them, are several volumes of the most costly and 
magnificent engravings. Connected with his library, is 
an exceedingly interesting series of paintings, in water- 
colors, which a fortunate accident placed in his posses- 
sion, and several valuable pictures, purchased by him- 
self. The whole forms a treasure of taste and knowl- 
edge, not surpassed, if equalled, by any thing of its kind 
in the Country. 

I should leave this part of my address, too unjustly 
defective, did I not add, that we possess, within our 
own city, an instance of merit, as eminent as it is unob- 
trusive, in the person of one, who has raised himself, 
from the humblest walks of life, to the highest scientific 
reputation. Little, perhaps, is it known to the inteUi 
gent mariner, who resorts to his Practical Navigator, 
for the calcuJatioiis with which he finds his longitude 
in mid-ocean, that many of them are the original work 
of one who started at the same low point in life with 
himself. Still less is it known to hun, that this was 
but the commencement of a series of scientific produc- 

* Mr. Thomas Dowse, of Cambridgeport. 

14 £• E* 



158 ADYANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

tions, which have placed their author upon an equality 
with the most distinguished philosophers of Europe, 
and inscribed the name of Bowditch with those of 
Newton and La Place, upon that list of great minds, 
to which scarcely one is added in a century.* 

But why should I dwell on particular instances.'' 
Our whole Country is a great and speaking illustration 
of what may be done by native force of mind, unedu- 
cated, without advantages, but starting up, under strong 
excitement, into new and successful action. The 
statesmen, who conducted the Revolution to its honor- 
able issue, were called, without experience, to the head 
of affairs. The generals, who commanded our armies, 
were most of them taken, Uke Cincinnatus, from the 
plough ; and the forces, which they led, were gath- 
ered from the firesides of an orderly and peaceful pop- 
ulation. They were arrayed against all the experience, 
talent, and resource, of the elder world ; and came off 
victorious. They have handed down to us a country, 
a constitution, and a national career, affording bound- 
less scope to every citizen, and calling every individual 
to do, for himself, what our fathers unitedly did for us 
all. What man can start in life, with so few advantages, 
as those with which our Country started, in the race of in- 
dependence ? Over whose private prospects, can there 
hang a cloud, as dark as that which brooded over the 
cause of America ? Who can have less to encourage, 
and more to appal and dishearten, him, than the sages 
and chieftains of the Revolution? Let us, then, en- 
deavor to follow in their steps ; and each, according to 
his means and ability, try to imitate their glorious ex- 
ample ; despising difficulties, grasping at opportunities, 
and steadily pursuing some honest and manly aim. 
We shall soon find that the obstacles, which oppose 
our progress, sink into the dust, before a firm and reso- 
lute step ; and that the pleasures and benefits of knowl- 
edge are within the reach of all who seek it. 

* Nathaniel Bowditch, LL. D., died in Boston, March 16, 1838, 
t^ fizty-five 



TO WORKINGMEN. 159 

There are a few considerations, which I b^ leave, 
more particularly, to address to the younger part of the 
audience, and which seem to call on them, peculiarly, 
with a loud voice, to exert themselves, according to 
their opportunities, to store their minds with useful 
knowledge. 

The world is advanced to a high pdbt of attainment 
in science and art. The progress of invention and 
improvement has been, especidly of late years, prodig- 
iously rapid ; and now, whether we regard the science 
of Nature or of art, of mind or of morals, of contem* 
plation or of practice, it must be confessed that we Uve 
in a wonderfully-improved period. 

Where is all this knowledge ? where does it dwell i 
In the minds of the present generation of men. It is, 
indeed, recorded in books, or embodied in the various 
works and structures of man. But these are only the 
manifestations of knowledge. The books are nothing, 
till they are read and understood ; and then, they are 
only a sort of shorthand, an outUne, which the mind 
fills up. The thing itself, the science, the art, the 
skill, are in the minds of Uving men, — of that genera- 
tion which is now upon the stage. 

That generation will die and pass away. This hout, 
which we have spent together, has been the last hour 
to many thousands throughout the world. About three 
thousand of our race have died, since I began my lec- 
ture. Among them, of course, is a fair proportion of 
all the learned and the wise, in all the nations. In 
thirty years, all, now in active life, will be gone, or re- 
tired from the scene, and a new generation vnll have 
succeeded. 

This mighty process does not take place, at once, 
either throughout the world, or in any part of it ; but it 
is constantly going on, — silently, effectually, inevitably ; 
and all the knowledge, art, and refinement, now in ex- 
istence, must be either acquired by those who are com- 
ing on the stage, or perish, with those who are going 
off, and be lost forever. There is no way, by which 



160 ADYANTAGE OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE 

knowledge can be handed down, bilt by being learned 
over again ; and of all the science, art, and skill, in the 
world, so much only will survive, when those who pos- 
sess it. are gone, as shall be acquired by the succeeding 
generation. 

The rising generation is now called upon to take up 
this mighty weight ; to carry it along, a little way ; and 
then hand it over, in turn, to their successors. 

The minds, which, in their maturity, are to be the 
depositories of all this knowledge, are coming into ex- 
istence, every day and every hour, in every rank and 
station of life ; all equally endowed with Acuities ; all, 
at the commencement, equally destitute of ideas ; all 
starting with the ignorance and helplessness of nature ; 
all invited to run the noble race of improvement. In 
the cradle, there is as littie distinction of persons, as in 
the grave. 

The great lesson, which I would teach you, is, — ^that 
it depends, mainly, on each individual, what part he 
will bear, in the accompUshment of this great work. It 
is to be done by somebody. In a quiet order of things, 
the stock of useful knowledge is not only preserved, 
but augmented ; and each generation improves on that 
which went before. It is true, there have been periods, 
in the history of the world, when tyranny at home, or 
invasion from abroad, has so blighted and blasted the 
condition of society, that knowledge has perished with 
one generation, faster than it could be learned by anoth- 
er ; and whole nations have sunk, from a con<£tion of 
improvement, to one of ignorance and barbarity, some- 
times in a very few years. But no such dreadful ca- 
tastrophe is now to be feared. Those who come after 
us, wUl not only equal, but surpass their predecessors. 
The existing arts will be improved, science will be" car- 
ried to new heights, and the great heritage of usefrd 
knowledge will go down unimpaired and augmented. 

But it is all to be shared aiU, anew ; and it is for 
each man to say, what part he will gain, in the glorious 
patrimony. 



TO WORKINGMEN. 161 

When the rich man is called frcnn the possession of 
his treasures, he divides them, as he will, among his 
children and heirs. But an equal Providence deals not 
so, with the living treasures of the mind. There are 
children, just growing up in the bosom of obscurity, in 
town and in country, who have inherited nothing but 
poverty and health, who will, in a few years, be striving 
m stem contention with the great intellects of the land. 
Our system of free schools has opened a straight way 
from the threshold of every abode, however humble, 
in the village, or in the city, to the high places of use- 
fulness, influence, and honor. And it is left for each, 
by the cultivation of every talent ; by watching, with 
an eagle's eye, for every chance of improvement ; by 
bounding forward, like a greyhound, at the most dis- 
tant glimpse of honorable opportunity ; by grappling, 
as with hooks of steel, to the prize, when it is won ; by 
redeeming time, defying temptation, and scorning sen- 
sual pleasure; to nmke himself useful, honored, and 
happy. 

14* 



162 EBUCATION IN THE WEST. 



EDUCATION IN THE WEST * 

The lucid exposition, which has been made of the 
object of the meeting, by the Right Reverend Bishop, 
(Mcllvaine,) lightens the task of recommending it to an 
audience like this. I do not know but I should act more 
advisedly, to leave his cogept and persuasive statement, 
to produce its natural effect, without any attempt, on my 
part, to enforce it. But, as we have assembled to com- 
municate our mutual impressions, on the subject; to 
consult with each other, whether we can do any thing, 
and whether we will do any thing, to promote the ob- 
ject in view, (which, I own, seems to me one of high 
moment,) I will, with the indulgence of the meeting, 
and at the request of those by whom it is called, briefly 
state the aspect, in which the matter presents itself to 
my mind. 

I understand the object of the meeting, to be, to aid 
the funds of a rising seminary of learning, in the inte- 
rior of the State of Ohio, particularly with a view to 
the training up of a well-educated ministry of the gos- 
pel, in that part of the United States ; and the claims 
of such an object on this community. 

As to the general question, of the establishment and 
support of places of education, there are principally 
two courses, which have been pursued in the practice 
of nations. One is, to leave them, so to say, as an 
afterthought, — ^the last thing provided for; to let the 
community grow up, become populous, rich, powerful ; 
an immense body of unenlightened peasants, artisans, 
traders, soldiers, subjected to a small privileged class ; 
and then, let learning creep in, with luxury ; be esteemed 
itself a luxury, endowed out of the surplus of vast pri- 
vate fortunes, or endowed by the State ; and, instead 

* Speech at a public meeting, held at St. Paul's Church, Boston 
May 21st, 1833, on behalf of Kenjon College, Ohio. 



^ EDUCATION IN THE WEST. 168 

of diffiising a wholesome general influence, of which all 
partake, and by which, the entire character of the peo- 
ple is softened and elevated, forming, itself, but another 
of those circumstances of disparity, and jealous contrast 
of condition, of which too many were in existence be- 
fore; adding the aristocracy of learning, acquired at 
expensive seats of science, to that of rank and wealth. 
This is, in general, the course which has been pursued, 
with respect to the establishment of places of educa- 
tion, in some countries of Europe. The other method 
is that introduced by our forefathers, namely, to lay the 
foundations of the Commonwealth on the comer-stone 
of religion and education ; to make the means of enlight- 
ening the community go, hand in hand, with the means 
for protecting it against its enemies, extending its com- 
merce, and increasing its numbers ; to make the care of 
the mind, from the outset, a part of its pubUc economy ; 
the growth of knowledge, a portion of its public wealth. 
This, sir, is the New-England system. It is the- 
system on which the colony of Massachusetts was led, 
in 1647, to order that a school should be supported in 
every town; and which, eleven years earlier, caused 
the foundations of Harvard College to be laid, by an 
appropriation out of the scanty means of the coun- 
try, and at a period of great public distress, of a sum 
equal to the whole amount raised during the year, for 
all the other pubhc charges. I do not know in what 
words I can so well describe this system, as in those, 
used by our fathers themselves. Quoted, as they have 
been, times innumerable, they will bear quoting, again ; 
and seem to me peculiarly apposite to this occasion : 
" After God had carried us safe to New England, and 
we had builded our houses, provided necessaries for our 
livelihood, reared convenient places for God's worship, 
and settled the civil government, one of the next things, 
we longed for and looked after, was, to advance learn- 
ing, and perpetuate it to posterity ; dreading to leave 
an illiterate ministry to the churches, when the present 
ministers shall be in the dust." 



164 EDUCATION IN THE WEST. 

Now, sir, it is proposed to assist our brethren in Ohio, 
to lay the foundations of their Commonwealth on this 
good old New-England basis ; and if ever there was 
a region, where it was peculiarly expedient that this 
should be done, most assuredly the western part of 
America, — and the State of Ohio as much as any other 
portion of it, — ^is that region. It is two centuries, since 
New England was founded, and its population, by the 
last census, fell short of two miUions. Forty years ago, 
Ohio was a wilderness, and, by the same enumeration, 
its population was little less than a million. At this 
moment, the population of Ohio, (the settlement of 
which was commenced, in 1788, by a small party from 
our counties of Essex and Middlesex,) is almost twice 
as large as that of our ancient and venerable Massachu* 
setts. I have seen this wonderful State, with my own 
eyes. The terraqueous globe does not contain a spot 
more favorably situated. Linked to New Orleans, on 
one side, by its own beautiful river and the father of 
waters, and united to New York, on the other side, by 
the lake and the Erie canal, she has, by a stupendous 
exertion of her own, youthful resources, completed the 
vast circuit of communication between them. The 
face of the country is unusually favorable to settlement. 
There is little waste or broken land. The soil is fertile, 
the climate salubrious; it is settled by as truehearted 
and substantial a race, as ever founded a republic ; and 
there they now stand, a million of souls, gathered into 
a political community, in a single generation ! 

Now, it is plain, that this extraordinary rapidity of in- 
crease requires extraordinary means, to keep the moral 
and intellectual growth of the people on fin equality 
with their advancement in numbers and prosperity. 
These last take care of themselves. They require 
nothing, but protection from foreign countries, and se- 
curity of property, under the ordinary administration of 
justice. But a system of institutions for education, — 
schools and colleges, — ^requires extra effort and means. 
The individual settler can fell the forest, build his log- 



fiill/OATlON IN THS WKST. * 165 

house, reap his crops, and raise up- his family, in the 
round of occupations pursued by himself; but he can- 
not, of himself, found or support a school, hr less a 
college ; nor can he do as much toward it, as a single 
. individual, in older States, where ampler resources and 
a denser population afford means, cooperation, and en* 
couragement, at every turn. The very fact, therefore, 
that the growth of the country, in numbers, has been 
unexampled, instead of suggesting reasons why efforts 
in the cause of education are superfluous, furnishes an 
increased and increasing claim on the sympathy and 
good offices of all the friends of learning and educa* 
tion. 

What, then, are the reasonable grounds of the claim, 
as made on us ? I think I perceive several. 

We live in a community comparatively ancient, pos- 
sessed of an abundance of accumulated capital, the 
result of the smiles of Providence on the industry of 
the people. We profess to place a high value on intel- 
lectual improvement, on education, on religion, and on 
the institutions for its support. We habitually take 
credit that we do so. To whom should the infant 
community, destitute of these institutions, desirous of 
enjoying their benefits, and as yet not abounding in 
disposable means, — ^to whom should they look ? Whith- 
er shall they go, but to their brethren, who are able to 
appreciate the want, and competent to refieve it ? Some 
one must do it ; these institutions, struggling into exis- 
tence, must be nurtured, or they sink. To what quar- 
ter can they address themselves, with any prospect of 
success, if they fail here? Where will they find a 
community more likely to take an interest in the object, 
to feel a UveUer sympathy in the want, more liberal, 
more able to give, more accustomed to give ? 

It is not merely in the necessity of things, that young 
and rising communities, if assisted at all, should derive 
that assistance from the older and richer ; but the peri- 
od is so short, since we ourselves stood in that relation 
to the mother country, and derived, from her bounty, 



166 BDUCATION m THE WEST. 

benefactions to our institutions, that the obligation to 
requite these favors, in the only practicable way, is 
fresh and strong, and like that wMch requires a man to 
pay his debts. Dr. FrankUn was accustomed, some- 
times, to bestow a pecuniary favor on a young man, and, 
instead of requiring payment, to enjoin the object of 
his bounty, when advanced in Ufe, and in prosperous 
circumstances, to give the same sum of money, with a 
like injunction, to some other meritorious and needy 
young person. The early annals of our Country con- 
tain many instances of liberality from beyond the ocean. 
Our own University and that of New Haven were 
largely indebted, — ^particularly ours, — ^to pious and be- 
nevolent individuals in England. I know no mode of 
requiting these favors, (which we cannot repay to the 
Country from which we received them; she wants 
nothing we can give,) more natural and more simple, 
than by imitating the liberality of which we have proiSt- 
ed, and supplying the wants of others, at that stage of 
their social progress, at which our own were supplied. 
The inducements to such an exercise of liberality, on 
our part, toward our brethren in the West, are certainly 
stroller, than those which could have influenced Eng- 
land to assist the rising institutions of America. The 
settlers of the Western country are not the aggrieved 
and persecuted children of the older States. We have 
not driven them out from among us, by cruel star-cham- 
ber edicts, nor have they, in leaving us, shaken off from 
their feet the dust of an unfriendly soil. They have 
moved away from the paternal roof, to seek a new but 
not a foreign home. They have parted from their 
native land, neither in anger nor despair ; but full of 
buoyant hope and tender regret. They have gone to 
add to the Americim family, not to dismember it. They 
are our brethren, not only after the flesh, but after the 
spirit also, in character and in feeling. We, in our place, 
regard them, neither with indifference, jealousy, nor 
enmity, but with fraternal affection, and true good will. 
Whom, in the name of Heaven, should we assist, if we 



EDUCATION IH THE WEST. 167 

refuse to assist them ? What^ sir, can we minister to 
the intellectual and spiritual wants of S]rria, and of 
Crreece, of Burmah, of Ceylon, and of the remotest 
isles of the Pacific ; have we enough, and to spare, for 
these remote nations and tribes, with whom we have 
no nearer kindred, than that Adam is our ccHnmon pa- 
rent, and Christ our common Saviour; and shall we 
shut our hands on the call for the soul's food, which is 
addressed to us, by these our brethren, our schoolmates ; 
whose fathers stood, side by side, with ours, in the great 
crisis of the Country's fortune ; whose forefathers rest, 
side by side, with ours, in the sacred soil of New Eng- 
land ? I say nothing, sir, in disparagement of the ef- 
forts made to carry the Gospel to the furthest ccnners 
of the earth. I wish them, with all my heart, entire 
success. But, surely, the law of Christian love will not 
permit us, in our care for the distant heathen, to over- 
look the claims of our fellow-citizens, at home. 

On a theme like this, I am unwiUii^ to appeal to 
any thing like interest ; nor will I appeal to an interest 
of a low and narrow character ; but I cannot shut my 
eyes on those great considerations of an enlarged poli- 
cy, which demand of us a reasonable liberality toward 
the improvement of these Western conununities. In 
the year 1800, the State of Ohio sent one member tox 
Confess ; and Massachusetts, (not then separated from 
Maine,) sent twenty-one. Now, Ohio sends nineteen; 
and Massachusetts, — recently, and, I am constrained to 
add, in my judgement, unfairly,'*' deprived of one of 
her members, — Bends but twelve. Nor will it stop here. 
" They must increase," and we, in comparison, " must 
decrease." At ^the next periodical enumeration, Ohio 
will probably be entitled to nearly thurty representatives, 
and Massachusetts to little more than a third of this 
number. Now, sir, I will not, on this occasion, and in 
this house of prayer, unnecesskrily introduce topics and 

* By adopting a ratio of representation, which left Massachasetta 
with an unrepresented fraction, sufficient, withm a few hnndreds, fat 
aaother menaberr 



168 EDUCATION IN THE WEST. 

illustrations, better befitting other resorts. I will not 
descant on interests and questions, which, in the divid- 
ed state of the public councils, will be decided, one 
way or the other, by a small majority of voices. I re- 
ally wish to elevate my own mind, and, as far as lies in 
me, the minds of those I have the honor to address, to 
higher views. I would ask you, not in reference to 
this or that question, but in reference to the whole com- 
plexion of the destinies of the Country, as depending 
on the action of the general government ; I would ask 
you, as to that momentous future, which lies before us 
and our children ; by whom, by what influence, from 
what quarter, is our common Country, with all the rich 
treasure of its character, its hopes, its fortunes, to be 
affected, to be controlled, to be sustained, and guided 
in the paths of wisdom, honor, and prosperity, or sunk 
into the depth of degeneracy and humiUation ? Sir, the 
response is in every man's mind, on every man's lips. 
The balance of the Country's fortunes is in the West. 
There lie, wrapped up in the folds of an eventful futu- 
rity, the influences, which will most powerfully affect 
our national weal and wo. We have, in the order of 
Providence, allied ourselves to a family of sister com- 
munities, springing into existence and increasing with 
unexampled rapidity. We have called them into a full 
partnership in the government ; the course of events 
has put crowns on their head? and sceptres in their 
hands ; and we must abide the result. 

But has the power indeed departed from us; the 
efficient, ultimate power ? That, sir, is, in a great meas- 
ure, as we wiU. The real government, in this Country, 
is that of opinion. Toward the formation of the public 
opinion of the Country, New England, while she con- 
tinues true to herself, will, as in times past, contribute 
vastly beyond the proportion, of her numerical strength. 
But, besides the general ascendancy which she will 
maintain, through the influence of public opinion, we 
can do two things, to secure a strong and abiding in- 
terest in the West, operating, I do not say,ln our faviNr, 



EDUCATION IN THE WEST. 169- 

but in ikvor of principles and measures, which we think 
sound and salutary. The first is, promptly to extend 
toward the West, on every fitting occasion which pre- 
sents itself, consistently with public and private duty, 
either in the course of legislation or the current of af- 
fedrs, those good offices, which of right pertain to the 
relative condition of the'two parts of the Country ; to 
let the West know, by experience, both in the halls of 
Congress and the channels of commercial and social 
intercourse, that the East is truly, cordially, and effect- 
ively, her friend ; not her rival nor enemy. 

The kindly influence, thus produced, will prove of 
great power and value ; and will go far to secure a re- 
turn of fraternal feeling and poUtical sympathy ; but it 
will not, of itself, on great and trying occasions of a 
supposed diversity of sectional interest, always prove 
strong enough to maintain a harmony of councils. But 
we can do another thing, of vasdy greater moment. 
We can put in motion u principle of influence, of a 
much higher and more generous characteri, We can 
furnish the means of building up institutions of educa- 
tion. We can, from our surplus, contribute toward 
the establishment and endowment of those seminaries, 
where the mind of the West shall be trained and en- 
lightened. Yes, sir, we can do this ; and it is so far 
optional with us, whether the power, to which we have 
subjected ourselves, shall be a power of intelligence or 
of ignorance ; a reign of reflection and reason, or of 
reckless strength ; a reign of darkness, or of hght. This, 
sir, is true statesmanship ; this is policy, of which Wash- 
ington would not be ashamed. While the partisan of 
the day plumes himself upon a little worthless popular- 
ity, gained by bribing the interest of one quarter, and 
falling in with the prejudices of another; it is truly 
worthy of a patriot, by contributing toward the means 
of steadily, diffusively, and permanently, enlightening 
the public mind, as far as opportunity exists, in every 
part of the Country, to secure it in a wise and liberal 
course of public policy. 

15 £. E# 



170 EDUCATION IN THE WEST, 

Let no Bostonian capitalist, then, let no man, who 
has a large stake in New England, and who is called upon 
to aid tins Institution in the centre of Ohio, think that 
he is called upon to exercise his liberality at a distance, 
towards those in whom he has no concern. Sir, it is 
his own interest, he is called upon to promote. It is not 
their work, he is called upon t6 do ; it is his own work. 
It is my opinion, which, though it may sound extrava- 
gant, will, I believe, bear examination, that, if the ques- 
tion were propounded to us, this moment, whether it 
were most for the benefit of Massachusetts, to give fifty 
thousand dollars toward founding another college in 
Middlesex, Hampshire, or Berkshire, or for the support 
of this College in the Ohio, we should, if well advised, 
decide for the latter. We have Harvard, Amherst, Wil- 
liams ; — ^we do not want another college. In the West, 
is a vast and growing population, possessing a great and 
increasing influence in the pohtical system of which we 
are members. Is it for our interest, strongly, vitally, for 
our interest, that this population should be intelligent, 
and well educated ; or ignorant, and enslaved to all the 
prejudices which beset an ignorant people ? 

When, then, the Right Reverend Bishop, and the 
friends of the West, ask you, on this occasion, to help 
them, they ask you, in effect, to spare a part of your 
surplus means, for an object, in which, to say the least, 
you have a common interest with them. They ask you, 
to contribute to give security to your own property, by 
diffusing the means of light and truth throughout the 
region, where so much of the power to preserve or to 
shake it resides. They ask you, to contribute to per- 
petuate the Union, by training up a wejl-educated pop- 
ulation, in the quarter which may hereafter be exposed 
to strong centrifugal influences. They ask you, to re- 
cruit your waning strength, in the National councils, by 
enlisting on your side their swelling numbers, reared in 
the discipline of sound learning and sober wisdom ; so 
that, when your voice in the government shall become 
comparatively weak instead of being drowned by a 



EBUCATION IN THE WEST. 171 

strange and unfriendly clamor, from this mighty region, 
it may be reechoed, with increased strength and a sym- 
pathetic response, from the rising millions of the North- 
western States. Yes, sir, they do more. They ask 
you, to make yourselves rich, in their respect, good-will, 
and gratitude ; — ^to make your name dear and venera- 
ble, in their distant shades. They ask you, to give their 
young men cause to love you, now, in the spring-time 
of life, before the heart is chilled and hardened ; to 
make their old men, who, in the morning of their days, 
went out from your borders, lift up their hapds for a 
blessing on you, and say, " Ah, this is the good old- 
fashioned liberality of the land where we were born !" 
Yes, sir, we shall raise an altar, in the remote wilder- 
ness. Our eyes will not behold the smoke of its in- 
cense, as it curls up to heaven. But there, the altar 
will stand ; there, the pure sacrifice of the spirit will be 
offered up ; and the worshipper who comes, in all fu- 
ture time, to pay his devotions before it, will turn his 
face to the Eastward, and think of the land of his ben- 
efactors. 



178 EDUCATION OP |fANKIND. 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND * 

Mr. President and GENTLEUfEN, — It has given me 
peculiar satisfation, to obey your call, and appear before 
you, on this occasion. I take a sincere pleasure, as an 
affectionate and dutiful child of Harvard, and as an 
humble member of the branch of our fraternity, which 
is ther^ established, in presenting myself, within the 
precincts%f this ancient and distinguished Seminary, 
for the discharge of the agreeable duty which you have 
assigned me. I rejoice in the confidence, which your 
invitation implies, that I know neither sect nor party, 
in the RepubUc of Letters ; and that I enter your halls, 
with as much assurance of a kind reception, as I would 
those of my own revered and ever gracious Alma Ma- 
ter. This confidence does me no more than justice. 
Ardently and gratefully attached to the Institution in 
which I received my education, I could in no way so 
effectually prove myself its degenerate child, as by har- 
boring the slightest feeling of jealousy, at the expanded 
and growing reputation of this, its distinguished rival. 
In no way, could I so surely prove myself a tardy schol- 
ar of the School, in which I have been brought up, as 
by refusing to rejoice in the prosperity and usefulness 
of every sister institution, devoted to the same good 
cause ; and especially, of this, the most eminent and 
efficient of her associates. 

There are recollections of former times, well calcu- 
lated to form a bond of good feeling between our Uni- 
versities. We cannot forget, that, in the early days of 
Harvard, when its existence almost depended on the 
precarious contributions of its friends, — contributions, 
not of munificent affluence, but of pious poverty, — ^not 
poured into the academic coffers, in splendid donations, 

* An Address delivered before the Phi Betn Kappa Society in Yalt 
College, New Haven, Connecticat, August 20th, 1838. 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 173 

bot spared from the scanty means of an infant and des- 
titute coun^, and presented, in their primitive form, a 
bushel of wheat, a cord of wood, and a string of Indian 
beads, — (this last, not a little to the annoyance of good 
old President Dunster, who, as the records of the Com- 
missioners of the United Colonies tell us, was sorely 
perplexed, in sifting out, from the mass of the genuine 
quahog and periwinkle, bits of blue glass and colored 
stones, feloniously intermixed, without the least respect 
for the purity of the Colony's wampum,*) we cannot 
forget, that, in that day of small things, the coi^butions 
of Connecticut and New Haven, — as the two infant 
Colonies were distinguished, — ^flowed as liberally to the 
support of Cambridge, as those of Plymouth and Massa- 
chusetts. Still less would I forget, that, of the three 
first generations of the Fathers of Connecticut, those 
who were educated in America received their education 
at Cambridge; that the four first Presidents of Yale 
were graduates of Harvard ; and that, of all your dis- 
tinguished men, in church and state, for nearly a hun- 
dred years, a goodly proportion were fitted for useful- 
ness in Hfe within her venerable walls. If the success 
of the child be the joy of the parent, and the honor of 
the pupil be the crown of the master, with what hon- 
est satisfaction may not our institutions reflect, that 
they stood to each other in this interesting relation, in 
this early and critical state of the Country's growth, 
when the direction taken, and the character impress- 
ed, were decisive of interminable consequences. And 
while we claim the right of boasting of your charac- 
ter and institutions, as, in some degree, the fruit of a 
good old Massachusetts influence, we hope you will 
not have cause to feel ashamed of the auspices, under 
which, to a certain extent, the foundation of those insti- 
tutions was laid, and their early prepress encouraged. 

In choosing a topic, on which to address you, this 
morning, I should feel a greater embarrassment than I 

* Hazard's ^te Papers, Vol. II. page 124. 
15* 



174 EDUCATION OP MANKIND. 

do, did I not suppose that your thoughts, like my own, 
would flow naturally into such a channel of reflection, 
as may be presumed at all times to be habitual and fa- 
miliar, with men of liberal education and patriotic feel- 
ing. The great utility of occasions like this, and of 
the addresses they elicit, is not to impart stores of in- 
formation, laboriously collected ; not to broach new sy3- 
tems, requiring carefully-weighed arguments for their 
defence, or a multitude of well-arranged facts for their 
illustration. We meet, at these literary festivals, to 
promote kind feeling ; to impart new strength to good 
purposes ; to enkindle and animate the spirit of improve- 
ment, in ourselves and others. We leave our closets, 
our offices, and our studies, to meet and salute each 
other, in these pleasant paths ; to prevent the diverging 
walks of life from wholly estranging those from each 
other, who were kind friends, at its outset ; to pay our 
homage to the venerated fathers, who honor, with their 
presence, the return of these academic festivals ; and 
those of us who are no longer young, to make acquaint- 
ance with the ardent lind ingenuous, who are following 
after us. The preparation, for an occasion like this, is 
in the heart, not in the head ; it is in the attachments 
formed and the feehngs inspired, in the bright morning 
of life. Our preparation is in the classic atmosphere 
of the place, in the tranquillity of the academic grove, 
in the unoffending peace of the occasion, in the open 
countenance of long-parted associates, joyous at meet- 
ing, and in the kind and indulgent smile of the favor- 
ing throng, which bestows its animating attendance on 
our humble exercises. 

When I look around upon the assembled audience, 
and reflect, from how many different places of abode, 
throughout our Country, the professional part of it is 
gathered, and in what a variety of pursuits and duties 
it is there occupied ; and when I consider that this, 
our literary festival, is also honored with the presence 
of many, from every other class of the community, all 
of whom have yet a common interest in one subject, 



EDUCATION OF MANKINp. 175 

at least, I feel as if the topic, x>n which I am to ask 
your attention, were imperatively suggested to me. It 
is, the nature and efficacy of Education, as the great 
human instrument of improving the condition of man. 

Education has been, at some former periods exclu- 
sively, and more or less at all former periods, the train- 
ing of a learned class ; the mode, in which men of let- 
ters, or the members of the professions, acquired that 
lore, which enabled them to insulate themselves from 
the community, and gave them the monopoly of ren- 
dering the services, in church and state, which the 
wants or imaginations of men made necessary, and of 
the honors and rewards, which, by the political consti- 
tution of society, attached to the discharge of those ser- 
vices. 

I admit, that there was something generous and lib- 
eral in education ; something popular, and, if I may so 
express it, repubhcan, in the educated class, even at the 
darkest period. Learning, even in its most futile and 
scholastic forms, was still an affair of the mind. It 
was not, like hereditary rank, m«re physical accident ; 
it was not, like military power, mere physical force. It 
gave an intellectual influence, derived from intellectual 
superiority; and it enabled some minds, even in the 
darkest ages of European history, to rise, from obscurity 
and poverty, to be the lights and guides of mankind. 
Such was Beda, the great luminary of a dark period, a 
poor and studious monk, who, without birth or fortune, 
became the great teacher of science and letters to the 
age in which he lived. Such, still more eminently, was 
his illustrious pupil, Alcuin, who, by the simple force 
of mental energy, employed in intellectual pursuits, 
raised himself from the cloister, to be the teacher, com- 
panion, and friend, of Charlemagne ; and to whom it 
has been said that France is indebted, for all the poUte 
literature of his own, and the succeeding ages.* Such, 
at a later period, was another poor monk, Roger Bacon, 

♦ Cave, Hist. Lit. Saec. .VII., An. 780, cited in the Life of Alcuin, 
In the Biographia Britannica. 



176 EPUCATION OP BIANKIND. 

the precursor, and, for the state of the times in which 
he hved, scarcely the inferior, of his namesake, the im- 
mortal Chancellor. 

But a few brilliant exceptions do not affect the gen- 
eral character of the education of former ages. It was 
a thing apart from the condition, the calling, the ser- 
vice, and the participation, of the great mass of men. 
It was the training of a privileged class ; and was far 
too exclusively the instrument, by which one of the fa- 
vored orders of society was enabled to exercise a tyrant- 
nical and exclusive control over the millions, which lay 
wrapt in ignorance and superstition. It is the great 
glory of the age in which we live, that learning, once 
the instrument of this bondage, has become the instru- 
ment of reform ; that, instead of an educated class, we 
have made some good approach to an educated commu- 
nity. That intellectual culture, which gave to a few 
the means of maintaining an ascendency over the fears 
and weaknesses of their age, has now become the me- 
dium of a grand and universal mental equality, and, 
humanly speaking, the great concern of man. It has 
become the school of all the arts, for all the pursuits, and 
the preparation of a very considerable portion of the 
mass of mankind for the duties, which, in the present 
state of the world, devolve upon them. 

Let us, then, dwell, for a moment, on what is to be 
effected by education, considered in its ultimate objects 
and most comprehensive sense, in which, of course, is 
included, as the most important element, the sound and 
enlightened influence of deep reUgious principle, to be 
cherished and applied, through the institutions existing 
for that sacred purpose. 

A great work is to be done. What is it, in its gen- 
eral outline and first principles ? 

To answer this question, we must remember, that, 
of the generation now on the stage, by which the busi- 
ness of the Country, public and private, is carried on, 
not an individual, speaking in general terms, will be in 
a state of efficient activity, and very few in existence. 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 177 

thirty years hence. Not merely those, by whom the 
government is administered and the public service per- 
formed, in its various civil and military departments, 
will have passed away ; but all, who are doing the great, 
multifarious, never-ending, work of social life, from the 
highest teacher of spiritual wisdcon and the profound- 
est expositor of the law, to the humblest artisan, will 
have ceased to exist. The work is to go on ; the gov*- 
emment is to be administered, laws are to be enacted 
and executed, peace preserved or war levied, the will 
of the people to be expressed by their suffrages, and 
the vast system of the industrious action of a great peo- 
ple, in all their thousand occupations, by sea and knd, 
to be kept up and extended ; but those, now employed 
in all this great work, are to cease from it, and others 
are to take their places. 

Like most of the great phenomena of life, — ^miracles, 
if I may so say, of daily occurrence, — this vast change, 
this surcease of a whole generation, loses, from its fa- 
miliarity, almost all power of affecting the imagination. 
The poHtical revolution, which changes the royal suc- 
cession frcma one family to another, which prostrates a 
king to elevate an emperor, and cements his throne 
with the blood of some hundreds, perhaps thousands, of 
the wretched victims of his ambition, is the wonder of 
the age, the perpetual theme of 'discourse, the standing 
topic of admiration. But this great revolution, — ^which 
prostrates, not one man, nor one family, in a single na- 
tion, but every man, in every family, throughout the 
world ; which bids an entire new congregation of men 
to start into existence and action ; which fills, with new 
incumbents, not one blood-stained seat of royalty, but 
every post of active duty, and every retreat of private 
life; — steals on us silently and gradually, like all the 
primordial operations of Providence, and must be made 
the topic of express disquisition, befwe its extent and 
magnitude are estimated, and the practical duties to be 
Educed from it acre understood. 

Such a revolution, however, is impending,— as deci 



178 EDUCATION or MANKIND. 

sive, as comprehensive, as real, as if, instead of being 
the gradual work of thirty years, it were to be accom- 
plished in a day or an hour ; and so much the more 
momentous, for the gradual nature of the process. Were 
the change to be effected, at once, were this generation 
swept off, and another brought forward, by one great 
act of creative energy, it would concern us, only as 
speculative philanthropists, what might be the character 
of our successors. Whether we transmitted them a 
heritage honored or impaired ; whether they succeeded 
to it, well trained to preserve and increase, or ready to 
waste, it, would import nothing to our interests or feel- 
ings. But, by the law of our nature, the generations 
of men are most closely interlaced with each other, and 
the decUne of one and the accession of the other are 
gradual. One survives, and the other anticipates its 
activity. While, in the decline of Ufe, we are permit- 
ted to reap, on the one hand, a rich reward for all that 
we have attempted patriotically and honestly, in public 
or private, for the good of our fellow-men ; on the other 
hand, retribution rarely fails to overtake us, as individ- 
uals or communities, for the neglect of pubUc duties, 
or the violation of the social trust. 

'* We still have judgement here ; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
To plague the inve'ntor : this even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of the poisoned chalice 
To our own lips." 

By this law of our natures, the places, which we fill 
in the world, are to be taken from us ; we are to be dis- 
possessed of our share in the honors and emoluments 
of life ; driven from our resorts of business and pleas- 
ure ; ousted from our tenements ; ejected from our es- 
tates ; banished from the soil we called our own, and 
interdicted fire and water in our native land ; and those, 
who ward off this destiny the longest, after holding on, 
a little while, with a convulsive grasp, making a few 
more efforts, exposing their thin gray hairs, in another 
campaign or two, will gladly, of theix own accord, 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 179 

before a great while, claim to be exempts in the ser* 
vice. 

But this revolution, growing out of the constitution 
of our nature, points out the business of education, as 
the duty and calling of man, precisely because it is not 
the work of violent hands, but the law of our being. 
It is not an outraged populace, rising in their wrath and 
fury, to throw off the burden of centuries of oppression. 
Nor is it an inundation of strange barbarians, issuing, 
nation after nation, from some remote and inexhaustible 
officina gentium,^ lashed forward, to the work of des- 
truction, by the chosen scourges of God. These are 
the means, by which, when corruption has attained a 
height beyond the reach of ordinary influences, a prep- 
aration for a great and radical revolution is made. But 
the revolution of which I speak, and which furnishes the 
principles of the great duty of education, all-compre- 
hensive and unsparing as it is, is to be eflected by a 
gentle race of beings, just stepping over the threshold 
of childhood, many of them hardly crept into existence. 
They are to be found within the limits of our own Coun- 
try, of our own community, beneath our own roofs, 
clinging about our necks. Father ! he, whom you fold- 
ed in your arms, and carried in your bosom ; whom, 
with unutterable anxiety, you watched, through the per- 
ilous years of childhood ; whom you have brought to 
college, this very Commencement, and are dismissing 
from beneath your paternal guard, with tearful eyes and 
an aching heart ; it is he, who is destined, (if your ar- 
dent prayers are heard,) to outthunder you at the forum 
and in the Senate House ! Fond mother ! the future 
rival of your not yet fading charms, the matre pulchra 
jUia ptdchrior,f is the rose-bud, which is beginning to 
open and blush by your side ! Destined to supersede 
us, in all we hold dear, they are the objects of our ten- 
derest cares. Soon to outnumber us, we spare no pains 
to protect and rear them ; and the strongest instinct of 

♦ Workshop of nations. 

t The fairer daughter of a fair mother* 



180 EDUCATION OP MANKIND. 

our hearts ui^s us, by every device and appliance, to 
bring forward those who are to fill our places, possess 
our fortunes, wear our honors, snatch the laurel from 
our heads, the words from our lips, the truncheon of 
command from our hands, and, at last, gently crowd 
us, worn out and useless, from the scgne. 

I have dwelt on this connexion of nature and affec- 
tion, between the generations of men, because it is the 
foundation of the high philosophy of education. It 
places the duty of imparting it, upon the broad eternal 
basis of natural love. It is manifest, that, in the provi- 
dent constitution of an intellectual order of beings, the 
trust of preparing each generation of which it was to 
consist, for the performance of its part on the great 
stage of life, was all-important, all-essential ; too vitally 
so, to be put in charge with any but the most intimate 
principles of our being. It has, accordingly, been inter- 
woven with the strongest and purest passions of the 
heart. Maternal fondness ; a father's thoughtful care ; 
the unreasoning instincts of the family circle ; the par- 
tialities, the prejudices, of blood, — are all made to ope- 
rate, as efficient principles, by which the risen genera- 
tion is urged to take care of its successor: and, when 
the subject is pursued to its last analysis, we find, that 
education, in its most comprehensive form, — ^the general 
training and preparation of our successors, — ^is the great 
errand which we have to execute in the world. We 
either assume it, as our primary business, or depute it 
to others, because we think they will better perform it. 
Much of the practical and professional part we direct, 
ourselves. We come back to it, as a relaxation or a 
solace. We labor to provide the means of supplying 
it to those we love. We retrench in our pleasures, 
that we may abound in this duty. It anunates our 
toils, dignifies our selfishness, makes our parsimony 
generous, furnishes the theme for the efforts of the 
^eatest minds ; and, directly or indirectly, fills up no 
small part of our lives. 

In a word, then, we have before us, as the work to 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 181 

be dcme by this generation, to train up that which is to 
succeed us. 

This is a work of boundless compass, difficulty, and 
interest. Considered as brethren of the human family, 
it looks, of course, to the education of all mankind. 
If we confine ourselves to our duty, as American citi- 
zens, the task is momentous, almost beyond the power 
of description. Though the view which I would, at 
this time, take of the subject, does not confine itself to 
the fortunes of a single nation, I will dwell upon it, for 
a moment, exclusively in relation to this Country. I 
will suppose, that our Union is to remain unbroken, for 
another generation ; a supposition which, I trust, I may 
safely make; and, if this should be the case, it is no 
violent presumption to suppose, that, in all respects, the 
Country will continue to advance, with a rapidity, equal 
to that, which has marked its progress for the last thir- 
ty years. On this supposition, the close of another 
generation will see our population swelled to above 
thirty milUons ; all our public establishments increased 
in the same ratio ; four or five new States added to the 
Union ; towns and villages scattered over regions, now 
lying in the unbroken sohtude of Nature ; roads cut 
across pathless mountains; rivers, now unexplored, 
alive with steam-boats ; and all those parts of the Coun- 
try, which, at this time, are partially settled, crowded 
with a much denser population, with all its attendant 
structures, establishments, a!hd institutions. In other 
words, besides replacing the present numbers, a new 
nation, more than fifteen millions strong, will exist 
within the United States. The wealth of the Country 
will increase still more rapidly ; and all the springs of 
social life, which capital moves, will, of course, increase 
in power ; and a much more intense condition of exis- 
tence will be the result. 

It is for this state of things that the present genera- 
tion is to educate and train its successors ; and on the 
care and skill, with which their education is conducted, 
on the liberaUty, magnanimity, and single-heartedness, 
16 E. £ 



182 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

with which we go about this great work, each in hi^ 
proper sphere, and according to his opportunities and 
vocation, will, of course, depend the honor and success, 
with which those who come after us will perform their 
parts, on the great stage of Ufe. 

This reflection, of itself, would produce a deep im* 
pression of the importance of the great work of educa- 
tion, to be performed by the present generation of meh. 
But we must further take into consideration, in order to 
the perfect understanding of the subject, the quality of 
that principle which is to receive, and of that which is to 
impart, the education ; that is, of the mind of this age 
acting upon the mind of the next ; both natures indefi- 
nitely expansive, in their capacities of action and appre- 
hension ; natures, whose powers have never been de- 
fined ; whose depths have never been sounded ; whose or- 
bit can be measured, only by that Superior IntelligencCi 
which has assigned its limits, if limits it have. When 
we consider this, we gain a vastly extended and elevat- 
ed notion of the duty which is to be performed. It is 
nothing less, than to put in action the entire mental 
power of the present day, in its utmost stretch, consist- 
ent with happiness and virtue, and so as to develops 
and form the utmost amount of capacity, intelligence, 
and usefulness, of intellectual and moral power and 
happiness, in that which is to follow. We are not 
merely to transmit the world, as we receive it; to 
teach, in a stationary repetition, the arts which we have 
received ; as the dove builds, this year, just such a nest 
as was built by the dove that went out from the ark, 
when the waters had abated ; but we are to apply the 
innumerable discoveries, inventions, and improvements, 
which have been successively made in the world, — and 
never more than of late years, — and combine and elab- 
orate them into one grand system of condensed eflica- 
cy and quickened vitality, in forming €ind bringing for- 
ward our successors. 

These considerations naturally suggest the inquiry, — 
how much can be done by a proper exertion of our 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 188 

powers and capacities, to improve the condition of our 
successors? Is there reason to hope, that any great 
advances can be made; that any considerable stride 
can be taken, by the moral and intellectual agency of 
this age, as exerted in influencing the character of the 
next? 

I know of no way to deal practically with this great 
problem, but to ask, more particularly, what is effected, 
in the ordinary course of intellectual action and reac- 
tion ? What is the average amount of the phenomena 
of education, in their final result, which the inspection 
of society presents to us ? How much is effected, so 
frequently and certainly as to authorize a safe inference, 
as to what may be done, in the ordinSry progress of the 
mind, and conjectures as to its possible strides, bounds, 
and flights ? 

We can make this inquiry on no other assumed ba- 
sis, but that of the natural average equality of all men, 
as rational and improvable beings. I do not mean, that 
all men are created with a physical and intellectual con- 
stitution, capable of attaining, with the same opportuni- 
ties, the same degree of improvement. I cannot assert 
that, nor would I willingly undertake to disprove it. I 
leave it aside ; and suppose, that, on^n average, men are 
born with equal capacities. What, then, do we behold, 
as regards the difference resulting from education and 
training? Let us take examples, in the two extremes. 
On the one hand, we have the most degraded savage ; 
but Httle better, in appearance, than the orang outang, 
his fellow tenant of the woods, which afford much 
the same shelter for both ; almost destitute of arts, ex- 
cept that of horribly disfiguring the features, by the 
painful and disgusting process of tattooing, and that of 
preparing a rude war-club, with which he destroys his 
fellow-savage of the neighboring tribe, — ^his natural ene- 
my, while he lives, his food, if he can conquer or kid- 
nap him ; laying up no store of provision, but one, which 
I scarce dare describe, — ^which consists in plunging a 
stick into the water, where it is soon eaten to honey- 



184 EDUCATION OF MANKIirD. 

comb by the worms, that abound in tropical cUnmtes, 
and which, then taken out, furnishes, in these worms, a 
supply of their most favorite food to these forlorn cWl- 
dren of Nature. Such is this creature, from youth to 
age, from father to son, — a savage, a cannibal, a brute ; a 
human being, a fellow-man, a rational and immortal soul; 
carrying about, under that squalid, loathsome exterior, 
hidden under those brutal manners and vices, at once 
disgusting and abominable, a portion of the intellectual 
principle, which likens man to his Maker. 

This is one specimen of humanity ; how shall we bring 
another into inunediate contrast with it ? How better, 
than by contemplating what may be witnessed on board 
the vessel, which carries the enlightened European ot 
American to the dark and dreary corners of the earth, in- 
habited by these unhappy fellow-beings i You there be- 
hold a majestic vessel, bounding over the billows, from 
the other side of the globe ; easily fashioned to float, in 
safety, over the bottomless sea ; to spread out her broad 
wings, and catch the midnight breeze, guided by a sin- 
gle watchful sailor at the helm, with two or three com- 
panions reclining listlessly on the deck, gazing into the 
depths of the starry heavens. The commander of this 
vessel, not surpassing thousands of his brethren, in in- 
teUigence and skill, knows how, by pointing his glass at 
the heavens, and taking an observation of the stars, and 
turning over the leaves of his * Practical Navigator,' and 
making a few figures on his slate, to tell the spot, which 
his vessel has reached, on the trackless sea: and he can 
also tell it, by means of a steel spring and a few brass 
wheels, put together in the shape of a chroncmaeter. 
The glass, with which he brings the heavens down to 
the earth, and by which he measures the twenty-one 
thousand six hundredth part of their circuit, is made of 
a quantity of silex and alkali, — coarse, opaque substan- 
ces, which he has melted together into the beautiful me- 
dium which excludes the air and the rain, and admits 
the light, — by means of which, he can count the orders 
of animated Nature in a dew-drop, and measure the 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 185 

dspth of the vaUeys in the moon. If e has, running up and 
down his mainmast, an iron chain, fabricated at home, by 
a wonderful succession of mechanical contrivances, out 
of a rock brought from deep caverns in the earth, and 
which *has the power of conducting the lightning harm- 
lessly down the sides of the vessel into the deep. He 
does not creep timidly along, from headland to head- 
land, nor guide his course across a narrow sea, by the 
north star ; but he launches bravely on the pathless and 
bottomless deep, and carries about with him, in a box, 
a faithful little pilot, which points, from the other side of 
the globe, through the convex earth, to the steady pole. 
If he falls in with a pirate, he does not wait to repel 
him, hand to hand ; but he puts into a mighty engine 
a handful of dark powder, in which is condensed an 
inmiense quantity of elastic air, and which, when it is 
touched by a spark of fire, will immeasurably expand 
its volume, and drive an artificial thunderbolt before it, 
against the distant enemy. When he meets another 
similar vessel, on the sea, homeward bound from an ex- 
cursion like his own, he makes a few black marks on a 
piece of paper, and sends it home, a distance of ten 
thousand miles ; and thereby speaks to his employer, to 
his family, and his friends, as distinctly and significant- 
ly, as if they were seated by his side. At the cost of 
half the labor with which the savage procures himself 
the skin^f a wild beast, to cover his nakedness, this 
child of civilized Ufe has provided himself with the most 
substantial, curious, and convenient, clothing, textures 
and tissues of wool, cotton, linen, and silk, the contri- 
butions of the four quarters of the globe, and of every 
kingdom of Nature. To fill a vacant hour, or dispel a 
gathering cloud from his spirits, he has curious instru- 
ments of music, which speak another language, of new 
and strange significance, to his heart ; which make his 
veins thriU, and his eyes overflow with tears, without the 
utterance of a word ; and, with a sweet succession of 
harmonious sounds, send his heart back, over the waste 
of waters, to the distant home, where. his wife and his 
16* 



186 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

children are gathered around the fireside, trembling lit 
the thought, that the storm, which beats upon the win- 
dows, may perhaps overtake their beloved voyager on 
the distant seas. And, in his cabin, he has a Ubrary of 
volumes, the strange production of a machine of almost 
magical powers, which, as he turns over their leaves, 
enable him to converse with the great and good of eve- 
ry cUme and age, and which even repeat to him, in 
audible notes, the laws of his God and the promises of 
his Saviour, and point out to him that happy land which 
he hopes to reach, when his flag is struck, and his sails 
are furled, and the voyage of Hie is over. 

The imaginations of those, whom I have the honor 
to address, will be able to heighten this contrast, by a 
hundred traits, on either side, for which I have not 
time ; but, even as I have presented it, will it be deem- 
ed extravagant, if I say that there is a greater difier- 
ence between the educated child of civilized life and 
the most degraded savage, than between that savage 
and the orang outang? And yet the savage was born 
a rational being, like the civilized European and Ameri- 
can ; and the civilized European and American entered 
life, like the savage, a helpless, wailing babe. 

This, then, is the difference, made by education. I 
do not mean, that, if a school were set iip in New Zea- 
land, you could convert the rising generation of savage 
children, in eight or ten years, into a civili^d, well- 
educated, orderly society. I will not undertake to say, 
what could be done with an individual of that race, 
taken at birth, and brought to a Christian country, and 
there reared under the most favorable circumstances ; 
nor do I know into what sort of a being one of our 
children would grow up, supposing it could survive the 
experiment, were it taken from the nurse's arms, and 
put in charge to a tribe of New Zealanders. But it is, 
upon the whole, education, in the most comprehensive 
sense, which, in the lapse of time, makes the vast differ- 
ence which I have endeavored to illustrate, and which 
actually, in the case of a civilized person, transforms his 



EDUCATION OF IfANKIND. 187 

intellect, from what it is at birth, into what it becomes 
in the mature, consummate man. 

These reflections teach us, what education ordinarily 
accomplishes. They illustrate its power, as measured 
by its effects. Let us now make a single remark on its 
prodigious efiicacy, measured by the shortness of the 
time, within which it produces its wonders. When we 
contemplate the vast amount of the arts, useful and 
mechanical, elegant and literary ; the sciences, pure and 
mixed, and of the knowledge, practical and speculative, 
belonging to them ; a portion of which, sometimes a 
very large portion, is within the command of any well- 
educated person ; the wonder we should naturally feel 
may be a little abated, by the consideration, that this is 
the accumulated product of several thousand years of 
study, the fruits of which have been recorded, or trans- 
mitted by tradition from age to age. But, when we 
reflect again upon the subject, we find, that, though 
this knowledge has been, for four or five thousand 
years, in the process of accumulation, and consists of 
the condensed contributions of great and gifted minds, 
or of the mass of average intellect, transmitted from 
race to race, since the dawn of letters and arts in Phce- 
nicia and Egypt, it is nevertheless mastered by each in- 
dividual, if at all, in the compass of a few years. It is 
in the world, but it is not inherited by any one. Men 
are born rich, but not learned. The La Place of this 
generation did not come into life, with the knowledge 
possessed and recorded by the Newtons, the Keplers, 
and the Pythagorases of other days. It is doubtful, 
whether, at three years old, he could count much be- 
yond ten ; and if, at six, he was acquainted with any 
other cycloidal curves than those generated by the 
trundling of his hoop, he was a prodigy, indeed. But, 
by the time he was twenty-one, he had mastered all the 
discoveries of all the philosophers who preceded him, 
and was prepared to build upon them the splendid 
superstructure of his own. In like manner, the whole 
race of men, who, thirty years hence, are to be the'ac- 



188 EDUCATION OF ^klANKIND. 

tive members of society, and some of them its guides 
and leaders, — ^its Mansfields and Burkes, its Ellsworths, 
Marshalls, and Websters, — ^the entire educated and in- 
telUgent population, which will have prepared itself 
with the knowledge requisite for carrying on the busi- 
ness of life, is, at this moment, enacting the part of 

** the whining school-boy, with his satehel 

And shining morning face, creeping, like snail, 
XJnwillingly to school.*' 

Our future Qc^ros are mewling infants ; and our Ark- 
wrights and Fultons, who are hereafter to unfold to our 
children new properties of matter, new forces of the 
elements, new applications of the mechanical powers, 
which may change the condition of things, are now, 
under the tuition of a careful nurse, with the safeguard 
of a pair of leading strings, attempting the perilous ex- 
periment of putting one foot before the other. Yes, 
the ashes that now moulder in yonder grave-yard, the 
sole remains, on earth, of what was Whitney,* are not 
more unconscious of the stretch of the mighty mind, 
which they once enclosed, than the infant understand- 
ings of those, now springing into life, who are destined 
to follow in the luminous track of his genius, to new 
and still more brilliant results, in the service^'of man ! 

When we consider, in this way, how much is effect- 
ed by education, and in how short a time, for the indi- 
vidual and the community, and thence deduce some 
not inadequate conception of its prodigious efficiency 
and power, we are irresistibly led to another reflection 
upon its true nature. We feel that it cannot be so 
much an act of the teacher, as an act of the pupil. It 
is not, that the master, possessing this knowledge, has 
poured it out of his own mind into that of the learner ; 
but the learner, by the native power of apprehension, 
judiciously trained and wisely disciplined, beholds, com- 
prehends, and appropriates, what is set before him, in 

♦Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-gin, died January 8, 1825, 
and was buried at New Haven. A mem»ir of him will be found in a 
•nbseqaent volame of * The School Lib&ary.* 



EDirCATXON OF MANKIND* 189 

form and order ; and not only so, but, with the first 
quickenings of the intellect, commences, himself, the 
creative and inventire processes. There is not the 
least doubt, that the active mind, judiciously trained, 
in reality sometimes invents, for itself, not a litde of that 
which, being already previously known and recorded, is 
r^arded as a part of the existing stock of knowledge. 
From this principle, also, we are led to an easy explana- 
tion of those curious appearances of simultaneous dis* 
coveries, in art and science, of which literary history 
records many examples, — such as the rival pretensions 
of Newton and Leibnitz, of Priestley and Lavoisier, of 
Bell and Lancaster, of Young and Champollion, — ^which 
show, that, at any given period, especially in a state of 
society favorable to the rapid diffusion of knowledge, 
the laws of the human mind are so sure and r^ukr, 
that it is not an uncommon thing for different persons, 
in different countries, to fall into the same train of re- 
flection and thought, and to come to results and dis- 
coveries, whidi, injuriously Hmiting the creative powers 
of the intellect, we are ready to ascribe to imitation or 
plagiarism. 

It is, indeed, true, that one of the great secrets of the 
power of education, in its application to large numbers, 
is, that it is a mutual work. Man has three teachers, 
— the schoolmaster, himself, his neighbor. The in- 
sUiictions of the first two commence together ; and, long 
after the functions of the schoolmaster have been dis- 
charged, the duties of the last two go on together ; and 
wha^ they effect is vastly more important than the 
work of the teacher, if estimated by the amount of 
knowledge self-acquired, or caught by the collision or 
sympathy of other minds, compared with that which is 
directly imparted by the schoolmaster, in the morning 
of life. In fact, what we learn at school and in college 
is but the foundation of the great work of self-instruc- 
tfon^and mutual instruction, with wliich the real educa- 
tion of life begins, when what is commonly called the 
education is finished. The daily intercourse of culti- 



19D TE!DfUCMSnOfS OF M3MEISSD. 

rated minds ; the emuloiis exertkMis of the feDow-Tota- 
ries o( knowledge ; controTersy ; the inspiring sympa- 
thy of a curioos and intelligent pobiic; — onite in put- 
ting each individoal intellect to the stretch oi its ca- 
pacity. A hint, a proportion, an inquiry, proceeding 
from one mind, awakens new trains of thought in a 
kindred mind, surveying the subject fixMn other points 
of view, and with other habits and resources of illustra- 
tion ; and thus truth is constantly multiplied and propa- 
gated, by the mutual action and reaction of the thou- 
sands engaged in its pursuit. Hence the phenomena 
of Periclean, Augustan, and Medicean ages, and golden 
eras of improvement ; and hence, the education of each 
individual mind, instead of being merely the addition 
of one to the well-instructed and well-informed mem- 
bers of the community, is the introduction of another 
member into the great family of intellects, each of 
which is a point, not only bright, but radiant, and 
competent to throw off the beams of light and truth in 
every direction. Mechanical forces, from the moment 
they are put in action, by the laws of matter grow faint- 
er and fainter, till they are exhausted. With each new 
application, something of their intensity is consumed. 
It can only be kept up, by a continued or repeated re- 
•ort to the source of power. Could Archimedes have 
found his place to stand upon, and a lever with which 
he could heave the earth from its orbit, the utmost he 
could have effected, would have been, to make it fall, 
a dead weight, into the sun. Not so, the intellectual 
energy. If wisely exerted, its exercise, instead of ex- 
hausting, increases its strength ; and not only this, but, 
as it moves onward, from mind to mind, it awakens 
each to the same sympathetic, self-propagating action. 
The circle spreads, in every direction. Diversity of 
language does not check the progress of the great in- 
structor, for he speaks in other tongues, and gathers 
new powers from tlie response of other schools of ^civ- 
ilisation. The pathless ocean does not impede, it 
accelerates^ his progress. Space imposes no barrier 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 191 

- time no period, to his efforts ; and ages on ages after 
the poor clay, in which the creative intellect was en- 
shrined, has mouldered back to its kindred dust, the 
truths which it has unfolded, moral or intellectual, are 
holding on their pathway of light and glory, awakening 
other minds to the same heavenly career. 

But it is more than time to apply these principles to 
the condition of the world, as it now exists, and to in- 
quire, what hope there is, in the operation of this migh- 
ty engine, of a great and beneficial progress, in the 
work of civilization. 

We certainly live in an enlightened age; one, in 
which civilization has reached a high point of advance- 
ment and extension, in this and several other countries. 
There are several nations, besides our own, where the ^ 
Christian religion, civil government, the usual branches 
of industry, the diffusion of knowledge, useful and or- 
namental, and of the fine arts, have done and are doing 
great things for the happiness of man. But, when we 
look a little more nearly, it must be confessed, that, 
with all that has been done in this cause, the work, 
which still remains to be accomplished, is very great. 
The population of the globe is assumed, in the more mod- 
erate estimates, to be seven hundred millions. Of these, 
two hundred and fifty millions are set down for Amer- 
ica and Europe, and the residue for Asia and Africa. 
Two hundred and fifty millions, again, are ^sumed to 
be Christians ; and of the residue, three fourths are Pa- 
gans. There is certainly a considerable diversity of 
condition among the various Asiatic and African, who 
are also the unchristianized, races, as there is also 
among the European and American, who belong to the 
family of civilization and Christianity. But, upon the 
whole, it must be admitted, that about two thirds of 
mankind are without the pale of civilization, as we un- 
derstand it; and of these, a large majority are pagan 
savages, or the slaves of the most odious and oppres- 
-sive despotisms. The Chinese and Hindoos, who make 
up two thirds of this division of mankind, contain, 



193 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

within their vast masses, perhaps the most favorabfe 
specimens of this portion of the human family ; and if 
we turn from them to the Turks, the Tartars, the Per- 
sians, the native races of the interior of Africa, the 
wretched tribes on the coast, or the degraded popula- 
tion of Australia or Polynesia, we shall find but little, 
(except in the recent successful attempts at civiUzation,) 
on which the eye of the philanthropist can rest, with 
satisfaction. Almost all is dark, cheerless, and wretched. 

Nor, when we look into what is called the civiUzed 
portion of the globe, is the prospect as much improved 
as we could wish. The broad mantle of civilization, 
like that of charity, covers much, which, separate- 
ly viewed, could claim no title to the name. Not to 
speak of the native tribes of America, or the nomadic 
races of the Russian empire, how vast and perilous is 
the inequality of mental condition among the members 
of the civilized states of the earth ! Contemplate the 
peasantry of the greater part of the north of Europe, 
attached, as property, to the soil on which they were 
born. The same class, in some parts of the Austri^m 
dominions, in Spain, in Portugal, if not held in pre- 
cisely the same state of political disability, are probably 
to a very sUght degree more improved, in their mental 
condition. In the middle and western states of Europe, 
— ^France, Holland, Germany, and Great Britain, — id- 
though th^ laboring population is certainly in a more 
elevated and happier state, than in the countries just 
named, yet how little opportunity for mental improve- 
ment do even they possess ! We know that they pass 
their lives in labors of the most -unremitted character, 
from which they derive nothing, but the means of a 
most scanty support ; constantly relapsing into want, at 
the slightest reverse of fortune, or on the occurrence of 
the first severe casualty. 

Then consider the character of a large portion of the 
population of the great cities of all countries, — ^London, 
St. Petersburg, Vienna ; where the extremes of human 
condition stand in painful juxtaposition ; and, by the 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 193 

side of some specimens of all that adorns and exalts 
humanity, — ^the glory of our species, — ^we find the large 
mass of the population profoundly ignorant and miser- 
ably poor, and no small part of it sunk to the depths 
of want and vice. It is painful to reflect, in this age 
of refinement, how near the two opposite conditions ol 
our nature may be brought, without the least commu- 
nication of a direct genial influence from one to the 
other. If any thing were necessary, beyond the slight- 
est inspection of obvious facts, to show the artificial 
structure of the society in which we five, and the need 
of some great and generous process of renovation, it 
would be the reflection, tliat, if a man wished to ex- 
plore the very abyss of human degradation, to find how 
low one could get in the scale of nature, without going 
beneath the human race ; if he wished to find every 
want, every pang, every vice, which can unite to con- 
vert a human being into a suflering, loathsome brute ; 
he would not have to wander to the cannibal tribes of 
Australia, already described, nor to the dens of the bush- 
men of the Cape of Good Hope. He would need only 
to take a ten steps' walk from Westminster Abbey, or 
strike ofi" for half a quarter of a mile, in almost any di- 
rection, from the very focus of all that is elegant and 
refined, the pride and happiness of life, in London or 
Paris. 

The painful impressions, produced by these melan- 
choly truths, are increased by the consideration, that, 
in some parts of the region of civilization, the cause of 
the mind has seemed to go backward. Who can think 
of the former condition of the coasts of the Mediterra- 
nean, and not feel a momentary anxiety for the fortunes 
of the race ? In ancient times, the shores of the Med- 
iterranean, all around, were civilized, after the type of 
that day) flourishing and happy. In this favored re- 
gion, the human mind was developed, in many of its 
faculties, to an extent and with a beauty, never sur- 
passed, and scarcely ever equalled. Greece was the 
nietropolis of this great intellectual republic ; and^ 
17 E. B 



194 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

through her letters and her arts, extended the domain 
of civilization to Asia Minor and Syria, to Egypt and 
Africa, to Italy and Sicily, and even to Gallia and Ibe- 
ria. What a state of the world it was, when all around 
this wide circuit, whithersoever the traveller directed 
his steps, he found cities, filled with the beautiful crea- 
tions of the architect and the sculptor ; marble temples, 
in the grandest dimensions and finest proportions; 
statues, whose poor and mutilated fragments are the 
models of modern art! Wheresoever he sojourned, 
he found the schools of philosophy crowded with disci- 
ples, and heard the theatres ringing with the inspira- 
tions of the Attic muse, and the forum eloquent with 
orators of consummate skill and classic renown. We 
are too apt, in forming our notions of the height of 
Grecian civilization, to confine our thoughts to a few 
renowned cities, or to Athens, alone. But not only 
Greece, but the islands, Sicily and Magna Graecia, 
round all their coasts, the Ionian shore, the remote 
interior of Asia Minor and Syria almost to the Eu- 
phrates, the entire course of the Nile up to its cataracts, 
and Libya far into the desert, were filled with populous 
and cultivated cities. Places, whose names can scarce- 
ly be traced, but in an index of ancient geography, 
abounded in all the stores of art, and all the resources 
of instruction, in the time of Cicero. He makes one 
of the chief speakers in the Orator say, " At the pres- 
ent day, all Asia imitates Meilecles of Alabanda, and 
his brother," — orator, brother, and place, now alike for- 
gotten ! Cicero himself studied, not only under Philo 
the Athenian, but Milo the Rhodian, Menippus of 
Stratonice, Dionysius of Magnesia, iEschylus of Cnidus, 
and Xenocles of Adramyttium. These were the mas- 
ters, the schools, of Cicero ! Forgotten names, perish- 
ed cities, abodes of art and eloquence, of which the 
memory is scarcely preserved ! 

What, then, is the hope, that much can be effected, 
in the promotion of the great object of the improvement 
of man, by the instrumentality of education, as we have 



EDUCATION or MANKmD. 195 

described it ? And here, I am willing to own myself 
an enthusiast ; and all I ask is, that men will have the 
courage to follow the light of general principles, and 
patience for great effects to flow from mighty causes. 
If, after estabUshing the great truths of the prodigious 
power of the principles, by which the education of the 
world is to be achieved, men suffer themselves to be 
perplexed by apparent exceptions ; and especially, if 
they will insist upon beginning, carrying on, and com- 
pleting, themselves, every thing which they propose or 
conceive for human improvement, forgetful that human- 
ity, religion, national character, literature, and the in- 
fluence of the arts, are great concerns, spreading out 
over a lapse of ages, and infinite in their perfectibility ; 
then, indeed, the experience of one short life can teach 
nothing but despair. 

But, if we will do justice to the power of the great 
principles, which I have attempted to develope, that are 
at work for the education of man ; if we will study the 
causes, which, in other times, have retarded his progress, 
which seem, in some large portions of the globe, to 
doom him, even now, to hopeless barbarity ; and if we 
will duly reflect, that what seems to be a retrograde step, 
in the march of civilization, is sometimes (as most mem- 
orably in the downfall of the Roman empire) the pecu- 
liar instrumentality, with which a still more comprehen- 
sive work of reform is carried on, we shall have ample 
reason to conceive the brightest hopes for the progress 
of our race ; for the introduction, within the pale of civ- 
ilization, of its benighted regions, and the effective re- 
generation of all. 

We have now in our possession, three instruments 
of civilization, unknown to antiquity, of power separ- 
ately to work almost any miracle of improvement, and 
the united force of which is adequate to the achieve- 
ment of any thing, not morally and physically impossi- 
ble. These are, the art of printing, a sort of mechan- 
ical magic for the diffusion of knowledge ; free repre- 
sentative government, a perpetual regulator and equal- 



196 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

izer of human condition, the inequalities of which are 
the great scourge of society ; and, lastly, a pure and 
spiritual religion, the deep fountain of generous enthusi- 
asm, the mighty spring of bold and lofty designs, the great 
sanctuary of moral power. The want of one or all of 
these satisfactorily explains the vicissitudes of the ancient 
civilization ; and the possession of them all as satisfacto- 
rily assures the permanence of tliat, which has been, for 
some centuries, and is now, going on, and warrants the 
success of the great work of educating the world. Does 
any one suppose, that, if knowledge among the Greeks, 
instead of being confined to the cities, and, in them, to a 
few professional sophists and rich slave-holders, had 
pervaded the-entire population, in that and the neighbor- 
ing countries, as it is made to do, in modern times, by the 
press ; if, instead of their anomalous, ill-balanced, tumul- 
tuary democracies and petty military tyrannies, they had 
been united, in a well-digested system of representative 
government, they and the states around them, Persia, 
Macedonia, and Rome ; and if, to all these principles 
of political stability, they had, instead of their corrupt-, 
ing and degrading superstitions, been blessed with the 
light of a pure and spiritual faith ; — does any one sup- 
pose that Greece and Ionia, under circumstances like 
these, would have relapsed into barbarism ? Impossible. 
The Phcenicians invented letters, but what did they do 
with them ? Apply them to the record, the diffusion^ 
transmission, and preservation, of knowledge? Un- 
happily for them, that was the acquisition of a far subse- 
quent period. The wonderful invention of alphabetical 
writing, to some extent at least, was probably applied 
by its authors to no other purpose, than to carve the 
name of a king on his rude statue, or perhaps to record 
some simple catalogue of titles on the walls of a temple. 
So it was with the Egyptians, whose hieroglyphics have 
recently been discovered to be an alphabetical character ; 
but which were far too cumbrous, to be employed for 
an extensive and popular diffusion of knowledge ; and 
which, with all the wisdom of their inventors, are not 



EDUCATION OF KUnOND. 197 

certainly known to have been applied to the composi* 
tion of books. It was the freer use of this flexible in- 
strument of knowledge, which gave to Greece her emi- 
nence ; which creat^ so many of the objects of her 
national pride ; and redeemed the memory of her dis- 
tinguished sons, from that foi^tfiilness which has 
thrown its vast pall over the great and brave men and 
noble deeds, of the mighty but unlettered states of 
antiquity. No one thinks that the powerful and pros- 
perous nations which flourished, for two thousand years, 
on the Nile and the Euphrates, were destitute of heroes, 
patriots, and statesmen. But, for want of a popular lit- 
erature, their merits and fame did not, at the time, in- 
corporate themselves with the popular character ; and 
now that they are no more, their memory lies crushed, 
with their ashes beneath their mausoleums and pyramids. 
The mighty cities they built, the seats of their power, 
are as desolate as the cities they wasted. The races 
of men whom they ruled and arrayed in battle, bound 
in an iron servitude, degraded by mean superstitions, 
sunk before the first invader ; and now, the very lan- 
guages, on whose breath their glory was wafted from 
Atlas to the Indus, are lost and foi^otten, because 
they were never impressed on the undying page of a 
written literature. 

The more diffusive and popular nature of the Grecian 
literature was evidently the cause of the preservation 
of the national spirit of the Greeks, and with it, of their 
political existence. Greece, it is true, fell, and with it, 
the civilization of the ancient world. In this, it may 
seem to present us, rather an illustration of the inefli- 
ciency, than of the power, of the preservative principle 
of letters. But let us bear in mind, in the first place, 
that, greatly as the Greeks excelled the Eastern nations 
in the diffusion of knowledge, they yet fell infinitely 
belbw the modern world, furnished, as it is, with the 
all-efficacious art of printing. Still more, let us recol- 
lect, that, if Greece, in her fall, affords an example of 
the insuflSciency of the ancient civilization, her long, 
17* 



198 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

glorious, and never wholly unsuccessful, struggles, and 
her recent recovery from barbarism, furnish the most 
pleasing proof, that there is a life-spring of immortality 
in the combined influence of letters, freedom, and relig- 
ion. Greece indeed fell. But how did she fall ? Did 
she fall like Babylon ? Did she fall " like Lucifer, nev- 
er to hope again ?" Or, did she not rather go down 
like that brighter luminary, of which Lucifer is but the 
herald ? 

" So sinks the Day-star in the ocean's 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.*' 

What, but the ever living power of Hterature and re- 
ligion, preserved the light of civilization and the intel- 
lectual stores of the past, undiminished in Greece, du- 
ring the long and dreary ages of the decline and down- 
fall of the Roman empire ? What preserved these sterile 
provinces and petty islets from sinking, beyond redemp- 
tion, in the gulf of barbarity, in which Cyrene, and 
Egypt, and Syria, were swallowed up ? It was Chris- 
tianity and letters, retreating to their fastnesses on moun- 
tain tops, and in secluded valleys, — the heights of Athos, 
the peaks of Meteora, the caverns of Arcadia, the se- 
cluded cells of Patmos. Here, while all else in the 
world seemed swept away, by one general flood of 
barbarism, civil discord, and military oppression, the 
Greek monks of the dark ages preserved and transcrib- 
ed their Homers, their Platos, and their Plutarchs. 
There never was, strictly speaking, a dark age in Greece. 
Eustathius wrote his commentaries on Homer, in the 
middle of the twelfth century. That, surely, if ev- 
er, was the midnight of the mind ; but it was clear 
and serene day in his learned cell ; and Italy, proud al- 
ready of her Dante, her Boccaccio and Petrarch, her 
Medicean patronage and her reviving arts, did not think 
it beneath her, to sit at the feet of the poor fugitives 
from the final downfall of Constantinople. 

What, but the same causes, enforced by the power 



EDUCATION or MANKIND. 199 

of the pr^ss, and by the sympathy with Greece, which 
pervaded the educated community of the modern world, 
has accompUshed the pohtical restoration of that Coun- 
try ? Thirteen years ago, it lay under a hopeless des- 
potism : its native inhabitants, as such, marked out for 
oppression and plunder ; tolerated in their religion for 
the sake of the exactions, of which it furnished the oc- 
casion ; shut out from the hopes and honors of social 
Ufe ; agriculture, and all the visible and tangible means 
of acquisition, discountenanced ; commerce, instead of 
lifting her honored front, like an ocean queen, as she 
does here, creeping, furtively, from islet to islet, and 
concealing her precarious gains ; the seas infested with 
pirates, and the land with robbers ; the population ex- 
hibiting a strange mixture of the virtues of the bandit 
and the vices of the slave, but possessing, in generous 
transmission from better days, some elements of a free 
and enlightened community. Such was Greece, thir- 
teen years ago ; and the prospect of throwing off the 
Turkish yoke, in every respect but this last, was as 
wild and chimerical, as the effort to throw off the Cor- 
dilleras from this continent. In all respects but one, it 
would have been as reasonable to expect to raise a 
harvest of grain from the barren rock of Hydra, as to 
found a free and prosperous state in this abject Turk- 
ish province. But the standard of liberty was raised on 
the soil of Greece, by the young men who returned from 
the universities of western Europe, and the civilized 
world was cheered at the tidings. It was the birth- 
place of the arts, the cradle of letters. Reasons of state 
held back the governments of Europe and of America 
from an interference in their favor, but intellectual 
sympathy, religious and moral feeling, and the public 
opinion of the age, rose, in their might, and swept all 
the barriers of state logic away. They were feeble, 
unarmed, without organization, distracted by feuds ; an 
adamantine wall of neutraUty on the west ; an incensed 
barbarian empire, horde after horde, from the confines 
of Anatolia to the cataracts of the Nile, pouring down 



200 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

upon them, on the east. Their armies and their navies 
were a mockery of military power ; their resources, cal- 
culated to inspire rather commiseration than fear. But 
their spirits were sustained, and their wearied hands 
upheld, by the benedictions and the succors of the 
friends of freedom. The memory of their great men 
of old went before them to battle, and scattered dis- 
may in the ranks of the barbarous foe, as he moved, 
with uneasy steps, over the burning soil of freedom. 
The sympathy of all considerate and humane persons 
was enlisted in behalf of the posterity, however degen- 
erate, of those who had taught letters and humanity to 
the world. Men could not bear, with patience, that 
Christian people, striking for liberty, should be tramp- 
led down by barbarian infidels, on the soil of Attica 
and Sparta. The public opinion of the world was en- 
listed on their side; and Liberty herself, personified, 
seemed touched with compassion, as she heard the cry 
of her venerated parent, the guardian genius of Greece. 
She hastened to realize the holy legend of the Roman 
daughter, and send back from her pure bosom the tide 
of Ufe to the wasting form of her parent : 

** The milk of his own gift ; — it is her sire 
To whom she renders back the debt of blood. 
Born with her birth ; — no, he shall not expire." 

Greece did not expire. The sons of Greece caught 
new life from desperation ; the plague of the Turkish 
arms was stayed ; till the governments followed, where 
the people had led the way, and the war, which was 
sustained by the literary and religious sympathies of the 
friends of art and science, was brought to a triumphant 
close, by the armies and navies of Europe : and there 
they now stand, the first great reconquest of modern 
civilization. 

Many, I doubt not, who hear me, have had the pleas- 
ure, within a few weeks, of receiving a Greek oration, 
pronounced in the temple of Theseus, on the reception, 
at Athens, of the first ofiicial act of the young Chnstian 



l^nVCATlOV OF MAmClND. iJOl 

prince, under whom, the govermnent of this interesting 
country is organized. What contemplations does it not 
awaken, to behold a youthful Bavarian prince deputed 
by the great powers of Europe to go, with the guaran- 
ties of letters, religion, and the arts, to the city of Mi- 
nerva, which had reached the summit of human civili- 
zation, ages before Bavaria had emerged from the depths 
of the Black Forest ! One can almost imagine the shades 
of the great of other days, the patriots and warriors, the 
philosophers and poets, the historians and orators, rising 
from their renowned graves, to greet the herald of their 
country's restoration. 0ne can alnibst fancy, that the 
leered dust of the Ceramicus must kindle into life, as 
he draws near ; that the sides of Delphi and Parnassus, 
and the banks of the Ilissus, must swarm with the re- 
turning spirits of ancient times. Yes ! Marathon and 
Thermopylae are moved to meet him, at his coming. 
Martyrs of liberty, names that shall never die, — Solon 
and Pericles, Socrates and Phocion, not now with their 
cups of hemlock in their hands, but with the deep lines 
of their living cares effaced from their serene brows, — 
at the head of that glorious company of poets, sages, 
artists, and heroes, which the world has never equalled, 
descend the famous road from the Acropolis to the sea, 
to bid the deliverer welcome to the land of glory and 
the arts. " Remember," they cry, " O Prince ! the land 
thou art set to rule ; it is the soil of freedom. Remem- 
ber the great and wise of old, in whose place thou art 
called to stand, the fathers of liberty ; remember the 
precious blood which has wet these sacred fields ; pity 
the bleeding remnants of what was once so grand and 
fair ; respect these time-worn and venerable ruins ; raise 
up the fallen columns of these beautiful fanes, and con- 
secrate them to the Heavenly Wisdom ; restore the ban- 
ished Muses to their native seat ; be the happy instru- 
ment, in the hand of Heaven, of enthroning letters, and 
liberty, and religion, on the summits of our ancient hills ; 
and pay back the debt of the civilized world to reviving, 
regenerated Greece* So diall the blessing of thooe 



902 EBUCATIOir OF lUmUHB. 

ready to perish come iipcm thee, and ages alter the vul- 
gar train of conquerors and princes is forgotten, thou shalt 
be remembered, as the youthful restorer of Greece !" 

This is a most important step, in the extension of civ- 
ilization ; what is to hinder its further rapid process, I 
own, I do not perceive. On the contrary, it seems to 
me, that poUtic^ causes are in operation, destined, at 
no very distant period, to throw open the whole domain 
of ancient improvement to the great modern instruments 
of national education, — ^the press, free government, and 
the Christian faith. The Ottoman power, — a govern- 
ment, which, till lately, has shown itself hostile to all 
improvement, — ^is already dislodged from its main po- 
sitions in Europe, and may before long be removed 
from that which it still retains. The Turk, who, four 
centuries ago, threatened Italy, and long since that 
period carried terror to the gates of Vienna, will soon 
find it no easy matter to sustain himself in Constan- 
tinople. His empire is already, as it were, encircled 
by that of Russia, a government, despotic, indeed, 
but belonging to the school of European civilization, 
acknowledging the same law of nations, connected with 
the intellectual family of western Europe and America, 
and making most rapid advances in the education of 
the various races which fill her vast domain. It is 
true, that prejudices exist against that government, at 
the present time, in the minds of the friends of liberal 
institutions. But let it not be forgotten, that, within 
the last century, as great a work of improvement has 
been carried on in the Russian empire, as was ever ac- 
complished, in an equal period, in the history of man ; 
and that it is doubtful whether, in any other way, than 
through the medium of such a government, the light of 
the mind could penetrate to a tenth part of the hetero- 
geneous materials, of which that empire is composed. 

It is quite within the range of political probability, 
that the extended dominion of the Czar will be the im- 
mediate agent of regenerating western Asia. If so, I 
care not how soon the Russian banner is planted on the 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND. Si03 

walls of Constantinople. No man can suppose, that an 
instantaneous transition can be made, in Asiatic Tur- 
key, from the present condition of those regions, to one 
of republican hberty. The process must be gradual, 
and may be slow. If the Russian power be extended 
over them, it will be a civilized and a Christian sway. 
Letters, law, and religion, will follow in the train ; and 
the foundation will be laid for further progress, in tlie 
advancing intelligence of the people. 

On the African coast, the great centre of barbarism 
has fallen ; and the opportunity seems to present itself 
of bringing much of that interesting region within the 
pale of civiUzation, under the auspices of one of the 
poUtest nations in Europe. The man, who, but fifteen 
years ago, should have predicted, that within so short a 
period of time, Greece would be united into an inde- 
pendent state, under a European prince ; that a Russian 
alhance should be sought, to sustain the tottering power 
of the Ottoman Porte ; that Algiers, which had so long 
bid defiance to Christendoin, would be subjected ; that 
a flourishing colony of the descendants of Africa should 
be planted on its western coast ; and that the mystery 
of the Niger would be solved, and steam-boats be found 
upon its waters, would have been deemed a wild enthu- 
siast. And now, when we reflect, that, at so many 
different points, the power of modern civilization is 
turned upon western Asia and -4frica ; that our print- 
ing presses, benevolent institutions, missionary associa- 
tions, and governments, are exerting their energies, to 
push the empire of improvement into the waste places ; 
when we consider, that the generation coming forward, 
in these regions, will live under new influences, and, 
instead of the Mussulman barbarism, repressing every 
movement toward hberty and refinement, that the influx 
ence and interest of the leading powers of Europe will 
be exerted to promote the great end ; is it too sanguine 
to think, that a grg.nd and most extensive work of na- 
tional education is begun, not destined to stand still, pr 
go backward ? Go backward, did I say ; what is to 



204 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

hinder its indefinite progress ? Why should these re- 
gions be doomed to perpetuated barbarity ? Hitherto, 
they have been kept barbarous, by the influence of an- 
ti-christian, despotic, illiterate governments. At pres- 
ent, vast regions, both of eastern and western Asia, and 
portions of Africa, on the Mediterranean and Atlantic 
coasts, are under the protection of enlightened, civiHzed, 
and Christian governments, vi^hose interest and character 
are alike pledged to promote the improvement of their 
subjects. Why should they not improve, and improve 
with rapidity ? They occupy a soil, which once bore 
an intelligent population. They breathe a climate, be- 
neath which the arts and letters once flourished. They 
inhabit the coasts of that renowned sea, whose opposite 
shores, of old, seemed to respond to each other, in grand 
intellectual concert, like the emulous choirs of some 
mighty cathedral, sending back to each other, from the 
resounding galleries, the alternate swell of triumph and 
praise. They are still. inhabited by men, — ^rational, im- 
mortal men, — ^men of no mean descent, whose progen- 
itors enrolled their names high on the lists of renown. 
For myself, I see nothing to put this great work be- 
yond hope. The causes are adequate to its achieve- 
ment, the times are propitious, the indications are sig- 
nificant, and the work itself, though great, indeed, is 
not in itself chimerical or extravagant. What is it ? — 
To teach those who have eyes, to see ; to pour instruc- 
tion into ears open to receive it ; to aid rational minds 
to think ; to kindle immortal souls to a consciousness 
of their faculties ; to cooperate with the strong and ir- 
repressible tendency of our natures ; to raise, out of 
barbarity and stupidity, men, who belong to the same 
race of beings as Newton and Locke, as Shakspeare 
and Milton, as Franklin and Washington. Let others 
doubt the possibiUty of doing it ; I cannot conceive the 
possibiUty of its remaining eventually undone. The dif- 
ficulty of civilizing Asia and Africa?* I am more struck 
with the difficulty of keeping them barbarous. When 
I think what man is, m his powers and improvable ca» 



EDUCATION OF MANKniD. 205 

pacities ; when I reflect on the principles of education, 
as I have already attempted, in this address, to develope 
them, my wonder is, at the condition to which man is 
sunk, and with which he is content, and not at any 
project or prophecy of his elevation. 

On the contrary, I see a thousand causes at work, to 
hasten the civilization of the world. I see the interest 
of the commercial nations enlisted in the cause of hu- 
manity and religion. I see refinement, and the arts, 
and Christianity, borne on the white wings of trade, to 
the furthest shores, and penetrating, by mysterious riv- 
ers, the hidden recesses of mighty continents. I behold 
a private company, beginning with commercial adven- 
ture, ending in a mighty association of merchant prin- 
ces, and extending a government of Christian men over 
a hundred millions of benighted heathens m the barba- 
rous East ; and thus opening a direct channel of com- 
munication between the very centre of European civil- 
ization and the heart of India. I see the ambition of 
extended sway, carrying the eagles of a prosperous em- 
pire, and, with them, the fruitful rudiments of a civiliz- 
ed rule, over the feeble provinces of a neighboring des- 
potism. I see the great work of African colonization 
auspiciously commenced, promising no scanty indem- 
nity for the cruel wrongs which that much-injured con- 
tinent has endured from the civihzed world, and sending 
home to the shores of their fathess an intelligent, well- 
educated colored population, going back with all the 
arts of life to this long oppressed land ; and I can see 
the soldiers of the cross beneath the missionary banner, 
penetrating the most inaccessible regions, reaching the 
most distant islands, and achieving, in a few years, a 
creation of moral and spiritual education, for which cen- 
turies might have seemed too short. When I behold 
all these active causes, backed by all the power of pub- 
lic sentiment. Christian benevolence, the social principle, 
and the very spirit of the age, I can believe almost any 
thing of hope and promise. I can believe every thing, 
sooner, thaii that all this mighty moral enginery can 
18 £. £• 



206 EDtrCATION OF MANKIND. 

remain powerless and ineffectual. It is against the law 
of our natures, fallen though they be, which tend not 
downwards but upwards. To those, who doubt the 
eventual regeneration of mankind, I would say, in the 
language which the wise and pious poet has put into 
the mouth of the fallen angel, 

*• Let such bethink them, — 

That, in our proper motion, we ascend 
Up to our native seat. Descent and fall 
To us are adverse." 

Let him, who is inclined to distrust the efficiency of 
the social and moral causes, which are quietly at work 
for the improvement of the nations, reflect on the phe- 
nomena of the natural world. Whence come the wa- 
ters, which swell the vast current of the great rivers, 
and fill up the gulfs of the bottomless deep ? Have 
they not all gone up to the clouds, in a most thin and 
unseen vapor, from the wide surface of land and sea ? 
Have not these future billows, on which navies are soon 
to be tossed, in which the great monsters of the deep 
will disport themselves, been borne aloft on the bosom 
of a fleecy cloud, chased by a breeze, with scaiice enough 
of substance to catch the hues of a sunbeam ; and have 
they not descended, sometimes, indeed, in drenching 
rains, but far more diffusively in dewdrops, and gentle 
showers, and feathery snows, over the expanse of a con- 
tinent, and been gathered, successively, into the slender 
rill, the brook, the placid stream, till they grew, at last, 
into the mighty river, pouring down his tributary floods 
into the unfathomed ocean ? 

Yes ! let him, who wishes to understand the power 
of the principles at work for the improvement of our 
race, — ^if he cannot comprehend their vigor, in th6 
schools of learning ; if he cannot see the promise of their 
efficiency, in the very character of the human mind ; if, 
in the page of history, sacred and profane, checkered 
with vicissitude as it is, he cannot, nevertheless, behold 
the clear indications of a progressive nature, — ^let him ac- 
company the missionary bark to the Sandwich Islands 



EDUCATION OF ICANKIND* 807 

He will there behold a people, sunk, till within fifteen 
years, in the depths of savage and of heathen barbari- 
ty ; indebted to the intercourse of the civilized world 
for nothing but wasting diseases and degrading vices ; 
placed, by Providence, in a garden of fertiUty and plen- 
ty, but, by revolting systems of tyranny and superstition, 
kept in a state of want, corruption, war, and misery. 
The Christian benevolence of a private American asso- 
ciation casts its eyes upon them. Three or four indi- 
viduals, — ^without power, without arms, without funds, 
except such as the frugal resources of private benevo- 
lence could furnish them ; strong only in pious resolu- 
tions, and the strength of a righteous cause, — land on 
these remote islands, and commence the task of moral 
and spiritual reform. If ever there was a chimerical 
project, in the eyes of worldly wisdom, this was one. 
If this enterprise is feasible, tell me, what is not! 
Within less than half the time usually assigned to a 
generation of men, sixty thousands of individuals, in 
a population of one hundred and fifty thousand, have 
been taught the elements of human learning. Whole 
tribes of savages have demolished their idols, abandon- 
ed their ancient, cruel, superstitious, and barbarous, 
laws, and adopted some of the best institutions of civi- 
lization and Christianity. It would, I think, be diffi- 
cult to find, in the pages of history, the record of a 
moral improvement, of equal ^xtent, effected in a space 
of time sb inconsiderable, and furnishing so striking an 
exemplification of the power of the means at work, at 
the present day, for the education and improvement of 
man. 

If I mistake not, we behold, in the British empire in 
the East, another most auspicious agency for the exten- 
sion of moral influences over that vast region. It is 
true, that, hitherto, commercial profit and territorial ag- 
grandizement have seemed to be the only objects, which 
have been pursued by 4he government. But, when we 
look at home, at the character of the British people, 
an enlightened, benevolent, and liberal, community ; 



208 EDUCATION OP MANKIND. 

when we consider the power of the press, and the force 
of pubhc sentiment in that Country, and the disposition 
to grapple with the most arduous questions, evinced by 
its rulers, we may hope, without extravagance, that a 
glorious day of improvement is destined to dawn on 
India, under the patronage and auspices of Great Brit- 
ian. The thoughts of her public-spirited and benev- 
olent men have long been bent on this great object. 
Some of the finest minds that have adorned our nature 
have labored in this field. I need not recall to you the 
boundless learning, the taste, and the eloquence, of Sir 
William Jones ; nor .the classical elegance, the ardent 
philanthropy, the reli^ous self-devotion, of Heber ; nor 
repeat a long list of distinguished names, who, for fifty 
years, have labored for the diffusion of knowledge in 
the East. Nor labored in vain. Cheering indications 
are given, in various quarters, of a great moral change 
in the condition of these vast and interesting regions, 
once the abode of philosophy and the arts. The 
bloodiest and most revolting of the superstitions of the 
Hindoo paganism has been suppressed by the British 
government. The widow is no longer compelled, by 
the fanatical despotism of cdstCy to sacrifice herself on 
the funeral pile of her husband. The whole system of 
the castes is barely tolerated by the government ; and, 
being at war with the fundamental principles of the 
British law, as it is with the interest of the great part of 
the population, must, at no distant period, crumble away. 
The consolidation of the British empire in India prom- 
ises a respite from the wars hitherto perpetually raging 
among the native states of that country, and forming, of 
themselves, an effectual barrier to every advance out of 
barbarism. The field seems now open to genial influ- 
ences. It is impossible to repress the hope, that, out 
of the deep and living fountains of benevolence, in the 
land of our fathers, a broad and fertilizing current will 
be poured over the thirsty plains, of India, — ^the abodes 
of great geniuses, in the morning of the world ; and 
that letters, arts^ and religion^ will be extended to a 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 209 

hundred millions of these mild and oppressed fellow- 
beings. 

But it is time to relieve your patience ; I will do it, 
after a reflection on the relation which this Country 
bears to the work of general education ; and all I wish 
to say will be comprised in one word of encourage- 
ment, and one of warning. 

The recent agitations of the Country have a bearing 
on the great moral questions we have been discussing, 
more important, as it seems to me, than their immedi- 
ate political aspect. In its present united condition, 
that of a state already large and powerful, and rapidly 
increasing ; its population more generally well educated, 
than that of any other country, and imbued with an un- 
usual spirit of personal, social, and moral enterprise ; it 
presents, in itself, the most effective organization imag- 
inable, for the extension of the domain of improvement, 
at home and abroad. The vital principle of this organ- 
ization is the union of its members. In this, they ex- 
joy an exemption from the heavy burden of great local 
establishments of government, and still more, from the 
curse of neighboring states, eternal border war. In 
virtue of this principle, they are enabled to devote all 
their energies, in peace and tranquillity, to the cultiva- 
tion of the arts of private life, and the pursuit of every 
great work of public utility, benevolence, and improve- 
ment. To attack the principle of union is to attack 
the prosperity of the whole and of every part of the 
country ; it is to check the outward developement of 
our national activity ; to turn our resources and ener- 
gies, now exerted in every conceivable manner, for 
public and private benefit, into new channels of mutual 
injury and ruin. Instead of roads and canals, to unite 
distant States, the hill tops of those which adjoin each 
other would be crowned with fortresses; and our 
means would be strained to the utmost, in the support 
of as many armies and navies as there were rival sove- 
reignties. Nor would the evil rest with the waste of 
treasure. The thoughts and feelings of men would as- 
18* 



210 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

sume a new direction ; and military renown, and rank, 
plunder, and revenge, be the ruling principles of the 
day. Destroy the Union of the States, and you de- 
stroy their character, change their occupations, blast 
their prospects. You shut the annals of the republic, 
and open the book of kings. You shut the book of 
peace, and you open the book of war. You unbar the 
gates of hell to the legion of civil discord, ambition, 
havoc, bloodshed, and ruin ! 

Let these considerations never be absent from our 
minds. But, if the question is asked. What encourage- 
ment is there, that a vast deal can be done, in a short 
time, for the improvement of man ? I would say to 
him, who puts the question, Look around you. In what 
country do you live ? under what state of things has it 
grown up ? Do you bear in mind, that, in a space of 
time, one half of which has been covered by the lives 
of some yet in existence, in two hundred years, these 
wide-spread settlements, with so many millions of in- 
habitants, abounding in all the blessings of life, more 
liberally and equally bestowed than in any other coun- 
try, have been built up in a remote and savage wilder- 
ness ? Do you recollect, that it is not half a century, 
since, with a population comparatively insignificant, she 
vindicated her independence, in a war against the oldest 
and strongest government on earth? Do you consid- 
er, that the foundations of these powerful and prosper- 
ous States were laid by a few persecuted and aggriev- 
ed private citizens, of moderate fortune, unsupported, 
scarcely tolerated, by the government? If you will go 
back to the very origin, do you not perceive, that, as if 
to consecrate this Country, from the outset, as a most 
illustrious example of what a man can do, it was owing 
to the fixed impression, on the heart of one friendless 
mariner, pursued through long years of fruitless solici- 
tation and fainting hope, that these vast American con- 
tinents are made a part of the heritage of civilized men ? 
Look around you again, at the institutions which are 



EDUCATION OF MANKIND. SI 1 

the pride and blessing of the Country. See our entire 
religious establishments, unendowed by the state, sup- 
ported by the united efforts of the individual citizens. 
See the great literary institutions of our Country, espe- 
cially those in New England, — ^Dartmouth, Williams, 
Bowdoin, Brown, Amherst, and others, — founded by 
the liberaUty of citizens of moderate fortune, or by the 
small combined contributions of public-spirited benefac- 
tors, aided, at the most, by moderate endowments from 
the public treasury ; — and " the two twins of learning," 
if I may, without arrogance, name them apart from the 
rest ; this most efficient and respected Seminary, within 
whose walls we are now convened, and my own an- 
cient and beloved Harvard; to whom, and what, do 
they trace their origin ? Yale, to the ten worthy fathers 
who assembled at Branford, in 1700, and laying, each, 
a few volumes on the table, said, " I give these books 
for the founding of a college in this Colony ;" and Har- 
vard, to the dying munificence of an humble minister 
of the Gospel, who landed on the shores of America 
but to lay his dust in its soil ; but who did not 'finish 
his brief sojourn, till he had accomplished a work of 
usefulness, which, we trust, will never die. Whence 
originated the great reform in our prisons, which has 
accomplished its wonders of philanthropy and mercy, 
in the short space of eight years, and made the peniten- 
tiaries of America the model of the penal institutions 
of the world ? It had its origin in the visit of a mis- 
sionary, with his Bible, to the convict's cell. Whence 
sprang the mighty temperance reform, which has al- 
ready done so much to wipe off a great blot from the 
character of the Country ? It was commenced on so 
small a scale, that it is not easy to assign its effective 
origin to a precise source. And counsels and efforts, 
as humble and inconsiderable at the outset, gave the 
impulse to the missionary cause of modern times, which, 
going forth, with its devoted champions, conquering 
and to conquer, beneath 



213 EDUCATION OF MANKIND. 

** the great ensign of Messiah,— 

Alofl by angels borne, their sign in Heaven,** 

has already gained a peaceful triumph over the furthest 
islands, and added a new kingdom to the realms of civ- 
ilization and Christianity. 



CffiNEXUIi DIFFUSION OF KNOWUSDOS. 213 



BENEFITS OF A GENERAL DIFFUSION OF 
KNOWLEDGE.* 

The place of our meeting, the season of the year, 
and the occasion which has called us together, seem to 
prescribe to us the general topics of our discourse. We 
are assembled within the precincts of a place of educa- 
tion. It is the season of the year, at which the semi- 
naries of learning, throughout the Country, are dismiss- 
ing, to the duties of life, that class of their students, 
whose collegiate course is run. The immediate call 
which has brought us together, at this time, is the invita- 
tion of the literary societies of this highly respectable and 
fiist rising Institution. Agreeably to academic usage, 
on the eve of their departure from a spot, endeared to 
them, by all the pleasant associations of collegiate life, 
they are desirous, by one more act of literary commun- 
ion, to strengthen the bond of intellectual fellowship, 
and alleviate the regrets of separation. In the entire 
uncertainty of all that is before us, for good or for evil, 
there is nothing more nearly certain, than that we, who 
are here assembled to-day, shall never, in the providence 
of God, be all brought together again, in this world. 
Such an event is scarcely more within the range of 
probabihty, than that the individual drops, which, at 
this moment, make up the rushing stream of yonder 
queen of the valley ,f mounting in vapor to the clouds, 
and scattered to the four winds, will, at some future 
period, be driven together, and fall in rains upon the 
hills, and flow down and recompose the identical river, 
that is now spreading abundance and beauty before our 
eyes. To say nothing of the dread summons, which 
comes to all, when least expected, you will scarce step 

* Address delivered before the Literary Societies of Amherst Col- 
lege, August 26, 1835. 
t CowieeticQt river. 



214 OElfEaAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

out of this sanctuary of your intellectual worship, before 
you will find how widely the paths of life diverge, not 
more so, in the literal sense of the word, than in the 
estrangement, which results from variety of pursuit, 
opinion, party, and success. Influenced by the feelings 
which this reflection inspires, it is natural that we should 
pause ; that we should give our minds up to the medi- 
tations which belong to the place, to the occasion, and 
the day ; that we should inquire into the character of 
that general process, in which you are now taking so 
important a step ; that we should put our thoughts in 
harmony with the objects that surround us, and thus 
seek, from the hour as it flies, from the occasion, which, 
in all its accidents and qualifications, will never return, 
to extract some abiding good impression, and to carry 
away some memorial, that will survive the moment. 

The multiplication of the means of education, and 
the general diflusion of knowledge, at the present day, 
are topics of universal remark. There are twelve col- 
legiate institutions in New England, whose Commence- 
ment is observed during the months of August and 
September, and which will send forth, the present year, 
on an average estimate, about four hundred graduates. 
There are more than fifty other institutions, of the same 
general character, in other parts of the United States. 
The greater portion of them are in the infancy of their 
existence and usefulness, but some of them compare 
advantageously with our New-England institutions. Be- 
sides the colleges, there are the schools for theological, 
medical, and legal education, on the one hand ; and, 
on the other, the innumerable institutions, for prepara- 
tory or elementary instruction, from the infant schools, 
to which the fond and careful mother sends her darling 
lisper, not yet quite able to articulate, but with the 
laudable purpose of getting him out of the way, up to 
the high schools and endowed academies, which furnish 
a competent education for all the active duties of life. 
Besides these establishments for education, of various 
character and name, societies for the promotion of use- 



GENERAL DIFIUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 215 

fill knowledge, mechanics' institutes, lyceums, and vol- 
untary courses of lectures, abound, in many parts of 
the Country, and perform a very important office in 
carrying on the great work of instruction. Lastly, the 
press, by the cheap multiplication of books, and espe- 
cially by the circulation of periodical works of every 
form and description, has furnished an important au:|il- 
iary to every other instrument of education, and turned 
the whole community, so to say, into one great monito- 
rial school. There is probably not a newspaper, of any 
character, published in the United States, which does 
not, in the course of the year, convey more useful in- 
formation to its readers, than is to be found in the 
twenty-one folios of Albertus Magnus, — light, as he was, 
of the thirteenth century. I class all these agencies un- 
der the general name of the means of education, because 
they form one grand system, by which knowledge is 
imparted to the mass of the community, and the mind 
of the age is instructed, disciplined, and furnished with 
its materials for actibn and thought. 

These remarks are made, in reference to this Coun- 
try ; but in some countries of Europe, all the means 
of education enumerated, with an exception, perhaps, in 
the number of newspapers, exist, to as great an extent 
as in our own. Although there are portions of Europe, 
where the starless midnight of the mind still covers 
society with a pall, as dreary and impervious as in the 
middle ages, yet it may be safely said, upon the whole, 
that, not only in America, but in the elder world, a 
wonderfully-extensive diffusion of knowledge has taken 
place. In Great Britain, in France, in Germany, in 
Holland, in Sweden, in Denmark, the press is active, 
schools are numerous, higher institutions for education 
abound, associations for the diffusion of knowledge 
flourish, and literature and science, in almost every form, 
are daily rendered more cheap and accessible. There 
is, in fact, no country in Europe, from which the means 
of light are wholly shut out. 

It is the impulse of the liberal mind to rejoice in this 



216 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

manifest progress of improvement, and we are daily ex- 
changing congratulations with each other, on the multi- 
plication, throughout the world, of the means of educa- 
tion. There are not wanting, however, those who find 
a dark side, even to such an object as this. We ought 
not, therefore, either to leave a matter, so important, ex- 
posed to vague prejudicial surmises, on the one hand ; 
nor, on the other, should we rest merely in the impulses 
of liberal feeling and unreflecting enthusiasm. We 
should fortify ourselves, in a case of such magnitude, in 
an enlightened conviction. We should seek to reduce, 
to an exact analysis, the great doctrine, that the exten- 
sion of the means of education, and the general diffusion 
of knowledge, are beneficial to society. It is the object 
of the present address, to touch, briefly, and in the 
somewhat desultory manner required, on such an occa- 
sion, on some of the prominent points involved in this 
great subject ; and to endeavor to show, that the diffu- 
sion of knowledge, of which we have spoken, is favora- 
ble to liberty, to science, and virtue ; to social, intellec- 
tual, and spiritual, improvement ; the only three things 
which deserve a name, below. 

I. Although liberty, strictly speaking, is only one of 
the objects, for which men have united themselves in 
civil societies, it is so intimately connected with all the 
others, and every thing else is so worthless, when liber- 
ty is taken away, that its preservation may be consider- 
ed, humanly speaking, the great object of life, in civil- 
ized communities. It is so essential to the prosperous 
existence of nations, that, even where the theory of the 
government, as in many absolute monarchies, seems to 
subvert its very principle, by making it depend on the 
will of the ruler, yet usage, prescription, and a kind of 
beneficent instinct of the body politic, secure to the 
people some portion of practical liberty. Where politi- 
cal interests and passions do not interfere, (which they 
rarely do, in respect to the private rights of the mass 
of the community,)' the subjects of the absolute monar- 
chies, of the nc^th and east of Europe, enjoy almost as 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE* 217 

large a share of liberty, as those of what are called 
the constitutional governments, in their neighborhood. 
Where this is not the case, where a despotic theory of 
the government is carried out into a despotic administra- 
tion, and life, rights, and property, are habitually sac- 
rificed to the caprice and passions of men in power, as 
in idl the despotisms which stretch across Asia, from the 
Euxine to the Pacific, there, the population is kept per- 
manently degenerate, barbarous and wretched. 

Whenever we speak of liberty, in this connexion, we 
comprehend, under it, legal security for hfe, personal 
freedom, and property. As these are equally dear to 
all men ; as all feel, with equal keenness and bitterness, 
the pang which extinguishes existence, the chain which 
binds the body, the coercion which makes one toil for 
another's benefit; it follows, as a necessary conse- 
quence, that all governments which subvert liberty are 
founded on force ; that all despotisms are, what some, 
by emphasis, are occasionally called, mUitary desp(h 
tisms. The degree of force, required to hold a popu- 
lation in subjection, other things being equal, is in di- 
rect ratio to its intelligence and skill ; its acquaintance 
with the arts of life ; its sense of the worth of existence ; 
in fine, to its spirit and character. There is a point, 
indeed, beyond which, this rule fails, and at which, even 
the most thoroughly-organized military despotism can- 
not be extended over the least intellectual race of sub- 
jects, serfs, or slaves. History presents us with the rec- 
ord of numerous servile wars and peasant's wars, from 
the days of Spartacus to those of Tupac Amaru ; in 
which, at the first outbreak, all the advantages of au- 
thority, arms, concert, discipline, skill, have availed the 
oppressor nothing against humanity's last refuge, the 
counsel of madness, and the resources of despair. 

There are two ways, in which liberty is promoted by 
the general diffusion of knowledge. The first is, by 
disabusing the minds of men of the theoretical frauds, 
by which arbitrary governments are upheld. It is a 
remark, almost if not quite without exception, that all 
19 E. E. 



218 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

governments, unfriendly to well-regulated liberty, are 
founded on the basis of some religious imposture ; the 
arm of military violence is clothed with the enervating 
terrors of superstition. The Oriental nations, as far 
back as our accounts run, worshipped their despots as 
divinities, and taught this monstrous adulation to the 
successors of Alexander. The Roman emperors, from 
the time of Julius Caesar, were deified ; and the absolu- 
tism of modern times rests on a basis a Httle more re- 
fined, but not more rational. The divine right of Hen- 
ry VIII. or of Charles V. was no better, in the eye of 
an intelligent Christian, than that of their contemporary, 
Solyman the Magnificent. 

Superstitions like these, resting, like all other super- 
stitions, on ignorance, vanish, with the diffusion of 
knowledge, like the morning mists, on yonder river, be- 
fore the rising sun ; and governments are brought down 
to their only safe and just basis, — the welfare and will 
of the governed. The entire cause of modern pohtical 
reform has started in the establishment of this principle, 
and no example is more conspicuous, than that which, 
for the magnitude of the revolution and the immensity 
of its consequences, is called, TJie Reformation ; and 
which, on account of the temporal usurpations of the 
Church of Rome, the intrusion of its power into the af- 
fairs of foreign countries, and the right claimed by the 
Pope, to conmiand the obedience of subject and sover- 
eign, — ^was not less a political, than a religious revolution. 
Throughout this great work, the course and conduct of 
Luther present a most illustrious example of the efficacy 
of a diffusion of knowledge, of an appeal to the popular 
mind, in breaking the yoke of the oppressor, and estab- 
lishing a rational freedom. When he commenced the 
great enterprise, he stood alone. The governments ac- 
knowledged the supremacy of the Roman pontiff. The 
teachers of the universities and schools were, for the 
most part, regular priests, bound, not only by the com- 
mon tie of spiritual allegiance, but by the rules of the 
monastic orders to which they belonged. The books of 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE* 219 

authority were exclusively those of the schoolmen, im- 
plicitly devoted to the church, filled with fantastical 
abstractions, with a meager and unprofitable logic, and 
written in a dead language. In this state of things, 
says Lord Bacon, " Martin Luther, conducted, no doubt, 
by a higher Providence, but in a discourse of reason, 
finding what a province he had undertaken, against the 
Bishop of Rome and the degenerate traditions of the 
church, and finding his own solitude, being no ways 
aided by the opinions of his own time, was enforced to 
awake all antiquity, and to call former times to his suc- 
cor, to make a party against the present time. So that 
the ancient authors, both in divinity and humanity, 
which had long time slept in libraries, began generally 
to be read and revolved. This, by consequence, did 
draw on a necessity of a more exquisite travel in the 
languages original, wherein those authors did write, for 
a better understanding of those authors, and the better 
advantages of pressing and applying their words. And 
thereof grew, again, a delight in their manner and style 
of phrase, and an admiration of that kind of writing ; 
which was much furthered and precipitated by the en- 
mity and opposition, that the propounders of those 
primitive but seeming new opinions had against the 
schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary part, and 
whose writings were dtogether in a different style and 
form, taking liberty to coin and frame new terms of 
art, to express their own sense, and to avoid circuit of 
speech, without regard to the pureness, pleasantness, 
and, as I may call it, lawfulness, of the phrase or word. 
And again, because the great labor then was with the 
people, of whom the Pharisees were wont to say, exe- 
crabilis ista turba, qwB nan novit legem;* for the 
winning and persuading them, there grew, of necessity, 
in chief price and request, eloquence and variety of dis- 
course, as the fittest and forciblest access into the ca- 
pacity of the vulgar sort."f 

* John VII. 49. 

t Lord Baeon'i Workf « Vol. L« p. 14, 4to ed. 



220 GENERAL DirFUSION OF KKTOWLEDGE.^ 

With the greatest reverence for the authority of Lord 
Bacon, I would say, that he seems to me to have some- 
what mistaken the relative importance of the great in- 
struments of the Reformation. Some of the contro- 
versial works of Luther, it is true, were written in Latin ; 
but in the solemn loneliness, in which he found himself, 
he called around him, not so much the masters of the 
Greek and Latin wisdom, through* the study of the 
ancient languages, as he did the mass of his own coun- 
trymen, by his translation of the Bible. It would have 
been a matter of tardy impression and remote efficacy, 
had he done no more than awake from the dusty alcoves 
of the libraries the venerable shades of the classic teach- 
ers. He roused up a population of living, sentient men, 
his countrymen, his brethren. He might have written 
and preached in Latin, to his dying day, and the elegant 
Italian scholars, champions of the church, would have 
answered him in Latin better than his own ; — and with 
the mass of the people, the whole affair would have been 
a contest between angry and loquacious priests. He 
took into his hands, not the oaten pipe of the classic 
Muse ; he moved to his great work, not 

*' to the Dorian mood 

Of flutes, and soft recorders :" — 

he grasped the iron trumpet of his mother tongue, — 
the good old Saxon, from which our own is descended, 
the language of noble thought and high resolve, — ^and 
blew a blast, that shook the nations from Rome to the 
Orkneys. Sovereign, citizen, and peasant, started at 
the sound ; and, in a few short years, the poor monk, 
who had begged his bread for a pious canticle, in the 
streets of Eisenach,* no longer friendless, no longer sol- 
itary, was sustained by victorious armies, countenanced 
by princes, and, what is a thousand times more precious 
than the brightest crown in Christendom, revered as a 
sage, a benefactor, and a spiritual parent, at the firesides 
of millions of his humble and grateful countrymen. 
Nor do we less plainly see, in this, as in numerous 
♦ Luther's Werke, Th. X., 624, 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 5221 

other examples, in the modern history of liberty, the 
more general operation of the influences, by which 
the diffusion of knowledge promotes rational freedom. 
Simply to overturn the theoretical sophisms, upon which 
any particular form of despotism may rest, is but to 
achieve a temporary work. While the mass of the peo- 
ple remain ignorant, to undermine the system of oppres- 
sion, political or ecclesiastical, under which, at any time, 
they may labor, is but to stagger darkling from one 
tyranny to another. It is for this reason, — a truth, too 
sadly exemplified in the history of the world, for the last 
fifty years, — ^that countries, in which the majority of the 
people have grown up, without knowledge, stung to 
madness by intolerable oppression, may make a series 
of plunges, through scenes of successive revolution and 
anarchy, and come out, at last, drenched in blood, and 
loaded with chains. 

We must therefore trace the cause of political slavery 
beyond the force, which is the immediate instrument ; 
beyond the superstition, which is its puissant ally ; be- 
yond the habit and usage, the second nature, of gov- 
ernments as of men ; and we shall find it in that fa- 
tal inequality which results from hereditary ignorance 
This is the ultimate, the broad, the solid, foundation of 
despotism. A few are wise, skilful, learned, wealthy ; 
millions are uninformed, and consequently unconscious 
of their rights. For a few, are concentrated the delights, 
the honors, and the excitements, of life ; for all the rest, 
remains a heritage of unenlightened subjection and un- 
rewarded toil. 

Such is the division of the human race, in all the 
Oriental despotisms, at the present day. Such it was 
in all Europe, in the middle ages. Such, in some parts 
of Europe, it still is ; such it naturally must be, every 
where, under institutions which keep the mass of the 
people ignorant. A nation is numerically reckoned at 
its millions of souls. But they are not souls ; the great- 
er part are but bodies. God has given them souls, but 
. maa has done all but annihilate the immortal principle * 
19* 



222 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

its life-spring, its vigor, its conscious power, are broken 
down, and the people lie buried in subjection, till, 
through the medium of the understanding, a new crea- 
tion takes place. The physical creation began with 
light ; the intellectual and moral creation begins with 
light, also. Chosen servants of Providence are raised 
up, to speak the word ; power is given to political or 
religious reformers, to pronounce the decree ; it spreads, 
like the elemental beam, by the thousand channels of 
intelligence, from mind to mind, and a new race is cre- 
ated. Let there be light ; let those rational intellects 
begin to think. Let them but look in upon themselves, 
and see that they are men, and look upon their oppres- 
sors, and see if they are more. Let them look round 
upon Nature : " it is my Father's dominion ; shall not 
my patient labor be rewarded with its share?" Let 
them look up to the heavens : " has He, that upholds 
their glorious orbs, and who has given me the capacity 
to trace and comprehend their motions, designed me to 
grovel, without, redemption, in the dust beneath my feet, 
and exhaust my life for a fellow-man no better than 
myself?" 

These are the truths, which, in all ages, shoot through 
the understandings to the hearts of men ; they are what 
our revolutionary fathers called " first principles ;" and 
they prepared the way for the Revolution. All that was 
good in the French Revolution was built upon them. 
They are the corner-stone of modern English liberty ; 
they emancipated the Netherlands and the Swiss Can- 
tons ; and they gave to republican Greece and Rome 
that all but miraculous influence in human affairs, 
which succeeding ages of civil discord, of abuse, and 
degeneracy, have not yet been able to countervail. 
They redress the inequalities of society. When, pen- 
etrated with these great conceptions, the people assert 
their native worth and inherent rights, it is wonderful 
to behold how the petty badges of social inequality, the 
emblems of rank and of wealth, are contemned. Cin- 
cinnatus, who saved Rome from the Sabines, was found 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 223 

ploughing his own land, a farm of four acres, when 
created dictator ; and Epaminondas, who rescued his 
country from the domination of Sparta, and was im- 
plored by the emissaries of the king of Persia to do 
their master the honor to take his bribes, possessed no 
other property, when he fell gloriously at Mantinaea, 
than the humble utensils for cooking his daily food. 
A single bold word, heroic exploit, or generous sacri- 
fice, at the fortunate crisis, kindles the latent faculties 
of a whole population, turns them from beasts of bur- 
den into men ; excites to intense action and sympa- 
thetic counsel, millions of awakened minds, and leads 
them forth to the contest. When such a developement 
of mental energy has fairly taken place, the battle is 
fought and won. It may be long and deadly, it may 
be brief and bloodless. Freedom may come, quickly, 
in robes of peace, or after ages of conflict and war ; but 
come it will, and abide it will, wherever the principles 
on which it rests have taken hold of the general mind. 
Nor let us forget, that the dangers to which liberty 
is exposed are not all on the side of arbitrary power. 
That popular intelligence, by which the acquisition of 
rational freedom is to be made, is still more necessary 
to protect it against anarchy. Here, is the great test of 
a people, who deserve their freedom. Under a parental 
despotism, the order of the state is preserved, and life 
and property are protected, by the strong arm of the 
government. A measure of liberty, that is, safety from 
irregular violence, is secured by the constant presence 
of that military power, which is the great engine of sub- 
jection. But, beneath a free government, there is noth- 
ing but the intelligence of the people, to keep the peo- 
ple's peace. Order must be preserved, not by a mili- 
tary police, but by the spontaneous concert of a well- 
informed population, resolved that the rights, which 
have been rescued from despotism, shall not be sub- 
verted by anarchy. As the disorder of a delicate sys- 
tem, and the degeneracy of a noble nature, are spec- 
tacles more grievous than the corruption of meanei 



S24 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

things, so, if we permit the principle of our government 
to be subverted, havoc, terror, and destruction, beyond 
the measure of ordinary political catastrophes, will be 
our lot. This is a subject of intense interest to the 
people of the United States, at the present time. To 
no people, since the world began, was such an amount 
of blessings and privileges ever given in trust. No 
people was ever so eminently made the guardians of 
their own rights ; and, if this great experiment of ra- 
tional liberty should here be permitted to fail, I know 
not where or when, among the sons of Adam, it will 
ever be resumed. 

II. But it is more than time to proceed to the sec- 
ond point, which I proposed to illustrate, — the favor- 
able influence of the extension of the means of educa- 
tion, and the diffusion of knowledge, on the progress 
of sound science. It is a common suggestion, that, 
while the more abundant means of popular education, 
existing at the present day, may have occasioned the 
diffusion of a considerable amount of superficial knowl- 
edge, the effect has been unfavorable to the growth of 
profound science. I am incKned to think this view 
of the subject entirely erroneous ; an inference, by no 
means warranted by the premises from which it is drawn. 
It is no doubt true, that, in consequence of the increas- 
ed facilities for education, the number of students, of 
all descriptions, both readers and writers, is almost in- 
definitely multiplied ; and, with this increase in the en- 
tire number of persons who have enjoyed, in a greater 
or less degree, advantages for improving their minds, 
the number of half-taught and superficial pretenders 
has become prdportionably greater. Education, which, 
at some periods of the world, has been a very rare ac- 
complishment of a highly-gifted and fortunate few ; at 
other times, an attainment attended with considerable 
difficulty, and almost confined to professed scholars; 
has become, in some parts of this Country, one of the 
public birthrights of the people. In this state of things, 
those who habitually look on the dark side, — often wit- 



GENERAL BHTUSION OF KNOWLEDOC. 326 

nessing the arrogant displays of superficial learning; 
books, of great pretension and little value, multiplied 
and circulated by all the arts and machinery of an enter- 
prising and prosperous age ; and in all things much for- 
wardness and show, sometimes unaccompanied by worth 
and substance, — are apt to infer a decline of sound learn- 
ing, and look back, with a sigh, to what they imagine 
to have been the more solid erudition of fbrmer days. 
But I deem this opinion without real foundation, in truth. 

It is an age, no doubt, of cheap fame. A sort of 
literary machinery exists, of which the patent papermill, 
the power-press, the newspapers, magazines, and re- 
views, the reading societies, and circulating libraries, are 
scmie of the principal springs and levers, by means of 
which, almost any thing, in the shape of a book, is 
thrown into a sort of notoriety, miscalled reputation. 
But nothing is to be inferred, from this state of things, 
in disparagement of the learning and scholarship of the 
age. All that it proves is, that, with a vast diffusion 
of useful knowle<%e, with an astonishing multiplica- 
tion of the means of education, and, as I believe, with a 
corresponding growth of true science, there has sprung 
up, by natural association, an abundance of trifiers and 
pretenders, like a growth of rank weeds, wifli a rich 
crop, on a fertile soil. 

There were, surely, always pretenders in science and 
literature, in every age of the world ; nor must we sup- 
pose, because their works and their names have per- 
ished, that they existed in a smaller proportion, former- 
ly, than now. Solomon intimates a complaint of the 
number of books, in his day, which he probably would 
not have done, if they had all been good books. The 
sophists in Greece were sworn pretenders and dealers 
in words ; the most completely organized body of learn- 
ed quacks that ever existed. Bavius and Msevius were 
certainly not the only worthless poets in Rome ; and 
from the age of the grammarians and critics of the Al- 
exandrian school, through that of the monkish chroni- 
clers and the schoolmen of the middle ages, and the 



226 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

mystics of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there 
has been no interregnum in the kingdom of learned 
dullness and empty profession. If the subjects, at the 
present day, seem more numerous than formerly, it is 
only in proportion to the increase in the entire numbers 
of the reading and writing world ; and because the 
sagacious hand of time brushes away the false preten- 
sions of former days, leaving real talent and sound 
learning the more conspicuous, for standing alone. 

But, as in elder days, notwithstanding this unbroken 
sway of false lore and vain philosophy, the line of the 
truly wise and soundly learned was also preserved, en- 
tire ; as the lights of the world have, in all former ages, 
successively risen, illuminating the deep darkness and 
outshining the delusive meteors ; so, at the present day, 
I am firmly convinced, that there is more patient learn- 
ing, true philosophy, fruitful science, and various knowl- 
edge, than at any former time. By the side of the 
hosts of superficial, arrogant, and often unprincipled, 
pretenders, in every department, there is a multitude, 
innumerable, of the devoted lovers of truth, whom no 
labor can exhaust, no obstacles discourage, no height 
of attainment dazzle ; and who, in every branch of 
knowledge, sacred and profane, moral, physical, exact, 
and critical, have carried, and are carrying, the glori- 
ous banner of true science into regions of investiga- 
tion, wholly unexplored in elder times. Let me not be 
mistaken. I mean not arrogantly to detract from the 
fame of the great master minds, the gifted few, who, 
from age to age, after long centuries have intervened, 
have appeared ; and have risen, as all are ready to al- 
low, above all rivalry. Aftertime, alone, can pronounce, 
whether this age has produced minds worthy to be class- 
ed in their select circle. But, this aside, I cannot com- 
prehend the philosophy, by which we assume, as prob- 
able, nor do I see the state of facts, by which we must 
admit, as actually existing, an intellectual degeneracy, 
at the present day, either in Europe or in this Country, 
I see not, why the multiplication of popular guides to 



GENCBAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE.' 327 

partial attainments ; why the facilities, that abound for 
the acquisition of superficial scholarship, should, in the 
natural operation of things, either diminish the number 
of powerful and original minds, or satisfy their ardent 
thirst for acquisition, by a limited progress. 

There is no doubt, that many of these improvements, 
in the methods of learning ; many of the aids to the 
acquisition of knowledge, which are the product of the 
present time ; are, in their very nature, calculated to help 
the early studies, even of minds of the highest order. 
It is a familiar anecdote told of James Otis, that, when 
he first obtained a copy of Blackstone's Commentaries, 
he observed, with emphasis, that, if he had possessed 
that book, when commencing his study of the law, it 
would have saved him seven years' labor. Would 
those seven years have borne no fruit, to a mind like 
that of James Otis? Though the use of elementary 
treatises, of this kind, may have the effect to make ma- 
ny superficial jurists, who would otherwise have been 
no jurists at all, I deem it mere popular prejudice to 
suppose, that the march of original genius, to the heights 
of learning, has been impeded, by the possession of 
these modern facilities, to aid its progress. To main- 
tain this seems to be little else than to condemn, as 
worthless, the wisdom of the ages which have gone be- 
fore us. It is surely absurd, to suppose that we can 
do no more, with the assistance of our predecessors, 
than without it; that the teachings of one genera- 
tion, instead of enlightening, confound and stuf ify that 
which succeeds; and that, "when we stand on the 
shoulders of our ancestors, we cannot see so far as from 
the ground." On the contrary, it is unquestionably 
one of the happiest laws of intellectual progress, that 
the judicious labors, the profound reasonings, the sub- 
lime discoveries, the generous sentiments, of great in- 
tellects, rapidly work their way into the common chan- 
nel of public opinion, find access to the general mind, 
raise the universal standard of attainment, correct pop- 
ular errors, promote arts of daily application, and come 



228 GENERAL DIFFUSION OP KNOWLEDGE. 

home, at la^, to the fireside, in the shape of increased 
intelligence, skill, comfort, and virtue ; which, in their 
turn, by an instantaneous reaction, multiply the num- 
bers, and facilitate the efforts, of those, who engage in 
the further investigation and discovery of truth. In 
this way, a constant circulation, hke that of the life- 
blood, takes place in the intellectual world. Truth 
travels down, from the heights of philosophy to the 
humblest walks of life, and up, from the simplest per- 
ceptions of an awakened intellect to the discoveries, 
which almost change the face of the world. At every 
stage of its progress, it is genial, luminous, creative. 
When first struck out, by some distinguished genius, it 
may address itself only to a few minds, of kindred pow- 
er. It exists, then, only in the highest forms of science ; 
it corrects former systems, and authorizes new gener- 
alizations. Discussion and controversy begin, more 
truth is elicited, more errors exploded, more doubts 
cleared up, more phenomena drawn into the circle, 
unexpected connexions of kindred sciences are traced, 
and, in each step of the progress, the number rapidly 
grows, of those who are prepared to comprehend and 
carry on some branches of the investigation, — ^till, in 
the lapse of time, every order of intellect has been kin- 
dled, from that of the sublime discoverer to the prac- 
tical machinist ; and every department of knowledge 
been enlarged, from the most abstruse and transcen- 
dental theory to the daily arts of hfe. 

I presume, it would not be difficult to deduce, from 
the discovery and demonstration of the law of gravity, 
attainments in useful knowledge, which come home, 
every day, to the business and bosoms of men ; enlight- 
ening the mass of the community, who have received 
a common education, on points, concerning which the 
greatest philosophers of former times were at fault. 
Bold as the remark sounds, there is not a young man, 
who will to-morrow receive his degree on this stage, 
who could not correct Lord Bacon, in many a grave 
point of natural science. This gre^t man questioned 



GENCRAL DITFUSION OF KNOWI^EDGE. 9S9 

the rotation of the earth on its axis, after it had been 
affirmed by Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo. He states, 
positively, that he judges the%ork of making gold 
possible,* and even goes so far, after condemning the 
procedure of the alchymists, as to propound his own. 
Finally, he says, it " is not impossible, and I have heard 
it verified, that, upon cutting down of an old timber 
tree, the stub hath put out, sometimes, a tree of another 
kind, as that beech hath put forth birch ; which, if it 
be true," the Chancellor discreetly adds, "the cause 
may be, for that the old stub is too scanty of juice to 
put forth the former tree, and therefore putteth forth a 
tree of a smaller kind, that needeth less nourishment."t 
Surely no man can doubt, that the cause of true science 
has been promoted by such a diffusion of knowledge, 
as has eradicated even from, the common mind, such 
errors as these, from which, notwithstanding their gross- 
ness, the greatest minds of other times could not eman- 
cipate themselves. 

It is extremely difficult even for the boldest intellects, 
to work themselves free of all those popular errors, 
which form a part, as it were, of the intellectual atmos- 
phere in which they have passed their lives. Coperni- 
cus was one of the boldest theorists that ever lived, but 
was so enslaved, by the existing popular errors, as, even 
while proposing his own simple and magnificently beau 
tiful theory of the heavens, to retain some of the most 
absurd and complicated contrivances of the Ptolemaic 
scheme.J Kepler was one of the most sagacious and 
original of philosophers, and the laws, which bear his 
name, have been declared, on respectable authority, 
" the foundations of the whole theory of Newton ;" 

♦"The world hath been much abused by the opinion of making 
gold. The work, itself, I judge to be possible ; but the means hitherto 
propounded to effect it are, in the practice, full of error and impos- 
ture, and, in the theory, full of unsound imaginations.'* — Lord Baeon*$ 
Works, Vol. I. p. 204. 

t Lord Bacon's Works, Vol. I. p. 241. 

% Dr. Small's Account of the Astronomical Discoveries of Kepler, 
Chap. III. and VIII. 

20 £. £. 



230 OENCltAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

but he believed that the planets were monstrous ani- 
mals, swinuning in the ethereal fluid, and speaks of 
storms and tempests as the pulmonary hearings of the 
great Leviathan, the earth, breathing out hurricanes 
from its secret spiracles, in the valleys 'and among the 
hills. It may raise our admiration of this extraordina- 
ry man, that, with notions so confused and irrational, 
he should, by a life of indefatigable research, discover 
some of the subUmest laws of Nature ; but no one can 
so superstitiously reverence the past, no one so blindly 
undervalue the utility of the diffusion of knowledge, 
as not to feel, that these absurdities must have hung 
like a millstone about the necks of the strongest minds 
of former ages, and dragged them, in the midst of their 
boldest flights, to the dust. When I behold minds hke 
these, fitted to range, with the boldest step, in the paths 
of investigation, bound down by subjection to gross 
prevailing errors, but, at length, by a happy effort of 
native sense, or successful study, grasping at the dis- 
covery of some noble truth, it brings to my mind Mil- 
ton's somewhat fantastical description of the creation 
of the animals, in which the great beasts of the forest, 
not wholly formed, are striving to be released from their 
native earth : 

** now hair appeared 

The tawny lion, struggling to get free 

His hinder parts, then springs, ns burst from bonds. 

And rampant shakes his brinded mane/* 

In short, when we consider the laws of the human 
mind, and the path by which the understanding marches 
to the discovery of truth, we must see that it is the 
necessary consequence of the general diffusion of knowl- 
edge, that it should promote the prc^ess of science. 
Since the time of Lord Bacon, it has been more and 
^more generally admitted, that the only path to true 
knowledge is the study and observation of Nature, either 
in the phenomena of the external creation, or in the 
powers and operations of the human mind. This does 
not exclude the judicious use of books, which record 



GENKRAL BirrUSION OF I:K0WLB]>€X. 331 

the observations and the discoveries of others, and are 
of inestimable value, in guiding the mind in its own in- 
dependent researches. They are, in fact, not its nec- 
essary, but its most usual instruments ; and as the book 
of Nature is neVfer so well perused, as with the assistance 
of the learned and prudent, who have studied it before 
us, so the true and profitable use of books is, to furnish 
materials, on which other minds can act, and to facili- 
tate their observation of Nature. 

I know not where I could find a better illustration of 
their value, and of their peculiar aptitude to further the 
progress of knowledge, than in the admirable report on 
the geolc^ of Massachusetts, which has recently ema- 
nated from this place.* Under the enlightened patron- 
age of the Commonwealth, a member of the Faculty of 
this Institution has set before the citizens of the State 
such a survey of its territory, such an inventory of its 
natural wealth, such a catalc^e of its productions, in 
the animal, the vegetable, but chiefly in the mineral, 
world, as cannot be contemplated, without gratification 
and pride. By one noble effort of learned industry and 
vigorous intellectual labor, the whole science of geolc^, 
one of the great mental creations of modern times, has 
been brought home, and applied to the illustration of 
our native State. There is not a citizen, who has learn- 
ed to read, in the humblest village of Massachusetts, 
from the hills of Berkshire to the sands of Nantucket, 
who has not now placed within his reach the means of 
beholding, with a well-informed eye, either in his im- 
mediate neighborhood, or in any part of the State to 
which he may turn his attention, the hills and the vales, 
the rocks and the rivers, the soil and the quarrries, that 
lie beneath it. Who can doubt, that, out of the hun- 
dreds, the thousands, of liberal minds, in every part of 
the Commonwealth, which must thus be awakened to 
the intelligent observation of Nature, thus helped over 
the elementary difficulties of the science, not a few will 

♦ Report on the Geology, Mineralogy, Botany, and Zoology, of Mat- 
•achasettf, by Professor Hitchcock 



233 GElfERAI* DOTUSION OT KKOWUBDOm. 

be effectually put upon the track of independent inqui- 
ries and original attainments in science ! 

We are confirmed in the conclusion, that the popular 
diffusion of knowledge is favorable to the growth of 
science, by the reflection, that, vast as is the domain of 
learning, and extraordinary as is the prc^ess which has 
been made, in almost every branch, it may be assumed 
as certain, — ^I will not say, that we are in its infancy, 
but, as truth is as various as Nature, and as boundless 
as creation, — ^that the discoveries already made, won- 
derful as they are, bear but a small proportion to those 
that will hereafter be effected. In the yet unexplored 
wonders and yet unascertained laws of the heavens ; in 
the affinities of the natural prc^rties of bodies ; in 
magnetism, galvanism, and electricity; in light and 
heat; in the combination and application of the me- 
chanical powers ; the use of steam ; the analysis of 
mineral products ; of liquid and aeriform fluids ; in the 
application of the arts and sciences to improvements in 
husbandry, to manufactures, to navigation, to letters, 
and to education ; in the great department of the phi- 
losophy of the mind, and the realm of morals ; and, in 
short, to every thing that belongs to the improvement 
of man, — ^there is yet a field of investigation, broad 
enough to satisfy the most eager thirst for knowledge, 
and diversified enough to suit every variety of taste, or- 
der of intellect, or degree of qualification. 

For the peaceful victories of the mind, that unknown 
and unconquered world, for which Alexander wept, is 
for ever near at hand ; hidden, indeed, as yet, behind 
the veil with which Nature shrouds her undiscovered 
mysteries, but stretching all along the confines of the 
domain of knowledge, sometimes nearest when least 
suspected. The foot has not yet pressed, nor the eye 
beheld it ; but the mind, in its deepest musings, in its 
widest excursions, will sometimes catch a glimpse of 
the hidden realm, a gleam of light from the Hesperian 
. Island, a fresh and fragrant breeze irom off the undis- 
covered land, 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. S33 

*' Sabaan odora from the ipiey ihore,'* 

which happier voyagers, in aftertimes, will approach, 
explore, and inhabit. Who has not felt, when, with his 
very soul concentred in his eyes, while the world around 
him is wrapped in sleep, he gazes into the holy depths 
of the midnight heavens, or wanders, in contemplation, 
among the worlds and systems that sweep through the 
immensity of space, — who has not felt, as if their mys- 
tery must yet more fully yield to the ardent, unwearied, 
imploring" research of patient science ? Who does not, 
in those choice and blessed moments, in which the world 
and its interests are forgotten, and the spirit retires into 
the inmost sanctuary of its own meditations, and there, 
unconscious of every thing but itself and the infinite 
Perfection,* of which it is the earthly type, and kindling 
the flame of thought on the altar of prayer, — who does 
not feel, in moments like these, as if it must, at last, be 
given to man, to fathom the great secret of his own be- 
ing ; to solve the mighty problem 

** Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate !** 

When I think, in what slight elements the great dis- 
coveries, that have changed the condition of the world, 
have oftentimes originated ; on the entire revolution, in 
political and social affairs, which has resulted from the 
use of the magnetic needle ; on the world of wonders, 
teeming with the most important scientific discoveries, 
which has been opened by the telescope ; on the all- 
controlling influence of so simple an invention as that 
of movable metallic types ; on the effects of the inven- 
tion of gunpowder, the result, perhaps, of some idle ex- 
periment in alchymy ; on the consequences of the appli- 
cation of the vapor of boiling water to the manufacturing 
arts, to navigation, and transportation by land ; on the 
results of a single sublime conception, in the mind of 
Newton, on which he erected, as on a foundation, the 
glorious temple of the system of the heavens ; — ^in fine, 
when I consider how, from the great master-principle 
of the philosophy of Bacon, — ^the induction of truth 
20* 



334 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

from the observation of fact, — has flowed, as from a 
living fountain, the fresh and still swelling stream of 
modern science, I am almost oppressed with the idea 
of the probable connexion of the truths already known, 
with great principles which remain undiscovered ; of 
the proximity in which we may unconsciously stand, to 
the most astonishing, though yet unrevealed, mysteries 
of the material and intellectual world. 

If, after thus considering the seemingly obvious 
sources, from which the most important discoveries 
and improvements have sprung, we inquire into the 
extent of the field, in which further discoveries are to 
be made, which is no other and no less than the entire 
natural and spiritual creation of God, a grand and love- 
ly system, even as we imperfectly apprehend it, but, no 
doubt, most grand, lovely, and harmonious, beyond all 
that we now conceive or imagine ; when we reflect 
that the most insulated, seemingly disconnected, and 
even contradictory, parts of the system are, no doubt, 
bound together, as portions of one stupendous whole ; 
and that those, which are at present the least explica- 
ble, and which most completely defy the penetration 
hitherto bestowed upon them, are as inteUigible, in 
reality, as that which seems most plain and clear ; that, 
as every atom in the universe attracts every other atom, 
and is attracted by it, so every truth stands in harmoni- 
ous connexion with every other truth ; — ^we are brought 
directly to the conclusion, that every portion of knowl- 
edge, now possessed, every observed fact, every demon- 
strated principle, is a clew, which we hold by one end 
in the hand, and which is capable of guiding the faith- 
ful inquirer further and further into the inmost recesses 
of the labyrinth of Nature. Ages on ages may elapse, 
before it conduct the patient intellect to the wonders 
of science, to which it will eventually lead him ; and 
perhaps with the next step he takes, he will reach the 
goal, and principles, destined to affect the condition of 
millions, beam in characters of light upon his under 
standing. What was, at once, more unexpected and 



GENEltAL DIFrUSlON OF KNOWLEDGE. S285 

more obvious, than Newton's discovery of the nature 
of light ? Every living being, since the creation of the 
world, had gazed on the rainbow; to none had the 
beautiful mystery revealed itself. And even the great 
philosopher himself, while dissecting the solar beam, 
and, as it were, untwisting the golden and silver threads 
that compose the ray of light, laid open but half its 
wonders. And who shall say, that to us, to whom, as 
we think, modem science has disclosed the residue, 
truths more wonderful than those now known, will not 
yet be revealed ? 

It is, therefore, by no means to be inferred, because 
the human mind has seemed to linger, for a long time, 
around certain results, as ultimate principles, that they 
and the principles closely connected with them, are not 
likely to be pushed much further; nor, on the other 
hand, does the intellect always require much time, to 
bring its noblest fruits to seeming perfection. It was, 
I suppose, about two thousand years, from the time 
when tlie peculiar properties of the magnet were first 
observed, before it became, through the means of those 
qualities, the pilot, which guided Columbus to the Amer- 
ican continent. Before the invention of the compass 
could take full effect, it was necessary that some navi- 
gator should practically and boldly grasp the idea that 
the globe is round. The two truths are apparently 
without connexion; but, in their application to prac- 
tice, they are intimately associated. Hobbes says, that 
Dr. Harvey, the illustrious discoverer of the circulation 
of the blood, is the only author of a great discovery, 
who ever lived to see it universally adopted. To the 
honor of subsequent science, this remark could not 
now, with equal truth, be made. Nor was Harvey, 
liimself, without some painful experience of the obsta- 
cles arising from popular ignorance, against which truth 
sometimes forces its way to general acceptance. When 
he first proposed the beautiful doctrine, his practice fell 
off; people would not continue to trust their lives in the 
hand$ of such a dreamer. When it was firmly establish- 



5236 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE* 

ed, and generally received, one of his opponents publish* 
ed a tract, de circulo sanguinis Salomoneo* and tried 
to prove, from the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes, that 
the circulation of the blood was no secret, in the time 
of Solomon. The whole doctrine of the Reformation 
may be found in the writings of Wiclif ; but neither 
he nor his age felt the importance of his principles, nor 
the consequences to which they led. Huss had studied 
the writings of Wiclif in manuscript, and was in no 
degree behind him, in the boldness with which he de- 
nounced the papal usurpations. But his voice was not 
heard beyond the mountains of Bohemia ; he expired, 
in agony, at the stake, and his ashes were scattered 
upon the Rhine. A hundred years passed away. Lu* 
ther, like an avenging angel, burst upon the world, and 
denounced the corruptions of the church, and rallied 
the host of the faithful, with a voice which might almost 
call up those ashes from their watery grave, and form and 
kindle them, again, into a living witness to the truth. 
Thus Providence, which has ends innumerable to 
answer, in the conduct of the physical and intellectual, 
as of the moral, world, sometimes permits the great dis- 
coverers fully to enjoy their fame ; sometimes, to catch 
but a glimpse of the extent of their achievements ; and 
sometimes sends them, dejected and heart-broken, to 
the grave, unconscious of the importance of their own 
discoveries, and not merely undervalued by their con- 
temporaries, but by themselves. It is plain, that Co- 
pernicus, like his great contemporary, Columbus, though 
fully conscious of the boldness and the novelty of his 
doctrine, saw but a part of the changes it was to effect 
in science. After harboring in his bosom, for long, 
long years, the conception of the solar system, he died, 
on the day of the appearance of his book from the 
press. The closing scene of his life, with a little help 
from the imagination, would furnish a noble subject for 
an artist. For thirty-five years, he has revolved and 

* On the Circulation of the Blood, as known to Solomon. 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 237 

matured, in his mind, his system of the heavens. A 
natural mildness of disposition, bordering on timidity, 
a reluctance to encounter controversy, and a dread of 
persecution, have led him to withhold his work from 
the press, and to make known his system but to a few 
confidential disciples and friends. At length, he draws 
near his end ; he is seventy-three years of age, and he 
yields his work on * The Revolutions of the Heavenly 
Orbs' to his friends, for publication. The day, at last, 
has come, on which it is to be ushered into the world. 
It is the twenty-fourth of May, 1543. On that day, — 
the effect, perhaps, of the intense excitement of his 
mind, operating upon an exhausted frame, — an effu- 
sion of blood brings him to the gates of the grave. His 
last hour has come ; he lies, stretched upon the couch 
from which he will never rise, in his apartment at the 
Canonry at Frauenberg, in East Prussia. The beams 
of the setting sun glance through the Gothic windows 
of his chamber ; near his bedside is the armilkiry sphere, 
which he has contrived, to jrepresent his theory of the 
heavens ; his picture, painted by himself, the amusement 
of his earlier years, hangs before him ; beneath it, his 
astrolabe, and other imperfect astronomical instruments ; 
and around him are gathered his sorrowing disciples. 
The door of the apartment opens ; the eye of the de- 
parting sage is turned, to see who enters : it is a friend, 
who brings him the first printed copy of his immortal 
treatise He knows that in that book he contradicts 
all that iiad ever been distinctly taught by former phi- 
losophers ; he knows that he has rebelled against the 
sway of Ptolemy, which the scientific world had ac- 
knowledged for a thousand years ; he knows that the 
popular mind will be shocked by his innovations ; he 
knows that the attempt will be made to press even re- 
ligion into the service against him ; but he knows that 
his book is true. He is dying, but he leaves a glorious 
truth, as his dying bequest, to the world. . He bids the 
friend, who has brought it, place himself between the 
window and his bedside, that the sun's rays may fall 



238 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

upon the precious Volume, and he may behold it once, 
before his eye grows dim. He looks upon it, takes it 
in his hands, presses it to his breast, and expires. But 
no, he is not wholly gone ! A smile lights up his 
dying countenance ; a beam of returning intelligence 
kindles in his eye ; his lips move ; and the friend, who 
leans over him, can hear him faintly murmur the beau- 
tiful sentiments, which the Christian lyrist, of a later 
age, has so finely expressed in verse : — 

•* Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all your feeble light ! 

Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale empress of the night ! 

And thou, refulgent orb of day, in brighter flames arrayed. 

My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere, no more demands thy aid : 

Ye stars are but the shining dust of my divine abode, 

The pavement of those heavenly courts, where I shall reign with God!" 

So died the great Columbus of the heavens.* His 
doctrine, at first, for want of a general diflfusion of 
knowledge, forced its way with difliculty against the 
deep-rooted prejudices of the age. Tycho Brahe at- 
tempted to restore the absurdities of the Ptolemaic 
system ; but Kepler, with a sagacity which more than 
atones for all his strange fancies, laid hold t)f the theory 
of Copernicus, with a grasp of iron, and dragged it into 
repute. Galileo turned his telescope to the heavens, 
and observed the phases of Venus, which Copernicus 
boldly predicted must be discovered, as his theory re- 
quired their appearance; and, lastly, Newton arose, 
like a glorious sun, scattering the mists of doubt and 
opposition, and ascended the heavens, full-orbed and 
cloudless, establishing, at once, his own renown and 
that of his predecessors, and crowned with the applauses 
of the world ; but declaring, with that admirable mod- 
esty, which marked his character, " I do not know what 
I may appear to the world ; but, to myself, I seem to 
have been only like a boy, playing on the seashore, and 
diverting myself, in finding now and then a pebble, or 
a prettier shell than ordinary, while the great ocean of 
truth lay all undiscovered before me.^f 

♦ Nicolai Copernici Vita. Opera Petri Gassendi, Tom. v. p. 451. 
t Brewster's Life of Sir Isaac Newton, page 301. 



GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 239 

But, whether the progress of any particular discovery, 
toward a general reception, be prompt or tardy, it is 
one of the laws of intellectual influence, as it is one 
of the great principles, on which we maintain, that the 
general diflusion of knowledge is favorable to the growth 
of science; that, whatsoever be the fortune of in- 
ventors and discoverers, the invention and discovery 
are immortal; the teacher dies in honor or neglect, 
but his doctrine survives. Fagots may consume his 
frame, but the truths he taught, like the spirit it en- 
closed, can never die. Partial and erroneous views 
may even retard his own mind, in the pursuit of a 
fruitful thought; but the errors of one age are the 
guides of the next ; and the failure of one great mind 
but puts its successor on a different track, and teaches 
him to approach the object, from a new point of obser- 
vation. 

In estimating the effect of a popular system of edu- 
cation upon the growth of science, it is necessary to 
bear in mind a circumstance, in 'tvhich the present age 
and that which preceded it are strongly discriminated 
from former periods; and that is, the vastly greater 
extent, to which science exists among men, who do 
not appear before the world as authors. Since the 
dawn of civilization on Egypt and Asia Minor, there 
never have been wanting individuals, sometimes many 
flourishing at the same time, who have made the most 
distinguished attainments in knowledge. Such, how- 
ever, has been the condition of the world, that they 
formed a class by themselves. Their knowledge was 
transmitted in schools, often under strict injunctions 
of secrecy ; or, if recorded in books, for want of the 
press, and owing to the constitution of society, it made 
but little impression on the mass of the community and 
the business of life. As far as there is any striking ex- 
ception to this remark, it is in the free states of antiq- 
uity, in which, through the medium of the popular 
organization of the governments, and the necessity of , 
constant appeals to the people, the cultivated intellect 



240 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

was brought into close association with the understand- 
ings of the majority of men. This fact may j^erhaps 
go far to explain the astonishing energy and enduring 
power of the Grecian civilization, which remains, to this 
day, after all that has been said to explain it, one of 
the most extraordinary facts in the history of the human 
mind. But, from the period of the downfall of the 
Roman republic, and, more especially, after the estab- 
lishment of the feudal system, the division of the com- 
munity into four classes, namely, the landed aristocracy, 
or nobles and gentry; the spiritual aristocracy, or 
priesthood ; the inhabitants of the cities ; and the peas- 
antry ; (a division which has, in modern Europe, been 
considerably modified, in some countries more and in 
some less, but in none wholly obliterated,) the action 
and manifestation of knowledge were, till a compara- 
tively recent period, almost monopolized by the two 
higher classes ; and in their hands it assumed, in a 
great d^ree, a literary, by which I mean, a book, form. 
Such, of course, must ever, with reasonable qualifica- 
tions, continue to be the case ; and books will always 
be, in a great degree, the vehicle by which knowledge 
is to be communicated, preserved, and transmitted. 

But it is impossible to overlook the fact, — ^it is one 
of the most characteristic features of the civilization of 
the age, — that this is far less excluswdy the case, than 
at any former period. The community is filled with an 
incalculable amount of unwritten knowledge, of science 
which never will be committed to paper, by the active 
men who possess it, and which has been acquired, on 
the basis of a good education, by observation, experi- 
ence, and the action of the mind itself. A hundred 
and fifty years ago, it is doubtful whether, out of the 
observatories and universities, there were ten men in 
Europe who could ascertain the longitude by lunar ob- 
servation. At the present day, scarce a vessel sails to 
foreign lands, in the public or mercantile service, in 
which the process is not understood. In like manner, 
in our manufacturing establishments^ in the construction 



GENERAL DIFTUSION OW KNOWLEDGE. 241 

and direction of rail-roads and canals, on the improved 
farms throughout the country, there is possessed, em- 
bodied, and brought into action, a vast deal of useful 
knowledge, of which its possessors will never make a 
literary use, for the composition of a book, but which is 
daily employed, to the signal advantage of the country. 
Much of it is directly derived from a study of the great 
book of Nature, whose pages are written by the hand 
of God ; and which, in no part of the civilized world, 
has been more faithfully or profitably studied, than in 
New England. The intelligent population of the coun- 
try, furnished with the keys of knowledge at our insti- 
tutions of education, have addressed themselves to the 
further acquisition oif useful science, — to its acquisition 
at once, and application, — ^with a vigor, a diUgence, a 
versatility, and a success, which are the admiration of 
the world. 

Let it not be supposed, that I wish to disconnect this 
diffusive science from that which is recorded and prop- 
agated in books ; to do this would be to reverse the 
error of former ages. It is the signal improvement of 
the present day, that the action and reaction of book- 
learning and general intelligence are so prompt, in- 
tense, and all-pervading. The moment a discovery is 
made, a principle demonstrated, a proposition advanced 
through the medium of die press, in any part of the 
world, it finds immediately a host, numberless as the 
sands of the sea, prepared to take it up, to canvass, 
confirm, refute, or pursue, it. At every waterfall, on 
the line of every canal and rail-road, in the counting- 
room of every factory and mercantile establishment, on 
the quarter-deck of every ship which navigates the high 
seas, on the farm of every intelligent husbandman, in 
the workshop of every skilful mechanic, at the desk of 
the schoolmaster, in the oflice of the lawyer, the study 
of the physician and clergyman, at the fireside of every 
man, who has had the elements of a good education, 
not less than in the professed retreats of learning, there 
is an intellect to seize, to weigh, and appropriate, the 
21 E. E. 



&42 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

suggestion, whether it belong to the world of science^ 
of taste, or of morals. 

In some countries, there may be more, and in some 
less, of this latent intellectual power ; latent, I call it, in 
reference, not to its action on life, but to its display in 
books. In some countries, the books are in advance 
of the people, in others greatly behind them. In Eu- 
rope, as compared with America, the advantage is in 
favor of the books. The restraint imposed upon the 
mind, in reference to all political questions, has had the 
effect of driving more than a proportion of the intellect 
of that part of the world into the cultivation of science 
and literature, as a profession ; and if we were to judge 
merely from the character of a few great works pub- 
lished at the expense of the government, and the at- 
tainments of a few individuals, Italy and Austria would 
stand on a level with Great Britain and France. The 
great difference between • nation and nation, in refer- 
i' ence to knowledge, is, in fact, in no small degree, in 
this very distinction. In reference to the attainments 
of scholars and men of science by profession, of which 
some few are found in every civilized country, all na- 
tions inay be considered as forming one intellectual re- 
public ; but in reference to the diffusion of knowledge 
among the people, its action on the character of nations, 
its fruitful influence on society, the most important dif- 
ferences exist between different countries. 

III. There remains to be discussed the last topic of 
our address, — ^the influence of a general diffusion of 
knowledge on morals, a point, which, if it were debata- 
ble, would raise a question of portentous import ; for, 
if the diffusion of knowledge is unfriendly to goodness, 
shall we take refuge in the reign of ignorance ? What 
is the precise question, on which, in this connexion, 
rational scruples may be started, deserving a serious 
answer? 

The merits of the case may, I believe, be stated some- 
what as follows : — ^that there seems, in individuals, no 
fixed proportion between intellectual and moral growtli 



GEN«RAL DIFFUSION OF KKOWLEB6E. 243 

Eminent talent and distinguished attainment are scHne- 
times connected with obliquity of character. Of those 
who have reached the heights of speculative science, 
not all are entitled to the commendation bestowed on 
Sir William Jones, — ^that he was "learned, without 
pride, and not too wise to pray ;" and one entire class 
of men of letters and science, the French philosophers 
of the last century, were, as a body, though by no means 
without honorable exceptions, notorious for a disbelief 
of revealed religion ; an insensibility to the delicacies 
of moral restraint ; a want of that purity of feeling and 
character, which we would gladly consider the insepa- 
rable attendant of intellectual cultivation. It is a ques- 
tion of deep interest, whether, from these facts, and 
others like them, any thing can be fairly deduced, un- 
favorable to the moral influence of a diffusion of knowl- 
edge. 

No country in Europe had retained more of the feu- 
dal divisions, than France, before the Revolution. A 
partition of the orders of society, but little less rigid than 
the Oriental economy of castes, was kept up. Causes, 
which time would fail us to develope, had rendered the 
court and capital of France signally corrupt, during the 
last century. It is doubtful, whether, in a civilized state, 
the foundations of social morality were ever so totally 
subverted. It was by no means one of the least active 
causes of this corruption, that all connexion between 
the court and capital, and the higher ranks in general, 
on the one hand, and the people on the other, was cut 
off* by the constitution of society, and the hopeless de- 
pression, degradation, and ignorance, of the mass of the 
people. Under these influences, the school of the en- 
cyclopedists was trained. They did not make, they 
found the corruption. They were reared in it. They 
grew up in the presence and under the patronage of a 
most dissolute court, surrounded by the atmosphere of 
an abandoned metropolis, without the constraint or the 
corrective of a wholesome public sentiment, emanating 
from an intelligent and virtuous population. The great 



S44 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

monitors of society were hushed. The pulpit, not over 
active, at that time, as a moral teacher in the Catholic 
Church in Europe, was struck dumb, for some of the 
highest dignitaries were stained with all the vices of the 
rest of their order, that of the nobiHty ; and some of the 
most virtuous and eloquent of the prelates had been 
obliged to exhaust their talents, in panegyrics of the 
frail but royal dead. The press was mute, on every 
thing which touched the vices of the time. It was not 
then the diffusion of knowledge, from the philosophical 
circles of Paris, that corrupted France ; it was the gross 
darkness of the provinces, and the deep degradation, 
every where, of the majority of the people, which left 
unrebuked the depravity of the capital. It was precise- 
ly a diffusion of knowledge that was wanted. And if, 
as I doubt not, France, at this time, is more virtuous 
(notwithstanding the demoralizing effects of the Revo- 
lution and its wars) than at any former period, it is 
owing to the diffusion of knowledge, which has followed 
the subversion of feudalism, and the regeneration of the 
provinces. Paris has ceased to be France. It has ceased 
to be possible that a dissolute court should give the tone 
of feeling to the entire kingdom ; for an intelligent class 
of independent citizens and husbandmen has sprung up 
on the ruins of a decayed landed aristocracy, and the 
reformation of France is rapidly going on, in the eleva- 
tion of the intellectual, and with it the political, social, 
and moral character of the people. 

I do not deem it necessary to argue, at length, against 
any general inference from individual cases, in which 
intellectual eminence has been associated with moral 
depravity. The question concerns general influences 
and natural tendencies, and must be considered mainly 
in reference to the comparative effects of ignorance and 
knowledge on communities, nations, and ages. In this 
reference, nothing is more certain, than that the diffu- 
sion of knowledge is friendly to the benign influence 
of religion and morals. The illustrations of this great 
truth are so abundant, that I know not where to begin 



0£NERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 245 

nor where to end with them. Knowledge is the faith- 
ful ally both of natural and revealed religion. Natural 
reli^on is one grand deduction made by the enlightened 
understanding, from a faithful study of the great book 
of Nature ; and the record of revealed religion, con- 
tained in the Bible, is not merely confirmed by the har- 
mony, which the mind delights to trace between it and 
the " elder Scripture writ by God's own hand ;" but 
Revelation, in all ages, has called to its aid the medita- 
tions and researches of pious and learned men ; and, 
most assuredly, at every period, for one man of learn- 
ing, superficial or profound, who has turned the weap- 
ons of science against religion or morals, hundreds have 
consecrated their labors to their defence. Christianity 
is revealed to the mind of man, in a peculiar sense. 
To what are its hopes, its sanctions, its precepts, ad- 
dressed ? to the physical or the intellectual portion of 
his nature ; to the perishing or the immortal element ? 
Is it on ignorance or on knowledge, that its evidences 
repose ? Is it by ignorance or knowledge, that its sa- 
cred records are translated from the original tongues, 
into the thousands of languages, spoken in the world ? 
and if, by perverted knowledge, it has sometimes been 
attacked, is it by ignorance or knowledge, that it has 
been and must be defended ? What, but knowledge, 
is to prevent us, in short, from being borne down and 
carried away, by the overwhelming tide of fanaticism 
and delusion, put in motion by the moon-struck impos- 
tors of the day ? Before we permit ourselves to be ag- 
itated with painful doubts, as to the connexion of a dif- 
fusion of knowledge with religion and morals, let us 
remember, that, in proportion to the ignorance of a 
community, is the ease with which their behef can be 
shaken, and their assent attained to the last specious 
delusion of the day, till you may finally get down to a 
degree of ignorance, on which reason and Scripture are 
alike lost ; which is ready to receive Joe Smith as an 

inspired prophet, and Matthias as ^but shame and 

horror forbid me to complete the sentence. 
21* 



346 OSmBRAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

But this( topic must be treated in a higher strain. The 
diffusion of knowledge is not merely &vorable to relig- 
ion and morals, but, in the last and highest analysis, 
they cannot be separated from each other. In the great 
prototype of our feeble ideas of perfection, the wise and 
the good are so blended together, that the absence of 
one would enfeeble and impair the other. There can 
be no real knowledge of truth, which does not tend to 
purify and elevate the affections. A little knowledge, — 
much knowledge, — ^may not, in individual cases, sub- 
due the passions of a cold, corrupt, and selfish heart. 
But if knowledge will not do it, can it be done by the 
want of knowledge ? 

What is human knowledge? It is the cultivation 
and improvement of the spiritual principle in man. We 
are composed of two elements ; the one, a little dust, 
caught up from the earth, to which we shall soon re- 
turn ; the other, a spark of that Divine Intelligence, in 
which and through which we bear the image of the 
great Creator. By knowledge, the wings of the intel- 
lect are spread : by ignorance, they are closed and pal- 
sied, and the physical passions are left to gain the as- 
cendancy. Knowledge opens all the senses to the won- 
ders of creation : ignorance seals them up, and leaves 
the animal propensities unbalanced by reflection, enthu- 
siasm, and taste. To the ignorant man, the glorious 
pomp of day, the shining mysteries of night, the ma- 
jestic ocean, the rushing storm, the plenty-bearing river, 
the salubrious breeze, the fertile field, the docile animal 
tribes, the broad, the various, the unexhausted, domain 
of Nature, are a mere outward pageant, poorly under- 
stood in their character and harmony, and prized only 
so far as they minister to the supply of sensual wants. 
How different the scene, to the man whose mind is 
stored with knowledge ! For him, the mystery is un- 
folded, the veils lifted up, as one after another he turns 
the leaves of that great volume of creation, which is 
filled in every page with the characters of wisdom, pow- 
er, and love; with lessons of truth the most exalted j 



GENERAIi DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE, 847 

with images of unspeakable loveliness and wonder ; ar- 
guments of Providence ; food for meditation ; themes 
of praise. One noble science sends him to the barren 
hills, and teaches him to survey their broken precipices. 
Where ignorance beheld nothing but a rough inorganic 
mass, instruction discerns the intelligible record of the 
primal convulsions of the world; the secrets of ages 
before man was ; the landmarks of the elemental strug- 
gles and throes of what is now the terraqueous globe. 
Buried monsters, of which the races are now extinct, 
are draped out of deep strata, dugout of eternal rocks, 
and brought almost to life, to bear witness to the power 
that created them. Before the admiring student of Na- 
ture has realized all the wonders of the elder world, thus, 
as it were, created again by science, another delightful 
instructress, with her microscope in her hand, bids him 
sit down, and learn at last to-know the universe in which 
he lives ; and contemplate the limbs, the motions, the 
circulations, of races of animals, disporting in their tem- 
pestuous ocean, — a drop of water. Then, while his 
whole soul is penetrated with admiration of the power 
which has filled with life, and moticm, and. sense, these 
all but non-existent atoms, — O, then, let llie divinest 
of the Muses, let Astronomy approach, and take him 
by^ the hand ; let her 

" Come, but keep her wonted state. 
With even step and musing gait, 
And looks commercing with the skies* 
Her rapt soul sitting in her eyes ;'* 

let her lead him to the mount of observation; let her 
turn her heaven-piercing tube to the sparkling vault: 
through that, let him observe the serene star of even- 
ing, and see it transformed into a cloud-encompassed 
orb, a world of rugged mountains and stormy deeps ; 
or behold the pale beams of Saturn, lost to the un- 
taught observer amidst myriads of brighter stars, and 
see them expand into the broad disk of a noble plan- 
et, the seven attendant worlds, the wondrous rings, a 
mighty system in itself, borne at the rate of twenty-two 



248 GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

thousand miles an hour, on its broad pathway through 
the heavens ; and then let him reflect, that our great 
solar system, of which Saturn and his stupendous reti- 
nue is but a small part, fills, itself, in the general struc- 
ture of the universe, but the space of one fixed star ; 
and that the Power, which filled the drop of water with 
millions of living beings, is present and active, through- 
out this illimitable creation ! Yes, yes, 

" The nndevout astronomer is mad !" 

But it is time to quit these sublime contemplations, 
and bring this address to a close. I may seem to have 
undertaken a superfluous labor, in sustaining the argu- 
ment of this address. This Institution, consecrated to 
learning and piety ; these academic festivities ; this fa- 
voring audience, which bestows its countenance on our 
literary exercises; the presence of so many young 
men, embarking on the ocean of life, devoted to the 
great interests of the rational mind and immortal soul, 
bear witness for me, that the cause of education stands 
not here in need of champions. Let it be our pride, 
that it has never needed them, among the descendants 
of the Pilgrims ; let it be our vow, that, by the blessing 
of Providence, it never shall need them, so long as 
there is a descendant of the Pilgrims to plead its worth. 
Yes, let the pride of military glory belong to foreign re- 
gions ; let the refined corruptions of the older world 
attract the traveller to its splendid capitals ; let a fervid 
sun ripen, for other states, the luxuries of a tropical 
clime. Let the schoolhouse and the church continue 
to be the boast of the New-England village ; let the son 
of New England, whithersoever he may wander, leave 
that behind him, which shall make him homesick for 
his native land ; let freedom, and knowledge, and mor- 
als, and religion, as they are our birthright, be the birth- 
right of our children, to the end of time ! 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 249 



ON SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION » 

Gentlemen op the Adelphic Union, — ^I feel scarce- 
ly 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 present- 
ed themselves upon the public stage, in the presence 
of kindred, friends, and a gratified audience, to be dis- 
missed with collegiate honors, to the active duties of 
life, or to the more immediate preparation for its pro- 
fessional pursuits. I have scarce a right to take to my- 
self any portion of the precious time, to which they 
have the first claim. Besides, I feel too deeply inter- 
ested in the scene, as a spectator, to desire a more ac- 
tive part in the duties of the day. It recalls to me, 
fresh as yesterday, the time, now more than a quarter 
of a century past, when, Hke 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 en- 
thusiasm, of youth. These scholastic exercises, these 
learned tongues, these academic forms, touch a chord of 
sympathy in my bosom. Personally a stranger to most 
of those whom I have the honor to address, I feel as 
if, on literary ground, (and I am 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 may 
even 

** Claim kindred there, and have the claim allowed." 

Nature seems to breathe peace, in concert with the 
character of the day ; and, within these quiet valleys, 
shut out, by the perpetual hills, from the struggling 
world, she invites us, with her most soothing voice, to 
kind feeling, to cheerful discourse, and to calm thought. 

• An Address delivered before the Adelphic Union Society of Wil 
liami College, on Commencement Day, August 16, 1887. 



^0 SUPHRIOa AND POPULAB EIHJCATION. 

Nor are the historical recollections around us less 
animating and joyous. The pleasant village, where we 
are assembled, contains, within view of the spot where 
we stand, the site of Fort Hoosac, and, a mile or two 
east of us, stood Fort Massachusetts. The plough has 
passed over its rude lines ; but what scenes of humble 
heroism and almost forgotten valor are associated with 
its name ! 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 Worcester, 
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 gener- 
ations, the French and Canadian foe strove to burst 
into the colonies. These are recollections of an early 
day. A few miles to the north of us Ues 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 smnmons of Stark. While 
we meet together, to enjoy, in peace, the blessings for 
which they shed their blood, let us pour out upon the 
academic altar, one Ubation of grateful feeling to their 
memory. 

But, though I would most willingly have continued a 
gratified Ustener, 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 education. I 
know, it is a worn theme ; as old as the first dawnings 
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 still remains, for us, 
a topic of unabated and ever urgent interest. Althou^ 
it is a subject on which philosophers, of every age, have 
largely discoursed, so far from being exhausted, it prob* 



SUPERIOB AND POPULAB EDUCATION. 251 

ably never presented itself to the human nund under 
so many new and important aspects, as at the present 
day, and, I may add, in these United States. I may 
safely appeal to every person who hears me, and who 
is in the habit of reflecting at all on the character of 
the age in which we live, whether, next to what direct- 
ly concerns the eternal welfare of man, there is any 
subject, which he deems of more vital importance, 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 still 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 gen- 
eral discussion of the subject. I could not do so, with- 
out repeating what I have advanced, on former similajt 
occasions, and what I cannot deem of suflSicient impor- 
tance, to be said over, again. Indeed, if I wished to 
express, most forcibly, the importance, the dignity, and 
the obligation of the great work of education, 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 thii^ to be educated, — ^the mind of man. 
Then, if we wished to give life and distinctness to the 
ideas of the importance of education, which result from 
this contemplation, we might do so by a single glance 
at the niunber and importance of the branches of know- 
ledge, to which education furnishes the key. I might 
allude to the admirable properties of language, which it 
is the first business of education to impart ; the wonders 
of the written and spoken tongue, as the instrument of 
thought, — ^wonders, which daily use scarcely divests of 
their almost miraculous character. I might glance at 
that which is usually next taught to the unfolding mind, 
the astonishing power of the science of niunbers, with 



252 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

which, on the one hand, we regulate the humblest de- 
tails of domestic economy, and, on the other, compute 
the swiftness of the solar beam, and survey and as it 
were stake out, from constellation to constellation, the 
great rail-road of the heavens, on which the comet 
comes blazing upward from 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 rouse the generations of the elder world, from their 
pompous mausoleums or humble graves, to rehearse 
their fortunes. I might 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 may so ex- 
press it, of the three kingdoms of Nature ; but where 
she has also recorded the catalogues of her perished 
children, races of the animal and vegetable world, buri- 
ed beneath the everlasting rocks. The discoveries 
recently made in the science of geology are of a truly 
wonderful character. Winged creatures, twenty feet 
in height, whose footsteps have lately been discovered, 
imprinted in sandstone, on the banks of Connecticut 
River ; enormous 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 mo- 
rasses of our own continent ; petrified skeletons of croc- 
odiles and megatheria, 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 monstrous 
forms have risen into day, the recovered monuments 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 Bohemia, is one of the most instnic- 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 253 

tive and beautiful, to be found in the whole range of 
science. He speaks as an eyewitness. "The most 
elaborate imitations of living foliage, upon the painted 
ceilings 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 
gorgeous tapestry, enriched with festoons of most 
graceful foliage, flung, in wild, irregular profusion, over 
every portion of its surface. The effect is heightened 
by the contrast of the coal-black color of these vegeta- 
bles with the light groundwork of the rock to which 
they are attached. The spectator feels himself trans- 
ported, as if by enchantment, into the forests of anoth- 
er world ; he beholds trees, of forms and characters now 
unknown upon the surface of the earth, presented to 
his senses, sdmost in the beauty and vigor of their pri- 
meval life ; their scaly stems and bending branches, 
with their delicate apparatus of foliage, are all spread 
forth before him ; httle impaired by the lapse of count- 
less ages, and bearing faithful records of extinct systems 
of vegetation, which began and terminated in times, of 
which these relics are the infallible historians."* 

Nor is the account given by Cuvier, of his discover- 
ies of fossil remains of animals, less striking. It is ow- 
ing 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 made to arrange them into forms, or give them 
the names of the particular animals to which they be- 
longed. 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 

* Backland*fl Bridgewater Treatise, Vol. I. pp. 844, 845. 
22 £. £• 



854 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATIOST. 

many hundred skeletons, of more than twenty kinds 
of animak, piled confusedly around me ; the task as- 
signed me was, to restore them all to their original po- 
sition. At the voice of comparative anatomy, every 
bone and fragment of a bone resumed its place."^ 

But leaving, with these transient glances, all attempt 
to magnify the work of education, by pointing out the 
astonishing results to which it guides the well-trained 
mind, a much shorter method might be pursued, with 
one who needed to be impressed with its importance. 
I would take such a one to a place of instruction, to 
a school, yes, to a child'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 immortal spirits. In 
a few years, you and I, and all now on the stage, shall 
have passed away, and there, on those little seats, prim- 
er 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 his- 
tory shall have run together, to a point ; when the loud, 
clear voices of genius, and the multitudinous tongues 
of nations, shall aUke be hushed, forever, those in&mt 
children will have ripened into immortal beings, look- 
ing 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 ! If there 
is any one not deeply impressed, by this single reflec- 
tion, with the importance of education, he is beyond 
the reach of any thing that can be urged, by way eith- 
er of illustration or argument. 

What, then, is the business of education ? 

It is to assist the growth of our spiritual nature ; to 

* This sentence ia given, as it appears in Dr. Backland*s Bridge- 
water Treatise. Vol. I. p. 72, where Cuvier, Ossemens fossil es, Tom. 
III. p. 84, edition 1812, is cited. It reads somewhat differently in 
the original, in the edition of 1825, Tom. II. part 2, p. 284. Set 
also Griffith's Abridgement of Cuvter, Vol. I. p. 110. 



SUP£BIOR AND, POPULAR EDUCATION* UBS 

dispose of the circumstances that affect it, in such a 
way, as best to promote the harmonious developement 
of all the faculties. The mind 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 their outward working. In the operation of 
these laws, as a certain kind of aliment, clothing, and 
exercise, are most favorable to the developement of the 
natural organs and the health of the physical man, so 
a certain course of discipline and instruction is most 
favorable to the well-proportioned formation and healthy 
action of the various mental powers, and of the whole 
intellectual nature. 

How much, in the aggregate, has been and daily is 
effected, by education, in the most comprehensive sense 
of the word, may be satisfactorily estimated, by any 
one who will compare together the attainments of men, 
in a barbarous and highly civilized state. I could not 
enter into this comparison, without passing the limits 
of this occasion ; but, without an enumer^^tion of par- 
ticulars, it will occur to every one who hears me, that 
the difference, between the best specimens of educat- 
ed, 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 performed by education, 
of harmonious character and tendency, but of different 
sphere and mode of operation. One regards the disci- 
pline and training of mind to the highest point of intel- 
lectual 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 fost-named view of education, 
it is an inquiry well calculated to stir the curiosity of the 
thoughtful student of the nature of the human mind, 
whether it be possible, by the wisest system of educa- 
tion, most faithfully applied, to produce higher degrees 



856 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

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 conmion nature to the highest point of hu- 
man perfection ; and it may seem presumptuous, to 
express the opinion that it can be possible, by any 
agency of means 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 admi- 
ration of the world. It may even seem idle, in connex- 
ion with education, to speak at all of such minds; 
since, in tracing their personal history, it is often found, 
that, so far from owing their eminence over the rest 
of mankind to superior advantages of instruction, they 
were bom and reared in want, and became great by the 
power of genius, unaided by favorable circumstances. 
I do not now recollect one, among the master minds 
of our race, for whom a kind and judicious father would 
have prescribed, from first to last, that course of edu- 
cation and life, which, as the event proved, was pre- 
scribed by Providence. 

Homer, the father of poetry, the one bard, to whom 
all aftertimes have accorded the first place, was a wan- 
dering minstrel, in a semi-barbarous age, perhaps, a 
bUnd mencficant. Who would have thought, that the 
wisest of heathen* should have been a poor, barefooted 
soldier ; the standing butt, on the Athenian stage, of 
the most tremendous of satirists ;f the victim of an un- 
tameable shrew ; sacrificed, at last, to a tyranny, as 
base as it was cruel ? Or, who would have predicted, 
that the prince of Grecian eloquencej should have been 
found in a stammering orphan, of feeble lungs and un- 
gainly carriage, deprived of education by avaricious 
guardians, and condemned to struggle, for his life, 
amidst the infuriated contests of rival political factions ? 
The greatest minds of Rome, so far from being placed 
in circumstances, seemingly favorable to their forma- 

* Socratet . f ArUtophanei. t Demosthenet. 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 257 

tion, lived, almost all of them, in exceedingly critical, 
perilous, 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 great- 
est minds seem to have been trained under circumstan- 
ces, which would have been deemed, beforehand, friend- 
ly to the improvement of genius ! Dante was tossed, 
by the stormy feuds of the Italian repubUcs, from city 
to city, banished, and sentenced to be burned alive, if 
found in the land which he has immortalized by his 
fame. The madhouse of St. Anne was the conserva- 
tory 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 permanent 
bias is usually given to the mind, was the shorn and 
sleek inmate of a monk's cell. Of the great men 
which form 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 illustrious intel- 
lects, from Homer down, — ^the giant minds, who, in the 
language of MachiavelU, rise above the level of their 
fellow-men, and stretch out their hands to each other, 
across the interval of ages, transmitting to each suc- 
ceeding generation, 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 minds of the first order furnish 
no rule for the average of intellect ; and I can well con- 
ceive, that they may, in the inscrutable connexion of 
cause and effect, in some cases, have owed a part of 
their power and eminence to the operation of those 
seemingly untoward circumstances, against which hu- 
man prudence would, if possible, have guarded them. 
But I hope it will not be deemed rash, to say, that I 
can ima^e that each and all of these great men^ to 
22* 



S58 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

whom I have alluded, might, under more favorable in* 
fluences, 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 nour- 
ished by the fond and never intermitted study of their 
works, — ^I may say that I catch, from this very study 
of their writings and characters, a conception, that, 
high as they rose, they might have risen higher. I 
can sometimes behold the soil of the world upon their 
snow-white robes, and the rust of human passion up- 
on the gUttering edge of their wit. It was long ago 
said by Horace that the good Homer sometimes nods ; 
and Shakspeare, the most briUiant example, unquestion- 
ably, 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 re^on, where the 
understanding endeavors in vain to follow him; 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 morn- 
ing, 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 
admitted, that the most eminent minds might, by a hap- 
pier course of life and education, have been redeemed 
from their faults, and have attained a higher degree of 
excellence. If this be granted, what may not reasona- 
bly be expected, from a great increase in the means, and 
improvement in the methods, 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 built upon them ; from the purer tone 
of public sentiment, and higher standard of morals, 
which cannot fail to result from the joint operation of 
the social, intellectual, and religious, influences now at 
work ? Under the action of these causes, daily grow- 



SUPERIOR ANB POPULAR EDUCATION* 850 

mg 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 fa- 
vorable to the fullest developement and highest cultiva- 
tion of their powers. 

I am aware that it is a prevalent notion, that, to some 
efforts of genius, an advanced state of cultivation is 
unfriendly ; that the infancy of science is more conge- 
nial with poetry ; and that, in general, the period of 
critical learning is unfavorable to the developement of 
strongly-rmarked original talent. I am inclined, howev- 
er, to believe this a mistaken opinion ; an erroneous 
inference from 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 character of the age, it is, of 
course, strictly true. In conditions of the world so dif- 
ferent, 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 Ei^ 
land, it must be expected that poetry and every other 
manifestation of mind will exhibit different forms ; as 
we see they have done in Homer, Virgil, Dante, and 
Milton. But I deem the notion, that the first age was 
necessarily 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 d^rading as it is 
unsound. 

On the contrary, I believe that truth is the great in- 
q)irer ; the knowledge of truth the aliment and the instru- 
ment of mind, the material of thought, feeling, and fan- 
cy. I do not mean that there is no beauty, in poetical 
kmguage founded on scientific error ; that it is not, for 
instance, consistent with poetry, to speak of the rising 
gun or the arch of heaven. Poetry delights in these 
sensible images and assimilations of ideas, in themselves 
distinct* From the imperfection of human language^ 



360 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

it will perhaps always be necessary to describe many 
things in the material, and still 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 Queene,' 

*• The sacred fire, which burneth mightily 
In living 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 sub- 
ject 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 ad- 
vanced, such language will cease to please. 

But the point I maintain is this ; that, as knowledge 
extends, the range of all imagery is enlarged, poetical 
language is drawn from a wider circle, and, what is far 
more important, that the conception kindles by the 
contemplation of higher objects. 

Let us illustrate this point, still further, in reference 
to the effect on poetry of the sublime discoveries of 
modern astronomy. 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 luminaries, hung up as lamps 
in a vaulted sky. This philosophy not only lies at the 
foundation of the imagery, under which Homer repre- 
sents 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 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 261 

Spenser, and Milton, as we have just seen, in this re- 
spect, draw their images from the same source as Virgil, 
Homer, 'and Hesiod. 

Now I cannot but think, that, when the sublime dis- 
coveries of modern astronomy shall have become as 
thoroughly wrought into the vocabulary and the intelli- 
gence of the community, as the humble and erroneous 
conceptions of the ancients, the great and creative minds 
will derive from them a vastly grander range of poetical 
illustration. 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 ele- 
ments of poetical conception. For this reason, in the 
same proportion in which the apparent circuit of the 
heavens has been enlaiged, and the science of astrono- 
my extended, by the telescope, the province of imagina- 
tion and thought must be immeasurably extended, also. 
The soul becomes great, by the habitual contemplation 
of great objects. As the discovery of a new continent 
upon the surface of the globe, by Columbus, gave a 
most powerful impulse to the minds of men, in every 
department, it is impossible that the discovery of worlds 
and system of worlds, in the immensity of space, should 
not wonderfully quicken the well-instructed genius. 
As the ambition, the avarice, the adventure, the legion 
host of human passions, 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 philosophy. The telescope was known, 
but had not yet revdutionized the science of astronomy. 
Even Lord Bacon did not adopt the Copemican system, 



363 StTFERlOR AND POPIJLiJt EDt7CATI0«r« 

and Galileo's wonderful instrument had produced scarce 
any result, beyond a more distinct conception of the 
magnitudes of the bodies, which compose the solar sys- 
tem. But it is pleasing to remark, with what prompt- 
ness Milton seizes upon this new topic of poetical illus- 
tration. In his very first description of the arch-fiend, 
we are told of 

•* his ponderoas shield, 

Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 
Behind him cast ; the broad circamference 
Hnng on his shoulders, like the moon, whose orb. 
Through optic glass, the Tuscan artist views, 
At evening from the top of Fesole, 
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 
Milton, that it would have filled his soul with still bright* 
er 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 wild career within the orbit of the planet 
Uranus ; and that, by estimation, one hundred millions 
of stars, each prdbMy the centre of a system as vast 
as our own, — multitudes of them combined into mighty 
systems of suns wondrously complicated with each oth- 
er, — are distributed throughout space, would these stu- 
pendous 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 awak- 
ed to a new existence, in the light of such a philosophy. 
Escaping from the wholly false and the partly false, 
" the utter and the middle darkness" of the Ptolemaic 
sjTstem, he would have felt the " sovereign vital lamp'* 
of pure science, in his inmost soul. He would havt 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 863 

borrowed from La Place the wings of the boldest an- 
alysis, and would have flown to the uttermost parts of 
creation, where he could have seen through the teles- 
cope, the bands of Orion loosened, and the gems of his 
gUttering belt blazing out into empyreal suns, while 
crowded galaxies, " powdered with stars," rushed asun- 
der into illimitable 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 
philosophy, new ornaments for his immortal verse. 

But, sublime and inspiring as are these glimpses, 
imparted to us by modem science, of the upper heav- 
ens, we have much reason to think that they are but 
glimpses ; that they awaken but faint conceptions of a 
glorious reality, as yet unimagined. We do literally 
but look through a glass, darkly, at these myriads of 
worlds. The remark of Newton, that his sublime 
discoveries seemed to him but as so many pebbles or 
shells, picked up on the shore of the great undiscov- 
ered 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 sen- 
timent, that the heavenly bodies are the seats of orders 
of intelligence, kindred or superior to our ©wn ; and 
the Scriptures tell us, how the morning 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 orh that thou behold'st 
Bat, in his motion, like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed chernbins. 
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, 
gravitation itself, may be resolved into the intelligent 
action of the minds, by which it is inhabited and con- 



264 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

trolled, — empowered to this high function, by the su- 
preme intellect. It may be, that, at some advanced 
stage of human science, the contemplative and pious 
genius will 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 penetrate that mysterious temple of the Infinite, 
in whose vestibule the purest offerings of the rapt soul 
have ever been made, — ^philosophy, poetry, art, elo- 
quence, 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, will 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 atmos- 
phere is created. It is painful to reflect, that, of the 
few great minds, to whom the superiority over all oth- 
ers 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 illumination 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,t 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 ele- 
vation of the poet's mind, and of the refinement of the 
age in which he lives, is the distinctness, power, and 
purity, with which he conceives the spiritual world. In 
all else, he may be the observer, the recorder, the paint- 
er ; but, in this dread sphere, he must assume the prov- 
ince, which his name imports ; he must be the maker : 

♦ Homer. 
tHomer'fllliad, Vm. 651. 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 265 

creating his own spiritual world by the highest action 
of his mind, upon all the external and internal materials 
of thought. If ever there was a poetical vision, calcu- 
lated, not to purify and to exalt, but to abase and to 
sadden,, it is the visit of Ulysses to the lower re^ons.* 
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 mother from 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 intellect, which contemplates the great 
mystery of our being, under this ghastly and frivolous 
imagery, has never heeit bom to a spiritual life, nor 
caught a glimpse of the highest heaven of poetry ? Vir- 
gil's spiritual world was not essentially superior to Ho- 
mer's; but the Roman poet lived in a civilized age, 
and his visions of the departed are marked with a de- 
corum and grace, which form the appropriate counter- 
part of the Homeric roughness. 

In Dante, for the first time in an uninspired bard, 
the dawn of a spiritual day breaks upon us. Although 
the shadows of superstition rest 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 inscription over the portal,t 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 inscription, in solemn gran- 
deur ; nor is there, any where, a more delicious strain 
of tender poetic beauty, than that of the distant vesper 
bell, which seems to mourn for the departing day, as it 
is heard by the traveller just leaving his home.J But 

• Odyssey, XI. 

t <* All hope abandon, ye who enter here." — Dell* Inferno^ Can* 
to III, 

t De. Pnrgfttorio, Canto VIII. 

23 E. E« 



266 SUPERIOR AN» POPULAR EDUCATIOK. 

Dante lived in an age, when Christianity, if I inay so 
speak, was paganized. Much of his poem, substance 
as well as ornament, is heathen. Too much of his in- 
q)iration is drawn from the stormy passions of hfe. The 
warmth with which he glowed is too often the kindling 
of scorn and indignation, burning under a sense of in- 
tolerable wrong. The holiest muse may 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 oi^n. With its first choral 
swell, the soul is lifted from fiie earth. In the ^ Divina 
Commedia,' the man, the. Florentine, the exiled Ghibel- 
line, stands out, from first to last, breathing defiance 
and revenge. Milton, in some of his prose works, be- 
trays 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 heav- 
enly muse. Dante, in his dark vision, descends to the 
depths of the world of perdition, and, homeless fugitive 
as he is, drags his proud and prosperous enemies down 
with him, and buries them, doubly destroyed, in the 
flaming sepulchres of the lowest hell.* Milton, on the 
other hand, seems almost to have purged off the dross 
of humanity. Blind, poor, friendless, in solitude and 
sorrow, with quite as much reason as his It^ian rival 
to repine at his fortune and war against mankind, how 
calm and unimpassioned is he, in all that concerns his 
own personality ! He deemed too highly of his Divine 
^ft, to make it the instrument of immortalizing his ha 
treds. One cry, alone, of sorrow at his blindness, one 
pathetic lamentation, over the evil days on which he had 
fallen, bursts from his full heart.f There is not a flash 

♦ Dell* Inferno, Cantos IX. X. 

t Paradise Lost, Books III. and Vll. at the beguming. 



SUPERIOR ANB POFULAtl EDUCATION. 267 

of human wrath in all his pictures of wo. Hating noth- 
ing but evil spirits, in the childlike simpUcity of his 
heart, his pure hands undefiled with the pitch of the 
political intrigues in which 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 in- 
fluences to which we have alluded, any thing superior 
to ' Paradise Lost' will ever be produced by man ? It 
requires a courageous faith in general principles, to be- 
Ueve it. I dare not call it a probable event ; but can 
we say it is impossible ? If, out of the wretched intel- 
lectual 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 
equalized; and the standard of moral and religious 
principle, in public and private affairs, raised far above 
its present level ? A continued progress in the intel- 
lectual world is consistent with all that we know of the 
laws that govern it, and with all experience. A pre- 
sentiment 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, nevei 
can be, fully slaked at the fountains which have flowed 
beneath the touch of the enchanter's wand. Man lis- 
tens to the heavenly strain, and straightway becomes 
desirous of still 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, here'»ftei 
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 * Para- 
dise Lost.' In the xonception of this subject, by Mil- 
ton, then mature in the experience of his great poem. 



268 SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

we have the highest human judgement, that this is the 
one remaining theme. In his uncompleted 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 grandest 
which can be contemplated by the mind of man, will 
never receive a poetical illustration, proportioned to its 
sublimity. It seems to me impossible, that the time, 
doubtless far distant, should not eventually arrive, when 
another Milton, divorcing his heart from the delights of 
life ; purifying his bosom from its angry and its selfish 
passions ; relieved, by happier fortunes, from care and 
sorrow ; 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.^ 

n. The fulfilment of anticipations like these, both 
as to time and manner, is of course wrapt up in the un- 
certain future. The province of education, in which 
we may all labor, and in which the efiects to be im- 
mediately hoped for stand in some assignable prc^r- 
tion 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 commencement 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 eflicacious and productive, as 
to the training of the mind ? These questions, I am 
persuaded, must be answered in the aflirmative. It is 

* Although I do not at present recollect, that the tendency of the 
progress of knowledge to produce higher displays 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 
ninth chapter of his Treatise on the Sublime, (Ed. Mori, p. 42,) lays 
down principles, leading directly to this result ; and Cicero, in his 
Orator, § 84, points still more plainly to the same conclusion, and in 
reference to the science from which the illtlstration is drawn on page 
261. See also the Spectator, No. 688. 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 269 

at once melancholy and fearful to reflect, how much in- 
tellect is daily perishing, from inaction ; or worse tlian 
perishing, from the false direction given it in the morn- 
ing of lyfe. 

I fear, we do not yet fully realize what is meant, 
when we speak of the improvement of the mind. I 
fear, it is not yet enough considered, by legislators or 
parents, that there dwells, in every rational being, an 
intellect endowed with a portion of the faculties, which 
form the glory and happiness of our nature, and which, 
developed and exerted, are the source of all that makes 
man to differ, essentially, from the clod of the valley. 
Neglected and uncultivated, deprived of its appropriate 
nourishment, denied the discipUne which is necessary 
to its healthy growth, this Divine principle all but ex- 
pires, 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 commonly be obtained; 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 
culture of the earth. If the husbandman relax his la- 
bors, and his field be left untilled, this year or the next, 
although a crop or two be lost, the evil may be reme- 
died. 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, dur- 
ing the period most proper for its cultivation, if it be 
suffered to remain dark and uninformed, its vital power 
perishes ; for all the purposes of an intellectual 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 ca- 
23* 



270 SUPERIOR AND POPUI»AR EDUCATION. 

ses, be launched upon the world a ben^hted being, 
scarcely elevated above the beasts that perish ; and all 
that he could have been and done, for society and for 
himself, is wholly lost. 

Although this utter sacrifice of the intellectual nature 
is rarely made, in this part of the Country, I fear there ex- 
ists, 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 incompetent to the work ; and that 
our best teachers are not sufiiciently furnished with lit- 
erary apparatus, particularly with school libraries. If 
these defects could be supplied, I believe a few years 
would witness a wonderful effect upon the community ; 
that an impulse, not easily conceived beforehand, would 
be given to individual and social character. 

I am strongly convinced, that it behoves our ancient 
Commonwealth to look anxiously to this subject, if she 
wishes to maintain her honorable standing, in this Un- 
ion of States. I am not grieved, when I behold, on 
the map, the enormous dimensions 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 wel- 
fare 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 discontent, 
the astonishing accounts of their fertiUty; that their 
vast prairies are covered with more feet of rich vegeta- 
ble 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. 

All this, I can bear ; but I cannot bear that our be- 
loved native State, whose corner-stone was laid upon 
an intellectual and moral basis, should deprive itself, 
by iU own neglect, of the great counterpoise to these 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 271 

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 means of educating my children, 
and I will not exchange its thirstiest sands nor its 
barest peak, for the most fertile spot on earth, depriv- 
ed 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 bot- 
tom of the hill, than dwell in a paradise of fertility, if 
I must bring up my children in lazy, pampered, self-suf- 
ficient ignorance. A man may protect himself against 
the rattle and the venom ; but, if he unnecessarily leaves 
the mind of his offspring a prey to ignorance, and Hie 
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 child ! No, I will 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 unnecessarily deprives his son of 
education, and thus knowingly trains him up in the 
way he should not go, may have a perverse, an intract- 
able, a prodigal, child, one who will bring down, ay, 
drag down, his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, but 
a thankless child he cannot have. 

As I have said, I think this matter must be looked 
to. If the all-important duty of training the mental 
powers of the young is intrusted to the cheapest hand 
that can be hired to do th^ work ; to one who is barely 
able to pass, a nominal examination, by a committee 
sometimes more ignorant than himself, in the modicum 
of learning prescribed by law ; and slender as the priv- 
ilege of such instruction is, if it be enjoyed by our chil- 
dren but for ten or twelve weeks in the year, as is the 

* Saddle Mountain, between Williamitown and Adams. 



$!7S SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

case in too many towns in the CcHnmonwealth, it is 
plain to see, that they are deprived of the best part of 
their birthright. I know it is said, that these few weeks, 
in the depth of Winter, are all of his children's time 
that the frugal husbandman can spare. But can it be 
so? Can the labors of the field, or any other labors, 
be so hotly pressed among 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 Massa- 
chusetts, of all pursuits and callings, might, witl^out 
the least detriment to their interests, send their t :hil- 
dipn steadily to a good school, seven months in the 
year, and more or less of the time, the other five. 
Without detriment, did I say ? Nay, with incalcula- 
ble advantage to their children, to themselves, and to 
the State. 

It would be more rational to talk about not affording 
seed-corn, than to talk about not affording our children 
as much of their time as is necessary for their educa- 
tion. 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 helplessness 
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 dropy from its sweeping wings, 
and come back, in Autumn, and expect to find a field 
of yellow grain nodding to the sickle, than to allow 
your son to grow up without useful knowledge, and 
expect that he will sustain himself with respectability, 
in life, or (if consideration must be had of self-inter- 
est) prop and comfort your decline. Not spare our 



SUPERIOR AND POPtJLAR EDUCATION. 873 

children'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 Ufe ? And to confine them, in the 
morning of their days, to a round of labor for the meat 
that perisheth, — ^is it not, when our children ask for 
bread, to give them a stone ; when they ask for a fish, 
to give them a serpent, which will sting our bosoms as 
weU as theirs ? 

Our governments, as well as individuals, have, I must 
needs say, a duty to discharge, to the cause of educa- 
tion. Something has been done, by some of the State 
governments much has been done, for this cause ; but 
too much, I fear, remains undone. In the main, in 
appropriating the pubUc funds, we tread too much in 
the footsteps of European precedents. I could wish 
our legislators might be animated with a purer ambi- 
tion. In other parts of the world, the resources of the 
state, too often wrung from their rightful possessors, 
are squandered on the luxury of governments, built up 
into the walls of stately palaces or massy fortifications, 
devoured by mighty armies, sunk by overgrown navies 
to the bottom of the sea, swallowed up in the eternal 
wars of state poUcy. 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 rehef and education 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 governments, that the whote energy of 
their civilization must be exhausted, in preventing them 
from destroying each other. With us, on the contrary, 
while the Union of the St^ites is preserved, (and Heav<^ 



9HA SUPEBIOH AND P0PT7LAB EDUCATION. 

en grant it may be perpetual,) no obstacle exists to 
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 poticy, and aim at a 
new developement of national character! From the 
earliest period of history, the mighty power of the as 
sociation of millions of men into a people, moved by 
one poHtical will, has been appUed to objects, at which 
humanity weeps, and which, were they not written on 
every page of the world's experience, would be abso- 
lutely incredible. From time to time, a personal gath- 
ering is witnessed ; mighty numbers of the populaticwi 
assemble, en masse. Doubtless, it is some noble work 
which they are going to achieve. Marshalled beneath 
gay and 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 pubHc expense, to some grand under- 
taking ! They go not empty-handed ; their approach 
is discerned, afar, by a forest of glittering steel above 
their heads, and the earth groans beneath their trains 
of enginery, of strange form and superhuman power. 
What errand of love hsis 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 mimic thunder which rends the sky ; let the 
agonizing shrieks which rise from torn and trampled 
thousands, return 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 fertile fields with 
bloody ashes. 

I cannot, will not, believe, that social man can rise 
no higher than this ; that reason and experience, self- 
interest and humanity, the light of Nature, the progress 
of knowledge, and the word pf God, will forever prove 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 275 

too feeble for this monstrous perversion of human en- 
ergy. I must believe, that the day will yet dawn, when 
the great efforts of individual 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 tiberal 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 pro- 
gress of improvement, there is yet many a spot, within 
its borders, sacred to better hopes and higher anticipa- 
tions. Let us dwell, for a m(»nent, on the phenomena 
which have been exhibited on the spot where-we are 
now assembled. Scarce 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 hatdly 
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 beyond them, westward, commenced 
the dreary i^derness, pathless, except as it was thread- 
ed by war parties from Canada and New England, and 
by handa 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 civilization 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 civilized destruction to the horrors of savage 
warfare. One century of peaceful improvement and 
hopeful progress was blotted from the history of this 
porticm of frontier America. 

But the seeds of improvement were sown, even in 
this bloody soil. One of those generous spirits, who, 
from time to time, are raised up to accomplish great 



276 SUPERIOB AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

objects, was stationed in this comer of the CcMnmon- ' 
wealth, in command of the Une of forts erected for 
border defence. You know that I allude to the foun- - 
der of this Institution. He foresaw, even then, the 
destinies of the Country. He knew that the tireary 
forest was not designed forever to encumber the soil. 
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 
dowly 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 moun 
tain 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 scenes of the 
war of 1755. A presentiment of his mte seems to have . 
been upon his mind. Before plunging into the cam- 
paign, he made provision for the appropriation of his 
fortune to furnish the means of education to the peo- 
ple, whose struggles, in settling this region, he had wit- 
nessed and shared. His will was made at Albany, on 
the twenty-second of July, 1755, bequeathing his prop- 
erty for the foundation of this Institution ; and, on the 
eighth of September, of the same year, in an engage- 
ment with the troops under the Baron Dieskau, he fell, 
at the head of his regiment. Eighty years, only, have 
passed away. The laudable purposes of your founder 
have been more than fulfilled ; and, out of the living 
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 ha^ not been done to his memory. A man 
of the happiest natural temperament, a gentleman of the 
true natural stamp, unassuming and simple, supplying 
the deficiency of a learned education by large experience 
of men and things, acquired in foreign travel, in the 



SUPEBIOR AND POPULAR tDUCATION. 277 

I^lishture, and in the anny, yet modestly lamenting 
what others did not trace, hiis want of early advantages ; 
without a family, but the patriarch of the frontier settle- 
ment where he was stationed ; he fell, in the prime of 
jearly manhood, a victim to his patriotic zeal. A brief 
sketch of his biography, in one of the early volumes of 
the Massachusetts Historical Collections,'^ informs us, 
that he witnessed, with humane and painful sensations, 
the dangers, difficulties, and hardships, which the set- 
tlers of these valleys were obliged to encounter ; and 
that, to encourage them, he was accustomed to inti- 
mate the purpose which was carried into effect in his 
will. I regret, not to have found Colonel Williams's 
views, on this subject, preserved somewhat in detail. 
It would have been exceedingly interesting to see the 
topic of education, in reference to the wants of a newly- 
settled country, 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 preserv- 
ed, you will pardon me for attempting to present the 
subject to you, under the same light in which he may 
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 to- 
ward the place of rendezvous,) ^^ your hardships, I am 
aware, are great. I have vntnessed, I have shared 
them. The hardships, incident to opening a new coun- 
try, are always severe. They are heightened, in our 
case, by the constant danger in which we live, from the 
savage enemy. At present, we are rather encamped 
than settled. We hve in block-houses ; we lie upon 
our arms, by night ; and, like the Jews, who returned to 
build Jerusalem,'!' we go to work, by day, with the im- 
plements of husbandry in one hand, and the weapons 
of war in the other. Nor is this the worst. We have 

* Firat Series, Vol. YIU. p. 47. 
t Nehemiah iv. 17. 

24 F. E. 



278 SUPERIOB AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 

been bred up in the populous settlements on the coast, 
where the schoolhouse 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 impenetraJble forests, in which 
you have made an opening, and contrast it with the 
pleasant villages, where you were bom and passed your 
early years, 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 
disheartened, at the present moment of impending war 
But, my friends, let not your spirits sink. The pros 
pect b overcast, but brighter days will come. In vis 
ion, I can plainly foresee them. The forest disappears ; 
the cornfield, the pasture, takes its place : the hill-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 villages. 
Schools and churches spring up in the waste ; institu- 
tions for learning arise ; and, in what is now a wild 
solitude, Ubraries 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 them, to infest this howling wil- 
derness, — ^will long prevent the valleys of the Hoosac 
and the Housatonic from becoming the abode of in- 
dustry, abundance, and refinement. A century will 
not pass, before the voice of domestic wisdom and fire- 
side inspiration, from the vales of Berkshire, will be 
heard throughout America and Europe. As for the 
contest, impending, I am sure we i^idl conquer ; if I 
mistake not, it is the first of a series of events, of un- 
utterable moment to all America, and even to man- 
kind. Before it closes, the banner of St. George will 
float, I am sure, over Cape Diamond ;* and the exten- 

* At Qaebec. 



SUPERIOR AND POPULAR EDUCATION. 5J79 

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 individuals is wrapt in the uncertain future. 
For myself, I must own, that I feel a foreboding at my 
heart, which I cannot throw off. I can only say, if 
my hour is come, (and I think it is not distant,) I am 
prepared. I have been able to do but little ; but, if 
Providence has no further work for me to perform, I 
am ready to be discharged from the warfare. It is my 
purpose, before I am taken from you, to make a dispo- 
sition 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-morrow, if, at its close, I shall be accepted as 
the humble instrument of promoting the ^eat cause of 
education. 

" My friends, as I am soon to join the army, we meet, 
many of us, perhaps, for the last time. I am a solitary 
branch ; I can be spared. I have no wife, to feel my 
loss ; no children, to follow me to the grave. Should 
I fall by the tomahawk or in the front of honorable bat- 
tle, on the shores of the stormy lake or in the infested 
woods, this poor body may want even a friendly hand 
to protect it from insult. But I must take the chance 
of a soldier's Hfe. When I am gone, you will find some 
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 
in the public assembly, and posterity will bestow a tear 
on the memory of Ephraim Williams." 



S80 IKPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS * 

Mr. President and Gentlemen, — ^I beg leave to 
congratulate you, on the success of your eflTorts to estab- 
lish the first Fair of the Massachusetts Charitable Me- 
chanic Association. Under circumstances scwmewhat 
unfavorable, you have produced an exhibition, which, 
I am persuaded, has fidly answered the pubtic expec- 
tation. More than fifteen thousand articles, in almost 
every department of art, have been displayed in the 
halls. Specimens of machinery and fabrics, reflecting 
great credit on their inventors, improvers, and manufac- 
turers, many of them aflbrding promise of the highest 
utihty, and unitedly bearing a very satisfactory testimo- 
ny to the state of the arts in this Country, and partic- 
ularly in this community, have been submitted to the 
pubUc 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 display. It vnll be the business of your committees, 
after a critical examination of the articles exhibited, to 
award enduring testimonials of merit. But the best 
reward will be the consciousness of having contributed 
to the common stock of the pubUc welfare, by the suc^ 
cessful cultivation of the arts, so important to the im- 
provement of society and the happiness of Ufe. 

I feel gratified, at being invited to act as the organ 
of your Association, in this general expression of its 
sentiments, on so interesting an occasion. It would be 
a pleasing employment, 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 

* An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Charitable Me- 
chanic Association, September 20, 1837, on occasion of their first Ex 
hibition and Fair. 



IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 281 

limits. It would require a condensing apparatus, mor^ 
efficient than any which has yet been contrived, to 
bring even a descriptive catalogue of the articles exhib- 
ited, within the compass of a pubtic address : to give 
a full account of the most important of them, would 
demand no small portion of the knowledge and skill 
required for their fabrication. The nature of this occa- 
sion 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 illustrations, the 
vast importance of the Mechanic Arts. In pursuing 
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 often produced 
by the control over matter: so that power over the ma- 
terial 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 ma- 
terial Cleans, treading a material earth, incorporated 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 mateml body, and by external circumstances 
acting upon it. 

This control of mind over matter is principally effect- 
ed through the medium of the mechanic arts, talung that 
term in its widest acceptation. The natural faculties of 
the human frame, unaided by artificial means, are cer- 
tainly great and wonderful ; but they sink to nothing, 
compared with the power which accrues from the skil- 
ful use of tools, machines, engines, and other material 
24* 



282 IMPORTANCE OF T&E MECHANIC ARTS. 

agents. Man, widi his unaided strength, can lift but i 
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 sotid granite, a hundred feet h%h. 
The dome of St. Peter's is one hundred and twenty 
feet in diameter ; its sides are twenty-two feet in thick- 
ness ; it is suspended in the air, at an elevation of three 
hundred and twenty feet from the ground ; and it was 
raised by hands as feeble as these. The unaidecf force 
of the muscles 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, from 
which the columns of the Girard College, at Philadel- 
phia, are taken, I saw masses of hundreds of tons, which 
had been cleft from the quarry by a very simple artifi- 
cial process. Three miles an hour, for any considerable 
space of time, and with ample intervals for recreation, 
food, and sleep, are the extreme limit of the locomotive 
capacity of the strongest fr'ame, 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 unfathomed 
ocean ; and, by the combination of another portion of 
the arts, he ffies at the rate of fifteen or twenty miles an 
hour, and, if need be, with twice that rapidity, without 
moving a muscle, from city to city. 

The capacity of imparting thought, by inteUigible signs, 
to the minds of other men, — ^the capacity which lies at 
the foundation of all our social improvements, — ^while 
unaided by art, was confined within the limits of oral 
communication and memory. The voice of wisdom per- 
ished, 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 did of the natural capacity ; and, after a 
long series of successive improvements, passing through 
the stages of pictorial and sjrmbolical representations 
of things, the difierent steps of hieroglyphical writing, 
(each occupying, no doubt, long periods of time for 



mPOBTANCE OV THE MECHANIP ARTS. 283 

« its discovery and application,) it devised a method of 
imprinting on a material substance an intelligible sign, 
not of things, but of sounds forming the names of 
things ; in other words, il invented the ABC. With 
this simple invention, and the mechanical contrivances 
with which it is carried into effect, the mind of Aian 
was, I had almost said, recreated. The day before it 
was invented, the voice of man, in its utmost stretch, 
could be heard but by a few thousands, intently listen- 
ii^, for an hour or two, during which, alone, his strength 
would enable him to utter a succession of sounds. The 
day after the art of writing was invented, he was able to 
stamp his dioughts on a roll of parchment, and send them 
to every city and hamlet of the largest empire. The day 
before this invention, the mind of one country was es- 
tranged from the mind of all other countries. For al- 
most all the purposes of intercourse, the fiunilies of man 
might as well not have belonged to one race. The day 
after it, Wisdcwn was endued with the gift of tongues^ 
and spake, by her interpreters, to all the tribes of kin-* 
dred men. The day before this invention, and noth- 
ing but a fading tradition, constantly becoming fainter, 
could be preserved by the memory, of all that was spok- 
en or acted by the greatest and wisest of men. The 
day after it, Thought was imperishable ; it sprung to 
an earthly immortality ; it seized the new-found instru- 
ments of record and commemoration, and, deserting the 
body, as it sunk, with its vocal oi^ans, 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 
importance of the aid, rendered by the arts to the nat- 
ural faculties of man. They present themselves to the 
reflecting mind, in every direction ; and they lead the 
way to the conclusion, 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, because there exist, on 
the surface of the globe, many tribes and races, nearly 



^ 284 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

CM* quite destitute of them ; as, for instance, the native 
inhabitants of this continent. We know not, with cer- 
tainty, it is true, whether these and other savage races 
are specimens of humanity, disjoined from the parent 
stock, before great progress had been made in civili- 
zation, or broken down and degenerate fiBgments of 
nations once cultivated, and retaining, even in their 
present degraded condition, some remnants of primitive 
improvement. There are some circumstances which 
favor the latter opinion, and consequently they do not 
afford us a perfect specimen of what man would be, be- 
fore the discovery of any of the useful arts of life. But 
we may see enough, in them, to learn how much of all 
our civilization resides in these arts ; that, in fact, civil- 
ization may almost be considered another word for their 
aggregate existence and application. For it is a some- 
what humiliating reflection, that, in many things de- 
pendent on the human organs and senses, unaided by 
the arts, the savage greatly excels the most improved 
civilized man. Thus man, with one set of glasses, pen- 
etrates the secret organization of the minutest insect or 
plant ; marks the rise of the sap in the capillaries of a 
blade of grass : counts the pulsations of the heart in an 
animalcule a hundred times smaller than the head of a 
pin ; while, with another set of glasses, he fills the heav- 
ens with a hundred millions of stars, invisible to the 
naked eye. To the savage, the wonders of the micro- 
scope 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 before his tent, in the silence of night ; and he 
can find his way through the pathless and tangled for- 
est, 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, from fa- 
tigue. The indefatigable savage, ignorant of artificial 
conveyance, outtires, on foot, the hound and the horse ; 
and, while the famished child of civilized life faints, at 
the delay of his periodical meal, a three days' hunger 



mPOBTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ABTS. 285 

makes no impression on the iron frame of the poor In- 
dian. Civilized man, although surromided by his arts, 
with enjoyments that seem to render life a hundred 
fold more precious, lies drenched in sleep one third of 
his precious hours, and 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 
civilized man, in the discipline of some of the natural 
capacities of our frame, is turned to little account of 
human improvement and happiness, for want of those 
arts which create, combine, and perpetuate, the powers 
and agents by which our wants are supplied. Even 
the few comforts, of which his forlorn condition is sus- 
ceptible, are mostly derived, not from this superior train- 
ing of his natural faculties and senses, but from his pos- 
session of some few imperfect arts. The savage, needy 
at best, without his moccasins, his snow-shoes, his dres- 
sed buffalo skin, his hollowed tree or bark canoe, his 
bow and arrow, his tent, and his fishing gear, would be 
a much more abject being. These simplei inventions, 
and the tools and skill required by them, no doubt oc- 
cupied a considerable period, in the early history of our 
race. But the great difference, between savage and 
civilized life, consists in the want of iJiose more im- 
proved arts, the products of which we have been con- 
templating, 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 gra$p of the hand, which soon wea- 
les, 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 com, 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 



286 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTSJ 

alive while he is preparing it. The civilized man, when 
he has raised his com, builds a mill, with a water-wheeF, 
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 un- 
tiring and inexhaustible invention; the other patient 
fellow-laborers of wood and iron, the stream, the wheel, 
and the millstone, 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 
imparting a share of it to those engaged in some other 
pursuit, who give a portion of its products in exchange 
for food. 

Take another illustration, in the arts employed in 
furnishing the clothing of man. The savage, when he 
has killed a bufialo and dried his skin, prepares it, with 
the manual labor of several weeks, for a garment ; a 
substantial and sightly garment ; but it has taken him 
a l<Hig time, and he has made but one. The civilized 
man, having a world of business on his hands, has con- 
trived a variety of machines, which perform almosit 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 
skill and industry of the artificer. How long will it not 
take the busiest pair of fingers to piece those fibres to- 
gether, end to end, to lay them side by side, so as to 
give them substance, coherence, dimensions, — ^to con- 
vert them into a covering and defence, excluding cold 
and wet ! The savage, in taking the skin, seems to 
have made the wiser choice. Nature has done the sjrin- 
ning and weaving to his hand. But wait a m(»nent: 
there is a group of iron-fingered artificers, in yonder 
mill, who will show you a wonder. They will, with 
a rafHdity scarcely conceivable, convert this uncouth, 
fibrous heap into a uniform mass ; they will draw oat 



IMPORTANCE OF THE HECHANIC ARTS, 287 

its short, curly fibres into long, even threads, lay them 
Ade by side, and curiously cross them over and under 
with magical dexterity, till they form a compact tissue, 
covered with a soft down and a glossy lustre, smooth, 
impervious, flexible, in quantity sufficient to clothe a 
family for a year, with less expense of human labor, 
than would be required to dress a single skin. 

Consider the steam-engine. It is computed that the 
steam power of Great Britain, not including the laboi 
economized 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 million strong. Strong, 
it may well be called. What a population ! so curiously 
organized, that they need neithel* luxuries nor comforts, 
that they have neither vices nor sorrows; subject to 
an absolute control, without despotism ; laboring night 
and day for their owners, without the crimes and woes 
of slavery ; a frugal population, that wastes nothing and 
consumes nothing, unproductively ; an orderly popula- 
tion, to which mobs and riots are unknown; among 
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 millions of the human population. 
And yet the steam-engine, which makes this mighty 
addition to the resources of civilization, is but a piece 
of machinery. You have all seen it, both in miniature 
and on a working scale, at the halls. In the miniature 
model, (constructed by Mr. Newcomb, of Salem,) it 
can be moved by the breath of the most deUcate pair 
of lips in this assembly ; and it could easily be construc- 
ted of a size and power, which would rend these walls 
from their foundation, and pile the roof in ruins upon 
us. And yet it is but a machine. There is a cylinder 
and a piston ; there are tubes, valves, and pumps ; wa- 
ter, and a vessel to boil it in. This is the whole of that 
enginery, with which the skill and industry of the pres- 
ent age are working their wonders. This is the whole 



t288 IMPORTANCE OV THE. HECHANTC ARTS.' 

of the agency which has endowed modern 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 wholly 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 machinery of Great Britain, tended by one 
hundred and fifty thousand workmen, ^'produces as 
much yarn as could have been produced by forty mil- 
lions OP MEN, with the one-thread wheel !"* Dr. Buck- 
land remarks, that it has been supposed, that "the 
amount of work now done by machinery, in England, 
is equivalent to that of between three and four hundred 
millions of men, by direct labor. "f 

This prodigious economy and accumulation of power, 
effected by the mechanic arts, are occupied in supplying 
the wants and promoting the comfort of man. When, 
therefore, the ingenious artisan makes an improvement 
in a usefiil machine, he economizes labor, creates pow- 
er, accumulates usefulness, and promotes the progress 
of civilization. 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 manufac- 
tures 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 perpetud 
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 
appear, that a single mechanical improvement had often 
had the effect of adding thousands and tens of thous- 
ands of horse-power and man-power to the productive 
energy of the community. The astonishment and ad- 

* Baines's History of the Cotton Manufacture, p. 362. 
^ Backland*f Geology and Mineralogy, Vol. I. p. 400. 



IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 289 

miration with which we should survey the wonders of 
modern machinery, are impaired, by not knowing, more 
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 unimagined, amount of human 
talent, of high mental power, locked up among the 
wheels and springs of the machinist ; a force of intel- 
lect of the loftiest character has been required, to make 
this department of human pursuit what it is. This 
stunning din, this monotonous rattle, this tremendous 
power, and the quiet, steady force of these humble, 
useful, familiar arts, result from efforts of the mind, 
kindred with those which have charmed or instructed 
the world with the richest strains of poetry, eloquence, 
and philosophy. 

These improvements have sometimes been long de- 
layed, and art, for ages, has been stationary ; and then, 
by the happy developement of sqpae mechanical contri- 
vance, it has made boundless progress in an age. 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 present day, and to make a music almost as cheer- 
ful, is at once an obsolete and a modern invention. 
The Greeks and Romans are said to have been unac- 
quainted with the spinning-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 improvement was 
made on this tedious process, in Great Britain, before 
the fifteenth century. It is evident, that much more 
labor must have been requisite, with this rude machin- 
ery, to supply the indispensable article of clothing, than 
with the modern improvements. The introduction of 
the spinning-wheel produced a great economy of this 

4%0 £• £# 



290 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

labor ; but the introduction of the spinning and weaving 
machinery, of the last century, has pushed this econo- 
my 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, ca- 
pable of subsisting in a given circuit. Yes, the man, 
who, in the infancy of the arts, invented the saw or 
the plane, the grindstone, the vice, or the handmill ; 
and those who, in later periods, have contributed to the 
wonderful system 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 not the fabulous wand of the enchant- 
er, it is the weaver's beam, and instruments like it, 
which call thousands and tens of thousands into being. 
Mind, acting through the useful arts, is the vital princi- 
ple of nfK)dern civilized society. The mechanician, not 
the magician, is now Jhe 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 improvement is conceived. Some 
tedious process can be superseded, by a chemical ap- 
plication, as in the modern art of bleaching. Some 
necessary result can be atttiined, in half the time, by a 
new mechanical contrivance ; another wheel, a ratchet, 
or a screw, will effect the object ; he tries a few exper- 
iments; it will succeed; it is done. He stamps his 
foot, and a hundred thousand men start into being; 
not, like those which sprang from the fabled dragon's 
teeth, armed with the weapons of destruction, but fur- 
nished with every implement for the service and com- 
fort of man* It is stated by James Watt, (before whose 
time, the steam-engine was an imperfect and inefficient 



IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 291 

machine,) that the moment the notion of "separate 
condensation" struck him, all the other details of his 
improved engine followed, in rapid and immediate suc- 
cession, so that, in the course of one or two days, his in- 
vention was so complete, that he proceeded to submit 
it tQ experiment.* Could that day be identified, it 
would well deserve an anniversary celebration, by the 
universal tribes of civilized man. 

I'have said, that mind, acting through the mechanic 
arts, is the vital principle of modern civilized society. 
I would be the last to undervalue the importance of 
moral and intellectual influences, or to seem to give 
undeserved countenance to the mechanical tendency 
of the age. On the contrary, I look upon the intellec- 
tual and moral influence of the useful arts, as the most 
important aspect in which the subject can be contem- 
plated. The immediate result. of every improvement 
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 quan- 
tity 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 gener- 
al tendency'of a progress in the useful arts, no one can 
doubt, who compares the present con4ition 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 intel- 
lectual prc^ess of our race. To speak of the art of 
printing, in its connexion with morals and mind, would 
be as superfluous, as it would be difllicult to do justice 
to the topic. Its history is not so much an incident, 
as the summary of modern civilization. Vast as the 
influence of this art of arts has been, it may well be 

♦See'Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' (in * The Schooi. 
Library,') Vol. II. p. 254, for a Biographical sketch of Watt, and a 
notice of his improvements in the Steam-engine. 



392 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

doubted, whether improvements will 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 des- 
tined to reach to distances and depths of society, which 
have hitherto remained unexplored and neglected. 

Again, in reference to the intimate connexion of the 
useful and mechanic arts with intellectual progress, let 
us but advert, for a moment, to the mariner's compass, 
the telescope, the quadrant. For myself, I never reflect 
upon their influence on the affairs of man, and remem- 
ber that they are, after all, merely mechanical contriv- 
ances, without emotions of admiration, bordering upon 
awe. This sentiment, I know, is so worn away by 
habit, that it seems almost to run into sentimentality. 
But let us not be ashamed to reproduce the emotions 
that spring from the freshness of truth and Nature. 
What must have been Galileo's feelings, when he 
pointed the first telescope to the heavens, and discov- 
ered 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 man, on the crested top of Hhe mighty 
waves, that little bar of steel will guide the worn and 
staggering hehnsman on his way, — ^I feel that there is 
a holy philosophy in the arts of life, which, if I cannot 
comprehend, I can reverence. 

Consider the influence on the aflairs of men, in all 
their relations, of the invention of the little machine 
which I hold in my hand ;* and the other modern in- 
struments, for the measurement of time, various speci- 
mens of which are on exhibition 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 naviga- 
tion, how vast must be the aggregate effect, on the af 

♦ A watch. 



IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 5293 

fitirs of life, throughout the civilized world, and in thtf 
progress of ages, of a convenient and portable appara- 
tus for measuring the lapse of time ! Who can calcu- 
late, in how many of those critical junctures, when af- 
fairs of weightiest import hang upon the issue of an 
hour, Prudence and Forecast have triumphed over bhnd 
Casualty, by being enabled to measure, with precision, 
the flight of time, in its smallest subdivisions ! Is it not 
something more than mere mechanism, 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 toward re- 
covery, and to administer the prescribed remedy, at the 
precise, perhaps the critical, moment of its application ? 
By means of a watch, punctuaHty in all his duties, 
which, in its perfection, is one of the incommunica- 
ble attributes of Deity, is brought, in iio mean meas- 
ure, within the reach of man. He is enabled, if he 
ynll be guided by this half-rational machine, creature 
of a day as he is, to imitate that subUme precision, 
which leads the earth, after a circuit of five hundred 
millions of miles, back to the solstice at the appointed 
moment, without the loss of one second, no, not the 
millionth 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 elastic steel, to out-calculate him- 
self ; to give him a rational answer to one of the most 
important questions, which a being travelling toward 
eternity can ask ! What a miracle, that a man can 
put, within this little machine, a spirit, that measures 
the flight of time with greater accuracy than the unas- 
sisted 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 ! 

* It is not, of course, intended that the sidereal year is always of 
precisely the same length, but that its variations are subject to a fixed 
law. See Sir John Herschei^s treatise on Astronomy, § 568. 

25* 



294 ncpoRTANCE or the hechanic arts. 

• 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 mor- 
tal 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 elaps- 
ed, is still going ; but the watchmaker and Baron have 
now, for more than three fourths of a century, been 
gone where time is no longer counted. Frederic 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 
^^at 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 Frederic died. 
Short-sighted adulation ! for if it stopped at his death, 
as if time 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, in the time of Shakspeare ; and he puts one 
into the hand of his fantastic jester, as the text 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 itself, 
has had a voice for every change in the fortune of na- 
tions ! It has chimed monarchs to their thrones, and 
knelled them to their tombs ; and, frc«n its watch-tow- 
er in the clouds, has, with the same sonorous and im- 
partial stoicism, measured out their little hour of sor- 
row and gladness, to coronation and funeral, abdication 
and accession, revolution and restoration ; victory, tu- 



IMPORTANCE OP THE MECHANIC ARTS. 295 

mult, 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 my brief hour even to its own commendation. 
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 ex- 
hibition is not mere show, however innocent and grati- 
fying. It is to make the community better acquainted 
with the state of the arts, by a public display of tlieir 
products ; to excite a generous emulation, by their com- 
parison : and thus to lead on our ingenious artificers, 
improvers, and inventors, to higher degrees of excel- 
lence. The astonishing progress of the arts, in modern 
times, is a subject of the most familiar remark. It would 
require a volume, even to enumerate the most consid- 
erable improvements. So numerous are the inventions 
and discoveries that have been made, in every depart- 
ment, and to such perfection have many arts been car- 
ried, that we may perhaps be inclined to think, that, 
in the arts, as on the surface of the globe, after all the 
brilliant discoveries in navigation, in the last three cen- 
turies, there is nothing left to find out. Though it is 
probable, that, in particular things, no further progress 
can be made, (and even this I would not aflirm, with 
any confidence,) yet, so far from considering invention 
as exhausted, 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 creative ; and that every existing 
art, invention, and discovery, is but an instrument of 
further improvement Even when any particular art or 
machine seems to have reached the highest attainable 
point of excellence, nothing is more likely, than that it 

• The associations here alladed to have lately been rendered famiU 
iar to the public, by Mr. S. A. Eliot's spirited translation and adapta- 
tion to music, of Schiller's splendid poem of the The Bell. The idea 
was oiiginally glanced at, in one of Mrs. Elizabeth Montague's Letters. 



296 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

will, by some wholly unexpected discovery or improve- 
ment, be greatly advanced ; or that, by accidental or 
natural association, it will lead to some other very im- 
portant improvement in a branch of art wholly dissimi- 
lar ; or, finally, that it will be superseded by something 
quite different, but producing the same result. Take, 
as an example, 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 improvements wholly dis- 
connected, in their nature, from 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 ra- 
tional mind, working, with intelligent and diversified 
enei^, in a thousand directions ; bounding from the 
material to the moral world, and back from specula- 
tion to life ; producing the most wonderful effects on 
morq.1 and social relations, by material means, and again, 
in an improved political and moral condition, finding 
instruments and encouragement for new improvements 
in mechanical art. In this mighty action and reaction, 
we are continually borne on to results the most surpris- 
ing. Physical and moral causes and effects produce 
moral and physical effects and causes, and every thing 
discovered 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 will waken new concep- 
tions in the inventive mind. The most novel mechan- 
ical contrivance contains, within itself, much that was 
known before ; and the most seemingly perfect inven- 
tion, 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 
materials, out of which new discoveries, inventions, arid 
improvements, may be expected. 



IMPORTANCE OP THE MlCCUANIC ARTS. 297 

Perfect as the steam-engine seems, it is a general 
persuasion, that we are in the rudiments of its econom- 
ical uses. The prodigious advances, made in the arts 
of locomotion, teach nothing more clearly, than the 
probability, that they will be rendered vastly more effi- 
cient. The circulation of ideas, by means of the press, 
is probably destined to undergo great enlargement. 
Analytical chemistry has, within the last thirty years, 
acquired instruments, which enable the philosopher to 
unlock mysteries of Nature, before unconceived of. Ma- 
chinery, of all kinds and for every purpose, is daily 
simplified and rendered more efficient. Improved ma- 
nipulations are introduced 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 hoped for, by the diligent and ingenious 
use of the materials for improvement, afforded by the 
present state of the arts, the progress of science teaches 
us to believe, that principles, elements, and powers, are 
in existence and operation around us, of which we have 
a very imperfect knowledge, perhaps no knowledge, 
whatever. Commencing with the mariner's compass, 
in the middle ages, a series of discoveries has been made, 
connected with magnetism, electricity, galvanism, the 
polarity of light, and the electrormagnetic phenomena, 
which are occupying much attention, at the present 
day, all of which are more or less applicable to the use- 
ful 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 mind of man ; 
an essence of infinite capacity for improvement. And 
it is of the nature of every intelligence, endowed with 
»ach a capacity, however mature in respect to the past, 
to be, at all times, in respect to the future, in a state 
of hopeful infancy. However vast the space measured 
behind, the space before is immeasurable ; and, though 
the mind may estimate the progress it has made, tho 



898 IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

boldest stretch of its powers is inadequate to measure 
the prc^ess 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 Lib- 
erty fitly covered with the products of American Art. 
And while they gaze, with admiration, on these crea- 
tions of the mechanical arts of the Country, bid them 
remember, that they are the productions of a people, 
whose fathers were told, by the British ministry, they 
should not manufacture a hobnail ! Does any one ask, 
in disdain, for the great men who have illustrated the 
Mechanic Arts ? Repeat to him the wellknown names, 
which will dwell in the grateful recollections of poster- 
ity, when the titled and laurelled destroyers of mankind 
shall be remembered only with detestation. Mechanics 
of America ! Respect your calling ! respect yourselves ! 
The cause of human improvement has no firmer or more 
powerful friends. In the great Temple of Nature, whose 
foundation is the earth, whose pillars are the eternal 
hills, whos^ roof is the starry sky, whose organ-tones 
are the whispering breeze and the sounding storm, whose 
architect is God, — there is no ministry more sacred than 
that of the intelligent mechanic ! 



EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE HIND. 399 



EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND * 

I TRUST, Mr. President, that I shall not be thought 
an intruder, in rising to take some part in this interest- 
ing debate. It is made the duty of the Board of Ed- 
ucation, of which I have the honor to be officially a 
member, to promote, as far as practicable, the objects 
for which the Board was established, by a participation 
in these meetings. Even if no such call of duty war- 
jfanted me, in thus presenting myself before you, at 
this time, I am persuaded that this is a cause in which 
you would not reject the services of a volunteer, how- 
ever humble. 

I do not rise however, sir, to attempt to convey any 
information, on the great subject of Education. I speak 
in the presence of many practical persons, before whom 
it would be arrogant, in me, to attempt to use the lan- 
guage of authority, on this subject. There is, howev- 
er, a single illustration of the nature of education, which 
constantly presents itself to my mind, and which I deem 
so important, as to warrant me in dwelling, for a few 
moments, upon it, however obvious and trite the gen- 
eral proposition which I would endeavor to establish. 

The point, sir, to which I refer, is the importance 
of education, as the means by which the mind of man, 
or rather let me say, by which man himself, consid- 
ered as an intellectual and moral existence, attains his 
formation and growth. 

There are many very striking truths, which, on ac- 
count of their familiarity, fail to affect us as powerfully 
as they ought. The unusual and the irregular arouse 
our attention ; the habitual passes before us, surrounds 
us, dwells within us, and we do not notice it, do not 

♦ Substance of Remarks, made at the County Convention of the 
friends of Education, held at Tisbury, on the island of Martha's Vine- 
Yard, Aogust 16. 1838. 



800 EDUCATION THE mjRTURE OF THE MIND. 

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 vis- 
ion, by which the entire external world is successively 
pictured, as it were, upon the everchanging 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 their lives, with the glorious gift of 
speech ; who have been accustomed, without reflection, 
by a few slight movements of the lips and tongue, ta» 
give a vibration to the air, which carries intelligence, 
expresses the finest shades of thought, awakens sympa- 
thy and kindles passion in other minds ; men, who have 
seen their little children, they know not how, without 
books and without a teacher, acquire this heavenly en- 
dowment of articulate speech, — will travel miles, to be- 
hold the performance of a ventriloquist ; and think they 
have made a good bargain, when they have paid a dol- 
lar, 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 am aware, if well directed, to improvement. 
It nourishes the spirit of observation. But I would 
have it accompanied with the habit of sober and thought- 
ful reflection on the world of greater wonders, which 
surrounds us, which we carry about within us, in the 
frame of our being and the constitution 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 propor- 
tion, resource, and harmony, of our existence. Imag- 
ination and romance, in their wildest freaks, credu- 
lity, in its greediest cravings for excitement, has nev- 
er caught at any thing of monstrous or fairy creation, 
which parallels those quiet mysteries of our nature, 
which make up the the daily round of life. 



BDUCATJCON THE NUBTUBE OF THE HIND. 301 

The most important 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 
substance, which we call the mind : that formless es- 
sence, which gives life to all the forms of humanity ; 
that unseen thing, which, through the animated eye, 
beholds all the qualities of external Nature ; that un- 
dying thing, which, with perishable organs, and failing 
limbs, and fainting senses, erects its perennial monu- 
ments on earth, and climbs the paths of an immortality, 
which shall endure, when the earth, and all that encum- 
bers 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 
address, 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-pro- 
portioned frame of vigorous humanity ! Now, suppose 
it were possible, (and, to some extent, it is possible,) 
that it were even quite easy, without actually starving a 
human creature to death, to keep him in being, for the 
usual term of existence, without that supply of accus- 
tomed food, which is necessary for health, strength, and 
comeliness. Suppose there was such a thing as a com- 
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 developement 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 tor- 
26 £. £. 



302 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND* 

pid ; their limbs feeble, nerveless, incapable of muscular 
movement ; the entire system languid, pining, catalep- 
tic; 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 themselves, and 
kept themselves in such a state, living as they do on the 
fertile earth, lords of the subject animals, and able, if 
they were pleased, to seat themselves, every day, at the 
bountiful table of Providence, and receive nourishment, 
and health, and strength, from its liberal supplies? 

Now, sir, I am coming to the point, which I wish to 
illustrate ; and it is this : — What none but a madman 
would knowingly do to his body ; what no known com- 
munity of men, raised above the abjectest level of sav- 
age 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 father, in 
whose bosom the last drop of the milk of human kind- 
ness and parental love was not dried up, would do to 
his child ; — that is done and permitted to be done, with- 
out scruple and without rebuke, to the immortal intel- 
lect: and this, in enlightened lands and in Christian 
communities, composed of men who know that they 
have not only minds to enlighten, but souls to save. I 
say the monstrous and unnatural cruelty, never practis- 
ed to himself or another, as far as the body is concern- 
ed, unless by an idiot or a savage, is daily, constantly, 
remorselessly, practised upon Uiat 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 ca^s of cruel ne- 
cessity. 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, will be trained up to a grasp of steel ; and 
the little limbs will learn to stretch, unfatigued, over 
plain and mountain, while the inward intellectual being 



EDUCATION THE NURTUIU5 OP THE MIND. 303 

will be allowed to remain unnourished, neglected, and 
stinted. A reason, capable of being nurtured into the 
vigorous apprehension of all truth, will remain unin- 
formed and torpid, at the mercy of low prejudice 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 Ufe, 
clouded with superstition, ignorant of the most famiUar 
truth, unconscious of its own heavenly nature. There 
is the body of a man, sound, athletic, well-proportion- 
ed ; but the mind within is puny, dwarfed, and starv- 
ed« Could we perceive it with our bodily sight, we 
should pity it. Could the natural eye measure the con- 
trast between a fully-developed and harmoniously-pro- 
portioned intellect, on the one hand, and a blighted, stint- 
ed, distorted, sickly, understanding, on the other, even 
as it compares a diseased and shrivelled form with the 
manly expansion and vigorous developement of health, 
we should be moved with compassion; but, so com- 
pletely do we allow ourselves to be the slaves of mate- 
rial sense, that many a parent, who would feel himself 
incapable of depriving a child of a single meal, will 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 simiUtudes are the only means we have, of dis- 
coursing of jthe intellectual nature. I know not to what 
else we can better liken the strong appetence of the mind 
for improvement, than to a hunger and thirst after know- 
ledge and truth ; nor how we can better describe the 
province of education, than to say, it does that for the 
intellect, 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 solemn duty, a tender, sacred trust. What ! 
sir, feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger ! pam- 
per his limbs, and starve his faculties ! Plant the earth. 



304 EDtTCATION THE NURTURE OP THE MIND. 

cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pur- 
sue the Ash 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 spiritu- 
al essence within you, with all its glorious capacities for 
improvement, languish and pine ! What ! build facto- 
ries, 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 furthest ocean, and 
make battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to 
obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and 
workshops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the 
meat that perisheth, and permit that vital spark, which 
God has kindfed, 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 am aware, that I utter these sentiments before an 
intelligent audience ; in the hearing of those who feel 
the importance of education, and who have exerted 
themselves to promote it. I wonder not that such 
should be the case with the inhabitants of this beauti- 
ful region. You have continually before your eyes, on 
your seagirt isle, a standing memorial of the importance 
of education, taken in its most comprehensive sense, in 
the now feeble remnant of the race which once covered 
the island and the main, and ruled and roained over the 
continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Where 
are all the powerful and warlike tribes, that occupied 
the territory 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 civilized man, at the present day, inquire, 
" What maketh thee to differ ?" Why has the red man 
failed, and the white man waxed strong? Why hav0 



EDUCATION THE NURTURE OT THE MIND. 805 

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 dusky forms no longer seen 
gathering at the falls of the rivers, 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 sub- 
mitted to you. In most of the capacities and powers 
of the physical man, they not only equalled, but excel- 
led, the European race. The Indian was trained to 
uncommon bodily hardihood ; to an eye of fire and a 
frame of iron. In physical vigor and endurance, he 
was an overmatch for his palefaced rival. But 

** His goal proud Scieoce never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk or milky way." 

His mind was untutored, ignorant of Nature, ignorant 
of himself. He wanted the arts, and especially the Art 
of ArtSj 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 common property of every other man in every other 
period of time. 

This the natives of the continent wanted ; and, want- 
ing this, their physical endowments were of no avail. 
Nature, in her terrors and smiles, was the same td them 
as to us ; but they could not interpret either. The same 
sun rose upon them, as upon us. But to them, it was a 
ball of fire, rolling through the sky, and sinking in the 
sea ; while to us, it is a glorious luminary, the source of 
light and motion to the system 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 man across the widest sea. The parent earth 
contained the same deposits and stores, for them, as for 
26* 



306 EDUCATION THE NURTURE OF THE MIND. 

U8 ; but they were untaught to bring cultivation in aid 
of itfi productive qualities ; untaught to melt the plough- 
share and the axe from its sohd rocks. They needed, 
for their preservation, not walls and bulwarks, but the 
elements of useful knowledge ; and had Massasoit or 
King Philip, and their tribes, possessed those means 
and instruments of improvement, 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 arms. 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 
condition,) cherish and respect those means of improve- 
ment, to which we owe our happier lot. 



▲CCmtmiATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 307 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, 
CREDIT* 

In compliance with your request, gentlemen, I ap- 
pear before you, this evening, to take a part in the ob- 
servance of the eighteenth anniversary of the Mercan- 
tile Library Association. This meritorious Institution 
was founded for the purpose of promoting mental im- 
provement, among the young men of the city engaged 
in commercial pursuits. Its objects were, to form a 
library, well furnished with books best adapted to their 
use ; to lay the foundation of scientific collections ; to 
make occasional or stated provision for courses of in- 
structive lectures ; and to furnish opportunity for exer 
cises 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 
finits, in the experience of many who have enjoyed its 
advantages ; and has received the most favorable notice 
from distinguished gentlemen, who, on former anniver- 
saries, have performed the duty which, on the present 
occasion, has devolved upon me. 

Supposing, then, that the usefulness of such an insti- 
tution is a point too well established, to need illustra- 
tion, I have thought we should pass our time more 
profitably, this evening, by devoting our attention to 
the discussion of a few of the elementary topics con- 
nected with commerce, in reference to which there 
are some prevailing errors, and on which it is impor- 
tant to form correct judgements. These topics are, 
i^ccumulation, property, capital, and credit ; the simple 
enunciation of which, as the heads of my address, will 

* An Address, delivered before the Mercantile Library Association, 
at the Odeon, in Boston, September 13, 1838. 



308 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

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 no- 
tions 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 
mstitute a comparison between what have been called 
the producing and the accumulating classes, to the dis- 
advantage of the latter. This view I regard as en- 
tirely erroneous. Accumulation is as necessary to fur- 
ther 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 im- 
plies the absence of all civilization. Some degree of 
accumulation was the dictate of the earliest necessity ; 
the instinctive struggle of man, to protect himself from 
the elements and from want. He soon found, — such 
is the exuberance of Nature, such the activity of her 
productive powers, arid such the rapid developement 
of human skill, — ^that a vast deal more might be accu- 
mulated, than was needed for bare subsistence. 

This, however, alone, did not create commerce. If 
all 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 precisely the same tastes, powers, 
and skill. One excelled in one pursuit ; one, in anoth- 
er. One was more expert as a huntsman ; 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 en- 
deavored to do every thing for himself. With this dis- 
covery, commerce began. The Indian, who has made 
two bows, or dressed two bear-skins, exchanges one of 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT* 309 

them for a bundle of dried fish, or a pair of snow-shoes. 
These exchanges, between individuals, extend to com- 
munities. The tribes on the seashore exchange the 
products of their fishing, for the game or the horses of 
the plains and hills. Each barters what it has in ex- 
cess, for that which it cannot itself so well produce 
and which its neighbors possess in abundance. As in- 
dividuals differ in their capacities, countries differ in 
soil and climate ; and this difference leads to 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 de- 
sire, and to effect the widest possible diffusion of useful 
and convenient products. The extent to which this ex- 
change of products is carried, in highly-civilized coun- 
tries, is truly wonderful. There are probably few indi- 
viduals, in this assembly, who took their morning's meal, 
this day, without the use of articles brought from almost 
every part of the world. The table, on which it was serv- 
ed, may have been made from a tree which grew on the 
Spanish Main or one of the West-India islands, and cov- 
ered with a tablecloth 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 pur- 
chased by an exchange of other products, the growth of 
our own or foreign countries, collected and distributed 
by a succession of voyages, often to the furthest corners 
of the globe. Without cultivating a rood of ground, we 
taste the richest fruits of every soil. 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 strug- 
gling monsters are dragged from the depths of the Pa- 
cific ocean, to lighten our dwellings. 

As all commerce rests upon accumulation, so the 
accumulation of every individual is made by the ex-* 



310 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

changes of commerce to benefit every other. Until he 
excHanges it, it is of no actual value to him. The tiller 
of a hundred fields can 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 promote 
his own interest, without promoting that of others. As, 
in the system of the universe, every particle of matter is 
attract^ 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 mi- 
nutest excess or defect, in the supply of any one arti- 
cle 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 mas- 
ses of its shining orbs, with equal benevolence and care 
furnishes to the countless millions of the human family, 
through an interminable succession of exchanges, the 
supply of their diversified 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 protection of property, were founded upon the 
early and instinctive observation of this truth. It was 
perceived, in the dawn of civilization, that the only 
way in which man could elevate himself from barbar- 
ism, 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 depen- 
dent upon him ; as well as the fund, out of which, by 
a system of mutually beneficial exchanges, each could 
contribute to the supply of the wants of his fellow-men. 
To strike at the principle which protects his earnings 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 311 

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, will remain a safe deposit, un- 
der the protection of the public peace ; is to destroy 
the lifespring of civilization. The philosophy, that de- 
nounces accumulation, is the philosophy of barbarism. 
It places man below the condition of most of the na- 
tive tribes on this continent. No man will voluntarily 
sow, that another may reap. You may place a man in 
a paradise of plenty, on this condition ; but its abun- 
dance will ripen and decay, unheeded. At this mo- 
ment, the fairest regions of the earth, — Sicily, Turkey, 
Africa, the loveliest and most fertile 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 
spil, further than is requisite for a scanty supply of 
necessary food. On the contrary, estabhsh the prin- 
ciple, 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 lowing of his herds ; he builds up his dikes against 
the ocean, and cultivates a field beneath the ievel of 
its waves ; and exposes his life, fearlessly, in sickly jun- 
gles, and among ferocious savages. Establish the prin- 
ciple, that his property is his own, and he seems almost 
wiUing to sport with its safety. He will trust it all in 
a single vessel, and stand calmly by, while she unmoors 
for a voyage of circumnavigation around the globe. 
He knows that the sovereignty of his country accompa- 
nies it with a sort of earthly omnipresence, and guards 
it as vigilantly, on the loneliest island of the Antarctic 
sea, as though it were locked in his coffers, at home. 
He is not afraid to send it out upon the common path- 
way of the ocean, for he knows, that the sheltering 



312 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

wings of the law of nations will overshadow it there. 
He sleeps quietly, though all that he has is borne upon 
six inches of plank on the bosom of the unfathomed 
waters ; for, even if the tempest should bury it in the 
deep, he has assured himself against ruin, by the agen- 
cy of those institutions, which modern civilization has 
devised for the purpose of averaging the losses of indi- 
viduals upon the mass. 

III. It is usual to give the name of capital to those 
accumulations of property, which are employed in 
carrying on the commercial as well as the other busi- 
ness operations of the community. The remarks al- 
ready made will enable us to judge, in some degree, 
of the reasonableness of those prejudices which are oc- 
casionally awakened, at the sound of this word. Capi- 
tal is property, which a man has acquired by his indus- 
try, or has, under the law of the land, become possessed 
of in some other way ; and which is invested by him, 
in that form, and employed in that manner, which best 
suit his education, 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, may amount to eight or ten 
millions ; the capital of his neighbor may not exceed 
as many dollars. In fact, the last of these two extra- 
ordinary men, 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 millions amassed by their 
perseverance, industry, and talent. 

Considering capital as the mainspring of the business 
operations of civilized society, — as that, which, diffused 
in proportionate masses, is the material on which enter- 
prise works, and with which industry performs its won- 
ders, equally and in the same way necessary, for the 
construction of a row-boat and an Indiaman, a pair of 
shoes and a rail-road, — I have been at some loss to ac- 
count for the odium which, at times, has been attempt- 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 313 

ed 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 some part of this prejudice 
may arise from the traditions of other times, 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 wrest- 
ed from its original owners, by the ancestors of its pres- 
ent possessors, who overran the countries with military 
violence, and despoiled the inhabitants of their posses- 
sions ; or, still worse, compelled them to labor, as slaves, 
on the land which they had once owned and tilled, as 
free men. It is impossible, that an hereditary bitter- 
ness should not have sprung out of this relation, never 
to be mitigated, particularly where the political institu- 
tions 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 them. At what subse- 
quent period, from that time to this, has any thing oc- 
curred, to alleviate the feehngs growing out of these 
events ? Such an origin of the great mass of the prop- 
erty must place its proprietors in some such relation to. 
the rest of the community as that, which exists be- 
tween the Turks and Rayas, in the Ottoman empire, 
and may have contributed to produce an hereditary 
hostility, on the part of the poor, toward the rich, 
among thousands who know not historically the origin 
of the feeling. 

It is obvious, that the origin of our political commu- 
nities, and the organization of society among us, fur- 
nish no basis for a prejudice, of this kind, against capi- 
tal. 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 prpteQt it are equal to 
27 E. E. 



814 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT 

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 and 
bitterness against wealth, makes war with the pros- 
pects of his children, and the order of things in which 
he lives. 

A moment's consideration will show the unreasona- 
bleness of a prejudice against capital ; for it will show 
that it is the great instrument of the business move- 
ments of society. Without it, there can be no exer- 
cise, on a large scale, of the mechanic arts, no manu- 
factures, no private improvements, no public enterprises 
of utility, no domestic exchanges, no foreign commerce. 
For all these purposes, a twofold use of capital is need- 
ed. 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 de- 
gree of prosperity. Larger accumulations 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 buildings, fixtures, 
machinery, and power, is necessary. If internal in- 
tercourse is to diffuse its inestimable moral, social, and 
economical, blessings through the land, canals, rail-roads, 
and steam-boats, are to be constructed, at vast expense. 
To effect these objects, capital must go forth, like a 
mighty genius, bidding the mountains 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 husband- 
ry must be instituted, by those who are able to ad- 



ACCUKDLATIUW, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 315 

Taiice, and can afford to lose, the funds, which are 
required for the purpose. Commerce, on a large scale, 
cannot flourish, without resources adequate to the con- 
struction of large vessels, and their outfit for long voy- 
ages 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 built and fitted out at an expense of near half a 
million of dollars. The success of the experiment will 
be not more a triumph of genius and of art, than of 
capital. The first attempts at the whale-fishery, in 
Massachusetts, were made from 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 c^rations 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 demand for 
the product of the fisheries proportionably augmented. 
It became necessary to apply larger capitals to the busi- 
ness. Whale-ships were now fitted out, at considera- 
ble expense, which pursued this adventurous occupation 
from Greenland to Brazil. The enterprise, thus mani- 
fested, awoke the admiration of Europe, and is immor- 
talized in the wellknown description by Burke. But 
the business has grown, until the ancient fishing- 
grounds have become the first stations, on a modern 
whaling voyage ; and capitals are now required, suffi* 
cient 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, 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 resx)urces of the British 



.316 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

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 commodious 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 capitalist," employed in this business, is 
an overgrown lamplighter. Before he can pocket his 
six per cent., 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 "outwatching the bear," 
over some ancient volume. 

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 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 small amounts. 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 extensive use. Strike 
out of being the capital invested in manufactures, 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 manufactured 
articles would be consumed, that is, the community 
would be deprived of comforts they now enjoy ; and 
those used would be produced at greater cost, by man- 

♦ A writer, who appears to understand the subject thoroughly, in aa 
article in the North American Review, for January, 1834, calculates, 
that 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 
directly or remotely involved in it. 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPm^, CREDIT. 319 

ual labor. In other words, fewer people wSU^je, dating 
tained, and those less comfortably, and at greSt}^y ^^if- 
pense. >and 

When we hear persons condemning accumulationl 
of capital, employed in manufactures, we cannot help 
saying to ourselves, 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 
while 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 schoolhouses, 
the long lines of her shops and warehouses, her streets 
filled with the comfortable abodes of an enterprising, 
industrious, and intelligent, population. See her fiery 
Samsons, roaring along her rail-road, with thirty laden 
cars in their train. Look at her watery Goliaths, not 
wielding a weaver's beam, like him of 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 built by the genius of capital. 
This capital, it is true, seeks a moderate interest on the 
investment ; but it is by furnishing, to all who desire 
it, the cheapest garment ever worn by civilized 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 plen- 
ty throughout the Country, — ^what is it, but to play, in 

* 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. 

27* 



. 316 ACCVMUhkyi^ ylEBTT, CAPITAL, CKEDTt. 

Halignant sorcerer, in the same 
3 /It only for mischief, utters the 

tJ ks the charm, heaves the mighty 

S 3 Q^ i>^ their foundation, converts the 

' ^ ^o their native sterility, and heaps 

A happiness with silent and deso- 

i>le to realize the effects on human 
coi^ iication of capital to the arts of life. 

We can ru».^ ,his, only by making some inquiry into 
the mode of living in civilized countries, in the middle 
ages. The follovyring brief notices, from Mr. Hallam's 
learned and judicious work,* may give us some distinct 
ideas on the subject. Up to the time of Queen Eliza- 
beth, in England, the houses of the farmers in that Coun- 
try 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 foimd 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 received under the same 
roof with their owners. Glass 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 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 residence. The walls of good houses were neither 
wainscoated nor plastered. In the houses of the nobil- 
ity, the nakedness of the walls was covered by hangings 
of coarse doth. 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 boc^s nor pictures formed any part of the fur- 
niture of a dwelling, in the middle ages ; as printing 
and engraving were wholly unknown, and painting but 

* State of Europe during the Middle Ages. 



.H^UICULATION, PRaPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 319 

little practised. A few inventories of furniture, dating 
from the fifteenth century, are preserved. They af- 
ford 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 nam- 
ed. Carpets were unknown, at the same period : their 
place was supplied by straw and rushes, even in the 
presence-chamber of the Sovereign. Skipton castle, 
the principal residence of the earls of Cumberland, was 
deemed amply provided, in having eight beds, but had 
neither chairs, glasses, nor carpets. The silver-plate 
of Mr. Fermor, a wealthy country gentleman, at Eas- 
ton, in the sixteenth century, consisted 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 carpen- 
ter's consisted of five tools, the whole valued at a shil- 
ling ; 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 almost all 
articles of dress for men were made of leather. 

We need but contrast the state of things, in our own 
time, with that which is indicated in these facts, to per- 
ceive the all-important influence, on human comfort, of 
the accumulation of capital, and its employment 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 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 operations, 
must be furnished by the contributions of individuals, 
each possessing a portion of the stock, or by a single 
proprietor. 

However furnished, it is plain that the interest of the 
capitalist is identical with that of the community. No 
}>ody hoards ; every thing is invested or employed, and 



320 ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

directiy or indirectly, is the basis of business opera- 
tions. 

It is true, that when one man uses the capital of 
another, he is expected to pay something for this privi- 
lege. But there is nothing unjust or unreasonable in 
this. It is inherent in the idea of property. It would 
not be property, if I could take it from you, and use it 
as my own, without compensation. 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 him a house, and I ask his leave to go and 
live in it, I ought, in justice, to pay him for the use of 
his house. If, instead of using his money to build 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 him for the use of his 
money. 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 him, if he came and wrought for me with 
his hands. This is the whole doctrine of interest. In 
a prosperous community, capital can be made to pro- 
duce 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 capitalist, who allows 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 
different classes of capitalists, let us further endeavor, 
by an example, to illustrate the question, whether they 
ought, in any view, to be regarded as exerting an un- 
friendly 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 gTieved with the freedoms which are taken with 



ACGUMULATIOir, PROPERTT; CAFITAL, CREDIT. 321 

his memory. This remarkable person began life, with- 
out a farthing, and left behind him a property, whose 
actual value amounted to seven or eight millions of dol- 
lars, and this acquired in the latter half of his life. He 
told me, himself, that, at the age of forty, his circum- 
stances were so narrow, that he was- employed as the 
commander of his own sloop, engaged in the coasting 
trade between New York or Philadelphia and New Or- 
leans ; 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 pro- 
ceeded from 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 
welfare, of the accumulation of such a fortune in one 
man's hands. While 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 community, 
I have never heard that it was so abused, by Mr. Gi- 
rard; and, on general principles, it may perhaps be 
safely said, that the class of men qualified to amass 
large fortunes, by perseverance and exclusive 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, man- 
aged 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 community ; give each in- 
dividual in the United States a share ? It would have 
amounted to half a dollar, each, for man, woman, and 
child ; and, of course, might as well have been sunk in 
the middle of the sea. Such a distribution would have 
been another name for annihilation. How many ships 
would have furled their sails, how many warehouses 



S98 ACOUMULATION, PftOPBRT¥, CAPITAL^ OflEDH;. 

would have closed their shutters, how many wheels, 
heavily laden with the products of industry, would have 
stood still, how many famiUes would have been reduced 
to want, and without any advantage resulting from the 
distribution ! 

Let me not be misunderstood. I regard equality of 
condition and fortune as the happiest state of society, 
and those political institutions as immeasurably the 
wisest and best, which tend to produce it. AH laws, 
which have for their object to perpetuate large estates, 
and transmit them from generation to generation, are 
at war with the constitution of man. Providence has 
written a statute of distributions on the face of Nature 
and the heart of man ; and, whenever its provisions are 
contravened by political enactments, a righteous con- 
spiracy to subvert them springs up in the very elements 
of our being. My proposition is only, that, in a coun- 
try like this, where the laws forbid hereditary transmis- 
sion, and encourage equality of fortune, accumulations 
of capital made by industry, enterprise, and prudence, 
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, because 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 liv- 
eried domestics; had he dazzled the passers-by with 
his splendid equipages, and spread a sumptuous table 
ibr his " dear five hundred friends," he would, no doubt, 
have been a more popular man. But, in my apprehen- 
sion, he appears to far greater advantage, as a citizen 
and a patriot, in his modest dwelling and plain garb, 
appropriating to his personal wants the smallest pit- 
tance from his princely income ; living, to the last, in 
the dark and narrow street in which he notade his for- 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY,* CAPITAL, CREDIT. 328 

tune, and, when he died, bequeathing it for the educa- 
tion of orphan children. For the public, I do not know 
that he could have done better ; of all the men in the 
world, he probably derived the least enjoyment from 
his property, himself. 

IV. I have left myself scarce any room to speak on 
the subject of credit. The legitimate province of cred- 
it is, to facilitate and to diffuse the use of capital, and 
not to create it. I make this remark with care ; be- 
cause views prevail on this subject, exaggerated and 
even false, which, carried into the banking system, have 
done infinite mischief. I have no wish, whatever, to 
depreciate the importance of credit. It has done won- 
ders for this Country. It has promoted public and pri- 
vate prosperity ; built cities, cleared wildernesses, and 
bound the remotest parts of the continent together, by 
chains of iron and gold. These are wonders, but not 
miracles ; these effects ha ve been produced, not with- 
out causes. Trust and confidence are not gold and 
silver ; they command capital, but they do not create 
it. A merchant, in active business, has a capital of 
twenty thousand dollars; his credit is good; he bor- 
rows as much more ; but let him not think he has 
doubled his capital. He has done so only in a very 
hmited sense. He doubles the sum on which, for a 
time, 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 dis* 
posed to deny, that, with extreme prudence and good 
management, the benefit to tlie individual, of such an 
application of credit, is great; and when individuals 
are benefited, the public is benefited. But no capital 
has been created. Nothing tias been added to the pre- 
existing stock. It was in being, the fruit of former ac- 
cumulation. 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. 



824 ACCUMULATION, P*feOPERTT, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

These benefits, public and private, are not without 
some counterbalancing risks ; and, with the enterpris- 
ing habits and ardent temperament of our country- 
men, I should deem the formation of sound and sober 
views, on the subject of credit, one of the most desira- 
ble portions of the young merchant's 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 embarrassments of the commercial world 
will have a salutary influence in repressing this eager- 
ness. The merchants 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 
will keep themselves more beyond the reach of the fluc- 
tuations in business, and the vicissitudes of affairs. 

But it is time to clo3e these general reflections. We 
live at a period, when the commerce of the world seems 
touching a new era ; a developement of energies before 
unconceived. Columbus discovered a new continent ; 
modern art has diminished, by one half, its distance 
from the old world. The application of steam to the 
navigation of the ocean seems about to put the finish- 
ing hand to that system of accelerated communication, 
which began with steam-boats along the coast, and ca- 
nals and rail-roads piercing the interior. The immedi- 
ate 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 civiliza- 
tion ; that it will increase the comforts of those who 
now enjoy its blessings, and extend these blessings to 
the forlorn children of the human family, 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 tlie mode of com- 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY; CAPITAL, CREDIT. 326 

munication ; commerce, 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 high- 
er functions, I confess, that I look, myself, for some 
great results, to be produced by the new forces in mo* 
tion around us. When we contemplate the past, we 
see some of the most important phenomena in human 
history, intimately, I had almost said mysteriously, con- 
nected with commerce. In the very dawn of civiliza- 
tion, the art of alphabetical writing sprang up among 
a commercial people. One can almost imagine that 
these wonderfully convenient elements were a kind of 
shorthand, which the Phoenician merchants, under the 
spur of necessity, contrived, for keeping their accounts ; 
fbr what could they have done with the hierc^lyphica 
of the Egyptian priesthood, applied to the practical pur- 
poses of a commerce which extended over the known 
world, and of which we have preserved to us such a 
curious and instructive description, by the Prophet Eze- 
kiel ?* A thousand years later, and the same commer- 
cial race, among whom this sublime invention had its 
origin, performed a not less glorious part, as the cham- 
pions of freedom. When the Macedonian madmanf 
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 seagirt city, than Darius, at the head 
of all the armies of the East. In the succeeding cen- 
turies, when the dynasties, established by Alexander, 
were crumbling, and the Romans, in turn, took up the 
march of universal conquest and dominion, the com- 
mercial city of Carthage, the daughter of Tyre, afford- 
ed the most efficient check to their progress. But there 

♦ Chapter xxvii. 

t Alexander the Great. 

28 X. S. 



326 ACCUICULATION, PROPEBTT, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

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 conunerce. The eman- 
cipation of Europe, from the detestable sway of tlie 
barons, began with the privileges granted to the cities. 
The wealth, acquired in commerce, afforded the first 
counterpoise to that of the feudal chiefs who monopo- 
lized 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, Ge- 
noa, the ports of Sicily and Naples, Florence, Pisa, and 
Leghorn ; begin to swarm with active crowds. The 
Mediterranean, deserted for nearly ten centuries, is cov- 
ered with vessels. Merchants from the Adriatic explore 
the furthest East : silks, spices, gums, gold, are distri- 
buted from 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 mys- 
teries, which man is permitted, from age to age, to read 
in her awful volume. As the fulness of time approach- 
es for the new world to be found, it is discovered that 
a piece of steel may be so prepared, that it will 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 inunortal 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 mysterious pilot, bravely fol- 
lowed its mute direction through the terrors and the 
dangers of the unknown sea, and called a new hemis- 
phere into being. 

It would be easy to connect with this discovery, al- 
most all the great events of modern history, and, still 
more, all the great movements of modern civilization. 
Even in the colonization of New England, although, 
more than almost any other human enterprise, the off- 

* Columbas. 



^OHMULATION) PROPERTT, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 327 

Spring of the religious feeling, conunercial adventure 
opened the way and furnished the means. As time 
rolled on, and events hastened to their consummation, 
commercial relations suggested the chief topics in the 
great controversy for liberty. The British Navigati(wi 
Act was the original foundation of the Colonial griev- 
ances. There was a constant struggle to break away 
from the limits of the monopoly, imposed by the mother 
country. The American navigators could find no walls 
nor barriers on the face of the deep, and they were de- 
termined that paper and parchment should not shut up 
what God had thrown open. The moment the War 
of Independence was over, the commercial enterprise 
of the Country went forth, like an uncaged eagle, who, 
having beaten himself, almost to madness, against the 
baxs of his prison, rushes out, at length, to his native 
element, and exults, as he bathes his undazzled eye in 
the sunbeam, or pillows his breast upon the storm. Our 
merchants were far from contenting themselves with 
treading obsequiously in the footsteps even of the great 
commercial nation from which we are descended. Ten 
years had not elapsed, from the close of the Revolu- 
tionary War, before the infant commerce of America 
had struck out for herself a circuit, in some respects 
broader and bolder than that of England. Besides pen- 
etrating the remotest haunts of the commerce, hereto- 
fore 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 Lilies never floated. 
She not only Engaged with spirit in the trade with Hin- 
dostan 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 un- 
approached by modern commerce. 

Such was the instantaneous expansion of the youth 
ful commerce of America. The belligerent condition 
of Europe, for a time, favored the enterprise of our 
merchants.; wealth began to pour into their coffers ; and 



328 ACCUMULATION, PROPEKTT, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 

they immediately took that place in the community, to 
which events and the condition of the Country called 
them. Independence found us, in a great measure, 
destitute of public establishments ; the eyes of the peo- 
ple were unconsciously turned to th^ 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 charac- 
ter as honorably, as their fellow-citizens in any part of 
the Union. In all the great enterprises for public im- 
provement, in all our establishments for religious, moral, 
literary, and charitable, purposes, the genial patronage 
of commerce has been steadily felt. Our merchants 
have, indeed, been princes, in the pure and only repub- 
lican sense of the word, in bestowing princely endow- 
ments 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 pub- 
lic establishments, the foundations for charity, educa- 
tion, and literary improvement, have been mostly en- 
dowed by the Sovereign ; and costly private edifices 
are generally the monuments of an opulence, which had 
its origin in feudal inequality. If displays of wealth are 
witnessed in our cities, it is wealth originally 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 merely 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 pres- 
ent moment of time, but we must bring before our 
imaginations, as in the shifting scenes of a diorama, at 
least three successive historical and topographical pic- 
tures ; and truly instructive I think it would be, to see 
them delineated on canvass. We must survey the first 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 329 

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 with- 
out a name. Landward, stretches a dismal forest ; sea- 
ward, 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 lat- 
ter a year before, the former still earlier, had adven- 
tured to this spot, untenanted, else, by any child of civ- 
ilization. On the other side of the river, lies Mr. Black- 
stone's farm. It comprises three goodly hills, convert- 
ed, by a springtide, 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 furnished, in the course of the 
Summer, the motive for transferring the seat of the irir 
fant settlement. This shall be the first picture. 

The second shall be contemplated from the same 
spot, the heights of Charlestown, on the same day, the 
eventful seventeenth of June, one hundred and forty- 
five years later, namely, in the year 1.775. A terrific 
scene of war rages on the 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 dwellinghouses, mostly of wood, 
with scarce any public buildings but eight or nine 
churches, the old State House, and Faneuil Hall ; Rox- 
bury, beyond, an insignificant village ; a vacant marsh, 
in all the space now occupied by Cambridgeport and 
East Cambridge, by Chelsea and East Boston ; and be- 
neath 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. 
American Independence is established. American com- 
28* 



830 ACCUICIJLATION, FROPS&TT) CAPITAL, CRBOri* 

merce 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 seems to invite us, as to an obser- 
vatory. As we look down from this lofty structure, 
we behold the third picture : a crowded, busy scene. 
Wo see, beneath us, a city, containing eighty or ninety 
thousand inhabitants, and mainly built of brick and 
granite. Vesseb, of every description, are moored at 
the wharfs. Long lines of commodious and even state- 
ly houses cover a space which, within the ipemory of 
man, was in a state of nature. Substantial blocks of 
warehouses have forced their way to the channel. Fa- 
neuil Hall itself, the consecrated and unchangeable, 
has swelled to twice its original dimensions. Athe« 
nseums, hospitals, asylums, and infirmaries, adorn the 
streets. The schoolhouse rears its modest front, in 
every quarter of the city, and sixty or seventy churches 
attest that the children are content to walk in the good 
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 
them, in reality, forming, with Boston, one vast metrop- 
olis, animated By one commercial life. Shading off 
from these, you see that most lovely back-ground, a ^ 
succession of happy settlements, spotted with villas, 
farmhouses and cottages ; united to Boston by a con- 
stant intercourse ; sustaining the capital, from their 
fields and gardens, and prosperous in the reflux of the 
city's wealth. Of the social Ufe included within this 
circuit, and of all that in times past has adorned and 
ennobled it, commercial industry has been an active el- 
ement, 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, fost^nchild 



ACeUMITLATION, PROPSKHT, CAPITAL, CREDIT* 331 

of public and priyate liberality, in every part of the 
State ; to whose existence Charlestown gave the first 
impulse, to whose growth and usefuhiess the opulence 
of Boston has, at all times, ministered with open hand. 
Still further on than the eye can reach, four hnes of 
communication, by rail-road and steam, have, within our 
own day, united with the capital, by bands of iron, a 
still broader circuit 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 on- 
ward to the illimitable West, and all are uniting with 
the other kindred enterprises, to form one harmonious 
and prosperous whole, in which town and country, ag- 
riculture and manufactures, labor and capital, art and 
Nature, — ^wrought and compacted into one grand sys- 
tem, — are constantiy gathering and diffusing, concen- 
trating and radiating, 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 time, it will be found that those 
communities, only, are signally prosperous, where vir- 
tuous jMinciple is revered, as the rule of conduct. It 
is the chief glory of our commercial community, that 
the old standard of morals is still kept up ; that indus- 
try and frugality are still held in honorable 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 still remain ; and let it still be your object, 
gentlemen of the Mercantile Library Association, to up- 
hold this well-approved character of our ancient me- 
tr(^>olis. Never let the mere acquisition of wealth be 
an exclusive pursuit. Consider it of tenfold importance, 
to manifest, in all the transactions of life, that quick 
sense of honor, " which feels a stain like a wound," and 
that int^rity, which the mines of Peru could not bend 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTT, CAPITAL, CREDIT* 

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 mem- 
bers, 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, from the 
first, a large conception of the character of the liberal 
and upright merchant. Regard him as one, to whom 
the Country looks to sustain her honor, in tl^p hour of 
trial ; to uphold her public establishments, to endow 
her charities, to be the father of her orphans : as one 
whom no success will make ashamed of his vocation ; 
who will adorn his days of prosperity with moderation 
and temper ; and hold fast his integrity, though fortunes 
turn to ashes in his grasp. Improve the opportunities 
for cultivating your minds, which this Institution pre- 
sents, never greater than at this season ; and the still 
further and peculiar opportunities for mental improve- 
ment, which will shortly be placed within the reach of 
the young men of Boston, in consequence of the recent 
munificent bequest of Mr. Lowell. The keys of knowl- 
edge are in your hands ; the portals of her temple 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 for- 
tune, and comfort and resource in disaster. 

Above all, while you pursue, with spirit, the business 
of your vocation, and follow the paths of enterprise to 
the ends of the earth, let a well-instructed conscience 
be the companion of your way. Her guidance will 
safely lead you, when calculation is bewildered and 
prudence is at fault. Though your hope, in all else, be 
blasted, fail not, my young friends, to acquire the pearl 
of great price, that wisdom, whose merchandise is bet- 
ter than the merchandise of silver, and the gain there- 
of than fine gold. Let this be the object of your life ; 
and, while the guilty glories of war are deprecated by 
mankind, and the weary honors of successful ambition 



ACCUMULATION, PROPERTY, CAPITAL, CREDIT. 333 

weigh like lead on the wearer, you will enjoy, in the 
esteem and gratitude of the community and the peace 
of your own minds, the happy portion of the liberal 

AND UPRIGHT MERCHANT. 



334 UfPOBTANCE or EDI7CATI0K. 



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 ob- 
ject, only, is to offer to you, and this large and respect- 
ed audience, the thoughts, somewhat desultory, which 
present themselves to my mind, on the principle ad- 
vanced in the Resolution ; and if I can do no more, I 
shall be well contented with having offered to the Con- 
vention this pubUc testimony of tJie interest I take in 
the cause. 

I will observe, in the first place, that, without design- 
ing any thing like adulation of our native State, we 
may claim for it the credit of having made provision 
for education, from the earliest period of its settlement. 
The small New-England republics, and especially Mas- 
sachusetts, have been, in point of time, far in advance 
of the older governments of the world, in systematic 
provision for the education of the people, at the pub- 
lic expense. In setting this example, we have certain- 
ly paid back to Europe no small part of the debt of 
civilization. I regard this hereditary care for educa- 
tion as a precious portion of our moral birthright, and I 
trust we shall transmit it, unimpaired, to afterages. 

I would gladly believe, nay, I do firmly believe, that 

•The following Remarks, in substance, were made at a County 
Common School Convention, held in Taunton, Massachusetts, on the 
10th October, 1838, when a Resolution was under consideratiooy 
which asserted the connexion between public intelligence and a repub- 
lican form of government. 



mPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. S35 

this attention, — ^which, in this Country, has never been 
withheld from education, and which, of late, I am re- 
joiced 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 institutions. On the contrary, in the view I 
take of the subject, a country, possessed of such insti* 
tutions, is precisely that where education is most im- 
portant; where aJone it is absolutely necessary, for 
carrying on the system of government, and keeping up 
its natural healthy action. It is, of course, in such a 
country, that we should most expect, from the people, 
an enlightened and vigilant care of education. 

There are two simple plans of government ; on which, 
either pure and without qualification, or with some ad- 
mixture of the two principles, all constitutions are con- 
structed. One of them asserts, that the people are the 
rightful source of power, both ultimate and direct ; the 
other denies this proposition. When Charles the First 
stood upon the scaffold, and a moment before he laid 
his head upon the block, so firm was his faith in the 
last-named principle, that he declared, with his dying 
breath, that '' the people's right was only to have their 
life and their goods their own, a share in the gov- 
ernment being nothing pertaining to them." The 
other plan is announced, in clear terms, in the Con- 
stitution of Massachusetts : " The people of this Com- 
monwealth have the sole and exclusive right of gov- 
erning themselves, as a free, sovereign, and independ- 
ent, State." 

Now, it might be thought, that, even on the theory 
of government which Charles sealed with 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 within the right of the people. It does 
not appear, however, that, at that time, nor till long 
after, this right was understood as imposing any cwrelar 



336 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 

tive duty on the prince ; consequently, such a thing, as 
a scheme of popular education, at that time, was un- 
thought of. It is not, certainly, my intention to inti- 
mate, that there was no education in England, before 
the Revolution of 1688, but such as was compatible 
with the spirit and policy of a purely arbitrary govern- 
ment. There was always a temperament of popular in- 
stitutions 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 time, been brought down 
to the platform of Oriental despotism, to which the the- 
ory of Charles the First reduced it. 

There were always parliaments, courts of justice, and 
juries, in the worst of times. The universities were 
seats of scholastic learning, and the practice of dispens- 
ing religious instruction, from the pulpit, forced upon 
the Church a certain kind of popular education ; but I 
suppose it was obtained at schools, provided by pious 
and charitable individuals. Nothing resulted from the 
theory of the government, but that the Prince, and 
those associated with him, required the advantages of 
education, to fit them for the administration of affairs. 
Accordingly, we find, that, with the popular reforms 
which have been made in the government of England, 
in modem times, and especially in our own day, atten- 
tion has been given, for the first time, to National edu- 
cation. The best efforts of the Broughams and Wyses 
have been strenuously made in this cause ; and I learn, 
with satisfaction, from a distinguished gentleman from 
that Country, who is now present with us, (Mr. George 
Combe, of Edinburgh,) that a greatly-increased inter- 
est in the subject has marked the progress of the po- 
litical reforms of a recent date, in the Isuid of our fa- 
thers. 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 distinguish- 
•ed friends in that Country, dates from the period of the 
political reforms of the government of the Country. It 



IMPOBTANCI: 01- KBirCATION. 83T 

reflects lasting credit on the Prussian monarchy, that, 
without admitting the people to an efficient share in 
the government, it has had the wisdom and the cour- 
age to bestow upon them an admirable system of pub- 
lic education. 

But, on the plan of government established in the 
United States, where the people are not only in the- 
ory the source of power, but in practice are actually 
called upon, constantly, to take an efficient part in con- 
stituting and administering the government, it is plain, 
that education is universally and indispensably necessa- 
ry, to enable them to exercise their rights and perform 
their duties. This will be put beyond question, by con- 
sidering a few 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 mere- 
ly the right, but it is the duty, of the citizen, by the 
exercise of the ri^t of suffirage, to take a part, at pe*" 
riods recurring after short intervals, in organizing the 
government. This duty cannot be discharged with rec- 
titude, unless it be discharged with intelligence ; and 
it becomes the duty of the citizen to make up his own 
mind, on all the great questions which arise in admin- 
istering the government. How numerous and impor- 
tant these questions are, I need not say. Since you 
and I, Mr. President, have been of years to bbserve the 
march of affairs, the people of the United States have 
been called to make up a practical judgement on the 
following, among other great questions : — ^the proteC' 
tive policy, that is, on the legislation necessary to in- 
troduce and establish an infant branch of manufactures ; 
a question, however easily disposed of by theorists, on 
both sides, of infinite practi(^ difficulty ; on internal 
improvement, that is, the construction of public works 
of communication, between the various ports of the 
Country, at the expense of the general government; 
on the circulating medium, and how far'the currency^ 
which is the representative of value, must have intrin* 
29 c. E. 



338 IMPORTANCE OF CDUCATION. 

sic value, itself; on the d^erent families of the human 
race, existing in the Country, and the rights and duties 
which result from their relation to each other ; on the 
relations of the Country with foreign powers, in refer- 
ence to colonial trade, disputed boundaries, and indem- 
nification for wrongs and spoliations ; on the disposal 
6f the public domainy and its bearings on the progress 
of population and of republican government, in the 
mighty West ; on the nature of our political system, 
as consisting in the harmonious adjt^tment of the Fed-- 
eral and State governments. I have named only a part 
of the questions, which, within the last twenty years, 
have been, some of them constantly, before the com- 
munity, — ^the turning points of Municipal, State, and 
National, elections. The good citizen, who is not wil- 
ling 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 suf- 
frage with intelligence and independence. As the ma- 
jority of the people are well or ill informed on these 
subjects, the public policy of the Country will be guid- 
ed 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 assembly ; but, while it is his right and his duty 
to ^ve effect to his judgement, 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 
well-instructed and intelligent citizen, it is plain, that the 
avenues to information should be as wide and numer- 
ous as possible ; and that the utmost practicable exten- 
sion should be given to a system of education, which 
will confer on every citizen the capacity of deriving 
knowledge, with readiness and accuracy, from books 
and documents. The whole energy of the State should 
be directed to multiply the numbers of those capable 
of forming ah independent and rational judgement of 
their own, and to diminish, as much as possible, the 



IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 339 

numbers of the opposite class, who, being blinded by 
ignorance, are at the mercy of any one, who has an in- 
terest 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 con- 
stitution makes it the right, the laws make it the duty, 
of all citizens, within certain ages, to bear arms. It maj' 
sound strangely, to connect this duty with the subject 
of education. I hope no practical demonstration of the 
connexion of the topics will 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 
hands of the citizen, for the most important purposes ; 
not for parade and holyday display, but to defend his 
country against violence from abroad ; to maintain 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 the experience of the past 
warrant an anticipation of the future, the time may 
come, when this duty, also, is to be performed. It 
will not, then, be a matter of indifference, whether the 
honor and peace of the community are committed to an 
ignorant and benighted multitude, like those which swell 
the ranks of the mercenary standing armies of Europe, 
or to an educated and intelligent population, whose 
powers of reflection have been strengthened by exer- 
cise, and who are able to discriminate between consti- 
tutional 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 more direct and ap- 
propriate preparation. 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, and questions of life. The 
jury passes on your fortune, your reputation ; pronoun- 
ces whether you live or die. Go into the courts ; are 



840 UCPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 

they light matters, which those twelve men are to de- 
cide ? Look in the anxious faces of those, whose es- 
tates, 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 will understand 
aYid do their duty ? Those little boys, now sporting in 
the streets, or conning their tasks in our town schools, 
in a few short years will be summoned, in their turns, 
to discharge this important trust. Can we deem it a 
matter of indifference, whether or not their minds have 
been early accustomed to follow a train of thoughts or 
a statement 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, where every thing 
turned on his testimony, first swore, that what he saw, 
he saw through one window, and then, tlirough anoth- 
er, and then, through a door ? Wo to the community, 
where the degree of stolidity and ignorance, necessary 
to constitute such a witness, abounds; and where it 
must appear, not only on the stand, but in the jyry-box. 
It appears to me a most imperative duty, on the part 
of a State, which calls its citizens to discharge this mo- 
mentous office, to do all in its power to qualify them 
for it, by a general system 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 them 
both. But the court will instruct the jury. No doubt, 
as far as the law is concerned ; but the court's instruc- 
tions are addressed to minds, supposed to be capable 
of following out an argument, estimating evidence, and 
making up an independent opinion. I do not say, that 
there are not some minds, to whom the best opportuni- 
ties of education would not impart the requisite qualifi- 
cations of an intelligent juror. But I may appeal to 
every professional character and magistrate in this con- 
yention, that, in an important case, if he were to be 
called on to select a jury, on which he could place full 



IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 341 

Teliance, he would select men of good common sense, 
who had received a good common education, 

IV. But I have not yet named all the civil duties, for 
which education is needed as the preparatory discipHne. 
The various official trusts in society are to be filled, 
from a commission of the peace to the place of chief-jus.- 
tice ; from a constable up to the President of the United 
States. The sphere of duty, of some of these func- 
tionaries, is narrow; of others, large and inexpressibly 
responsible ; of none, insignificant. Taken together, 
they make up the administration of free government, — 
the greatest merely temporal interest of civilized man. 
There are three courses, between which we must 
choose. We must have officers unqualified for their 
duties ; or we must educate a privileged class, to mo- 
nopoUze the honors and emoluments of place ; or, we 
must establish such a system of general education, as 
will furnish a supply of well-informed, intelligent, and 
respectable citizens, in every part of the Country and in 
every walk of life, capable of discharging 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 pro- 
moting Common-School Education, which spring from 
the nature of our government. There are others, de- 
rived from the condition of our Country. Individual 
enterprise is every where stimulated ; the paths of ad- 
venture afe opened ; the boundless West prevents the 
older settlements from being overstocked, and gives 
scope for an unexampled developement of energy. Ed- 
ucation 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 
29* 



848 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 

reproach ; only let it not be a merely Carthaginian pros- 
perity. Let a taste for reading and reflection be cultiva- 
ted, as well as property acquired. Let us give our chil- 
dren the keys of knowledge, as well as an establishment 
in business. Let them, in youth, form habits and tastes, 
which will remain with them, in afterlife, in old age, and 
furnish rational entertainment, at all times. 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 pro- 
ductions and institutions of our own and foreign coun- 
tries ; the history of our venerated fathers ; the won- 
ders of the material universe ; the experience of our 
race ; great moral interests and duties ; — subjects, surely 
as important as dollars and 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 bookworm is 
a worthless character ; but a mere moneygetter 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 in- 
dulge a taste for reading. Far otherwise. I believe 
the mechanic, the engineer, the husbandman, the tra- 
der, have quite as much leisure, as the average of men 
in the learned professions. I know some men, busily 
engaged in these different callings of active life, whose 
minds are well stored with various, useful knowledge, 
acquired from books. There would be more such men, 
if education in our Common Schools were> as it well 
might be, of a higher order; and if Common-School 
Libraries, well furnished, were introduced into every 
district, as I trust, in due time, they will be. It is sur- 
prising, sir, how much may be effected, even under the 
most unfavorable circumstances, for the improvement 
of the mind, by a person resolutely bent on the acqui- 
sition of knowledge. A letter has been put into my 
hands, bearing date the sixth of September, so interest- 
ing, in itself, and so strongly illustrative of this point, 



IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 343 

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 those scanty opportunities, which I had previously 
enjoyed. A few months after his decease, I appren- 
ticed myself to a blacksmith, in my native village. 
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 apprenticeship, I suddenly con- 
ceived the idea of studying Latin. Through the assist- 
ance of an elder brother, who had himself obtained a 
collegiate education, by his own exertions, I completed 
my Virgil, during the evenings of one Winter. After 
some time devoted to Cicero, and a few other Latin au- 
thors, I commenced the Greek. At this time, it was ne- 
cessary that I should devote every hour of daylight, and 
a part of the evening, to the duties of my appf enticeship. 
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, tupieiyf unperceived by my fellow apprentices, 
and, to my confusion of face, with a detrimental effect 
to the cljarge in my fire. At evening, I sat down, un- 
assisted and alone, to the Iliad of Homer, twenty books 
of which measured my progress in that language, dur- 
ing the evenings of another Winter. I next turned to 
the modern languages, and was much gratified to learn, 
that my knowledge of the Latin furnished me with a 
key to the literature of most of the languages of Eu- 

♦ Mr. Elihn Burritt. 

t The •xample of the regular verb, in tome Greek grammaci. 



344 IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION. 

rope. This circumstance gave a new impulse to the 
desire of acquainting myself with the philosophy, den- 
vation, and affinity, of the different European tongues. 
I could not be reconciled to limit myself, in these in 
vestigations, 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, German, 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 ena- 
bled, 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 
morning ; this, and an hour at noon, being all the time 
that I could devote to myself, during the day. 

"After becc»ning somewhat familiar with this lan- 
guage, 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 Ori- 
ental 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 dis- 
tance of more than a hundred miles, to find some vessel 
bound to Europe. In this, I was disappointed ; and, 
while 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 Antiqua- 
rian Society, and found there, to my infinite gratifica- 
tiooy such a (collection of ancient^ modern^ and Oriental, 



IMPORTANCE or EDUCATION. 846 

languages, as I never before conceived to be collected 
in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine with whiat 
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 par- 
ticipation 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 stud- 
ies, the rest being occupied in arduous manual labor. 
Through the facilities 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 whom it is 
addressed,* for the liberty which I have taken, unex- 
pected, I am sure, by both of them, in thus making it 
public. It discloses a resolute 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 opportun- 
ities 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 
any, the least tincture of improvement, derived from 
education, who, when coming, at nightfall, from his la- 
bor, (I care not how hard or humble,) if told that, be- 
neath his roof, he would find Shakspeare, or Milton, or 
Scott, or Irving, or Channing, seated in actual pres- 
ence by his fireside, and waiting to converse with him^ 
would talk of wanting leisure, or of fatigue ? Would 
he not bound forward to meet them, as the panting 
hart bounds to the waterbrooks ? Would not the stars 
grow pale in the sky, before he would think of weari- 

♦ W. Lincoln, Esq., of Worcettw 



S46 IMPORTAirCE OF EDUCATION. 

ness ? Well, sir, there is not an individual in the com- 
munity, who cannot, for a few dollars, surround his fire- 
side 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 discourse to him, 
not in their everyday language, in which the most gifted 
do not always greatly excel their fellows ; but in the 
choicest and purest strains, to which, by study and 
meditation, and, I had almost said, by inspiration, they 
have elevated 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 noblest intellects of our race, his 
own becomes exalted and purified. 

VI. There is one other topic, to which 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 human means and influences go, educa- 
cation is the natural basis of a rational beUef. It is the 
pecuUarity of Christianity, as distinguished from other 
religions, that it addresses the understanding, as well 
as the heart. It commands us to search the Scrip- 
tures ; to be ready to give a reason for the faith 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,) with- 
out education ? The heathen might offer incense on 
the altar of Jupiter, with a vacant mind ; he might scru- 
tinize the palpitating viscera of animals,, with a grovel- 
ling spirit ; he might consult the oracle at Delphi, and 
shape his conduct by the response, with a benighted 
understanding. It is saying but little, to say, that 
there was nothing in his religion, that invited the exer- 
cise of his mental powers. We are blessed with a 
faith, which calls into action the whole intellectual 
man ; which prescribes a reasonable service ; challen- 
ges the investigation of its evidences ; and which, in 



mPOBTANCE OF EDUCATION. 347 

the doctrine of immortality, invests the mind of man 
with a portion of the dignity of Divine Intelligence. In 
whatever other respects the advantages of education 
might 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 for- 
bear 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 indi- 
viduals, that they perceive the intimate connexion be- 
tween education and the existence and prosperity of 
free institutions of government. 



GLOSSARY 



OP WORDS AND PHRASES NOT EASILY TO BE UNDER- 
STOOD BY THE YOUNG READER. 

[Many names of persona and places, terms of art, &c., which 
occur in this Volume, will be found explained in one of the places 
where they occur. For these, see Index.] 

AbanOi (or Amana,) a river of Palestine, mentioned by Naaman, 
(2 Kings y. 12,) as better than all the waters of Israel. It rises in 
Anti Lebanon, and unites with the Pharpar about four miles north- 
west of Damascus. It is then again divided into several streams, 
one of which passes through Damascus, and the others around it, 
after which they are lost in a bog, or marsh, called Bahr-el-Marje, or 
Lake of the Meadow. The Abana was called Chrysorrhoas by the 
Greeks, and b now called Barrady. 

Absolute monarchy i a form of government, in which the power of the 
monarch is unlimited. 

Absolutism, the system, or principle, of vesting unlimited power in 
the sovereign. 

Academy, a place of education ; a school of philosophy ; an assem- 
bly or society of learned men, uniting for the purpose of conferring 
together upon discoveries already made in the sciences, or to try 
experiments for their further improvement. The name is derived 
from the groves of Academus, in the vicinity of Athens, about one 
eighth of a mile from the city, where the Philosopher, Plato, re- 
sided, and gave his instructions ; from which time they became, in 
a great measure, sacred to philosophy. The name Academy is 
o(\en used for the school of Plato, as in this Volume, pages 23, 
41. In other places, as pages 25, 155, it is confined to the vari- 
ous public societies established in different countries, for the im- 
provement of the arts and sciences. The French Academy, at 
Paris, and Royal Academy, at London, are those particularly men- 
tioned in this Volume. There is, in this Country, an * American 
Academy of Arts and Sciences.' See French and Royal. 

Acropolis, (Greek,) the highest part or citadel of a city, particularly 
that of Athens. 

Accession, the act of coming into power, or of entering upon an 
office. 

Adelphic, fraternal. 

Adriatic Sea, also called Gulf of Venice, an arm of the Mediterra- 
nean Sea, on the northeast of Italy. 

Aladdin, the subject of one of the tales in the ' Arabian Nights' 
Entertainments.' The possession of a magical lamp is represented 
as giving him command of the services of the ' Genius of the Lamp/ 
30 £. E. 



350 OLOSSABT. 

an imaginarj l^eing of snperhaman powers, by whom all hia or« 
ders were obeyed, with the celerity of enchantment. 

Albertut Magnus, or Albert the Great, a distinguished theologian 
and natural philosopher, who resii^ed at Paris, Rome, and Cologne, 
and died at the latter place, in the year 1280, aged about eighty 
years. He was for some time Bishop of Ratisbon, but his love of 
solitude induced him to resign that dignity, and retire to a monas^ 
tery. His works make twenty-one folio volumes. 

Alc<eui, a celebrated lyric poet of Greece, who flourished about six 
hundred years before Christ. A few fragments, only, of his works 
remain. 

AlchymiitSj the professors of Alchymy, an art which originated in 
Arabia, in the fourth century, and was afterwards much cultivated 
in Europe, which had for its object the transmutation, or change, 
of the baser metals into gold, and the discovery of the philoso^ 
pher^s stone, a substance supposed to possess the power of curing 
all diseases, and renewing life. The alchymists, though engaged 
in the pursuit of objects now known to be visionary, have, by their 
experiments, rendered much service to modern chemistry. 

Alcuin, called also Albinus, (Flaccus,) an Englishman, and the 
most eminent scholar of his age, born A. D. 732. 

Alexander the Great, — 'Macedonia's madman,' — a celebrated King 
of Macedonia, who was born three hundred and fifly-six years be- 
fore the birth of our Saviour, and died in the thirty-second year 
of his age. He was a great warrior, and conquered bis enemies in 
every battle which he fought ; and at last is said to have wept, 
because "there were no more worlds to conquer." The extent 
of his conquests, and his uniform success in war, have rendered 

• his name synonymous with conqueror. He was proud, ordering 
himself to be worshipped as a god ; and visited the temple of Ju- 
piter Ammon in the Desert of Siwah, and bribed the priests of the 
temple to declare him to be the son of Jupiter. He was brave, 
often to rashness ; humane and liberal ; easy and familiar with his 
friends ; and a great patron of learning. But he was a drunkard ; 
and in one of his fits of madness, produced by intoxication and de- 
bauchery, he set fire to the city of Persepolis. 

Alexandria, the capital of Lower Egypt, founded by Alexander the 
Great. This city, under the reign of the Ptolemies, successors of 
Alexander, was distinguished as the seat of learning. At the Mu- 
seum, founded by Ptolemy Philadelphus, who died B. C. 247, nu« 
merous scholars lived, were supported, and studied. The gram- 
marians and poets of Alexandria are termed, collectively, the AU 
exahdrian school, and the age of literature under the Ptolemies is 
termed the Alexandrian age, 

Algiers, one of the States of Barbary , on the northern coast of Afri- 
ca, with a capital city of the same name, which was surrendered 
to the French, July 5, 1830, previous to which time, the Algerines 
were a piratical nation, and received tribute from several states of 
Christendom. 

Alkali, (plural alkalies,) a substance that has the property of com- 
bining with, and neutralizing the properties of, acids, producing 
•alta by the combination. Alkalies change the vegetable blnef and 



GiiOssAitr. 351 

pnrplea to green, red to parple, and yellow to brown. Cauitic 
alkali, an alkali deprived of its carbonic acid, being thereby ren- 
dered more caustic and violent in its operation. This term is usu- 
ally applied to pure potash. Fixed alkali, an alkali that emits no 
characteristic smell, and cannot be volatilized or evaporated with- 
out great difficulty. Potash and soda are culled tbe fixed alkalies. 
Soda is also called a Fossil, or Mineral Alkali, and potash, the 
Vegetable Alkali. Volatile alkali, an elastic, transparent, col- 
orless, and consequently invisible, gas, known by the name of am- 
monia, or spirits of hartshorn. 

Allsion, (Washington,) one of the most distinguished of living paint- 
ers ; an American. 

Alma mater, dear, or benignant, mother ; an epithet applied to a 
college, university, or other seminary of learning, by those who 
have there received their education. 

Alpine, of, or relating to, the Alps, a lofty ridge of mountains in 
Europe, the highest summits of which are in Savoy and Switzer- 
land. 

Altai Mountains, a vast chain of mountains, in Asia, forming, for a 
great distance, the southern boundary of Siberia. 

Amalgamation, the combination of mercury with other metals. The 
compound is called an amalgam, 

Anacaona, a female cacique (chief) of Hispaniola, or Sc Domingo ; 
put to death by the Spaniards, under Ovando, in 1505. 

Anatolia, see Asia Minor, 

Andes, an immense chain of mountains, extending through South 
America, from north to south. In Chili, these mountains, which, 
to the north and south, are divided into several ridges, form but 
one ridge, about one hundred and twenty mile's in breadth : and 
the Chilian Andes present many summits of great height. 

Anson, (George,) Lord, a distinguished English naval commander, 
between 1739 and 1761. He not only obtained numerous victo- 
ries over the ships of the French and Spaniards, then at war with 
England, but added much to geographical knowledge, by his ex- 
plorations and discoveries. 

Anti-Christian, opposed to Christianity. ♦ 

Antartic Sea, or Ocean, (also called Southern Frozen Ocean,) the 
ocean lying round the south pole, and south of the southern ex- 
tremities of America, Africa, and New Holland. 

Apollo, one of the deities of the ancient Grecian mythology, presid- 
ing over poetry, music, medicine, and prophecy. One of the most 
perfect specimens of ancient sculpture, which have come down to 
modem times, is the statue of this god, named the Apollo Belvl" 
dere, from the pavilion called Belvidere, in the Vatican, or Pope's 
palace at Rome. 

Apollonius the Rhodian, an ancient poet, born about two hundred 
and thirty years before Christ. He wrote a poem, of some merit, 
upon the expedition of the Argonauts, who sailed in the ship Argo, 
under the command of the hero Jason, in search of the fabuloui 
golden fleece. 

Appetence, desire. 

jfpril iht nifuUenth, see Lexington* 



S5d OL05SART. 

A priori t literally, from the preceding. Reasoning a prioH, is rea- 
soning on grounds preceding actual knowledge. 

Jirabs, or ArabianSy inhabitants of Arabia, an extensive region in 
the southwestern part of Asia. 

Arcadia, a mountainous country, in the centre of the peninsula con- 
stituting the southern part of Greece, now called the Morea, and 
anciently the Peloponnesus. It has been much celebrated by the 
poets, as the abode of virtue, courage, and pastoral simplicity of 
manners. 

Archangel, a city in the northern part of Russia, on the River Dwi- 
na, about six miles from the White Sea ; formerly the only mari- 
time city of importance in Russia, but, since the foundation of St. 
Petersburg, it has much declined. 

Archimedes, the most celebrated among the ancient geometricians, 
bom at Syracuse, in Sicily, about two hundred and eighty-seven 
years before the birth of our Saviour. He was the inventor of sev- 
eral of the most important mechanical powers, such as the com- 
pound pulley, the endless screw, &c. ; and is reported to have 
said he would move the world, if he could find a fulcrum, or point, 
without it, on which he could stand and place his lever. He is 
also said to< have constructed lenses, or burning glasses, of such 
great power, that he set on fire with them the ships of the Roman 
fleet, which was besieging Syracuse. Hiero, King of Syracuse, 
suspecting that an artist had added some common metal to a crown, 
which he had directed to be made of pure gold, requested Archi- 
medes to ascertain the fact. He discovered the method of solving 
the question, while he was in the bath. 

Archipelago, a sea interspersed with many islands. The name was 
originally applied to the iEgean Sea, situated between Europe and 
Asia, and which is called the Grecian Archipelago, but has been 
also extended to other seas and even oceans. By the Indian Ar- 
chipelago is to be understood the collection of islands south of the 
eastern part of the continent of Asia, and forming a part of what 
is comprehended under the term East Indies. 

Ariosto, (Lndovico,) an eminent Italian poet, who was bcrn A. D. 
1474, 4nd died A. D. 1538. His great work is the Orlando Furi- 
oso, an epic poem. 

Aristotle, a distinguished Grecian philosopher, born B. C. 884, at 
Stagira, in Macedonia, whence he is sometimes called the Stagy- 
rite. He was the preceptor of Alexander the Great. 

Arkwright, (Sir Richard,) inventor of the spinning-jenny, died in 
1792. For a further account of him, see the second volume of 
* Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' forming Vol. xv. of 
*The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Armadillo, a small quadruped, found in tropical America, whose 
whole body is covered with a hard shell, consisting of scales or 
plates, arranged like a coat of mail. When attaciced, the animal 
rolls himself into a solid uniform ball. 

Armillary, resembling a bracelet. The armillary sphere consists 
of a number of rings of brass, or bracelets, representing the vari- 
ous circles of the celestial globe. 

Ana Minor t (now called Anatolia^ or Natolia,) a provmce of Asiatie 



GLOSSARY. 353 

Turkey, is that part of Asia comprehended between the Grecian 
Archipelago and the Mediterranean and Black Seaa, and border- 
ing, easterly, on Armenia and Syria. 

Assyrians, people of Assyria, one of the most important kingdoms 
of ancient Asia. 

Astrolabe, an instrument for measuring angles, formerly in use for 
determining the position of the heavenly bodies, but not now used. 

Atahualpa, the last of the Incas, or native princes of Quito, a prov- 
ince of South America. He was burnt by the Spaniards, in 1533. 

Athens, the capital of Attica, one of the countries of ancient Greece. 
It was remarkable as the seat of art, literature, and philosophy. 
It was rich in public edifices of the greatest magnificence. It was 
the resort and abode of poets, whence the phrase, • the Attic 
Muse,* embraces the noblest productions of Grecian poetry. The 
schools of the philosophers, of Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and Epicu- 
rus, were held within, or near, the city. Athens is still interesting, 
on account of the ruins of its ancient buildings, of which enough 
remains to attest its former splendor. 

AtheTKBum, a name given to public libraries, frequented for the pur- 
poses of reading. It was the name of a building in ancient Athens, 
dedicated to Minerva, and destined for assemblies of poets and 
orators. 

Athos, a lofty mountain in Greece. 

Atlantis, a name given by the ancients to an island supposed to exist 
in the Atlantic Ocean, but respecting which they had only vague 
and indefinite accounts. As they placed it in a spot where after- 
wards no island was found, it was supposed to have sunk, — to be 
* lost.' Its existence is now generally regarded as imaginary. 

Atlas, a chain of mountains in Northern Africa. 

Attica, Attic muse, see Athens. 

Augustan age, see the next article. 

Augustus, (Octavius Ca;sar,) a Roman Emperor, who was born about 
B. C. 62, and died A. D. 14. His age was remarkable for the 
number of distinguished writers and men of genius whom it pro- 
duced ; whence the phrase, Augustan age, is applied to any flour- 
ishing era in literature. 

Auspices, signs of future events. 

Australia, that division of the globe, which comprehends the numer- 
ous islands lying in the Southern and the Pacific Oceans. 

Babylonian, of Babylon, the capital of the ancient Asiatic empire 
of Babylonia. 

Bacon, (Francis, Baron Verulam,) lord high chancellor of England, 
was born A. D. 1561, and died A. D. 1626. He is to be regarded as 
one of the most remarkable men of any age. He was a profound 
scholar in the whole circle of the sciences, and is the first who re- 
formed philosophy, by founding it on the observation of Nature. 

Bacon, Roger, an English monk of the thirteenth century, distin- 
guished for his discoveries in chemistry and natural philosophy. 
For an account of him, see the second volume of * Pursuit of Knowl- 
edge under Difficulties,' being Vol. xv. of • The School Li- 
brary,* Larger Series. 

30» 



354 6I.0S8ikRT. 

Balize, a point at the mouth of the River Mississippi, abont one hun- 
dred miles below New Orleans. 

Banana, a luscious and agreeable fruit, about five inches long, and 
shaped like a cucumber, growing in the West Indies and other 
tropical climates. 

Banditti, (Italian,) robbers associated in organized bands. 

Bavins and MtEvius, two miserable versifiers of ancient Rome, sat- 
irized by Virgil, and whose names have become proverbial for dul- 
ness and stupidity. 

Bay State, Massachusetts, which was originally called the province 
of Massachusetts Bay. 

Beda, or Bede, surnamed the Venerable, an eminent English eccle- 
siastic and writer of the eighth century, who was born about the 
year 672, and died A. D. 735. He became celebrated for his 
learning, and his fame spread to foreign countries. He wrote an 
Ecclesiastical History, and translated the Gospel of St. John into 
the Saxon language. 

Bell, (Andrew,) an English gentleman, by whom the system of mu- 
tual, or monitorial, instruction was first introduced into practice in 
the English schools. 

Berkeley, (George,) Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland, and author of 
many remarkable works on natural and intellectual philosophy, 
and other subjects, was born March 12, 1684, and died January 
14, 1753. The excellence of his moral character is conspicuous in 
his writings. He made very active efforts for the establishment of 
a college in the Island of Bermuda, for ** converting the savage 
Americans to Christianity," and expended a large part of his for- 
tune for this object ; but, after seven years of exertion, the proj- 
ect failed, for want of the assistance promised by the English Par- 
liament. In pursuance of this plan, he resigned his preferments, 
and sailed with his family for Rhode Island, and resided at New- 
port for two years. He was a distinguished benefactor to Yale 
College, in New Haven, Connecticut. 

Black Forest, an extensive forest in the mountainous region of Ger- 
many, a part of the ancient Hercynian Forest, which, in the time 
of Ctesar, was nine days' journey in breadth and more than sixty 
in length, covering nearly the whole of Germany. 

Blacksione, (Sir William,) an eminent English Judge, and expound- 
er of the laws and constitution of England. His great work, the 
' Commentaries on the Laws of England,* first appeared A. D. 
1765, and is still a standard work. 

Bobadilla, (Don Francisco de,) was sent to St. Domingo, in 1500, 
with power to supersede Columbus, whom he sent home in chains. 
He reversed Columbus's mode of treating the Indians, and reduced 
them to a state of complete servitude. See * Life of Columbus,* 
in Vol. i. of * The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Boccaccio, (Giovanni,) an Italian poet and novelist of great celebri- 
ty, who flourished in the fourteenth century. He was born, A. D. 
1313, and died, A. D. 1375. He is best known by his * Decame- 
ron,' a collection of tales of the most various character, written in 
the most polished style. 

Bologna, a wealthy and populous city in the north of Italy. 



^ 



GLOSSART. 855 

Bonaparte, see JSTapoleon, 

Bowditch^ (Nathaniel,) the most eminent mathematician and astron- 
omer that America lias produced, was born in Salem, March 26, 
1773, and died in Boston, March 16, 1838. He was a self-edu- 
cated man. With limited advantages of early education, and en- 
gaged, through life, in laborious employments for the support of his 
family, he was enabled, by great natural endowments, and wise 
economy of time, to make extensive acquisitions in learning and 
science. His ' Practical Navigator' is the standard work upon 
navigation and seamanship. His greatest work is the translation, 
in four volumes, quarto, of the * Mecanique Celeste' (Mechiinism 
of the Heavens) of La Place, a distinguished French mathematician 
and astronomer. 

Bowdoin College is located at Brunswick, in the State of Maine. 

Boyle, (Bernardo,) a Benedictine monk, a native of Catalonia, who 
was sent out to America, by Queen Isabella, with Columbus, on 
his second voyage, to convert the heathen natives of the New 
World, of which the Pope appointed him his Apostolical Vicar. 

British JYdvigation Act, an act passed by the British Parliament, in 
1651, requiring that no importations should be made into England, 
except in English ships, with English commanders. This act, 
passed for the exclusive benefit of English trade, was obnoxious to 
the New-England colonies, and was evaded by them. 

Brougham, (Henry,) Lord, an eminent living jurist, statesman, and 
orator, of England. 

Brown University is located at Providence, Rhode Island. 

Burgundy, formerly a province in the easterly part of France. 

Burke, (Edmund,) an eminent writer, orator, and statesman, of 
Great Britain, was born A. D. 1730, and died A. D. 1797. 

Bushmen, a race of Hottentots, a wild and miserable people, in- 
habiting the western part of South Africa. 

Byzantium, the ancient name of Constantinople. 

Cadmus, the name of several individuals, celebrated in ancient my- 
thology and history. Tradition states that the most famous of the 
name, who was the grandson of Neptune, founded the Grecian city 
of Thebes, and introduced into Greece the Phoenician. alphabet, 
about the year B. C. 600. 

Ctesar, (Caius Julius,) a very distinguished Roman general, states- 
man, and historian, bom B. C. 100. He is said to have been vic- 
tor on five hundred battlefields, and attained the Dictatorship of 
the Roman Empire, with the title of Imperator, or Emperor. His 
extensive conquests of Spain, Gaul, Egypt, and Numidia, raised 
the power of Rome to an unprecedented height. In general, he 
used his most extraordinary talents for the good of his country. He 
subdued his enemies more by his clemency than by his sword. 
He was assassinated, in the Capitol, at Rome, by Brutus, Cassius, 
and other conspirators, on the I^th of March, B. C. 44, in the fifty- 
sixth year of his age. He wrote Commentaries on the wars in 
which he was engaged, on the spot where he fought his battles ; 
and the composition has been admired for the correctness and ele- 
gance of his style. Caesar was also the family name of the first 
five Roman emperors. With Nero the family became extinct, «nd 



356 GLOSSART. 

the term C<B$ar became afterwards merely a title of imperial 
dignity. 

CalderoTit (Don Pedro, de la Barca,) one of the greatest dramatic 
authors of the Spanish nation, was born at Madrid, in 1601, and 
died at the advanced age of eighty-seven years. 

Caliph, more properly, Khali/, *a successor,* * vicar,' or * substi- 
tute,' the imperial title given to the successors of Mohammed in 
the supreme authority of the Mussulman empire. 

Callimachus, a Greek poet and grammarian. 

Calvin, (John,) a very distinguished reformer and theologian of the 
sixteenth century, was bom at Noyon, in Picardy, July 10, 1509. 
The numerous followers of his theological tenets are generally 
styled Calvinists. He lived to the age of fifky-five years, and died 
May 27, 1564. 

Cambyses, son of Cyrus the Great, became King of the Modes and 
Persians, B. C. 530. He was a cruel, passionate, and sensual 
Monarch, and reigned but eight years. 

Camoens, (Louis de,) the most celebrated poet of the Portuguese, 
was bom in Lisbon, about A. D. 1527, and died A. D. 1579. He 
has been styled the Virgil of Portugal. His great epic poem, called 
the Lusiad, was written during his banishment at Macao, in China. 

Canonized, originally, declared to be a saint ; hence, hallowed, 
venerable, sacred. 

Canonry, the office, and sometimes the residence, of a canon, A 
canon is one who possesses a revenue for the performance of Di- 
vine service in a cathedral church. 

Canova, (Antonio,) one of the most famous sculptors of modem 
Italy, was born A. D. 1757, and died in 1822. His works are 
marked by grace in design, and delicacy of finish. 

Canton, a district. 

Carr, (Robert,) a favorite of James the Firstj of England, who cre- 
ated him Earl of Somerset, in 1612. 

Carthage, an ancient city of Africa, founded by a colony from Tyre, 
and remarkable for its population, wealth, and power. It was, 
for many years, a rival of Rome herself; but finally fell into the 
power of the Romans, and was destroyed, B. C. 146. 

Caste, a tribe, race, or class, of people, in the East, whose occupa- - 
tions, customs, and privileges, are hereditary. There are four orig- 
inal castes among the Hindoos ; and the members of one will not 
even eat with those of another. 

Castilian, belonging to Castile, a kingdom or principal province of 
Spain ; and hence used to signify Spanish. The phrase ** Castil- 
ian majesty" is sometimes used to express the richness and dignity 
of the Spanish language. 

Catalepsy, a spasmodic disease, or fit, during ^hich the mind and 
senses are entirely inactive. 

Caucasus, a very extensive range of lofty mountains in Western 
Asia, between the Black and Caspian Seas. 

Ceramicus, one of the most considerable and important parts of an- 
cient Athens, divided into the inner and outer ; the former being 
within, and the latter without, the walls. The inner Ceramicus 
was a public walk, adorned with temples, porticoes, and other ed« 



GLOSSARY. 357 

ifices ; the outer Ceramicus was a public burying ground, which 
contained the remains of the most illustrious warriors and states- 
men of Athens. The Academy was at the extremity of this burial 
ground ; and the road to it was lined, on either side, with the sep- 
ulchres of Athenians who had fallen in battle, and been buried with 
funeral honors, and at the public expense. 

Cervantes, (Miguel de,) the author of the Adventures of DonQ,aix- 
ote, a very celebrated romance. He was born at Madrid, in Spain, 
about the year 1547. He served in the wars against the Turks 
and African corsairs, and lost his left hand at the great seafight of 
Lepanto. He was subsequently taken by the corsairs, and re- 
mained seven years in slavery. He died at Madrid, in 1616, at 
the age of sixty-eight. 

Ceylon, a large island in the Indian Ocean. 

Chained to the oar. The slaves employed to row the huge galleys, or 
large boats, formerly in use on the Mediterranean, especially by the 
Venetians, were usually chained to the oars, which were of such 
size, that six or seven slaves were required for each. Hence the 
expression is applied to any subjection to a galling tyranny. 

Chaldaans, inhabitants of Chald<Ba, the southerly part of ancient 
Babylonia. 

Champollion, (John Francis,) a French writer, celebrated for his 
works on Egyptian antiquities, and for his investigations and dis- 
coveries in relation to Egyptian hieroglyphics. He died at Paris, 
in 1832, at the age of forty-two. 

Chanirey, (Francis,) a celebrated English sculptor. The statue of 
Washington, in the State House, Boston, was executed by him. 

Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, was a celebrated conqueror, in 
the middle ages. He was born in Bavaria, A. D. 742. At the 
decease of his father, Pepin, King of the Franks, or French, he 
was crowned King, A. D. 768. In the year 800, he was crowned 
Emperor of the West, at Rome. His victories greatly eitfended 
the domains of France. On his becoming Emperor, he took the 
names of Caesar and Augustus, the two first Emperors of Rome. 
He was •a wise, politic, and able prince, and a great patron of the 
arts and sciences. He lived to the age of seventy-one } 'ars, and 
died January 28, 814, at Aix-la-Chapelle, in Germany, which 
place he had selected for his residence. 

Charles L, King of Great Britain, was bom in Scotland, A. D. 1600. 
He was a prince of great private virtue and talent, but rash and pre- 
sumptuous in his political course. By the levying of illegal taxes, 
and the oppressive decisions of the Court of Starchamber, he alien-, 
ated from him the Parliament and the middle classes, with many 
persons of rank and fortune. The breach widened to open war, 
and und^r Fairfax and Cromwell, the Parliament finally became 
victorious. Charles was deposed, tried, and beheaded on the 80th 
of January, 1649. He suffered with great composure and courage. 

Charles V,, Emperor of Germany and King of Spain, (in the latter 
capacity he was called Charles the First,) was born February 24, 
1500. His military and political career was very distinguished^ 
and he was a sincere patron of men of genius and learning. At 
the height of hig power, he abdicated his thrones in favor of hif 



858 GLOSSARY. 

■on, and retired to a monaitery, where he passed the remainder 
of his days, dying September 21, 1668, in the fifty-ninth year of 
his age. 

Charles JT., King of France, and brother'^of Louis the Sixteenth and 
of Louis the Eighteenth, whom he succeeded, was born in 1767. 
By the advice of his ministry, at the head of which was Prince 
Polignac, he issued severe edicts against the liberty of the press, 
and was finally driven from the throne, by the revolution of July, 
1830, and succeeded by the present King, Louis Philip. He died 
in 1886. 

Chatham, (William Pitt,) Earl of, an illustrious statesman of Eng- 
land, possessed of great eloquence, sagacity, energy, and integrity. 
He was at the head of the administration, during the latter part of 
the reign of George the Second, and the first year of that of George 
the Third. He opposed the American Revolutionary War, in the 
most brilliant and eloquent speeches of that or of any time. He 
was born November 16, 1708, and died May 11, 1778. 

Checkered, varied or diversified with brighter or darker parts, like 
the changing of squares on a chess-board. 

Chilian Andes, see Andes. 

China, Chinese empire, a country of great extent in Eastern Asia, 
comprising upwards of five millions of square miles, and containing 
more than one hundred and fifty millions of inhabitants. The gov- 
ernment is an absolute monarchy. Tea is the principal article of 
export. The China Sea washes the southern coast of China. 

Chloride of lime, a combination of lime with a gas (or air) called 
chlorine. It possesses remarkable powers in purifying the air, in 
places exposed to infection. 

Cholera, a very fatal disease, which prevailed in Europe and Amer- 
ica, during the years 1832 and 1833. It was called Asiatic, being 
introduced into Europe from Asia. In the city of Paris, the mor- 
talitji reached the number of eight hundred daily. 

Christendom, those countries, the inhabitants of which profess Chris- 
tianity. 

Chronometer, a large watch or timepiece of very accurate construc- 
tion, UP ,d to mark time in astronomical calculations. 

Cicero, ^Marcus TuUius,) the most distinguished writer and orator 
of Rome, contemporary with Antony, Csesar, and Pompey. He 
was born B. C. 106. His greatest political act was the suppres- 
sion of the conspiracy of Cataline. He was put to death by order 
of his enemies in the government, at the age of sixty-four years, 
and his head and hands were affixed to the spot, in the Roman 
Forum, whence his eloquence had often been poured forth. 

Cincinnatus, (Lucius Q,uinctius,) a Roman commander, distin- 
guished by his heroism, magnanimity, and disinterestedness of 
character, was born B. C. 400. Though of noble rank, he sup- 
ported himself by cultivating the earth. Summoned from the 
plough to take the chief command, he twice delivered his country 
from great dangers, and was had in universal reverence. 

Circulation of the blood, see Harvey. 

Clew, thread wound upon a ball ; hence a guide, direction, beeaiue 
men guide themselves by a thread in a labyrinth. 



GLOSSABT. ^ 359 

Columbia River, the most important stream flowing into the Pacific, 
on the western coast of North America. It was first discovered 
and entered in 1791, by Captain Gray, of ship Columbia, of 
Boston. 

Columbus, (Christopher,) the discoverer of America, born abont 
A. D. 1435, died May 20, 1506. For his life, see * The School 
Library,' Larger Series, Vol. i., and Juvenile Series, Vol. xi. 

Commentaries, written expositions on historical, constitutional, or 
legal subjects. 

Commonwealth of England, the time intervening between the death 
of Charles the First and the accession of Charles the Second, em- 
bracing the supreme rule of Parliament and the Protectorate of 
Cromwell. 

Compass, the mariner's, a magnetic needle (see Magnetism) sus- 
pended upon a pivot, and bearing a card, marked with the thirty- 
two points of direction into which the horizon is divided, and which 
are thence called the points of the compass. Its use is to guide the 
navigator in steering his course upon the ocean. Previous to its 
invention, in the fourteenth century, the mariner's only guides 
were the heavenly bodies, and in cloudy weather he was without 
any thing to direct his course. This period, therefore, forms an 
era in navigation, as, before it, men dared to sail only a short dis- 
tance from land. 

Constantine the Great, the first Emperor of Rome who established 
Christianity by the civil power, was born at Naissus, (now Nissa,) 
a town of Dardania, or Moesia, A. D. 272. He was proclaimed 
Emperor of Rome, A. D. 806. He was converted to Christianity, 
and afterwards became the sole head of the Eastern and Western 
empires, A. D. 324. In 329, he founded a new capital of the em- 
pire, at Byzantium, which was called, after him, Constantinople, 
This city was the residence of the Emperors of the East till 1453, 
when it was taken by the Turks ; and afler that, it became the 
residence of the Turkish Sultans. Constantine reigned thirty-one 
years, and died A. D. 337, aged sixty-five. He put a stop to the 
persecutions against the Christians, and allowed entire liberty of 
conscience. 

Cook, (James,) Captain, a celebrated maritime discoverer, born in 
Yorkshire, England, November 3, 1728, and died February 14, 
1779, a victim to the fury of the savage inhabitants of Owhyhee, 
or Hawai, one of the Sandwich islands. He was highly honored, 
during life, as a man of science. The narratives of his voyages 
are no less valuable to the geographer than interesting to the youns 
reader. An account of his life may be found in the first volume of 
* The Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' forming the four- 
teenth volume of* The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Copernicus, (Nicolas,) an eminent astronomer, born at Thorn, in 
Prussia, January 19, 1472. He revived the theory, now uni- 
versally received and known to be true, (according to which, the 
earth and* other planets revolve round the sun,) which had been 
previously discovered by Pythagoras ; before whose time, the earth 
was aupposed to be stationary, and the son and planets to revolve 



860 ^ GLOSSARY. 

around it. This theory was neglected, till its revival by Coperni- 
cus ; and it has since been called, * the Copernican theory,' and 
the system, * the Copernican system.' For a notice of the death 
of Copernicus, see pages 236-238. 

Cordillera!;, a range of mountains in Mexico, the continuation of the 
chain of the Andes, 

Corneille, (Peter,) one of the earliest and greatest writers of French 
tragedy, was born, A. D. 1606, and died, A. D. 1684. 

Coronation, (from corona, a crown,) the ceremony of crowning a 
king, queen, or other kingly potentate. 

Corpus, (Latin,) a body ; a collection of works on similar subjects. 

Cortes, (Fernando,) the Spanish conqueror of Mexico, was born, 
A. D. 1485. His name is eminent for bravery and ability, but 
infamous for cruelty and perfidy. Guatimozin, the Emperor of 
Mexico, was subjected, under his orders, to horrid tortures, to 
force a disclosure of concealed treasures, and afterwards execu- 
ted. Cortes lived to the age of sixty-three years. His Life may 
be found in the twelfth volume of the Juvenile Series of * The 
School Libbart.' 

Cotton-gin, see Whitney, 

Cover, a plate. 

Crafts, see Guilds, 

Crassuses, There were two distinguished Romans named Crassus. 
The first, Lucius, the most eminent orator of his day, was made 
consul, (chief magistrate,) B. C. 96. The latter, Marcus, a man 
of immense wealth, was a member of the first triumvirate, (or 
government by three magistrates, equal in^power,) with Csesar 
and Pompey, and died B. C. 53. 

Crocodile, an enormous reptile, inhabiting the Nile, and other rivers 
of Africa. The alligator, found in the warmer parts of America, 
is a species of the crocodile, 

Cromwell, (Oliver,) Protector of the Commonwealth of England, 
Scotland, and Ireland, was born A. D. 1599. He was actively en- 
gaged in the civil war during the reign of Charles the First, as a 
member of Parliament, and a military leader. He took a conspic- 
uous part in the execution of Charles ; and, as commander-in- 
chief of the army of the republican party, opposed and defeated 
his son, afterwards Charles the Second. He became sole govern- 
or, with the title of Lord Protector, in 1653, and retained that 
office till his death, in 1658. He was a man of remarkable abili- 
ties, as a statesman and a general. 

Cross, the emblem of Christianity. The term, * soldiers cfthe cross,* 
is applied, both to the warriors, who, in the middle ages, fought 
for the recovery of Palestine from the Mohammedans, and to the 
peaceful missionaries of modern times. 

Cuvier, Baron, the most eminent naturalist of the present age, was 
bom, A. D. 1769, and died, A. D. 1832. He was Professor of 
Natural History in the College of France, and held various impor- 
tant posts in the French Government, at different times*. His workf 
on Natural History are of the greatest value. 

Cycloidal curve, or cycloid, that curve which is formed by any out 



GLOSSARY. ^1 

point in the circumference of a circle, supposed to roll upon a 
straight line. Thus, each point in a carriage wheel or hoop, in 
motion, is constantly describing cycloids. 

Cyrene, an ancient city in the north of Africa. Its ruins are an ob- 
ject of interest in modem times. 

Carar, a title of the Emperor of Russia, derived, like the German 
Kaiser, (emperor,) from the word Csesar, (which see.) 

Dante, (properly Durante Alighieri,) a celebrated Italian scholar 
and Epic Poet, born at Florence, Italy, A. D. 1265. His Divina 
Commedia (Sacred Poem) is in three parts, L' Inferno, II Para^ 
diso, and H Purgatorio, (Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory,) and is 
a grand monument of his sublime genius. (See page 265.) He 
was a soldier and statesman as well as an author. He died A. D. 
1321, after a life of great vicissitudes. 

Darius, King of the Modes and Persians, was a wise, just, and able 
prince. Though at the head of immense armies, he was repeated- 
ly defeated by Alexander the Great. He was treacherously slain, 
by traitors of his own army, B. C. 330, at the age of fifly years. 

Dartmouth Colhge, located at Hanover, New Hampshire. 

Davy, Sir Humphrey, one of the most distinguished chemists of 
the age, was born in Cornwall, England, A. D. 1779. His discov- 
eries with the Voltaic battery, (see Galvanism,) his decomposition 
of alkalies, ascertaining their metallic bases ; and his invention of 
the miner's safety lamp, have obtained him a deserved reputation. 
He died in 1829. See page 136, and also the second volume of 
* Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' forming the fifteenth 
volume of* The School Library,* Larger Series. 

Dead language, a language not spoken by any living nation ; such 
as the Latin and ancient Greek. 

Decamerone, see Boccaccio, 

December twenty-second, see Plymouth. 

Delfthaven, a small town in Holland. 

Delphi, the seat of the most celebrated oracle in ancient Greece, 
situated on the southern side of Mount Parnassus. The temple, 
where the oracles were delivered, was sacred to Apollo. 

Democratic, democracy, populace. 

Demosthenes, the greatest popular orator of antiquity, was bom at 
Athens, B. C. 375. He overcame, by great exertions and labo- 
rious perseverance, the natural disadvantages of weak lungs, a 
shrill voice, and an imperfect utterance. His orations are elabo- 
rate but masterly efforts. He opposed, with consummate address 
and eloquence, the ambition of Philip, King of Macedon, who at- 
tempted to enslave Greece. He died by poison, at about the age 
of sixty years, not choosing' to surrender himself into the hands of 
the Macedonians. 

Despotism, a form of govemment, in which the power of the raler, 
or despot, is unlimited ; hence, also, it signifies oppression, or tyr- 
anny. 

Diapason, a chord which includes all tones ; an octave ; a term ap- 
plied to one of the most important of the numerous classes of pipes 
which make up a complete organ. 

31 E. £. 



868 GLOSSART. 

Dictator, a magiatrete of ancient Rome, chofen only upon great 
emergencies, and possessing almost uncontrolled power. The of- 
fice was very limited in daration. 

Diket, dams ; masses or moauds of earth or other solid materiat, 
boilt up as barriers against the water of a river or sea. A great 
portion of Holland is redeemed from the ocean, by means of im- 
mense dikes. 

DietkaUj Baron, commander of a body of French troops in Canada, 
in the war of 1755. He was mortally wounded at the battle of 
Lake George, September 8, 1755, but lived to reach England, 
where he died of his wounds. 

Diorama, a perspective view of any historical scene, or of natural 
scenery, on a large scale, and with the light so arranged, as to give 
a most vivid and natural representation. A succession of such pic- 
tures is sometimes caused to pass, by machinery, before the eye 
of the spectator. 

D%9taff, a staff or stick on which the flax was wound, and from 
which it was drawn, in the did mode of spinning. 

Divina Commedia, see Dante. 

Dole, a gratuity ; provisions or money distributed in charity. 

Dome, the vaulted roof of a public building. For descriptions of va- 
rious domes, see * The Useful Arts,' Vol. i., being Vol. xi., of 
• The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Dorian, or Doric, belonging to the Dorian race, or of a style com- 
mon to that race. This race was one of the great branches of the 
ancient Greek nation. The Dorian mood, or mode, was one of 
the modes of arranging the musical scale, of which there were sev- 
eral in ancient music. 

Drake, Sir Francis, a distinguished English navigator and naval 
commander, born A. D. 1545, and died A. D. 1596. He intro- 
duced the potato plant from America into Europe. 

Driftwood, trees, logs, or other pieces of wood, which float down 
rivers, or in the sea. 

Dryden, (John,) an eminent English poet, was bom, A. D. 1631, 
and died A. D. 17U0. His great power and melody of versifica- 
tion are strongly shown in his translation of Virgil. During the 
latter years of his life, having lost, under King W^illiam the Third, 
the pensions and places which he held under King James the Sec- 
ond, he was obliged to write for bread, and at so much a line. 
His * Fables' contain some of his most poetical pieces. 

Dumler, (Henry,) the first President of Harvard College, where he 
presided from A. D. 1640, till his death in 1659. 

Eait'India Company, (the British,) a company of London mer- 
chants, chartered A. D. 1600, by Q,ueen Elizabeth, who gave them 
the exclusive right to the commerce of India for fifteen years. The 
Company, successively rechartered, gradually attained great pow- 
er and wealth, and fiually, in the middle of the last century, by 
the civil and military genius of the celebrated Lord Clive, gained 
almost absolute control over the immense empire of Hindostan. 
Many otficers and agents of the Company, before and after Clive, 
displayed, throughout, the greatest rapacity, enriching themselves 
at the expense of the unhappy Natives, who were alternately pil- 



GLOSSARY. 363 

- kged and oppressed by the English and their native masters. The 
charter of the Company was last renewed in 1834, with certain 
restrictions, calculated to secure great advantages to the people of 
India. 

Egyptian, belonging to Egypt, a country in the northeastern part 
of Africa, remarkable for its stupendous remains of ancient archi- 
tecture, such as pyramids, temples, &c. 

El Dorado, * the golden.* Some of the Spaniards, who came to 
America with Pizarro, on returning to Europe, excited the curios- 
ity and cupidity of Europeans, by fictitious accounts of a region in 
the New World, called El Dorado, where gold and precious stones 
were as abundant as rocks and sand in other countries. A map 
and description of this fabulous country was published as late as 
about the year 1600. 

Electricity, a very subtile elastic fluid, which pervades the material 
universe. Lightning is the sensible appearance of the electric 
fluid. 

Electro-magnetic, connected with electro-magnetism, a branch of 
iiatnral philosophy, which investigates the eflects produced upon 
magnetic bodies by currents of electricity. 

Elizabeth, Queen, the daughter of Henry the Eighth, by Anne Bo- 
leyn. She succeeded to the throne of England, after the death 
of her sister Mary, A. D. 1558. Though capricious in her feel- 
ings, and arbitrary in her temper, she manifested great sagacity 
and energy in the conduct of public aflairs ; and, under her long 
reign, England constantly increased in wealth and power. The 
greatest stain upon her character was the execution, by her war- 
rant, of her cousin. Queen Mary of Scotland, then a prisoner in 
England. Queen Elizabeth died, at the age of seventy years, 
A. D. 1602. 

Elliworth, (Oliver,) an American judge and statesman, was born 
in Connecticut, April 29, 1745, and died November 26, 1807. 
He took an active part in the Revolutionary struggle, was a mem- 
ber of Congress during part of the war, and in 1796 became Chief 
Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. 

Empyreal, pertaining to the highest and purest region of heaven. 

Encyclopedists, school of. This term is applied to those who were 
engaged in preparing the great encyclopedia, (universal dictionary 
of knowledge,) published in France, about A. D. 1750. This work 
had an immense influence upon the literature, philosophy, and pol- 
itics, of the age, and, in many respects, a most unfavorable one. 
Many of these writers, as stated on page 243, were ** notorious for 
their disbelief of revealed religion.** 

English Church, or Established Church, the Episcopal form of 
church government, — ^by Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, as estab- 
lished in England. 

En masse, (French,) in a body. 

Ennius, an ancient Roman poet, of whose writings only fragments 
remain. He wrote * Annals* of Rome, from the earliest times tQ 
his own, in heroic verse. 

JSipaminondas, a famous hero of Thebes, a city of Boeotia, in ancient 
Greece. He distinguished himself, in the wars between Thebet 



864 GLOSSABT. 

and Sputa ; and, as general of the Thebana, defeated tbe Spar- 
tana, whose force was much superior to his own, at Leuctra, a vil- 
lage of Boeotia, B. C. 378. He fell at the battle of Mantinea, in 
Arcadia , B C 363, being then forty-eight years old. 

JEpicurut, an ancient Greek philosopher, who lived aboat B. C. 800. 
He taught that the chief good consists in a happiness springing 
from virtne. His own life was temperate and pore.- Bat his doc- 
trine became perverted, and the Epicureans, his followers, came to 
regard happmess as the result of sensual enjoyment. 

Epos, (Greek,) a song ; a poem describing heroic deeds or historical 
events. 

Erasmus, (Desiderius,) an eminent scholar of the fifteenth century, 
was bom at Rotterdam, October 28, 1467. He possessed taste 
and wit, and his writings exhibit a graceful style ; but his cautions 
prudence rendered him less zealous than many of his friends could 
have wished, in the cause of the Reformation. His works occupy 
ten folio volumes. He died July 12, 1586, in the sixty-ninth year 
of hb age. 

Euphrates, one of the largest rivers of Asia, which rises in the 
mountains of Armenia, and flows into the Persian Gulf. It has 
been celebrated from the most ancient times, being mentioned in 
Genesis ii. 14, as one of the rivers of the Garden of Eden. 

Eustathius, a very learned Grecian monk, bishop, and scholar, of 
the twelfth century. He was born at Constantinople, but when, 
it is not known. He was alive, however, A. D. 1194. 

Euxine, the ancient name for the Black Sea. 

Faneuil Hall, an edifice in Boston, used for public meetings and 
similar purposes. It was erected at the expense of Peter Faneuil, 
and by him given to the town of Boston, in 1740, for a town hall 
and market house. It is often called the * cradle of American 
Liberty,' having been the scene of many of the earliest debates and 
resolves in opposition to the oppressions of England. 

Fee simple, a term in English law. The person who owns a landed 
estate, free from incumbrances, is said to hold it in fee simple. 

FesoU, (properly, Fiesole,) a city of Italy, near Florence. 

Feudal system, the name given to the system of rights and obliga- 
tions subsisting between lords and their vassals, in Europe, during 
the middle ages. The vassal (subject) held his/ec ot feud (pos- 
session, estate) from the lord, subject to certain obligations, such 
as that of bearing arms in the service of his lord. Both smaller 
domains and whole kingdoms were governed upon this feudal ba^ 
sis, the king being Xhe feudal chief oi the lords, as these were, in 
turn, of their tenants and vassals. 

Flavian house, the house, or family, to which the Roman Ebaperors 
Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian, belonged ; their family name be- 
ing Flavius. 

Florentine, belonging to Florence, an Italian city, remarkable for 
its rich collections of works of art. 

Forum, a public place, in ancient Rome, where assemblies of the 
people were held. It was surrounded by porticoes, and adorned 
with statues. Here courts were held for the administration of 



GLOSSARY. 365 

justice. Hence the word forum is ased to designate political as- 
semblies, or political and judicial business. 

Fossil plants. The name fossil is given to such animal or vegetable 
substances, as are found imbedded in any of the mineral strata 
(layers) of which the crust of the earth is formed. Thus we have 
fossil shells, fossil bones, &c. 

Franklin, (Benjamin.) This celebrated philosopher, patriot, and 
statesman, was born January 17, 1706, in Boston, where he was 
educated a printer. He afterwards published a newspaper in 
Philadelphia. He took a conspicuous part in the Revolutionary 
struggle with Great Britain, filled the office of postmaster-general, 
of provincial and colonial agent and representative in Great Brit- 
ain, and, subsequently, of ambassador to France. His philosoph- 
ical discoveries and inventions were of the most striking kind. He 
proved the identity of- electricity with lightning, (see page 82,) 
and invented the lightning rod, now universally used for the pro- 
tection of buildings. His numerous writings are marked by prac- 
tical wisdom, strength, and humor. His manners were simple and 
anaffected ; his conversation rich in instruction and anecdote. He 
died in 1790, at the age of eighty-four. His life will be found in 
one of the volumes of* The School Library.' 

Frederic the Second, the third King of Prussia, called Frederic the 
Great, was the most distinguished Monarch of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. He was born January 24, 1712. He possessed great milita- 
ry genius, was fond of literature and of the conversation of literary 
men, and was an encourager of the arts, agriculture, and manufac- 
tures. Like Caesar, he united the talents of a writer with those of 
a warrior, and was author of numerous works, the collection of 
which occupies nineteen volumes. Prussia flourished during his 
reign, and the number of his subjects was trebled. He died Au- 
gust 17, 1786, in the seventy-fifth year of his life, and the forty- 
seventh of his reign, leaving more than seventy millions of Prussian 
dollars in the treasury, and a standing army of two hundred thous- 
and men. 

French Academy, an association of literary men, formed A. D. 1629, 
and consisting of forty members. It has exerted a remarkable 
authority in matters connected with criticism and language, and 
has published, among other works, a valuable dictionary of the 
French language. Its critical judgements have not always been 
ratified by the opinion of posterity. 

French Revolution, the overthrow of royal power in France, and the 
establishment of a republic, in 1792. The destruction of the Bas- 
tille, (a fortified prison,) the deposition and execution of King Lou- 
is the Sixteenth, and the massacres of the royalists during the 
period called the reign of terror, are among the most prominent 
acts of this great tragic drama. 

Fulton, (Robert.) For a biography of this eminent engineer and 
mechanist, to whom the world is indebted for the first snccessfal 
application of steam-power to navigation, see the fourth volunSe of 
^The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Furtively t secretly, by stealth. 

31* 



886 OLOSSART* 

Oelaxyt (milkj way,) a long, bright track or belt of ligbt b the 
■ky, formed by innumerable stars of small apparent magnitude. 

•Galileo t (Galilei,) an eminent astronomer, mathematician, and nat- 
ural philosopher, who was born in Florence, (some say at Pisa,) 
a city of Tuscany, in Italy, February 19, 1564. He made impor- 
tant discoveries and observations in relation to the laws of the pen- 
dulum, of falling bodies, and of the magnet. On hearing that an 
instrument had been discovered in Holland, by which distant ob- 
jects could be easily perceived, his curiosity was excited, and thd 
result of his investigations was the invention of the telescope, with- 
out having ever seen the Dutch glass. He afterwards much im- 
proved the instrument, and made the first practical application of it 
to astronomy. His discoveries with this instrument completely 
established the truth of the system of Copernicus, (which see,) 
But for the very works in which these discoveries were promulgat- 
ted, he was denounced by the Jesuits, (an order of Roman Catholic 
priests,) as a heretic. He suffered great cruelties, was confined in 
the dungeons of the Inquisition, and condemned to recant his belief 
in the great truths which he had proclaimed. His last years were 
passed in banishment, and embittered by pain, deafness, and blind- 
ness ; but his mind was still actively devoted to the studies which 
he loved, and which he had done so much to advance. He died 
January 8, 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. 

Gallia, the ancient name of France. 

Gallican Church, the Roman Catholic Church of France, which 
dates the origin of its independence of the power of the Pope from 
the time of Philip the Fourth, (the Fair,) who subjected the French 
clergy to bear their share of the public taxes, prohibited all contri- 
butions to be levied by the Pope in his dominions, and made war 
upon Pope Boniface the Eighth. This resistance to Papal power 
is termed (page 56) the Catholic Reformation, in allusion to the 
great Protestant Reformation, commenced by Luther. 

Galvanism, a principle or agent of a similar nature with electricity, 
discovered A. D. 1790, by Galvani, professor of anatomy at Bo- 
logna, in Italy, (see page 83.) It is developed by the contact of dif- 
ferent substances, particularly the metals copper and zinc. When 
several plates of these metals are immersed in a trough of diluted 
acid, they form what is called a Galvanic Battery, (also called 
Voltaic Battery^ from its inventor, Volta, professor at Pavia, Ita- 
ly, who made many important researches in Galvanism.) By this 
apparatus, great light and heat are produced, the hardest miner- 
als melted, and compound bodies decomposed. 

Gengis Khan, a celebrated conqueror, the Khan (or King) of the 
Mongols, a great nation in the northeast of Asia. He conquered 
Tartary and China, and extended his devastations to most of Asia 
and a part of Europe. This scourge of the human race died A. D. 
1227. 

Genius* The ancients believed that every man was under the pro- 
tection of a spiritual being, termed his guardian genius. The 
idea was extended, and thus we read of the * Genius of human na- 
ture,' the * Genius of Greece' or Rome. The geniuses or genii 
(properly, jinnees) of the East were regarded as superhuman 



OLOSSABT. ^ 867 

beings, grdMer than angels, and more powerful than men. See 

Aladdin. 

Oenoeset belonging to Genoa, a city in the north of Italy, on the 
Mediterranean Sea. 

GenS'd*arme8, soldiers employed as police officers in France. 

Ohibelline. A war was carried on in Italy and Germany in the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, between two parties, or factions, 
called the Guelphs and the Ghidellines ; the former of which 
fought for the supremacy of the Popes and the independence of the 
cities of Italy, and the latter supported the cause of the Emperors 
of Germany. 

Oirard, (Stephen,) a merchant, who died at Philadelphia, in 1831, 
at the age of eighty-four, leaving a fortune of eleven or twelve 
millions of dollars, a large portion of which was devoted by him to 
the erection and endowment of a College for ** poor white male 
orphans,*' in Philadelphia. His early history is noticed on page 
821. The building destined for the Girard College is not yet 
completed, (1840.) The amount expended upon it, up to the 
first of January, 1840, amounted to one million one hundred and 
ten thousand six hundred and thirty-four dollars and sixty-four 
cents. 

Glaciers, vast fields of ice, found in mountainous regions and in the 
frozen zone. 

Gathe, (John Wolfgang von,) a German ^et and author, who was 
born A. D. 1749, and died in 1832. From about the year 1776, 
till his death, he resided at Weimar, loved and cherished by the 
Grand Duke of Weimar, whose prime minister he was for many 
years. His works are numerous, comprising poems, novels, dra- 
mas, and critical and scientific essays. He maintained for many 
years, by the acknowledgement of his contemporaries, the highest 
place in German literature, and is regarded by his admirers as 
** the first man of his nation and time." 

Great Western^ the name of one of the earliest steam-ships which 
crossed the Atlantic, and which still continues to run between 
England and New York. 

Greene, (Nathaniel,) born in Warwick, Rhode Island, A. D. 1742, 
was one of the major-generals in the American army, during the 
Revolutionary War. The son of a blacksmith, he was indebted 
to his own exertions for his education. His life is to be read in 
the history of the American Revolution. He was remarkable for 
personal courage, resolute firmness of mind, prudence, and judge- 
ment. He died at the age of forty-four, June 19, 1786. 

Greenlanders, inhabitants of Greenland, an extensive country in the 
north part of North America, belonging to Denmark. 

Grotius, (Hugo,) or Hugo de Groot, a profound scholar and most 
able statesman, who was bom at Delft, in Holland, April 10, 1583, 
and died August 28, 1645. His works on theology and on natural 
and national law have enjoyed a wide and great reputation. 

Chiatimozin, see Cortes. 

Chiicciardini, (Francis,) a celebrated Italian historian, was bom at 
Florence, March 6, 1482, and died May 27, 1540. He was emi- 
nent ft! a jurist, and held several important offices under tho Papal 



868 6L0SSABT. 

gOTemment. His great work is a history of Italy from 1490 to 
15S4. 

Ouilds, or crafti, associations for carrying on commerce, or some 
particular trade, fully described in pages 85 and 86, of this vol- 
ame. 

Gypsum, or sulphate of lime, a mineral of great importance. One 
form of it is alabatttr, employed, from its whiteness and beauty, 
for statuary and ornaments ; another is plaster of Paris, employed 
for the fine plastering in the finishing of walls and ceilings, and of 
great use as a manure for land. See the first volume of * The 
Useful Arts,* being the eleventh volume of • The School Li- 
brary,' Larger Series. 

Hamilton, (Alexander,) one of Washington's aids-de-camp in the 
Revolutionary War, distinguished for his bravery, and for the 
confidence reposed in him by the Commander-in-chief. After the 
war, he practised law, with success, in New York, and was after- 
wards an active member of the Convention for framing the Consti- 
tution of the United States. On the organization of the Federal 
Government, in 1789, he was made Secretary of the Treasury, 
which post he held for five years, when he retired to private life. 
He fell in a duel with Colonel Aaron Burr, July 11, 1804, at the 
age of forty-seven years. 

Hanst towns, (from the old German word hansa, a league,) the 
name given to a large number of European cities and towns, which 
were leagued together, in the thirteenth century, for the promotion 
and protection of commerce. 

Harvey, (William,) an English physician, the discoverer of the cir- 
culation of the blood, was bom at Folkstone, England, April 2, 
1578, and died in London, June 3, 1667. 

Heber, (Reginald,) Bishop of Calcutta, and celebrated as well for 
his talents and learning as for his zealous efiTorts to Christianize the 
inhabitants of India, was born in Malpas, England, April 21, 1783, 
and died in India, April '23, 1826. He was a beautiful poet, 
and writer and editor of many valuable works. 

Hebrew, the language of the Jews. 

Henry IV,, King of France, from A. D. 1594 till his death in 
1610, was a Prince of an heroic and noble mind, whose great 
achievements have gained him lasting renown, while his benevo- 
lent love for his subjects has endeared his memory to the nation. 

Henry VIIL, King of England, was bom A. D. 1491, and came 
to the throne in 1609. His reign is remarkable for the spread of 
the principles of the Reformation, in England, which was in a great 
measure owing to the breaking off, by Henry, of his allegiance to 
the Pope. The Pope had excommunicated the King, (that is, 
declared him to be deprived of the privileges of Christian commu- 
nion,) on account of bis marriage with Ann Boleyn ; and Henry 
declared himself the supreme head of the English Church. He 
was passionate and intolerant, inhuman and arbitrary, fond pf 
power, and inconstant in his affections. He died in 1647. 

Heroic age, or period, that early period, to which are to be referred 
the heroes, who were celebrated, in Grecian poetry and tradition, 
for wisdom, strength, and courage, who were regarded as a ~ 



GLOSSARY. 36d 

iBtermediate between men and gods, and to whom divine honors 
were often paid. 

Herschel, (Sir William,) an eminent astronomer, remarkable for hii 
unwearied, devotion to observations of the heavens, for the con- 
struction of large and powerful telescopes, which enabled him 
greatly to enlarge the catalogue of known stars, and for his dis- 
covery of the planet which has received his name, was born in 
1738, and died in 1822. His son, John F. W. Herschel, is also 
a dbtinguished astronomer. 

Hesiod, an ancient Greek poet, supposed to have lived about four 
hundred years before Christ. 

^Lesperiarii literally, western, from Hesper, the setting sun. The 
ancient Greeks gave the name Hesperia to Italy, the Italians to 
Spain ; and it was also applied to certain islands in the Atlantic 
Ocean. The name Hesperus was also applied to Venus, when 
she appeared after the setting of the sun. 

Hierarchy y literally, a sacred government ; a priesthood, an eccle« 
siastical establishment. 

Hieroglyphics, sacred engravings. The sculpture and inscriptions 
on ancient Egyptian monuments were so called, because supposed 
to be intelligible to the priests alone ; the word is also applied to 
any writing by pictures. 

HindooSt the primitive inhabitants of the East Indies, Hindostan, or 
Hindoo-Stan ; a very ancient and numerous race, remarkable for 
their custom of requiring widows to burn themselves upon the fu- 
neral piles of their husbands, and for their division into castes, 

Hindostan, or Hindoo-stan, the country of the Hindoos, an extensive 
region in the south of Asia. 

Hispaniola, (Little Spain,) the name given by Columbus to one of 
the West-India Islands dbcovered on his first voyage over the At- 
lantic, but which has been since called St. Dommgo, and Hayti. 

Hobbes, (Thomas,) a celebrated moral and political writer and phi- 
losopher of the seventeenth century. 

Homer, a very ancient Greek poet, and one of the most celebrated 
of any age. Little is known about his life. He is supposed to 
have lived about B. C. 900. His two great poems are the Iliad, de- 
scribing some scenes in the siege of Troy by the Greeks ; and the 
Odyssey, which celebrates the adventures of Ulysses, one of the 
Grecian chiefs. 

Homeric, of, or relating to. Homer. 

Horace, Of Horatius, (Quintus Flaccus,) a Roman poet, of the most 
exqubite delicacy of perception and grace of expression, of the 
gayest and most abundant wit, and of the keenest and most hu- 
morous satire ; though his poetry is deservedly censured for its li- 
centiousness. He was born about B. C. 65, at Venusium, a town 
of Apulia, in Italy. He was a friend of Virgil, and was patron- 
ised by the Emperor Augustus. He died about B. C. 8, at the age 
of fifty-six. 

Hortscope, a superstitious astrological observation of the position of 
the heavenly bodies at the moment of a person's birth, for the pur- 
pose of predicting his fortune. Making a figure of such position, if 
called ca^ng a horo$e0p€. 



370 M.08SABT. 

SummnUf^ or Vim humanities, polite and claMical Iheratiire, in op- 
potitioii to philosophy and science. 

Hu$ty (John,) born about A. D. 1376, was one of the boldest and 
most retolate of the reformers. He was sentenced to death by a 
Roman Catholic council at the city of Constance, and was burnt 
at the stake, July 6, 141$; For an account of hb last examination 
and death, see * Great Events,' being the seventeenth Volume of 
* The School Library,' Larger Series. 

HutchinsoTit (Thomas,) the author of a * History of Massachusetts 
Bay,* was colonial governor of Massachusetts, from A. D. 1771 to 
1774. 

HydrOf the centre of the Greek maritime trade, is a rocky island, 
southeast of theitforea, about eight miles from the shore. 

Hydraulic, relating to the motion or force of water. Hydraulic 
pre$$, a machine in which the force of water is employed, for the 
purpose of obtaining an immense pressure. For a description of 
this press, (also called the Hydrostatic press) see * Useful Arts,' 
Vol. ii., being the twelfth Volume of * The School Librart,' 
Larger Series. 

Hyperborean regions, (regions beyond Boreas or the North Wind,) 
the name given by the ancients to the unknown countries of the 
North and West, where a delightful climate was reported always 
to prevail. 

Iberia, the ancient name of Spain. 

Iliad, see Homer, 

Hiesus, a rivulet near Athens. 

Indian Archipelago, see Archipelago 

Indian Ocean, the ocean lying south of Asia, west of New Holland, 
and east of Africa. 

Indus, a large river in the western part of Hindostan, flowing into 
the sea of Arabia. 

Inquisition, a tribunal or court, established by the Popes in the 
thirteenth century, for the purpose of seeking out heretics and all 
who denied any doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and pro- 
nouncing sentence, without appeal, against their lives, liberties, 
and fortunes. It was established in most of the Roman Catholic 
countries of Europe ; in several of them was nearly independent 
of the civil power ; and in Spain, particularly, exercised an un- 
controlled authority. The cruelties practised upon many of the 
victims of the Inquisition almost surpass belief, and no full ac- 
count of the institution and its proceedings can be given in a brief 
compass. It was abolished in France, by Napoleon, in 1808, and 
in Spain, in 1820. 

Ionia, the ancient name of one of the countries of Greece, but more 
commonly applied to a region in the eastern part of Asia Minor, 
which was settled by an Ionian colony. 

Islands of the Blest, the Heaven, or Elysium of the very lEincient 
Grecian mythology ; the Happy Islands, supposed to lie far to the 
west, in the Atlantic Ocean, where those beloved of the gods, fr^ed 
from death, passed a life of quiet happiness. 

Joe Smith, one of the leaders of the sect called Mormons. 

Johnson^ (Samuel,) one of the most conspicnoiu authors of his time. 



GLOSSARY. 371 

Wat born at Litchfield, England, September 7, 1709. He was of 
a kind and generous disposition, and his character was elevated 
and honorable. His Dictionary of the English language is a com« 
pilation of immense labor, and still takes precedence of any later 
work of the kind. He was a sound and vigorous writer, and his 
* Rambler,' a series of essays, unites great acuteness of obser\'a« 
tion, with elegance of illustration. His political treatises are rath- 
er declamatory than argumentative, and more sarcastic than just. 
He died December 13, 1784, at the age of seventy-five years, and 
was buried in Westminster Abbey. 

Jones, Sir William, an eminent lawyer and Oriental scholar, bom 
at London, in 1746. He died much esteemed and lamented, in 
1794, at the age of forty-eight. 

Jonson, Ben, a celebrated English dramatist, the friend and contem- 
porary of Shakspeare. His best dramas are marked by strong hu- 
mor and a vigorous conception and delineation of character. He 
was born A. D. 1574, and died in 1637. 

Jubilee, every fiftieth year, celebrated as a festival among the Jews, 
in commemoration of their deliverance from Egypt. During this 
year, all debts were cancelled, slaves were freed, and estates, 
which had been sold, reverted to their original proprietors, or their 
heirs. The Roman Catholic Church also instituted a year of Ju- 
bilee, during which, the Pope granted plenary indulgences (full 
pardon for all sin) to all who confessed, and partook of the sacra- 
ment. The word jubilee is now used to signify ai\y time of gen- 
eral rejoicing, or the commemoration of great events. 

Julius Ccesar, see Ccssar, 

July Fourth, the anniversary of the signing of the declaration of 
American Independence by the Congress, in 1776. 

Tunt Seventeenth, 1775, the day on which the battle of Bunker Hill 
was fought. 

Kepler, (John,) a great German mathematician and astronomer. 
From the astronomical observations of Tycho Brahe, he deduced 
the laws which regulate the courses of the planets, known as the 
** three laws of Kepler," on which were based the subsequent dis- 
coveries of Newton, and the modem theory of the planetary sys- 
tem. He was born at Wurtemberg, December 27, 1571, and died 
in November, 1630, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. 

Knox, (Henry,) one of the major generals of the American army iii 
the Revolutionary War, was born at Boston, July 25, 1750. After 
rendering the most important services to the country, in several 6f 
the most celebrated events of the war, he filled, for many years, 
the offices of Secretary of War and of the Navy. He possessed, 
in an eminent degree, the confidence of Washington, and was re- 
markable for integrity, courage, and perseverance. He died Oo> 
tober 25, 1806, aged fifty-six years. 

Labrador, the most eastern part of North America, lying north of 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and east of Canada, and extending 
about seven hundred miles in length and five hundred in breadth. 
Its soil is barren, and it has been little explored. 

Lamjpy, filled or studded with lamps. 



373 GLOSSARY. 

Lancaster, (Joseph,) the suggester of a system of Monitorial In- 
struction, called, from him, the Lancasterian System. 

Landward, towards the land. 

La Place, (Pierre Simon,) a distinguished French mathematician 
and astronomer. His great works are the * Exposition du Systeme 
da Monde,' (exposition of the system of the universe,) and the 
* Mecanique Celeste,' (mechanism of the heavenly bodies.) He 
was bom A. D. 1749, and died in 1827. (See Bowditch.) 

La Plata, a large river in South America, flowing into the Atlantic. 

Latin, The language of the ancient Romans. 

Lavoisier, (Anthony -Laurence,) a distinguished French chemist, 
bom in 1743. His philosophical researches were very extensive 
and important to science. He was condemned to death by the 
Revolutionary tribunal at Paris, and executed in May, 1794, for 
the pretended crime of having adulterated snuff with ingredients 
injurious to the health of the citizens ! On being arrested, he 
besought time to complete some interesting experiments in which 
he Was engaged ; but was answered, '* the Republic does not 
want learned men nor chemists, and the course of justice cannot 
not be suspended " 

Leghorn, a commercial city in Italy, on the Mediterranean, contain- 
ing about sixty-five thousand inhabitants. 

Leibnitz, (Gottfried Wilhelm,) one of the most celebrated philoso- 
phers and mathematicians of Germany. His theological and phi- 
losophical writings are characterized by much originality, and 
have given great impulse to philosophical inquiry. He was born 
in 1646, and lived to the age of seventy years. See the first Vol- 
ume of * Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' being Volume 
xiv. of * The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Leo X., (Johnde Medici,) ascended the papal throne in 1513, on the 
death of Julius the Second, at the age of thirty-eight. He posses- 
sed a taste for literature and the arts, and was fond of luxury and 
magnificence. His profuse expenditure in the construction of St. 
Peter's Church, at Rome, induced him to raise money by the sale 
of** indulgences," as they were called ; that is of pardons for 
crimes which had been, or might afterward be, committed ; an 
abuse which was one great cause of the Protestant Reformation, 
commenced by Martin Luther. 

Leviathan, an immense fish, or marine animal, with scales, men- 
tioned in the book of Job ; and, from the description there given, 
supposed, by some, to be a crocodile, by others, a whale. 

Lexington, a small town in Massachusetts, twelve miles from Bos- 
ton, where the first armed resistance was made to British authori- 
ty at the commencement of the Revolutionary War. A body of 
troops was sent from Boston, by General Gage, (the British gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts,) on the evening of April 18, 1775, to seize 
some military stores at Concord. A number of American militia 
were hastily drawn up, on Lexington common, on the morning of 
the nineteenth of April, to oppose them ; and, on refusing to dis- 
perse, when insultingly ordered so to do, by the British officer, 
were fired upon. Seven were killed, and three wounded. They 



GLOSSARY. 373 

retreated, while the British proceeded to Concord, and destroyed 
the stores. But the country had been roused, and small armed 
bands hung upon the flank and rear of the British, on their return 
to Boston, which they reached, after great loss, having been guilty 
of savage atrocities on their march, which disgraced the British 
name, and subjected the principal actors to deserved execration. 

Leyden, church at. A small body of English Puritans who emigra- 
ted to the city of Leyden, in Holland, early in the seventeenth 
century, and there formed themselves into a church. 

Lilies, formerly the royal device or emblem on the standards of the 
French monarchy. See Lion, 

Lincoln, (Benjamin,) an American general, in the War of the Rev- 
olution, who particularly distinguished himself at Yorktown, and in 
the southern campaigns. He was born in 1733, and died in 1810. 

Lion and the Lilies. The {iion is the royal device on the English 
standards, and the Lilies were formerly the royal device or emblem 
of the French monarchy. 

Lisbon, the chief city of Portugal, containing about two hundred 
thousand inhabitants. It was, in 1755, the scene of a dreadful 
earthquake, which destroyed the finest portion of the city, and 
about thirty thousand inhabitants. 

Locke, {John,) one of the greatest men that England ever produced, 
born in 1632. His style is simple and clear ; his thoughts are pro- 
found and acute. His most celebrated works are his * Essay on 
the Human Understanding,' and his two * Treatises on Govern- 
ment,' which uphold the great principles of a free constitution, 
which have since been so fully developed and illustrated. He 
died October 28, 1704, in the seventy-third year of his age. 

London, tower of. This ancient and extensive pile of buildings ia 
situated on the northern bank of the Thames, covering about 
twelve acres of ground. In it are kept the * regalia,' or crown 
jewels, (as the crowns and sceptre,) also muskets and arms for 
two hundred thousand men, with various other objects of interest. 

Longitude, the distance, measured by degrees, on the equator, east 
or west from a certain meridian called the first or prime meridian. 

Lope de Vega, see Vega. 

Louises. Among the long line of French kings who bore the name 
of Louis, several were patrons of literature and the arts. 

Louis Philippe, the present King of France, was son of Philip, Duke 
of Orleans, a man whose name has become infamous from his con- 
duct. He ascended the throne of France in 1830, after the expul- 
sion of Charles the Tenth. (See Charles X.) 

Lowland. The southern parts of Scotland, where the Elnglish tongue 
is spoken, are called Lowlands, in distinction from the northern or 
more mountainous part, called Highlands, where the Gaelic lan- 
guage prevails to a great extent. 

Lucifer, (light-bearer,) the Latin epithet of Venus, the morning 
•tar. In the Greek mythology, this was the name of the son of 
Jupiter and Aurora. As leader of the stars, he had the charge of 
the chariot and horses of the sun, and is represented as riding on 
a white horse, and preceding Aurora ; hence the name is poetical- 
32 • E. E. 



874 GLOSSARY. 

Ij giren to the morning star. The name also occurs in the fonr« 
teenth chapter of Isaiah, (verse 12,) to which passage reference 
is made on page 198 of this volume. 

Lucretius, (Titus Carus,) a Roman writer, who was born about 
the year B. C. 95. None of his works survive, except a poem, in 
six books, called De Rerum JSTatura, (on the nature of things,) in 
which he discusses the principles of the philosophy of Epicurus. 

Lunar observation, one of the modes of determining the longitude, 
at sea, by observing, with instruments, the angular distance of the 
moon from the sun and fixed stars, and comparing the time of ob- 
servation with that time at which the Nautical Almanac shows a 
similar distance for the first meridian. 

Luther, (Martin,) the first and chief of the Reformers, born at Isle- 
ben, a town of Saxony, November 10, 1483. He became a monk 
of the order of St. Augustine, but soon after threw off the cowl 
and the fetters of papal authority, ^e wrote and preached with 
great severity against the sale of indulgences, (see Leo X.,) ad- 
vocated the free perusal of the Scriptures, the suppression of mon- 
asteries, and the marriage of priests or ministers. He completed, 
in thirteen years, a translation of the Bible into German, and pub- 
lished many pow^erful treatises on the doctrines of the Reformed 
faith. As a preacher, he was wise, practical, and eloquent. Pos- 
sessed of a thorough knowledge of human nature, and of great sa- 
gacity, his courage was undaunted, and his constancy unshaken, 
amid all the threats and attacks of the Pope and Roman Catholic 
clergy ; and nearly all Germany became ardently attached to his 
person and religious views. He died February 18, 1546, at the 
age of sixty-three, after a long and painful illness. For an ac- 
count of his appearance before the Diet of Worms, see * Great 
Events by Great Historians,' &c., forming the seventeenth volume 
of* The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Lybia, the ancient name of Africa, in general, west of Fgypt ; also 
a district in Africa, which now forms the territory of Barca. 

Lyceum, a term applied to popular associations for the attainment of 
knowledge, by lectures, &c. The name is taken from that of the 
academy of the celebrated philosopher Aristotle, at Athens. 

Lycophron, a Grecian grammarian, and author of several tragedies, 
who lived at Alexandria, Egy|i|, about the year B. C. 280. 

Machiavelli, (Nicolo,) a celebrated political writer and statesman, 
born at Florence, A. D. 1469. His works are historical, political, 
and military. His most famous political work is entitled, ' II Prin- 
cipe,' (the Prince,) the real design and intent of which, hai 
given rise to much speculation. He was an original thinker, pa- 
triotic in his feelings, and frugal and simple in his life and man- 
ners. He died in 1527. 

Macedonia, in ancient geography, a mountainous country, embracing 
the northern part of Greece ; now forming a part of Turkey in 
Europe. 

M(Bcenas, or Meccenas, (Cuius Cilnius,) the confidential friend of 
Augustus, and the patron of Horace and Virgil. Possessing great 
wealth, he was an indolent voluptuary in his habits, fond of pleas- 
ure, and of the cariosities, of art. 



GLOSSARY. 375 

Mavius, see Bavins, 

Magna Gr<Bcia, the ancient name of the southern part of Italy, 
which was inhabited by Greek colonists. 

Magnetism, that property, by which certain bodies are able to at- 
tract iron and steel towards themselves. It exists natarally in 
some kinds of iron ore. If a bar of iron be rubbed upon a piece 
of such ore, it acquires the power of attracting other iron, and if it 
be suspended by its centre, will take a direction nearly north and 
south, owing to the magnetic attraction of the earth itself, which 
is a large magnet. A slender bar or needle magnetised, and sus- 
pended on a pivot, is* called a magnetic needle. See Compass, 

Malthus, (T. R.,) an English writer on various subjects. He is best 
known by his Essay on the Principles of Population, the leading 
doctrine of which is, that population increases faster than the 
means of subsistence. 

Mammoth, a species of elephant, of a large size, now extinct. 

Mansfield, (Lord, William Murray,) an eloquent English lawyer, 
and distinguished jurist. He was for a short time Chancellor, and 
for many years Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench. He 
was born at Perth, in Scotland, March 2, 1705, and died in Lon- 
don March 20, 1793, aged eighty-eight. 

Mantinaa, a town of Arcadia, in that part of Greece, called the 
Peloponnesus, now the Morea. It is celebrated for a battle fought 
by the Thebans, under Epaminondas, and the combined forces of 
Lacedsemon, Achaia, Elis, Athens, and Arcadia, about B.C. 363, 
in which Epaminondas was killed. 

Marathon, a village in Greece, celebrated as the place where Mil- 
tiades, the Athenian general, gained a great victory over the Per- 
sians. 

Mariner* 8 Compass, see Compass, 

Marshall, (John,) the most distinguished constitutional jurist our 
country has produced. He was a native of Virginia, and after 
filling several high civil stations, was, in 1801 , appointed Chief 
Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, which office 
he filled till his death, which occurred in 1836. His decisions, on 
cases of the highest importance, were luminous and profound, and 
his genius, integrity, and learning, elevated, in public estimation, 
the character of the tribunal ov^ which he presided. He was the 
author of a valuable Life of Washington, in five volumes. 

Mary, dueen of England, was the daughter of Henry the Eighth, by 
his first wife, Catharine of Aragon, and succeeded to the throne on 
the death of her brother, Edwai^ the Sixth, in 1563. She was 
born February 18, 1517, and died, after a reign of five years, No- 
vember 7, 1558. She was a bigoted Roman Catholic, and her 
reign was remarkable for the relentless persecution of all who de- 
nied the Roman Catholic faith. In the course of it, two hundred 
and seyenty-seven persons were burnt, as heretics. 

Massasoit, a celebrated Indian sachem, very friendly to the English 
in the early settlement of Massachusetts Bay. 

Mastodon, an animal of immense size, of the thickskinned order, 
now extinct. One skeleton measures eighteen feet in length. 



376 GLOSSARY. 

eleren feet and five inches in height, with tasks ten feet and 
seven inches long. 

Matthias t a notorious impostor, who, some years since, infested por- 
tions of the state of New York, claiming to be the inspired mes- 
senger of a new revelation from God, and imposed on several per- 
i^ons of property and standing. 

Mausoleum y (plural Mausolea^) a tomb, so called, from Mausolut, 
an ancient King of Caria, in Asia Minor, to whom a sumptuous 
sepulchre was erected by his Queen, Artemisia^ The name is 
now applied to any elegant sepulchral monument. 

Mayflower f the name of the vessel which brought over the first of 
the Pilgrims, whp landed on Plymouth Rock. 

Mechanics* Institutes, associations of mechanics for the purpose of ac- 
quiring knowledge, by scientific lectures and classes for instruction. 

Medicean age, a name applied to that part of the fifteenth century 
when the family of Medici attained their greatest power and in- 
fluence in Florence, particularly under Lorenzo de Medici, who 
was a distinguished patron of literature and the fine arts. 

Mediterranean, a large sea, lying between Europe and Africa, and 
separating them from each other. 

Megatherium, (plural, Megatheria,) an immense animal, of the 
sloth kind, now extinct ; equal in size to a rhinoceros. 

Memphians, inhabitants of Memphis, in Egypt, an ancient city of 
immense extent, and great architectural beauty. 

Menander, an ancient Greek writer of comedies, a few fragments of 
which are now remaining. He was born B. C. 342, and drowned 
himself at the age of fifty-two years. 

Menstruum, any liquid which is used to dissolve, or extract the 
qualities from other ingredients. 

Meteora, peaks of, certain monasteries in Thessaly, not far from 
Trikkala, which are built upon the summits or pinnacles of rocks, 
and called meteors, from rix ^rriotQa, which, in ancient Greek, sig- 
nifies, " lofly places," ** whatever passes in the upper regions of 
the air.*' 

Mexico, a very extensive kingdom in the southwestern part of North 
America, conquered by the Spaniards, under Hernando Cortes, 
A. D. 1519, and from which they were expelled in 1829. It is 
now divided into several state8,^nd contains a population of from 
eight to ten millions, who are mostly ignorant, and under the con- 
trol of the Roman Catholic priesthood. Since the expulsion of the 
Spaniards, it has been the scene of constant insurrections and rev- 
olutions, where one bad ruler gives place to another. 

Milky way, see Galaxy. 

Milton, (John,) an illustrious English poet, born in 1608. He was 
the author of several political and theological works in prose, and 
composed the immortal epic poem of Paradise Lost, after the total 
loss of his sight. He was an Independent in Politics, was the 
friend of Cromwell, and Latin Secretary to the Council of State. 
He died in 1674, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. 

Minerva. One of the goddesses of ancient mythology, presiding 
oyer arts and arms. One of her celebrated temples was at Sb- 
iuam» & promontory of Attica, near Athens. See Suniunu 



GLOSSARY. 377 

JHoccasifif a kind of shoe, of deerskin, or other soil leather, made 
and used by the Indians. 

Moles, large masses of earthwork or masonry, extending into the sea, 
for the protection of harbors against the violence of the waves. 

Monastic Orders, the different brotherhoods or orders of monks. 
They were founded by various persons, and each order had cer- 
tain rules of dress, diet, and duties, prescribed, of greater or less 
strictness and severity. Among them, are the orders of the Car- 
melites, Augrfttines, Franciscans, and Dominicans. 

Monitorial schools, schools conducted upon the system of instruction 
introduced by Bell or Lancaster, and called the Monitorial or the 
Lancasterian system, according to which, the instruction is given to 
the younger classes, by older and more advanced scholars, called 
monitors, who, in their turn, receive direct instruction from the 
masters. 

Monkish Chronicles, In many of the monasteries, the monks oc- 
cupied themselves in compiling and transcribing the histories of 
celebrated Saints, or of their own monasteries, and sometimes his- 
tories and works of literature. 

Mount Vernon, The name of the family estate of General Wash- 
ington, on the banks of the River Potomac, in Virginia. 

Muses^ There were nine deities, called Muses, in heathen mythol- 
ogy, each of whom had the protection or patronage of some partic- 
ular branch of science or art ; as Clio, of history, Euterpe, of mu- 
sic, Thalia, of comedy, Melpomene, of tragedy, Terpsichore, of 
dancing, Erato, of lyric poetry, Polyhymnia, of eloquence and 
mimicry, Urania, of astronomy, and Calliope, of epic poetry. 
They were represented as beautiful virgins, and were worship- 
ped by the Greeks and Romans. 

Mussulman, (a corruption of Moslem'dna, the plural of Moslem,) 
a professor of islam, or the true faith, among Mohammedans, or 
followers of Mohammed, who was the founder of a religious system 
in Turkey and Arabia. 

Mystics, writers of various periods, who have employed themselves 
in discussing subjects of an abstruse and mystical nature. 

Nantucket, an island, belonging to Massachusetts, lying about twen- 
ty miles south of the peninsula of Cape Cod. A great part of Ithe 
inhabitants are engaged in the whale fisheries, which have been a 
source of great wealth to the island. 

JVaples, a city in Italy, the capital of the kingdom of the two Sici- 
lies. It is situated on the beautiful Bay of Naples, and overlooked 
by Mount Vesuvius. The population number between three and 
four hundred thousand. Its climate is very mild and salubrious. 

JVapoleon Bonaparte, the most extraordinary warrior of modem 
times, was born August 15, 1769, at Ajaccio, in the island of Corsica, 
and educated in the military schools of France. He rapidly rose 
from the station of an officer of artillery to that of Emperor of 
France, the throne of which he ascended in 1804. He was con-, 
stantly engaged in war, and was victorious in all his battles, till 
towards the close of his career, when he suffered reverses, and 
finally, at the battle of Waterloo, Jane 18, 1815, he was defeated, 

32* 



378 GLOSSARY. 

and gave himself np to the English, by whom he wm sent to the 
Island of St. Helena, where he remained a prisoner, till he died, 
May 5, 1821. The record of his various battles and other public 
operations would alone fill a volume ; and of course cannot here 
be enumerated. His military genius has hardly been rivalled in 
any age, and it may be truly said, that his victories were not so 
much the consequence of fortunate accidents, as the results of vast 
scientific^ combinations and calculations, executed with boldness 
and precision. France is indebted to him for a most elaborate and 
comprehensive code of laws, and for various public worlds of great 
national importance and surpassing magnificence. Measures have 
just been adopted by the French government, for the removal of 
his remains to France, to be deposited under a public monument. 

JVativities, the casting of, was the observation of the position of the 

, celestial bodies, «t the period of an infant's birth, for the purpose 

of ascertaining, by the rules of astrology, its fortune or destiny. 

The heavens were divided, for this purpose, into twelve parts or 

houses, called the house of life, of riches, of marriage, of death, &c. 

Necromancy ; the magical art of ascertaining the future by ques- 
tioning the dead ; whose voices were supposed to be heard from 
their graves. It is spoken of in the Jewish scriptures, and was 
practised in ancient Greece. 

JVetherlands, a European kingdom, lying between Prussia, Holland, 
France, and the German Ocean. 

j^'ewton, (Sir Isaac,) a most celebrated English philosopher and 
mathematician, born at Woolsthorpe, England, on Christmas 
day, 1642, and distinguished for his very important discoveries in 
Optics and other branches of Natural Philosophy. He decompos- 
ed light, and proved that it was not, as had before been supposed, 
a simple substance, but compounded of seven rays, possessing dif- 
ferent coloring properties, and unequal refrangibilities, (tenden- 
cies to be turned aside, in passing through different transparent 
bodies.) He also discovered the theory of Universal Gravitation, 
or that law by which all bodies are attracted to and move round 
a common centre, as the planets move round the sun, and the sun 
and its planets round another sun or centre. This is called the 
JTewtonian theory. His mathematical discoveries are too abstruse 
apd intricate to mention in detail. 'He died March 20, 1727. See 
the first volume of * Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' form 
ing the fourteenth volume of the * The School Library,' 
Larger Series. 

New Zealanders, the natives of three islands in the Pacific Ocean, 
southeast of New Holland. As a savage race, they are remark- 
able for ferocity and energy of character, and for a quickness of 
appreciation of the advantages of civilized life. 

JViger, a large river of central Africa, rendered famous by the ex- 
plorations of Mungo Park, the Landers, and others, made in order 
to trace its stream and discover its sources. 

JVtght Thoughts, see Young. 

JVtle, the only river of Egypt ; a large and powerful stream, which 
rises in the interior of Africa, and, flowing through Nubia and 
Egypt, empties into the Mediterranean. It periodically overflows 



GLOSSARY. 379 

. iti banks, and, by the muddy deposit left on the subsiding of tha 
waters, fertilizes the corn and rice fields of Egypt. 

J\nnus, anciently a great Assyrian king and conqueror ; the founder 
of Nineveh, a celebrated city. 

JVomadic, rude ; savage ; having no fixed habitation, but leading a 
wandering life, engaged in tending and raising cattle, as the Tar- 
tars, Arabs, &c. 

JSTorman Invasion, In the year 1066, William the Fijst, Duke of 
Normandy, invaded England with his Norman followers, and ob- 
tained the flnglish throne. This event is called the Norman Inva- 
sion, or Norman Conquest. 

JSTorth star, the star nearest to the North Pole. 

JSTor thumb er land, the name of one of the counties of England, and the 
title of the dukedom held by the ancient and noble family of Percy. 

JVymph, In ancient mythology, certain deities, presiding over vari- 
ous objects, as fountains, forests, rivulets, &c., and represented 
under the form of beautiful girls, were called nymphs. The term 
is sometimes applied, poetically, to any fair or graceful girl. 

OaVf chained to, see Chained to the oar. 

Oaten pipe, a primitive musical instrument, formed of a series of 
oaten straws or reeds, played upon by the mouth. 

Object-glass, in telescopes, is that glass which is~ placed nearest the 
object to be viewed. The glass at the other end is called the eye- 
glass. 

Olmutz, a city in Moravia, surrounded by extensive fortifications. 
La Fayette was confined, for several years, in the prisons of the 
citadel. 

Olympia, a city of Elis, in ancient Greece, celebrated as the place 
where the Olympic games were celebrated. These games formed 
one of the great national festivals of Greece. 

Oracles, responses given by persons pretending to divine inspira- 
tion ; also, the places where such responses were delivered. 

Orang outang, a very large species of baboon, which, when walking 
upright, is nearly of the size of a man. 

Orator, The, the title of one of the treatises of Cicero on oratory. 

Orbit, the path described by a planet in its annual revolution round 
the sun. 

Oriental, inhabiting, or belonging to, the East. The nations of Asia^ 
are called Oriental nations by Europeans. 

Orion, the name of a constellation. 

Orkneys, the name of a cluster of islands, near the northern coast of 
Scotland. 

Ossian, a celebrated Gaelic, or Scottish Highland bard, (or poet,) 
who flourished about A. D. 300. His name is chiefly known by 
the publications of a Scottish writer, James Macpherson. Wheth- 
er the poems attributed to Ossian were really his, has been very 
generally questioned, and they are by many supposed to be for- 
geries. Their subjects are "partly narrative and partly lyric, treating 
of wars and Highland characters. They are in some parts pathet- 
ic, and contain beautiful images and comparisons. Their style if 
abrupt and sententious. 



380 GLOSSARY. 

OtU, (James,) a distinguished American lawyer and patriot, who 
took a conspicuous part in the early scenes of the Revolationarj 
•tmggle. Ofhis great speech against the issae of vrrits of assist" 
ance, (which were warrants or writs demanded of the Supreme 
Courts of Massachusetts, to assist the custom-house officers in car- 
rying into effect the laws passed by England regulating the trade of 
the Colonies,) John Adams remarked, ** American Independence 
was then^nd there born. Every man of an immensely-crowded 
audience appeared to me to go away, as I did, ready to take up 
arms against writs of assistance." In the summer of 1769, he was 
severely wounded, in an affray at a coffee-house, with some Brit- 
ish officers. He received a deep cut on the head, which is sup- 
posed to have caused the derangement of intellect under which he 
afterwards labored, and which, except during a few lucid intervals, 
continued till his death, which was occasioned by a stroke of light- 
ning, in 1783, at the age of sixty. He was a man of an ardent and 
irascible temper ; the character of his eloquence was impetuous, 
bold, and energetic. He was a sound classical scholar, and, as a 
lawyer, foremost in rank. As a patriot, his memory will ever be 
held by his countrymen in grateful remembrance. 

Ottoman porte, Ottoman power, the name given to the supreme gov- 
ernment of the Turkish empire. The term Ottoman is derived 
from Othman, or Osman, one of the greatest leaders or emirs of 
the Turcoman race, who took several provinces in Asia Minor from 
the Romans, and called himself Sultan. The gate of a magnificent 
palace of a son of Osman was called the Porte : hence the name. 
Osmanli is the correct national appellation of the people. 

Otway, (Thomas,) an English dramatist of considerable merit, who 
was bom in March, 1651, and, after struggling through life with 
poverty, and its accompaniments, sorrow and despondency, died, 
April 14, 1685, at the early age of thirty-four. 

Ovando, one of the early Spanish governors of Hispaniola, about the 
year 1500. His administration, just towards the Spaniards, was 
cruel and oppressive towards the native inhabitants, his treatment 
of whom was treacherous, vindictive, and sanguinary. His be- 
havior to Columbus was ungenerous and base in the highest de- 
gree. See * Life of Columbus,' in * The School Library,' 
• Vol. i., Larger Series, and Vol. xi., Juvenile Series. 

Oxford, a city in England, the seat of the University of Oxford, the 
most richly endowed literary institution in the world. The Uni- 
versity buildings are very magnificent, consisting of twenty Colleges 
and five Halls, with the Clarendon Printing Office, the Radcliffe 
Library, the Theatre, the Bodleian Library, the Museum, &c. 

Pacific Ocean, the great body of water lying west of America, be- 
tween that continent and Asia. 

Paganism, that system of religious worship, which is founded on a 
belief in a plurality of deities. The name pagans was applied by 
the ancient Christians, when the villagers (pagani) worshipped 
the heathen gods in villages, {pagi,) after Constantino had forbid- 
den their rites in the cities. 

Papal power, the power of the Popes, or Roman pontiffs, both eccle- 



OLOSSART. 381 

aiastical and temporal, which was formerly very extensive. Their 
dominions embraced some of the finest provinces of Italy, and their 
religions supremacy extended over Christendom. 

Papyrus, a sedge-like plant, from which the ancient Egyptians made 
the paper they used in writing. It grew in the swamps on the 
borders of the River Nile. Its use, however, was not confined to 
the making of paper. Sails, cordage, baskets, even boats, were 
constructed of this material. 

Parnassus, a mountain in Greece, sacred, in ancient times, to Apol- 
lo and the Muses, and very frequently invoked by ancient and 
modem poets. Delphi {which see) lay at the foot of this moun- 
tain. 

Parthenon, the temple of Minerva, at Athens, formerly a model of 
classic architecture, now in ruins. 

Patagonia, a vast country, extending over the southern extremity of 
South Amierica. It is a mountainous region, and much of it bar 
ren. 

Patines, plates, dishes, (from the Latin patina, a dish.) 

Patmos, one of the cluster of islands called Sporades, in the Grecian 
Archipelago, celebrated as the place of St. John's exile, and where 
he wrote the Apocalypse, or Book of Revelations. 

Peers, House of, a part of the legislative body of Great Britain, com- 
posed of noblemen, and forming an Upper House, like the Senate 
of the United States. 

Pericles, one of the most celebrated statesmen of Greece, during 
whose life (sometimes called the Periclean age) was the most 
flourishing period of Grecian arts and sciences. He was a man of 
vast sagacity and penetration, of commanding eloquence, and great 
military genius. He adorned the city of Athens with many mag- 
nificent public buildings and useful works. His great ambition, 
during the long time for which he wielded almost supreme author- 
ity, was, to place Athens at the head of the Grecian states, both 
politically and intellectually. He died about B. C. 429, after a 
lingering sickness ; and on his deathbed considered that it was his 
greatest glory *« that he had never caused an Athenian to put on 
mourning." 

Persians, the inhabitants of Persia, a large country in Asia, border- 
ing on Russia and Turkey. 

Peru, an extensive country of South America, discovered A. D. 1526, 
by the Spaniards, under Francisco Pizarro, and soon after con- 
quered by him. It was then a rich and flourishing kingdom, gov- 
erned by sovereigns called Incas, who were also the priests of the 
people. It abounded in very valuable silver mines. It is now a 
republic, having thrown ofiT the yoke of the Spanish sovereignty in 
1824. See Life of Pizarro, in the twelfth volume of the Juvenile 
Series of* The School Library.' 

Petrarch, (Francis,) an Italian poet and scholar, of great elegance, 
was born in Tuscany, A. D. 1304. His sonnets, written to his 
mistress Laura, overflow with beauty and tenderness, and are 
considered as masterpieces of lyric poetry. He died in July, 1874, 
at the age of seventy years. 



389 6L0SSAB.T; 

Pharpafy a river of Sjrria, near Damascus, mentioned in 2 Kings v 
12. See Abana, 

Phases^ in astronomy, signifies the various appearances of any body, 
as of the moon, or of one of the planets, at its different ages ; also 
of the sun and moon in eclipse. 

Phenomena, (plural of phenomenon,) novel appearances or natural 
- facts, usual or extraordinary. 

Phi Beta Kappa, a society, composed of a portion of the graduates 
and undergraduates of various colleges in the United States. Al- 
phas, or branches, exist at several of the colleges, and their anhi- 
versaries are celebrated with literary exercises. The name con- 
sists of three letters of the Greek alphabet, which are the initials 
of the Greek words, <f>iXocotpia Jfiov KvfifQrtiT^jg, Philosophia Biou 
Kubernetes, Philosophy, the guide of life. 

Philip, King, a celebrated Indian sachem, son of Massasoit. In 
1676, he commenced a bloody and relentless war against the Eng- 
lish colonists in New England, but in the following year was shot, 
while lurking in a swamp. 

Philip the Fair, the fourth King of France, of that name. He 
succeeded his father Philip the Third, A. D. 1285, and died A. D 
1814. See Qallican Church, 

Philosopher's stone, see Alchy mists, 

Phocion, an Athenian general, distinguished for his upright and dis- 
interested character. He was forty-five times appointed Governor 
of Athens ; and after faithfully serving his country, in the council 
and in the field, and gaining important victories, he was condem- 
ned to death, B. C. 318, by the Athenians, and forced to drink 
hemlock, which was a deadly poison. After his death, his coun- 
trymen became sensible of their error, and of his patriotism and 
truth, and raised a monument to his memory. 

Phanicians, the inhabitants of ancient Phoenicia, a narrow strip of 
land on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea. They were 
celebrated for their maritime and commercial enterprise. 

Pilgrims, the name given to the first settlers of New England, who 

. emigrated to Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay. 

Pindar, one of the most sublime lyric poets of ancient Greece. In 
his odes, he commemorates the victors at the games of Olympia, 
and the glories and conquests of Greece. *^ 

Pindus, a mountainous ridge in Greece, and, like Parnassus, the 
seat of Apollo and the Muses. 

Pisa, one of the most ancient and beautiful cities of Tuscany, in 
Italy. In the middle ages, Pisa was distinguished by its enterpris- 
ing commercial character, and the spirit of liberty with which she 
so long resolutely contended with Genoa and Florence. The * lean- 
ing tower' at this place is an object of interest to travellers. 

Piston, a movable cylinder, working in the barrel or hollow cylin- 
der of a pump, fire-engine, steam-engine, or similar machine. It 
may be provided with a valve, (that is, a lid moving upon a hinge, 
or any aperture, so contrived as to allow the passage of a fluid in 

. one direction and prevent it in another,) like the box of a^ common 
pump, or may be solid, as in a forcing pump or a steam-engine. 



GLOSSABT. 383 

Pizarro, (Francisco,) the name ot a Spanish general, celebrated 
for his adventures and conquests in the New World. After the 
most savage excesses and perfidious barbarities, exercised upon the 
native princes and people of Peru, he founded, in A. D. 1635, the 
city of Lima,. and obtained the supreme authority over Peru ; but 
in 1537, he was murdered, in his pahice, by Spanish conspirators. 
For his Life, see Volume xii. of * The School Library,' Jw 
venile Series, 

Plato, a renowned Greek philosopher, bom about B. C. 429. At the 
age of twenty, he entered the academic school of Socrates, and 
enjoyed the instructions of that sage, for eight years, and till his 
death. The school of philosophy, which Plato founded, was called 
the Academy, from the place where he taught, (see Academy ;) 
and by his disciples he was called the Sage. The philosophy, 
taught in his dialogues, is of an elevated and sublime character. 

Platform, a standard, basis, form, or plan. 

Pliny, (the eider,) a celebrated Roman scholar, who was bom in 
the year of our Lord, 23. He was a naturalist, and diligently no- 
ted all the phenomena of Nature. He fell a victim to his sci- 
entific curiosity, being suffocated, while observing the great erup- 
tion of Vesuvius in the year of our Lord, 79. He approached too 
near the crater of the mountain, and was choked with the sulphur- 
ous vapor which issued from it. His nephew, Pliny the younger, 
was an elegant scholar, and the author of a volume of epistles, 
which are well known. 

Plutarch, a learned Greek historian and moralist. His * Lives of 
Celebrated Men' are pleasantly written, and throw much light on 
ancient history, though not of the highest authority in matters of 
fact. He was born A. D. 60, and died at the age of about seventy 
years. 

Plymouth, the principal town in Plymouth county, Massachusetts, 
was settled by the Pilgrims, who arrived there December 22, 1620, 
and were the first colony which reached New England. The an- 
niversary of the landing has been usually celebrated by an oration, 
and various festivities. 

Polarity of light, is that arrangement of the particles or rays of 
light, by which each ray, or small particle of a ray, by reason of 
different physical properties possessed by its different faces, turns, 
when reflected by two polished plates of glass, similar faces to- 
wards the same direction in space, so that in some positions of the 
plates, the ray is wholly transmitted, in others, wholly reflected. 

Polynesia, the name given by geographers to the large clusters of 
islands in the Pacific Ocean, including the groups called Sand- 
wich, Society, Friendly, and Caroline, Islands. 
•Portugal, a kingdom in the southwestern part of Europe, on the 
western side of the Spanish peninsula. The Portuguese were 
formerly distinguished for maritime and commercial enterprise. In 
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, their navy was the largest in 
the world, and their discoveries and colonial possessions were only 
equalled by those of Spain. 

Potomac, a river flowing into Chesapeake bay, and forming, through 
it» whole eotirse, the line of boundary between the statet of Mary- 



884 GLOSSARY. 

land and Virginia. At its head waters, in Alleghany county, 
Maryland, and on the Virginia side, are vast beds of valuable iron 
ore and bituminous coal. 

Potsdam^ the favorite residence of the Great Frederic, King of Prus- 
sia ; who built several palaces and military schools there. It lies 
seventeen miles from Berlin, and contains about twenty-five thous- 
and inhabitants. 

Powerloom, see pages 143 and 144, and also BigeIow*s * Useful 
Arts,' and * Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' forming vol- 
umes xii. and xv., of * The School Library,' Larger Series. 

Practical JSTavigator, see Bgwditch. 

Prague, the capital city of Bohemia. It contains the most ancient 
university in Germany. 

Priestley, (Joseph,) an eminent philosopher and divine. His scien- 
tific researches and discoveries in chemistry and electricity, and 
on the subjects of heat, light, and colors, are numerous and val- 
uable. He was bom in 1733, and died in the United States, in 
1804. 

Protestant Reformation, Luther and his followers, who reformed 
the many abuses in the Romish church, protested against certain 
resolves of the diet (council) at Spire, and were thence called Pro- 
testants. The great Reformation which followed, emancipating a 
large portion of Christendom from its allegiance to the power of 
the Pope, and resulting in general freedom of religious belief, and 
which is looked upon as the great modern era in religious history, 
was also hence called the Protestant Reformation. 

The Ptolemaic scheme of the universe was that of the Greek philos- 
opher, Ptolemy, who supposed the earth to be immovable, in the 
centre of the universe, while all the other heavenly bodies moved 
round it in circles. 

Ptolemy was the common name of thirteen kings who reigned in 
Egypt. The first three were especially the patrons of learning at 
Alexandria. 

Puritans, a name first given to a numerous religions sect in Eng- 
land, in the time of Q,ueen Elizabeth, who laid aside the Eng- 
lish Liturgy, adopted the Geneva service-book, and generally 
embraced freely the doctrines of Calvin. They were termed Pu- 
ritans, because their form of worship and church government 
claimed to be purer than that of the English Church. They ob- 
jected to the priestly authority in the English Church, to kneeling 
at the Sacrament, and to the wearing of surplices and other ves- 
tures during Divine service. During the subsequent reign of 
James, they were politically persecuted, and numbers fled to Hol- 
land and America. In the reign of Charles the First, the Puritans, 
and a more violent party, called Independents, who were republi- 
cans in politics, overthrew the monarchy, beheaded the King, and 
created a commonwealth in England. 

Pyramids, colossal structures, supposed to have been erected by the 
Egyptian kings. They are in Middle Egypt, and are about forty 
in number. The height of the largest is between six and seven 
hundred feet. They have been explored by Denon and Belzoni. 
Their peculiar shape is well known. For a representation and 



GLOSSARY. 385 

description, see * llBcful Arts,' Volume xi. of* The School Li- 
brary,' Larger Series. 

Pythagoras, a Grecian philosopher, who flourished five or six hun- 
dred years before Christ, and rendered great services to philoso- 
phy and morals. He established a school, called the Pythagorean 
school, in which his numerous pupils were taught to live with tem- 
perance and simplicity, passing their time in exercise, and in the 
study of science, morals, music, &c. The moral maxims of Py- 
thagoras were pure and elevated, inculcating friendship, modera- 
tion, temperance, sobriety, self-command, justice, &c. 

Quadrant, an astronomical instrument, used to measure the arc of 
any great circle in the heavens, in order to determine the altitude 
or angular height of a heavenly body above the horizon, or the an- 
gular distance between one heavenly body and another. 

Quahog, a kind of muscle, or shellfish. 

Quakers, or, as they prefer to be called. Friends, are members of a 
society of Christians, founded by George Fox, in England, about 
the middle of the seventeenth century. They believe that wan 
are forbidden in the sacred writings, and refuse to bear arms. 
They deem it unlawful to take judicial or other oaths. They do 
not consider baptism as a sacrament necessary to the Christian. 
They require great simplicity in dress, in their private houses, and 
in houses of worship. They use the second person singular of the 
personal pronoun, {thou and thee,) in addressing others. The early 
Quakers, both in England and America, sufiered cruel persecu- 
tions, with the greatest firmness and even cheerfulness ; being 
frequently fined, whipped, banished, deprived of property, and 
even executed. 

Racine, (Jean,) a distinguished writer of French tragedy, bom in 
1639. The su^ects of his dramas were drawn from the Grecian 
and Roman claries. His tone of feeling and action is pure and 
elevated, and his delineations of the passions are very true to na- 
ture. There is a certain stifihess and coldness in his manner, 
which, however, is more the result of the peculiar critical rules 
of his time, than the dictate of his own genius. He died in 
1699. 

Raphael, or Rafiaello, (Sanzio,) the greatest painter and architect 
of hb age, was bom at Urbino, Italy, on Good Friday, A. D. 1488, 
and died at Rome, on his birth day, A. D. 1520. At an early age 
he executed sevei'al remarkable works. In power of composition 
and expression, he has never been surpassed. In his greatest 
compositions, is' found the most perfect simplicity, united with 
wonderful grandeur, dignity, and harmony. His countenance and 
figure were strikingly beautiful. In temper he was kind and oblig- 
ing, in his manners modest and amiable, and he died beloved bj 
all classes, both high and low. 

Mayas, literally, a flock, the term by which all subjects of the Turk- 
ish empire, who are not Mohammedans, are designated. 

Reformation, see Protestant Reformation, 

Reformation, Catholic, see Oallican Church, 

The Restoration, (in English history,) the return of King Charles 
33 E. E. 



336 



GLOSSARY. 



the Second, in 1660, afler the death of Cromwell and the restora- 
tion of the monarchy in England. 

The Revolution of 1688, (in England,) the event, which resulted in 
the abandonment of the throne by James the Second, (of the house 
of Stuart,) the reigning King, when William the Third, then Prince 
of Orange, landed in England, for '* the preservation of English 
liberty and the Protestant Religion." William was well received by 
the majority of the English nation, and the Parliament declared the 
throne forfeited, by the conduct of James, and William and his 
consort, Mary, (a daughter of James,) to be King and Q,uecn of 
Great Britain. 

Revolutionary War, (American,) that in which the United States, 
then Britbh Colonies, contended with Great Britain, and achieved 
their political independence. It commenced in 1775, and continued 
tiU 1783. 

Rhine, a celebrated river in Germany, pursuing a course of nine 
hundred miles, from its source to the sea. Its banks have been the 
scene of many memorable events in history ; and are adorned with 
flourishing cities and villages, castles and their picturesque ruins, 
extensive forests, and luxuriant vineyards. The Germans regard 
this river with great reverence, and it is often styled by their poets, 
•Father Rhine.' 

Robinson, (John,) Pastor of the English Puritans at Leyden, in Hol- 
land, a man of high reputation for talents, piety, and learning. A 
part of his society emigrated to Plymouth, in 1620, and he died, 
when preparing to join them, in 1625. 

Roman daughter, the heroine of a legend or story, not entitled to 
entire credit, which states that a lady of Rome, when her aged 
father was confined in prison, to die by starvation, obtained per- 
mission to visit him, and though strictly searched, that she might 
convey him no sustenance, supported his life, by feeding him, as 
an infant, at her breast. 

Rome, which has been called * the Eternal City,' * the mistress of 
the world,' and ' the mother of nations,' is a city of Italy, situated 
on both sides of the River Tiber, near the Mediterranean. For 
upwards of two thousand years have the principal occurrences in 
history been connected with her religious or political policy, her 
arts and arms. The Pope resides here ; but the city now pre- 
sents but the shadow of her former greatness. 

Rothschild, the name of a family, of whom there are several broth- 
ers, bankers of vast wealth and resources, havii^ branches of their 
house at London, Paris, and Ila-mburg, and agencies at almost ev- 
ery city in the world. They have been connected with most of the 
important financial operations of the last fifty years. 

Rotten boroughs were places in England, which, from their ancient 
prosperity or population, were entitled to send members to the 
House of Commons. Though decayed in wealth, and inhabited 
only by from one to twenty families, they still enjoyed the privi- 
lege of electing members, till they were deprived of their privi- 

. .leges, by the Parliamentary Reform Bill, in 1832. 

Royal Academy, an association established in London, by the royal 
eharter,' in the year 1768,^for the encouragement of works of art 



GLOSSARY. 387 

It consists of forty members, called Royal Academicians, twenty 
Associates, and six Associate Engravers. It possesses a collection 
of casts and models from ancient statues, valuable paintings, &c. 
It has an annual exhibition of works of art, and awards medals 
for the best paintings, drawings, sculptures, &c. 

Royal Institution y a society established in London, A. D. 1800, for 
facilitating the general introduction of useful mechanical inven- 
tions and improvements, and for teaching, by courses of philosoph- 
ical lectures and experiments, the application of science to the 
common purposes of life. It is chiefly indebted, for its origin, to 
our countryman. Count Rumford. It has a spacious building, 
appropriated to its use, in which are a library, cabinet of miner- 
als, chemical laboratory, repository of models of useful machines, 
lecture-theatre, &c. &c. 

Rumford, Count , (Benjamin Thompson,) was bom in Woburn, 
Massachusetts, in 1752. He went to England, at the commence- 
ment of the Revolutionary War, having .espoused her side in the 
contest, and was engaged in the * Foreign Office.' At the close of 
the War, he commanded a regiment of Dragoons. On his return 
to England, in 1784, he was knighted. Soon after, he entered into 
the service of the Duke of Bavaria, by whom he was created a 

. General and Count, as a reward for various important services 
rendered. In 1799, he returned to England, and occupied himself 
in scientific and chemical researches, particularly on the subject of 
heat. He was the principal founder of ' The Royal Institution of 
Great Britain,' mentioned in the. preceding article. Preferring the 
climate of France to any other, he resided in that country j and 
died, near Paris, in 1814. 

Russia, a powerful empire, stretching over half Europe and the whole 
of Northern Asia, possessing large territories on the western coast 
of North America, and comprising about one seventh part of the 
habitable globe. The population exceeds sixty millions. 

Sabaan, belonging to a province of Arabia, called Yemen, of which 
the chief city was Saba. The country produces myrrh, frankin- 
cense, and other fragrant gums. 

Sabines, a warlike and pastoral people, anciently dwelling in Italy, 
and peopling the mountainous country of the Apennines. They 
were frequently at war with the Romans. 

Safety lamp, the miner's lamp, invented by Sir H. Davy, which 
consists of a small light, fixed in a lantern or cylinHer of fine vnre 
network. The body of the lamp is of solid metal, screwed closely 
to the cylinder, so as to leave no opening into it. By this simple 
arrangement, the flame can never come into such a contact with 
the inflammable gas, or fire-damp, as to produce those dreadful 
explosions so frequent in mines, prior to this invaluable invention. 

Sage of the Academy, see Plato. 

St. Lawrence, a large river of North America, forming, for a consid- 
erable distance, the boundary between the United States and Can- 
ada, and flowing in a northeasterly direction into the Gulf of St 
Lawrence, and the Ocean. 

St. PauVs, a large cathedral in London, built by Sir Christopher 
Wren, between the years 1675 ai\4 1710, the former cathedral. 



388 GLOSSARY. 

on the same spot having been several times injured and destroyed 
by fires. The present noble fabric holds the most distinguished 
place among the modern works of architecture in Great Britain, 
and is second only to St. Peter's, at Rome. 

St. Peter^s, a magnificent church at Rome, the largest in the world, 
built, at a vast expense, out of the papal revenues, between the 
years 1506 and 1614. 

St. Petersburg, the capital of Russia, and a beautiful and splendid 
city. The population, in 1830, was nearly half a million. The 
churches, palaces, and other public buildings, are numerous and 
magnificent. 

Sandstone, a kind ot stone, very common, and of great importance 
for building. It is composed of grains of some more ancient rock, 
once in the state of loose sand, and held together by a cement. 
For an account of the tracks of remarkable animals in the sand- 
stone on the Connecticut River, mentioned on page 262, see * Sa- 
cred Philosophy of the Seasons,' Vol. i. pages 352-854, * School 
Library,' Vol. vii.. Larger Series. 

Sandwich Islands, a claster of ten islands in the Pacific Ocean. 
The natives are gentle and intelligent, and, since their adoption of 
Christianity, have exceedingly improved. They were first discov- 
ered by Captain Cook, in 1778. There are now in the islands a 
thousand schools, having fifty thousand scholars. 

Saratoga, a town in New York, memorable as the place where 
General Burgoyne surrendered the British army, of nearly six 
thousand men, to General Gates, October 17, 1777. It is now a 
place of great resort, on account of its mineral springs. 

Saturn, one of the planets of our system, surrounded by a ring, or 
luminous circle, which is estimated to be nearly one hundred and 
twenty-nine miles in thickness. 

Saxon, the language of a warlike and piratical people, called Saxons, 
one of the great Northern German tribes. In the middle of the 
fifth century, under Hengist and Horsa, they founded the Saxon 
kingdom in Great Britain. 

Schiller, (Frederic,) one of the most illustrious poets and dramatists 
of Germany, was born in 1769. He was intended for the profes- 
sion of the law, but his zeal for literature led him to devote him- 
self to poetry, history, and the drama. He was an ardent lover of 
all that is noble and beautiful, and his poems abound in magnifi- 
cence and energy. He was an intimate friend of Goethe-. He 
died at Weimar, at the age of forty-six. 

Schoolmen, a name given, during the middle ages, to a class of phi- 
losophers and logicians, who taught a peculiar kind of theological 
philosophy. The name is derived from the schools founded by the 
Emperor Charlemagne, for the education of the clergy. 

Scipio. There were several celebrated Romans of this name ; two 
,of whom, Publius Cornelius, and Publius iEmilianus, were sur- 
named Africanus, from having both distinguished themselves by 
their conquests in Africa. The former died, B.C. 184, and the 
latter, B. C. 128. Lucius Cornelius, brother of Publius Cornelius, 
Was snmamed Asiaticus, from his triumphs in Asia. These, as well 



GLOSSARY. 389 

as others of the same name, were men of great military skill, unit- 
ing courage with magnanimity, and patriotism with integrity. 

Scott, Sir Walter , the most popular author of the present century, 
was horn at Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1771. He is the author of 
* Marmion,' * the Lady of the Lake,' and many other romantic po- 
ems, describing the national Scottish manners of the feudal ages ; 
of a series of national romances, called the * Waverley Novels,' 
(from the title of the first of the series,) of great genius anc 'nterest ; 
and of many biographical and other literary works. He died, at 
Abbotsford, September 21, 1832, in the sixty-second year of his age. 

Scythia, the ancient name of an extensive country in the eastern 
part of Europe and western part of Asia, now comprised within the 
limits of Russia. 

Seidell, (John,) an eminent English writer upon politics and antiqui- 
ties, born in 1684 and died in 1664. He was repeatedly impris- 
oned, by royal authority, on account of his bold language in Par- 
liament against royal usurpations. 

Senate house, in ancient Rome, the place of assemblage of the 
Senate, a council composed of the chief men of the state, and 
exercising, in the earlier periods of Roman history, the chief au- 
thority of the nation. 

Seneca, (Marcus Annseus,) a learned rhetorician and philosopher of 
ancient Rome, who flourished during the first half century after 
Christ. He was the tutor of the youthful Emperor Nero. Being 
suspected, by that prince, of being connected with a conspiracy 
against his life, he was put to death, A. D. 66. 

Serf, a vassal, a slave. 

Sesostris, an Egyptian king and conqueror, who flourished about 
fifteen centuries before Christ, and was reputed to have been the 
author of various stupendous works of public improvement. 

Settlement, in a parish in England, is a right of maintenance, in case 
of poverty, by the parish, obtained by a residence for a certain 
time in the same. See page 87. 

Seven Years' War, a waj*, which continued from 1756 to 1763, 
between France, Austria, Saxony, and Russia, on one side, and 
Prussia and England, on the other. In Europe, Frederic of Prus- 
sia, against whom the war was principally waged, displayed in it 
great military ability. In America, the English and French colo- 
nies were also involved. 

Shakspeare, (William,) was born in 1564, and died in 1616. Of 
the incidents of his life, little is known with accuracy. He left 
Stratford upon the Avon, his birthplace, for London, at about 
the age of twenty-two, and became an actor at the Globe theatre. 
He soon commenced writing for the stage, and continued to do so 
till within a few years of his death. The character of Shakspeare's 
genius is too universally known to require comment. The supreme 
place, in the realm of poetry and creative thought, seems to be ac- 
corded to him by the general consent of cultivated and uncultivated 
minds. 

Shetland, JVew South, a cluster of islands south of Cape Horn, so 
named from the Shetland Islands, a cluster north of Scotland 

33* 



^390 GL08SA&T. 

Shorthand, the art of writing, in an abbreviated manner, in leu 
space than is occupied by common writing, and with greater rapid 
ity, by employing simple marks, in place of letters, and sometimes 
of words and sentences. 

Siberian, belonging to Siberia, a vast country comprising all the 
north part of Asia, and subject to intense cold. 

Sicily, a large island in the Mediterranean Sea, south of Italy, and 
remarkable for its fine climate, populousness, and fertility. 

Silex, a mineral, forming the principal ingredient in pure flint. 

Sirius, the most brilliant of the fixed stars, the largest in the constel- 
lation or cluster called Canis Major, or the Great Dog. 

Smith, (John,) Captain, a celebrated adventurer, bom in England, 
in 1579. When about the age of twenty, he entered into the ser- 
vice of the Emperor of Austria, then at war with the Turks, and 
distinguished himself by his bravery. He was at length taken 
prisoner by the Turks, (being left for dead on the battle fleld^ but 
escaped, and, returning to England, joined the Virginia expedition, 
in 1606. His courage and energy soon gave him the presidency 
of the colony, at Jamestown, and in the protracted war with the 
Indians, he displayed all his customary daring and intrepidity. 
He died at London, in 1631. For a full biography of Smith, see 
* Lives of Eminent Individuals,' Vol. i., being Vol. iv. of * The 
School Library,' Larger Series. 

Snowshoes, frames, shaped like a large shoe-sole, and strapped to 
the feet, to support the body in walking upon the surface of snow, 
without sinking, much used by the Indians and Canadians. 

Socrates, an illustrious philosopher and moralist of antiquity, bom 
at Athens, B. C. 470. He seems to have been a model of wisdom 
and goodness, and to have passed his life in teaching his fellow 
citizens their religious, moral, and social duties. He taught and 
insisted upon self knowledge, self control, temperance, justice, 
and the great doctrine of the immortality of the soul. The great 
Plato was one of his disciples. He was unjustly condemned to 
death, by a popular tribunal, upon the wicked and absurd charge 
of corrupting the Athenian youth, and sentenced to drink hemlock, 
(a deadly poison,) at the age of seventy. His calm and tranquil 
death was in accordance with the character of his long life. 

Solar walk, the ecliptic, the apparent path described by the sun, in 
the heavens, during the year. 

Solon, a celebrated Athenian lawgiver, who flourished about the 
year B. C. 600. He was one of the ** seven wise men" of Greece, 
and his system of laws was just and merciful. 

Solstice, the name given to those two opposite points in the earth's 
orbit, and to the two periods of the year, at which the sun, in ref- 
erence to his progress north and south, appears to stand still. The 
Summer solstice takes place about the twenty-first of June, the 
Winter solstice, about the twenty-first of December, 

Solyman the magnificent was proclaimed Sultan in 1620. He was 
the greatest of all the Ottoman emperors, and extended his pow- 
er by numerous victories, both in Europe and Asia. His political 
wisdom was no less remarkable than his military skill ; he caused 
the courts of law to be respected, and equity and justice to be 



GLOSSARY. 391 

administered. He was very ambitious and indefatigable in his 
schemes of conquest, and died in 1566, while besieging a city in 
Hungary. 

Sophocles, an illustrious Greek poet, born B. C. 495. He died at a 
very advanced age. His tragedies are written in a dignified and 
elevated style, with great elegance of versification, and purity of 
language. 

Spanish Main, the Atlantic coast along the north part of South 
America, from the Leeward (or North Caribbee) Islands to the 
isthmus of Darien. 

Sparta, one of the states of ancient Greece, in the southeastern part 
of the Peloponnesus. The Spartans were the rivals, in war, of the 
Athenians, and were as remarkable for simplicity and severity of 
manners, as were the latter for cultivation and refinement. 

Spartacus, a Thracian gladiator, who organized an extensive con- 
spiracy among the slaves in Italy. By his courage and military 
skill, he gained several victories over the flower of the Roman 
army, but was at last defeated and slain, A. D. 71, though com- 
manding an army of some sixty thousand men. 

Spenser, (Edmund,) a celebrated English poet, born in London, 
about A. D. 1553. His great poem is called the * Faery Queen,' 
and is full of beautiful sentiment and imagery, and exquisite de- 
scriptions of character. He died at the age of forty-six. 

Stael, Madame de, a woman of extraordinary intellectual power, 
and the most distinguished female writer of her age. She was 
the daughter of Monsieur Necker, a banker and minister of finance, 
and was born at Paris, in 1766. Her wit and conversational pow- 
ers rendered her the ornament of Parisian society. Her works are 
numerous. She passed many years in exile, at Geneva, being for- 
bidden by Bonaparte to dwell near Paris. She died in 1817. 

Standish, Miles, one of the founders of Plymouth colony, who pos- 
sessed some military skill, and was generally Captain of the small 
bodies of soldiers which were drafted from time to time to oppose 
the Indian attacks. 

Stark, (John,) a brave general in the Revolutionary War. He 
commanded at the battle of Bennington, when the British and 
German mercenaries were defeated with great loss, and one thous- 
and stand of arms taken from them. He died in 1822, at the 
age of ninety-three years. For a full life of Stark, see * Lives of 
Eminent Individuals,' Vol. i., being Vol. iv. of * The School Li- 
brary,' Larger Series. 

Stars and stripes, the American standard, which bears thirteen 
stripes, for the number of the original states, and as many stars 
as the number of states for the time being. 

Steppes, extensive dry plains in Asia, capable of some cultivation, 
and affording pasturage for numerous herds of cattle. 

Stoicism. The principles of the Stoics, one of the sects of ancient 
philosophers, encouraged a stern, unbending, rigid virtue, and a 
resolute contempt for pain and suffering. Hence Stoicism signi- 
fies unyielding firmness, inflexibility, insensibility to passion and 
affection. 

Stolidity, stupidity, foolishness. 



392 GLOSSARY. 

Strata^ (plural oi itraium^') bcda or layers, in which a large propor- 
tion of the minerals forming the cmst of the earth are disposed. 

Sunderland, Lord, was successively n minister of state under 
Charles the Second, James the Second, and William the Third. 
He died in 1702. He has been called ** a man who changed his 
party as easily as his dress.'* 

Sunium, a promontory of Attica, in Greece, about thirty miles from 
Athens. There was formerly a beautiful temple of Minerva here, 
■ome of the remains of which are still to be seen. Several col- 
umns are standing, which have obtained for the promontory the 
name of Cape Colonna, or Cape of the Column. See Minerva. 

Svfiss, belonging to Switzerland, a mountainous country in Europe, 
lying between France, Germany, and Italy. 

Syria, a country in the west of Asia, formmg part of the Ottoman 
empire. It lies on the east coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Pal- 
estine, or the Holy Land, is in Syria. 

Tacituf, (Caius Cornelius,) a Roman historian, remarkable for his 
brief and condensed style, his philosophical acuteness, and thor- 
ough penetration into character. He flourished during the first 
century after Christ. 

Tartars, inhabitants of Tartary, an extensive country in Asia. 

Tasso, (Torquato,) one of the greatest of Italian poets, was bom in 
1544. He early manifested a strong inclination to poetry, and 
produced, at the age of seventeen, an epic poem, which was re- 
ceived with great admiration. His great work, the ' Jerusalem 
Delivered,' composed with great poetic fervor, was elaborated 
with extreme care. The latter years of Tasso's life were clouded 
with misfortune. He was confined in a madhouse, for a consider- 
able time, by order of his former patron and friend, the Duke of 
Ferrara, and treated with great cruelty. He died in 1595. 

Tattooing, the practice of marking the skin with various figures, by 
pricking it with sharp instruments, and staining it permanently with 
diflTerent colors. It prevails among various tribes of savages, par- 
ticularly in the South Sea Islands. 

Technicalities, terms and phrases belonging to some art or science, 
and not in common use. 

Telescope, an instrument, formed by inserting lenses (curved glass- 
es) in a tube, and which enables us to see distant objects, and the 
heavenly bodies, with as great distinctness as if they were at a 
much less distance. See Galileo. 

Terence, or Terentius, (Publius,) a Roman writer of comedies, bom 
about the year B. C. 194. He was born in Carthage, in Africa, 
and, when a child, was brought as a slave to Rome where he re- 
ceived a good education, and, having been emancipated, was ad- 
mitted to the intimacy of some of the chief men of Rome. His 
comedies were much admired. 

Tliebes, an ancient city in Upper Egypt, famous for the immense ex- 
tent of its magnificent public buildings and monuments, the ruins 
of which, at the present day, are objects of great interest to the 
traveller. 

Thermopyla, a narrow pass, in the northern part of Greece, between 
Mount i£ta and the sea. It was here, that a desperate resist- 



GLOSSART. 393 

ance was made, bj a bodj of three hundred Spartans, under Le-> 
onidas, agtlinst the Persian army, B. C. 480. 

ITusaurits, literally, a treasury, magazine, or storehouse. Hence 
the word is applied to large works, such as complete dictionaries, 
collections of antiquities, &c. 

Theseunit or temple of Theseus, a splendid temple of Athens, sacred 
to Theseus, an ancient hero and king of Athens. The remains of 
the temple are in good condition, but some modern additions have 
been made to it. 

Thrace, in ancient geography, a mountainous country lying north- 
west of Macedonia, and bounded by the Black and iEgean Seas. 

Hiule. The ancients gave this name to the most northerly country 
with which they were acquainted. It is uncertain what spot was 
designated by the name ; it is supposed, by some, to have been 
the coast of Norway ; by others, Iceland. 

Timbrel, or tambourine, a kind of drum, hung with bells, and beat- 
en with the hand. 

Tissue, cloth interwoven with gold and silver, or figured colors ; 
any variegated woven fabric. 

Titian, one of the most celebrated of Italian painters, remarkable 
for his faithful imitation of Nature, and unrivalled in his portraits 
and landscapes, was born in 1480, and died at the age of ninety-six. 

Tomahawk, an Indian war-hatchet. 

Torricelli, an illustrious natural philosopher of Italy, was born in 
1608, and died in 1647. He discovered the principle of the pres- 
sure of the atmosphere, according to which, water ascends in 
pumps, and invented the barometer, an instrument for showing 
the degree of this pressure. See * Pursuit of Knowledge under 
Difficulties,* Vol. i., being Vol.xiv. of*THE School Library.' 

Tower of London, see London, tower of, 

Trajan, one of the most distinguished of the Roman emperors, was 
raised to the Imperial throne, A. D. 97. He extended the limits 
of the Roman empire, and adorned Rome with many magnificent 
works of architecture. 

Transcendental, in the philosophy of the mind, is that which tranS" 
cends, or goes beyond, the limit of ordinary experience, or the per- 
ceptions of the senses. 

Transcendental mathematics is a branch of mathematics relating to 
certain curves or lines which cannot be explained by the ordinary 
operations of algebra, and are called transcendent, or transcen^ 
dental. 

Tally, or Tullius, one of the surnames of Cicero, which see. 

Tupac Amaru, (Jose Gabriel,) a Peruvian Indian, who made an at- 
tempt, in 1780, to reestablish the * empire of the Sun,' or ancient 
form of government in Peru, and to overthrow the Spaniards. A 
general rising of the Indians took place, under his guidance, and 
the war lasted for two years ; but the Indians were subdued, and 
their leader was put to the cruel death of being torn asunder by 
wild horses. 

Turks, the subjects of the Turkish or Ottoman Empire, comprehend- 
ing Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia. The correct national 
appellation is Osma!nli. See Ottoman, 



: 894 GLOSSARY. 

Tuscan i belonging to Tuscany, a countrj of Italj. The lansnage 
of the Tuscans is considered the purest and finest in Italy ; hence 
the phrase, * Tuscan softness,' to express the sweetne»s and mel- 
ody of the Italian language. The term * Tuscan artist' is applied 
by Milton to Galileo, a Tuscan by birth. 

Vycho Brake, a celebrated Danish astronomer, of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. His system of astronomy, that the sun and heavenly bodies 
revolve round the earth, was soon rejected by succeeding astrono- 
mers, in favor of that of Copernicus, {which see ;) but his observa- 
tions and improvements in astronomical instruments, were of great 
value. 

7)fre, one of the most wealthy and important commercial cities of 
antiquity, situated in Phoenicia. Carthage was a colony from 
Tyre. Tyrian, belonging to Tyre. 

Ulysses, King of Ithaca, one of the Grecian chiefs who fought at the 
siege of Troy. His adventures form the subject of the Odyssey 
of Homer. He was the husband of Penelope, celebrated for her 
conjugal fidelity, and the father of Telemachus. He was noted 
for his sagacity and craftiness. 

United Colonies, In 1643, the colonies of Massachusetts, New Ply- 
mouth, Connecticut, and New Haven, formed a confederacy under 
the name of the United Colonies of New England, which lasted 
about forty years, till they were deprived of their charters by King 
James the First. The name was afterwards applied to all the col- 
onies, before the title * United States' was assumed. 

Uranus, a name sometimes given to the planet Her^hel. 

Valdarno, or Val d'Arno, the valley of the Arno, a river in Italy, 
which runs by Florence. 

Vancouver, (George,) a midshipman under Captain Cook, and af- 
terwards commander of a British expedition of discovery to the 
North Pacific Qcean. He died in 1798. 

Vega, (Lopez Felix de,) or Lope de Vega, a celebrated Spanish 
dramatic poet. He was a very voluminous writer, and it is sup- 
posed that some eight hundred of his plays were represented on 
the stage. He possessed great dramatic invention, but his pieces 
are loosely and hastily executed. He was born in 1562, and died 
in 1635. 

Venice, a city of Italy, at the head of the Adriatic Sea, (or Gulf of 
Venice,) once one of the most important commercial cities of Eu- 
rope, and still a city of much commercial and manufacturing busi- 
ness. It is built entirely upon small islands, having canals instead 
of streets. Its population is about one hundred and fifty thousand 
persons. 

Venus, one of the deities of the ancient mythology, and th6 goddess 
of beauty, has been a favorite subject for both painters and sculp- 
tors. One of the most celebrated statues of Venus is the ' Venus 
de Medici,' in the gallery at Florence, an ancient work of art, dis- 
covered in 1695, and an object of universal admiration, for its ex- 
quisite beauty of form and proportion. 

Vienna, the capital city of Austria, situated on the river Danube, 
and containing upwards of three hundred thousand inhabitants. 

Villiers, (George, Duke of Buckingham,) an unworthy favorite of 



GLOSSARY. ^ 395 

James the First and Charles the First of England, was bom A. D. 
1592, and died by assassination, in 1628. By his natural gracei 
of person and manner, he first gained the affection of King James, 
who invested him with numerous high and profitable offices, and 
at last with almost unlimited control of all the honors and emolu- 
ments of the kingdom. He was possessed of inordinate ambition, 
and was unfaithful even to the King who trusted and honored him. 
The parliament, under Charles the First, pronounced him a traitor 
to the liberty of his country, and prepared to impeach him ; but 
the favor of the King supported him against all attacks. 

Virgil, one of the most distinguished poets of ancient Rome, was 
born in the year B. C. 70. He went to Rome at about the age of 
thirty, gained the favor of MsBcenas, and became an intimate friend 
of the Emperor Augustus. He died in the fifty-second year of his 
age. His disposition was mild and gentle, his <lemeanor modest. 
His poetry is marked by sweetness and dignity, without possessing 
the highest energy and sublimity. But he is generally regarded as 
the first poet of his age. 

Viscera ; the interior parts of the body ; the heart, lungs, liver, 
stomach, intestines, &c. The ancients examined the viscera of 
animals freshly killed, under the erroneous idea that they could 
draw from them omens of future events. 

Wampum^ strings of pieces of perforated shells, used, instead of 
money, by the American Indians. 

The War of 1755, between the French and English colonies in North 
America, was carried on from 1765 to 1763, forming one branch 
of the Seven Years' War, {which see,) 

Washington, (George,) was born February 22, 1732, and died De- 
cember 14, 1799. For a biography of Washington, see * The 
School Library,' Larger Series. 

Watt, James, a man remarkable for his acquisitions in science and 
natural philosophy, and for his improvements in the steam-engine, 
was born in 1736, and died in 1819. For a biographical sketch 
of his life, see * Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' Vol. 
ii., forming volume xv. of * The School Library,* Larger 
Series. 

Weaver's beam. In the process of weaving, the warp, or threads 
running lengthways of the cloth, are wound upon a round beam or 
roller. 

West, (Benjamin,) was born in Pennsylvania, in 1738. He early 
manifested a genius for drawing and painting, and followed these 
pursuits with eagerness, notwithstanding the limited opportunities 
for improvement which his situation affi)rded him. In his eigh- 
teenth year, he established himself as a portrait painter in Phila- 
delphia. He afterwards visited Italy, and finally fixed his resi- 
dence in England, where he was much favored by George the 
Third, and employed upon various historical and scriptural paint- 
ings. In 1792, he became President of the Royal Academy of 
Painting, in London, (an institution for the encouragement of this 
art, founded in 1768.) He died in 1817. His productions are 
very numerous, and some of them of a high order ; but they gen- 
erally show more of the skill of art, than of the fire of genius. 



396 GLOSSARY. . 

Wtttminsier Abbey, an edifice in Westminster, (which forms the 
part of London most inhabited by the higher classes,) containing 
varioos chapels, and used as the place of coronation of the English 
kings. It contains monuments to most of the illustrious men of 
England. 

Whitney, Eli, was bom at Westborough, Massachusetts, in 1765, 
and died in 1825. He was buried at New Haven, and over his 
remains a beautiful monument has been erected to his memory. 
He was an able and ingenious mechanician, and is well known as 
the inventor of the cotion'gin, a machine for separating the seeds 
from the downy fibre of the cotton, an operation previously per- 
formed slowly, and with great labor, by hand. For a description 
of this machine, see Bigelow's * Useful Arts,' Vol. i. page 111, 
being the eleventh volume of * The School Library.' His 
Life will appear in a subsequent volume of* The School Library.* 

Whittemore, (Amos,) died at West Cambridge in 1828, aged sixty- 
nine. He was the inventor of the machine for sticking cards, by 
which the wire is reeled off, cut of the right length for teeth, 
bent, holes pricked in the leather, and the teeth inserted, till the 
card is completed, and all this by a rapid operation of a machine, 
which fills no more space than a small table. 

Wiclif, or Wickliffe, (John,) was born in Yorkshire, England, about 
the year 1324. Being a bold thinker in religious matters, he took 
a prominent stand against the encroachments and corruptions of 
the Pope and Roman Catholic clergy, and endeavored to restore 
the apostolical simplicity and purity of the primitive Christian 
Church. He was a man of great learning, and an ardent Reform- 
er. He disavowed the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, and con- 
sidered the confession of sins to a priest, when sincerely repented 
of, as useless. Among his other numerous writings, he finished 
a translation of the Sacred Scriptures. He died of a paralytic at- 
tack, in 1384. 

Wilkie, David, a distinguished painter, remarkable for his skill in 
painting scenes of domestic life, was bom in Scotland, in 1785. 

Williams College is located at Williamstown, Massachusetts. 

Winthrop, (John,) Governor of the colony of Massachusetts, was 
born in England in 1587, and came out to America in 1630, hav- 
ing been previously chosen Governor. 

Wyse, a living writer on Education. 

Yale College is located at New Haven, in Connecticut. 

Yorktown, a town in Virginia, famous for the capture of Lord Com- 
wallis and his army by the Americans under General Washington, 
October 19, 1781, which was the last important event in the Rev- 
olutionary War, and the immediate cause of the cessation of hos- 
tilities. 

Young, (Edward,) a distinguished English Poet, who was bom in 

1681, and died' in 1765. He was the author of several tragedies, 

but is most known by a serious poem, called the * Night Thoughts,' 

which, though sometimes extravagant in language and sentiment, 

xhibits marks of considerable poetical power and genius. 



INDEX. 



A. 

Accident, discoveries by, 74, 76. 

Accumulation, discussion of the 
topic of, 308. Production ne- 
cessary to, 308. The basis of 
commerce, 308. Mutual ben- 
efit of, 309. On the denuncia- 
tion of, 311. Influence of, on 
human comfort, 319. Effect 
of, in the case of Stephen Gi- 
rard, 321. See Capital, and 
Wealth. 

Accumulators, see Producers. 

Acorn, remarks on the, 110, 112. 

Adams, John, 71. 

Adelphic Union Society, Address 
before the, in 1837, 249. 

-^schylus, Cicero taught by, 194. 

Africa, on the inhabitants of, 192, 
193. Progress of civilization 
in, 203, 204. Colonization in, 
203, 205. Effect of insecurity 
of property in, 311. 

Ages of improvement, 24, 54, 
105, 190. 

Agriculturists, on the intelligence 
and morals of, 96. 

Albertus Magnus, 215. 

Alceeus, Horace translates, 24. 

Alchy mists, 229. 

Alcuin, 176. 

Alexander the Great, wept, 232. 
Opposition to, by the Phoeni- 
cians and Tyrians, 325. 

Alexanders, 50. 

Alexandrian literature, 24. 

Alexandrian school, 225. 

34 



Algebra, 128. 

Algiers, subjection of, 208. 

AUston, Washington, 129. 

Almanac, remarks on the, 127. 

Alnwick castle, 318. 

Alphabetical signs, invention of, 
23, 131, 132, 196,283,825. 

Altai mountains, 50. 

Amaru, Tupac, 217. 

America, rights of, defended in 
Parliament, 64. When it may 
be said to have been discov- 
ered, 78. Remarks on the 
discovery of, and its effects, 
102, 109, 326. See United 
States. 

American Antiquarian Society, 
344. 

American Revolution, advocatei 
• for the, in England, 64. The 
statesmen and generals of the, 
158. Prospects in the time of 
the, 158. First principles of 
the, 222. 

Amherst College, 170, 211. Ad- 
dress before the Literary Soci- 
eties of, in 1835, 213. 

Anacaona, 61. 

Anatolia, 199. 

Ancients, their knowledge of con- 
vex lenses, 79. Their approach 
to the art of printing, 80. Their 
conceptions of the Universe, 
260. 

Animals, planets supposed to bo, 
230. Milton's description of 
the creation of, 280. Discov- 
K. E. 



896 



INDEX. 



«I7 of foMil remains of, 247, 
252, 253. 

Anson, Lord, 92. 

Apollonius the Rhodian, 24. 

Apple, deduction by Newton from 
the, 80, 81. 

Arabian Caliphs, 55. 

Arabs, algebra of the, 128. 

Arcadia, relreat of Christianity 
and letters to, 198. 

Archangel, 309. 

Archimedes, 190. 

Architect, intellectaal and physi- 
cal powers requisite in the, 130. 

Ariosto lived in poverty, 25. 

Aristophanes of Athens, Socrates 
satirized by, 256. 

Aristophanes of Byzantium, com- 
paFed with Aristotle, 24. 

Aristotle, 24, 74. 

Arkwright, Sir Richard, 77. Re- 
marks on, 78, 143. Aided by 
a watchmaker, 79. Sustained 
the English nation through the 
wars of the French Revolution, 
109. A barber, 151. 

Arkwrights, 188. 

Armies, 274. 

Arms, on education for bearing, 
839. 

Articles at a morning's meal, 309. 

Arts, loss of, 75. Depend on civ- 
ilized society, 132. See Me- 
chanic Arts. 

Asia, the abode of despotism, 8, 
217. On the regeneration of, 
202-204. 

Asia Minor, American trade in, 
52. Ancient civilization- in, 
194. 

Astronomers, of Chaldsea, 23. 
Telescopes not made by, 125. 

Astronomy, obligations of, to the 
telescope, 125. Contemplation 
of, 247. Effect of discoveries 
in, on poetry, 260 ; on Milton, 
261, 262. 

Atahualpa, 61. 

Athens, 22. Liberty and litera- 
ture of, 23, 87. Ancient civ- 
ilization in, 194. 



Athos, 198. 

Atlantic, navigation of the, hj 
steam, 315. 

Atlantis, 41. 

Atmospheric pressure, principle 
of, discovered by Torricelli, 
127. 

Attica, beset by barbarians, 50. 

Attraction, universal, 310. 

Augur, the self-taught sculptor, 
156. 

Augustan age, 24, 190. 

Australia, inhabitants of, 192, 
193. 

Austria, peasantry of, 192. In- 
tellectual attainments in, 242. 

B. 

Babylon, fall of, 198. 

Bacon, poverty of, 25. Compel- 
led to use the Latin language, 
28. Alluded to, 64, 176. A 
hard worker, 115. Cited re- 
specting Luther, 219. Re- 
marks on, 220. Errors of, 228. 
Philosophy of, 233. Did not 
adopt the Copemican system, 
261. 

Bacon, Roger, 175. 

Baines, on the spinning machine- 
ry of Great Britain, 288. 

Ballot-box, see Elective. 

Baltic Sea, 50. 

Barbarians, 49, 50. On incur- 
sions by, 179. 

Bavarian Prince, King of Greece, 
201. 

Bavius, a Roman poet, 225. 

Beads, Indian, 173. 

Bearing arms, on education for, 
839. 

Beda, 175. 

Beds, in England, 318. 

Bell and Lancaster, 189. 

Bell, reflections on the, 294. Song 
of the, 295, note. 

Bengal, 129. 

Bennington, battle of, 250. 

Berkeley, Bishop, 41. Cited, 41. 

Berkshire County, Massachusetts, 
early settlers in, 275. 



INDEX. 



399 



Bible, translated by Luther, 220. 

Birmingham, Sunday scholars in, 
146, note. 

Blacksmith, Elihu Burritt the lit- 
erary, 343. 

Blackstone, William, on the lan- 
guage for law records, 30. An- 
ecdote of James Otis res^jecting 
the Commentaries of, 227. 

Blackstone, William, first settler 
of Boston, 329. 

Bleaching, 100. 

Board of Education, 334. 

Bobadilla, 61. 

Boccaccio, 25, 198. 

Body, what is the, 122. Action 
of mind through the, 123. On 
provision for the, 301. See 
Mind, and Soul. 

Bohemia, fossil plants in, 252. 

Bonaparte, see Napoleon. 

Books, in the beginning of the 
seventeenth century, 57. Most 
read in South America, 71. 
Cheapness of, 152. Remarks 
on, 159. In ships, 186. Ef- 
fect of, on Greece, 197. In 
the days of Martin Luther, 
218 ; of Solomon, 225. Scar- 
city of, in England, in Q,ueen 
.Elizabeth's time, 318. 

Boston, character of the com- 
merce of, 328. Three histor- 
ical and topographical pictures 
of, 828. At its first settlement, 
329. At the time of Bunker's 
Hill battle, 329. In 1838, 330. 
The vicinity of, and its histori- 
cal associations, 330. 

Bowditch, Nathaniel, Practical 
Navigator, by, 127, 157, 184. 
Scientific productions by, 158. 

Bowdoin College, 211. 

Boxing, commended by an Eng- 
lish judge, 97. 

Boyle, Father, 61. 

Bradford, William, 69. 

Brahe, Tycho, 238. 

Brewster, William, 69. 

British East-India Company, pop- 
ulation of the territory of the, 



91. Remarloi on their trade, 
91. 

British India, as an instrument of 
civilization, 207. 

British ministrj, 298. 

Broughams, 336. 

Brown University, 211. 

Buckland, Dr., description of fos- 

^ sil plants at Swina, by, 252. 
On work done by machinery 
in Great Britain, 288. 

Bunker's Hill battle, 329. 

Burgundy, 50, 93. 

Burke, Edmund, 26. On increase 
of population in America, 85. 
On the right of English people 
to appoint rulers, 58. Advo- 
cated the rights of America, 64. 
On the whale-fishery, 315. 

Burkes, 188. 

Burmah, 167. 

Burritt, E^ihu, the literary black- 
smith, letter by, 343. 

Busybodies, relation of, to the 
workingmen's party, 120. 



Cadmus, 131, 132. 

Caesar, Julius, a high priest, 56. 
A hard worker, 115. Empe- 
rors from the time of, deified, 
218. 

Caesars, The, 50. 

Calderon, 28. 

Callimachus, 24. 

Calvin, John, driven to the use 
of the Latin language, 28. 

Cambridge, College at, founded, 
163. See Harvard. 

Cambridgeport, 329. 

Cambyses, destruction of templei 
in Egypt by, 50. 

Camoens, 28. 

Canada thistles, 272. 

Canals in the United States, 90. 

Cannibals, 183, 184, 193. 

Canova, the sculptor, 129. 

Cape of Good Hope, 193. 

Capital, meaning of, 312. Odium 
respecting, considered, 812. 
Twofold use of, needed, 814. 



400 



INDEX. 



In the whale-fishery, 315. In 
manufactures, 316, 317. Ef- 
fects of, on human comfort, 
318. Not created by credit, 
323. See Accumulation, Prop- 
erty, and Wealth. 

Capitalists, identification of the 
interests of, and of the com- 
munity, 319. On the unfriend- 
ly influence of, 320. 

Card-machines, 129, 155. 

Carpenter's stock-in-trade, in the 
3fiddle Ages, 319. 

Carpets, substitutes for, 319. 

Carr, 67. 

Carthage, check to Alexander by, 
325. 

Cartwright's power-loom, 143. 

Carver, John, 69. 

Caste, in India, 208. 

Cathedrals, bells on, 294. 

Catholic Reformation, 56. 

Cattle, in houses, 318. 

Caucasus, 50. 

Central America, 71. 

Ceramicus, 201. 

Cervantes, poverty of, 25. 

Ceylon, 167. 

Chairs, want of, in England, 319. 

Chaldaea, astronomers of, 23. 

Champollion, rival pretensions of 
Young and, 55, note, 189. 

Channing, William E., 345. 

Chantrey, the sculptor, 129. 

Character, individual and nation- 
al, 8. 

Charlemagne, Alcuin's connexion 
with, 175. 

Charlemagnes, 50. 

Charles L, last words of, 335. 

Charles V., divine right of, 218. 

Charles X., 85. 

Charleston, S. C, Sunday-school 
jubilee celebrated at, 146, 
note, 

Charlestown, Massachusetts, first 
settlement of, 329. Burnt, 
329. 

Chatham, Lord, advocated the 
rights of America, 64. On 
Franklm, 154. 



Chelsea, 829. 

Children, on the education of, 
271. On allowing time for, to 
attend school, 272. See Edu- 
cation. 

Chili, 309. 

Chimneys, in England, 318. 

China, monopoly of the trade to, 
91. CivDization in, 191. Tea 
from, 309. American com- 
merce with, 327. 

China Sea, 50. 

Cholera, outrages in Hungary, in 
the time of the, 147. 

Christianity, as an instrument of 
civilization, 196. Effects of, 
on Greece, 198. Revealed to 
the mind of man, 245. Con- 
nexion of, with knowledge, 
245. See Religion. 

Christians, supposed number of, 
in the world, 191. 

Chronometer, navigation aided by 
the, 103, 184. 

Church and State, 56. 

Church of England, opposition to 
the, by the Puritans, 56. 

Cicero, almost translates Demos- 
thenes and Plato, 24. Remarks 
on, 24. Alluded to, 29, 40. 
Cited respecting forms of* let- 
ters, 80. Age of improvement 
in the time of, 105. Citation 
from The Orator by, 194. The 
masters of, 194. On the ten- 
dency of knowledge to produce 
higher displays of genius, 268, 
note, 

Ciceros, 188. 

Cincinnatus, 222. 

Circulating medium, 337. ^ 

Circulation of the blood, Har- 
vey's discovery of the, 236. 
Tract, to prove a knowledge of 
the, in the time of Solomon, 
236. 

Circumnavigation of the globe, by 
Sir Francis Drake, 48. 

Cities, on the population of, 
192. 

Civilization, of the £gyptiani» 



INDEX. 



401 



Greeks, and Romans, 8, 55, 
240. Dependence of, on so- 
ciety, 121. Arts and sciences 
depend on, 132. Remarks on 
the present state of, 191. Ret- 
rograde step in, 193, 195. 
Three instruments of, unknown 
to antiquity, 195. Of the world, 
contemplated, 205. Depend- 
ence of, on the mechanic arts, 
284. See Barbarians. 

Clay, Henry, 84, note. 

Clergy, 132. Of France, before 
the Revolution, 244. 

Climate, effect of, 9. 

Clocks, 294. 

Clothing, diminution of the ex- 
pense of, 142. Of the savage 
and the civilized, 185, 286. 
Of leather, 319. 

Coal-mines, galleries and roofs 
of, in Bohemia, 253. 

Collars, worn by Saxon peasant- 
ry, 313. 

Colleges, instruction in, 75. In 
Massachusetts, 170. In New 
England, 211, 214. In the 
United States, 214. See Ken- 
yon. 

Collinson, Peter, 82. 

Colombia, republic of, 71. 

Colonial system, establishment of 
the, 102. 

Colonization, African, 203, 205. 

Columbia River, Admiral Van- 
couver piloted into, by Captain 
Gray, 92. 

Columbus, two vessels of, with- 
out decks, 48. On his idea of 
the sphericity of the earth, 78, 
154. Guided by the magnetic 
pilot, 102, 235, 326. His vis- 
ion, 102. His poverty, enter- 
prise, and discovery of Amer- 
ica, 109, 154, 257, 324. Co- 
pernicus and, 236. 

Combe, George, 336. 

Comets within the orbit of Ura- 
nus, 262. 

Commanders, military, 131. 

Commerce, extent of American, 

34* 



62. Under the Confederation 
and Constitution, 89, 91. Dis- 
cussion of four elementary top- 
ics of, 307. Accumulation the 
basis of, 308, 309. On the 
creation of, 308. Articles of, 
on a table, 309. A system of 
mutual accommodation, 310. 
Capital requisite in, 315. On 
the eve of increased activity, 
325. Historical effects of, 325. 
Led to opposition to Alex- 
ander, 325 ; to the downfall 
of the feudal system) 326 ; to 
the American Revolution, 327. 
Expansion of, after the Rev- 
olution, 327. Three pic- 
tures of, in relation to Bos- 
ton, 328. 

Common-School Convention ^t 
Taunton, remarks at the, in 
1838, 334. 

Common-School Libraries, 342. 

Common Schools, the system of, 
13. Early establishment of 
gratuitous, in America, 145. 
Views respecting, in Europe, 
145. Not time enough passed 
in, 270. The time to be spent 
in, 271, 272. Should be of a 
higher order, 342. See Re- 
publican. 

Communities, Importance of mor- 
als to, 331. 

Companies, see Crafks. 

Compass, see Mariner's. 

Concord, Massachusetts, 330. 

Confederation, navigation under 
the, 89. 

Congress, appeal to, in behalf of 
Fulton's heirs, 108. 

Connecticut, contributions by, to 
Harvard College, 173. Early 
inhabitants of, educated at 
Cambridge, 173. 

Connecticut River, valley of the, 
213. Footsteps in rocks on 
the, 252. Settlements beyond, 
before the French war, 275. 

Constantino, pulls down the arch 
of Trajan, 24. Countenanced 



403 



INDEX. 



eorabmmtkm of Church and 
Sute, 56. 

Constantinople, 199. Ottoman 
power in, 202. 

Constitntion, eflfect of its adoption 
on the navigating interest, 89, 
91. 

Constitutions of the United States, 
popolaritj of the, in South 
America, 71. 

Contarini, fomitare of, 819. 

Convex lenses, known to the an- 
cients, 79. 

Cook, James, 92. 

Copemican system, conception of 
the, by Pythagoras, 125. Not 
adopted by Lord Bacon, 261. 

Copemicns, 229. Enslaved by 
errors, 229. Saw bat part of 
the consequences of bis theory, 
236. Closing life of, a subject 
for an artist, 236. Death of, 
237. 

Com, preparation of, by the sav- 
age and the civilized, 285. 

Comeille, 25, 28. 

Corporations, see Crafts. 

Cortes, Hernando, 61. 

Cotton, facts as to, in the Soath- 
em States, 89. Preparation and 
manufacture of, 100, 128. 

Cottou-gin, Whitney's, 89, 129, 
188, note, EfTcet of the, on 
cotton lands, 155. 

Courts of justice, in England, 836. 

Cousin, M., 336. 

Crafts, oppression of mechanics 
by, in Europe, 85. Remarks 
on the, 85. 

Cras^uses, high priests, 56. 

Credit, legitimate province of, 
323. Importance of, 323. Cap- 
ital not created by, 323. Ex- 
cessive, 324. 

Cromwell, Oliver, legal improve- 
ments under, 30. 

Cuba, 309. 

Cumberland, residence of the 
Earls of, 319. 

Currency, 337. 

Cuvier, discovery of fossil re- 



mains of animals by, 253. Ci- 
ted, 253. 

Cyrene, fall of, 198. 

Czaki, Connt, persecution of, at 
Klncknow, 147, 148. 

b. 

Dante, 25, 28, 198, 259. For- 
tunes of, 257. Spirituality of, 
265. Compared with MUton, 
266. 

Darius, 325. 

Dark Ages, leaming m the, 176. 
Greece exempt from, 198. 

Dartmouth College, 211. 

Davy, Sir Humphrey, discoveries 
by, 83. Account of, 136. Lec- 
turer in the Royal Institution^ 
136, 155. His application of 
galvanic electricity, 137. Cit- 
ed on religious belief, 137. 

Deaths, in an hour, 159. 

Deities, emperors regarded at» 
218. 

Delfthaven, 66. 

Delphi, 201. Oracle at 346. 

Demosthenes, 23. Cicero almost 
translates, 24. Death of, 40. 
A hard worker, 115. Reflec- 
tions on, 256. 

Denmark, means of education in, 
215. 

Despotic governments, in Asia, 
8, 217. Unfavorable to intel- 
lectual progress, 11. Degra- 
dation under, 217. Military 
despotisms, 217. Mankind di- 
vided into two classes, under, 
221. 

Diamonds, 62. 

Dieskau, John Harmand, Baron, 
Colonel Williams killed in an 
engagement with, 276. His 
watch, 294. Wounded, 294. 

Dionysins, Cicero taught by, 194. 

Discoveries, remarks on modern, 
99 ; their effects, 100. On 
limits to, 105, 234. On si- 
multaneous, 189. Sources of, 
234. See Accident, and Mar- 
itime. 



INDEX. 



403 



Dishonest people, not of the work- 
. ingmen's party, 119. 
Divine right of kings, 218, 336. 
Dome of St. Peter's church, 282. 
Dorchester Heights, 830. 
Dowse, Thomas, a leatherdres- 

ser, library and paintings of, 

1^7. 
Drake, Sir Francis, fleet of, for 

circumnavigating the globe, 48. 
Drawing; talent for, 129. 
Dryden, poverty of, 26. 
Donster, Henry, 173. 

E. 

Earth, circuit of the, 293. 

East Boston, 329. 

East Cambridge, 329. 

Eclipses, 23. 

Education, provision for, in New 
England, 14, 163, 334. In 
colleges, 75. Eminence with- 
out great advantages for, 150. 
In the West, 162. Two courses 
in the establishment and support 
of places of, 162. System of, 
in Europe, 163. Of man- 
kind, 172. In former ages, 
175, 176. Generality of, in 
modern times, 176. Objects 
to be effected by, 176. The 
law of our being, 179. Per- 
sons to effect the revolution 
by, 179. Foundation of the 
philosophy of, 180. The great 
errand of life, 180. The mo- 
mentous task of, in America, 
181. The difference made by, 
183. Efficacy of, compared 
with shortness of time, 187. 
Depends more on the pupil 
than on the teacher, 188. One 
great secret of the power of, 
189. Expectations from, for 
mankind, 191, 194. Prospect 
of, in Asia and Africa, 203. 
Relation of the United States 
to the work of general, 
209. Multiplication of the 
means of, in the United States, 
214 ; in Europe, 215 ; through- 



out the world, 216. Facilitiei 
for, favorable to profound sci- 
ence, 224. Address at Wil- 
liams College, on superior and 
popular, 249. Importance of, 
251. The business of, 254. 
Two offices to be performed 
by, 255. To discipline and 
train the mind, 255. Course 
of, with great minds, 256. To 
improve the minds of the mass 
of the people, 268. Of chil- 
dren, 271. On legislating for, 
273. The nurture of the mind, 
299. Importance of, in a re- 
public, 334. Early provision 
for, in Massachusetts and New 
England, 334. Increased in- 
terest in, 335. In England, 
before and since 1688, 336. 
In France, 336. In Prussia, 
337. Importance of, in con- 
nexion with religion, 346. 
See Common Schools, Knowl- 
edge, Mankind, Mind, and Re- 
publican. 

Egypt, civilization in, 8, 194, 
197. Temples of, destroyed 
by Cambyses, 50. Monuments 
of an improved age in, 64. Hi- 
eroglyphics of, 55, note, 196, 
325. Fall of, 198. 

Egyptian reed, Pliny on the, 131. 

Eisenach, Luther begging bread 
at, 220. 

Elective franchise, on education 
for, 337. 

Electricity, discoveries in, by 
Franklin, 81. 

Eliot, S. A., translation of * The 
Bell,' by, 295, fiote. 

Elizabeth, Queen, Puritans in the 
time of, 56. Houses and hu- 
man comforts in the time of, 
318. 

Ellsworths, 188. 

Emmet, Thomas Addis, cited re- 
specting Fulton and the steam- 
boat, 107. 

England, reformation in, 56 Per- 
secution in^ 56. Remarks on 



404 



INDEX. 



the liberty of, 63, 65, 222. At- 
tachment to, 64. Oppression 
of mechanics in, 85, 87. Prop- 
erty in, 313. Treatment of 
Saxon peasantry in, 313. Facts 
respecting, in the Middle Ages, 
318. Human comforts in, be- 
fore the time of Queen Eliza- 
beth, 318. On education in, 
before and since 1688, 836. 
See Great Britain. 

Ennias, 80. 

Epaminondas, 223. 

Epic poetry, 20. 

Epicurus, Lucretius translates,24. 

Equality of condition and fortune, 
322. See Republican. 

Eras, three, in the annals of the 
human race, 54. See Ages. 

Erasmus, compelled to use the 
I^tin language, 28. 

Euphrates, 49, 194, 197. 

Europe, separation of America 
from, 49, 62. Difficulty of re- 
form in, 68. Oppression of me- 
chanics in, 84, 85, 87. On the 
establishment and support of 
places of education in, 163. 
On the peasantry in, 192. Ed- 
ucation in, 215. Two classes 
of men in, in the Dark Ages, 
221. Restraint upon mind in, 
242. On imitating, as to schools, 
273. Property in, 313. 

Eustathius, commentaries on Ho- 
mer by, 198. 

Evenings, on the improvement of, 
153, 342. 

Exchanges, 309. Benefits of, 
310. Requisite for the sys- 
tem of, 310. 

Exhibition and Fair of the Massa- 
chusetts Charitable Mechanic 
Association, Address on occa- 
sion of the, in 1837, 280, note. 
Object of the, 295. 

F. 

Faneuil Hall, 329. Enlarged, 330. 
Farmers' houses in England, 318. 
Fathers, appeal to, 179. 



Ferraor, silver-plate of, 819. 

Feudal system, broken by com- 
merce, 326. 

First principles, 222. 

Fishery, Smith on, 60. 

Flanders, 93. - 

Flavbn house, fine arts under the 
princes of the, 24. 

Foreign institutions, remarks on, 
51. 

Fossil plants, Bnckland's account 
of, in Bohemia, 252. 

Fossil remains, 247, 252. Dis- 
covery of, by Cuvier, 253. 

France, oppression of printers in, 
84. Attempt to introduce the 
trial by jury into, 98. Influ- 
ence of Alcuin on the literature 
of, 175. Condition of the peas- 
antry in, 192. Education in, 
215, 336. Feudal divisions 
and morals in, before the 
French Revolution, 243. Ref- 
ormation in, 244. See Great 
Britain. 

Franklin, Benjamin, bred a prin- 
ter, 77. Discoveries by, 81. 
A hard worker, 115. Remarks 
on, 135, 136, 204. Franklin 
Lectures named from, 139. 
Facts respecting and compli- 
ment to, by Chatham, 154. 
Habit of, in bestowing charity, 
166. 

Franklin Lectures, address deliv- 
ered as the introduction to the, 
in 1831, 138. Plan and ob- 
jects of the, 139, 161. Named 
from Franklin, 139. 

Frauenberg, Copernicus dies at, 
237. 

Frederic the Great, the watch of, 
294. 

Free institutions, effect of, on in- 
tellectual progress, 26. See Re- 
publican. 

Free schools, see Common Schools. 

French and Indians, 275, 278, 
294. 

French Academy, pensioned, to 
crush Comeille, 25. 



INDEX. 



405 



French philosophers, 243. 

French Revelation, 222. Feudal 
divisions in France before the, 
243. 

Frogs, 83, 137. 

Fulton, Robert, steam-boat by, 
107. Emmet cited respecting, 
107. Decision of the United 
States Court respecting, 108. 
Appeal to Congress respect- 
ing, 108. Allusions to, 135, 
136, 146. A portrait painter, 
155. 

Fultons, 188. 

Furniture, in England in the Mid- 
dle Ages, 318. Of Signer Con- 
tarini, 319. 

G. 

Galileo, persecuted, 25. Affirms 
the rotation of the earth, 229. 
Observed the phases of Venus, 
238, 292. Feelings of, on first 
viewing the heavens through a 
telescope, 292. 

Gallia, ancient civilization in, 
194. 

Gallican church, 56. 

Galvani, Lewis, 83. 

Galvanism, discovered, 83. 

Gas lights, 100. 

Generals, qualifications for, 131. 
Of the American Revolution, 
158. 

Generations, surcease of, 176. 
Interlacing of, 178. The con- 
nexion of, the foundation of the 
philosophy of high education, 
180. 

Genevan Church, adherence of 
the Puritans to the, 57. 

Gengis Khan, 50. 

Genius, on the influence of, 30. 
On the cultivation of, 259. 
Tendency of knowledge to pro- 
duce higher displays of, 259, 
268, note. 

Geographical discoveries, me- 
chanical inventions lead to, 
103. 

Geology, Hitchcock's Report on. 



231. Discovery of animals in, 
247, 252. 

Geometry, Newton and Leibnitz 
indebted to, 128. 

George, Lake, Dieskau wounded 
near, 294. 

Germany, Reformation in, 56. 
Oppression of mechanics by 
the craf\s of, 85. Condition 
of peasantry in, 192. Means 
of education in, 215. 

Girard, Stephen, 312. Early 
poverty of, 321. Effect of ac- 
cumulation in the case of, 321. 
Habits of, 322. 

Girard College, columns of, 282. 

Glass, art of staining, lost, 75. 

Glass windows, 318. 

Gloucester, England, establish- 
ment of Sunday schools at, 
146, note, 

Goethe, 28. 

Gold, Bacon on the transmutation 
of, 229. 

Gold mines, 59. 

Golden age and eras, 19, 190. 

Governments, only two forms of, 
26, 335. See Republican. 

Gravitation, on the discovery of, 
81. Deductions from the law 
of, 228. On the resolution of, 
into intelligent mental action, 
263. Universal attraction of, 
310. 

Gray, Captain, piloted Vancouver 
into the Columbia River, 92. 

Great Britain, condition of the 
laboring classes in, 192. Ed- 
ucation in, 215. Steam-power 
of, 287. Work done in, by 
machinery, 288. Italy and 
Austria compared with France 
and, 242. See England. 

Great Western, 315. 

Greece, golden age of, 19. Con- 
nexion of liberty with arts and 
letters in, 22. Limit to the 
progress of the arts and litera- 
ture in, 36. Colonies of, 87, 
Progress of freedom in, 55. 
Religion of, 56. Ancient and 



406 



INDEX. 



modern civilization in, 193, 
196, 240. Limited diffusion 
of knowledge in, 196. Effect 
of anion and representative 
government on, 196. Effect 
of books on, 197. Fall of, 197. 
Exempt from a dark age, 198. 
Modern political restoration of, 
199, 202. Sympathy with, 
199. .Reception of the Bava- 
rian Prince, as King of, 201. 
Prospective progress of, 201. 

Greek language and literature, 
limited extent of, 87. See 
Greece. 

Greek monks, 198. 

Greek republics, 10. See Greece. 

Greek sophists, 225. 

Greeks, civilization of the, 8. 
Geometry of the, 128. Spin- 
ning-wheels among the, 289. 

Greene, Nathanael, General, 43, 
154. 

Greenlanders, 124. 

Grimke, Thomas Smith, Address 
by, at the celebration of the Sun- 
day-school jubilee, 146, note, 

Grotius, Hugo, compelled to use 
the Latin language,. 28. 

Guatimala, 71. 

Guatimozin, 61. 

Guicciardini, 25. 

Guilds, see Crafts. 

Gunpowder, 104, 233. 

H. 

Hallam, facts from, respecting 
human comfort in England, 
during the Middle Ages, 318. 

Hamilton, Alexander, General, 
43. 

Hanse towns, 326. 

Harbors, or houses of call, in 
Germany, 86. 

Hard workers, 116. See Work- 
ingmen. 

Harvard College, Phi Beta Kappa 
Address at, in 1824, 7. Found- 
ed, 163. Benefactions to, in 
England, 166 ; in New Eng- 
land, 172, 330. Bond between 



Yale and, 172, 211. On the 
origin of, 211. See Yale. 

Harvey's discovery of the circu- 
lation of the blood, 235. 

Heavenly bodies, on the inhabit- 
ants of the, 263. 

Heber, Reginald, 208. 

Henry IV., of France, a hard 
worker, 115. 

Henry VIII., reformation in Eng- 
land in the time of, 66. Di- 
vine right of, 218. 

Herschel, see Uranus. 

Herschel, Dr., number of stars 
seen by, 105. 

Herschels, 263. 

Hesiod, 261. 

Hieroglyphics, 55, noief 196« 
325. 

High priests, 56. 

Hindoos, civilization of the, 191. 

Hindostan, 66. American com- 
merce with, 327. 

Hispaniola, 61. 

Hitchcock, Professor, Report by, 
on geology, 231. 

Hobbes, on Harvey's discovery, 
235. 

Hobnail, 298. 

Holland,, motive for the depart- 
ure from, 57. Remarks on the 
banishment to, and residence 
in, 66. Condition of peasant- 
ry in, 192, • Means of educa- 
tion in, 215. 

Homer, 20, 22. Virgil translates, 
24. On attachment to, 65. 
Commentaries on, by Eusta- 
thius, 198. A wandering min- 
strel, 266. Sometimes nods, 

258. Influenced by his time, 

259. Images of, 261. Without 
spiritual illumination, 264. His 
vision of Ulysses' visit to the 
lower regions, 265. 

Hoosac, Fort, 250, Valley of 

the, 278. 
Hopkins, John, on Political Econ^ 

omy, 317, note. 
Horace, translates Alceeui, 24L 

Say» Homer nods, 258. 



INDEX. 



407 



Hottentot, remarks on the, 141. 

Housatonic, valley of the, 278. 

House of call, or entertainment, 
in Germany, 86. 

Houses, in England, up to the 
time of Elizabeth, 818. 

Human institutions, on imperfec- 
tion of, 106. 

Hungary, outrages committed in, 
on occasion of the cholera, 147. 

Huss, facts respecting, 236. 

Hutchinson, Thomas, cited on 
the settlers of New England, 

69. 

• 

I. 

Iberia, ancient civilization in, 
194. 

Idlers, exclusion of, from the 
workingmen's party, 120. 

Ignorance, evils of, 147. See 
Knowledge. 

Iliad, see Homer. 

Ilissus, 201. 

Immoral people, not of the work- 
ingmen's party, 1J8. 

Improvement, ages of, 24, 54,105, 
190. 

Independence, comprehensive- 
ness of, 52. 

Independent churches, 57. 

India, remarks on the trade to, 
91. On civilization in, 207. 
See British. 

Indian beads, 17S. 

Indian corn, 141. 

Indians, effect of steamboats on, 
141. Remarks on the, 192, 
304. French and, 275, 278, 
294. At Martha's Vmeyard, 
304. See Savage. 

Indi^, 129. 

Individual character, 8. 

Individual exertion, 164. 

Indolence, general condenmation 
of, 115, 116. 

Induction, 233. 

Inhabitants of the heavenly bod- 
ies, 263. 

Instrncters, on incompetent, 270. 
Cheap and poor, 271. 



Intellectual, see Literary. 
Interest, the whole doctrine of, 

820. 
Internal improvements in the 

United States, 90, 337. 
Inventions, on limits to, 105. 
Ionia, beset by barbarians, 50. 

Ancient civilization in, 194,196. 
Irving, Washington, 345. 
Italy, oil from, 129. Ancient 

civilization in, 194. Fugitives 

to, from Constantinople, 198. 

Threatened by the Turk, 202. 

Intellectual attainments in, 242. 



Jackson, Patrick T., 145, note, 

Java, coffee from, 309. 

Jephthah and his daughter, in 
marble, 156. 

Johnson, Samuel, 26. 

Johnson, Thomas, on the effect of 
the cotton-gin on lands in the 
South, 155. 

Jones, Sir William, 208. Learn- 
ed, without pride, and not too 
wise to pray, 243. 

Jonson, Ben, 25. 

Journeymen, oppression of, in 
France, 84 ; in Germany, 86. 

Jupiter, heathen deity, 346. 

Jupiter's satellites, 292. 

Juries, on European, 98. In Eng- 
land, 336. 

Jurymen, importance of educa- 
tion for, 339. 

Justice, on the administration of, 
133. 



Kenyon College, Speech at a 
meeting in behalf of, 162. 
Grounds of the claim of, 165. 

Kepler, 229. Small cited respec- 
ting, 229. Follies of, 230. At- 
tachment of, to the Copemican 
system, 238. 

Keplers, 187. 

King, Lord Chancellor, 77. 

Kirchtranf, treatment of Czaki at» 
148. 



408 



INDEX. 



Kites, experimento with, 82. 

Klncknow, Hungary, outrages in, 
during the cholera, 147. 

Knowledge, difficulty respecting, 
before the invention of printing, 
74. On the general diffusion 
of, 97, 98. On boasting of, 
105. Advantage of useful, to 
workingmen, 138. The pur- 
suit and attainment of, a source 
of happiness, 140 ; a means of 
usefulness, 140 ; of power, 140. 
Accumulation of, 187. Address 
on the benefits of a general dif- 
fusion of, 213. Institutions for 
the promotion of, 214. Diffu- 
sion of, favorable and neces- 
sary to liberty, 216, 223 ; to 
sound science, 224. Influence 
of, on morals, 242. The ally 
of natural and revealed relig- 
ion, 245. Definition of, 246. 
Relation of poetry to diffusion 
of, 259. See Education, Learn- 
ing, Literature, and Scien- 
tific. 

Knox, Henry, General, 43, 

L. 

Labor, value of, in America, 88, 
91. Amount of, done, 93. 
Man made for, 113. General 
commendation of, 115. Great 
men distinguished for, 115. On 
the value of, of a community, 
116. Daily value of, in Mas- 
sachusetts, 116. On division 
of, 121. 

Laboring classes, condition of, 
abroad, 192. See Working- 
men. 

Lafayette, facts respecting, 42. 
Welcome to, 43. 

Lancaster, Bell and, 189. 

Land, remarks on, in America, 
88, 94. Effect of the cotton-gin 
on the value of, in the South, 
165. 

Landed property in England, 
813. 

Languages, effects of multiplica- 



tion of, on the progress of ge- 
nius, 28. Elihu Burritt's at- 
tainments in the, 343. 

La Place, 127, 158, 263. Facts 
respecting, 187. 

Latent intellectual power, 242. 

Latin language, extensive adop- 
tion of the, 28. Called the lan- 
guage of Cicero, 29. On the 
use of, by Luther, 220. 

Lavoisier and Priestley, 189 

Law, the profession of, 133. 

Lawyers, requirements in, 130. 
Necessary, 133. Want of leis- 
ure timeJby, 153. 

Learning, in the Dark Ages, 175. 
The instrument of reform, 176. 
Remarks on symptoms of de- 
cline of, 225. 

Lather, clothes made of, 319. 

Legislators, 133. 

Leibnitz, 128. Rival pretensions 
of Newton and, 189. 

Leisure, on the want of, for study, 
152, 342, 345. 

Lenses, known to the ancients, 
79. 

Leo X., the age of, 105. 

Letters, invention of, and the 
consequences, 23, 131, 132, 
196, 283. Early commercial 
value of, 825. 

Lexington, Kentucky, 34. 

Lexington, Massachusetts, 330. 

Leyden, Independent Church at, 
67. 

Liberty, 26. Two principles re- 
specting, 58. Of England, 63. 
Greek martyrs of, 201. Diffu- 
sion of knowledge, favorable 
to, 216. Intimate connexion 
of, with civil society, 21^ En- 
joyment of, in monarchies, 216. 
Meaning of, 217. All govern- 
ments subversive of, founded 
on force, 217. Two ways of 
promoting, by the diffusion of 
knowledge, 217. Governments 
unfriendly to, founded on re- 
ligious imposture, 218. First 
principles of, 222 Intelligence 



IMDKX. 



409 



of the people neeegaarj to main- 
tain, 228. See Education, and 
Republican. 

Library of Thomas Dowse, 
157. 

Light, Newton's discoveries in, 
285. 

Lightning, discoveries respecting, 
bj Franklin, 81. 

Lightning rods, 185. 

Lincoln, Benjamin, General, 43. 

Lincoln, William, 845, note. 

Literary festivals, 174. 

Literary improvement, the cir- 
comstances favorable to, in 
America, 7 ; the new form of 
political society, 10 ; one gov- 
ernment, language, and char- 
acter, 26. See Education. 

Literary patronage, 11, 21, 23. 

Literature, meaning of, 18. In- 
fluence of liberty on, 221 Na- 
tionality of, 27. On written, 
197. 

Litiiography, 100. 

Locke, John, persecution of, 25. 
Alluded to, 64, 204. 

Locomotives, 99. See Steam. 

London, Tower of, 25. On the 
population of, 192, 193. 

Longinus, 268, note. 

Longitude, tables of, constructed, 
108. On ascertaining, by lu- 
nar observation, 240. 

Looking-glasses, 319. 

Lope do Vega, 28. 

Louisiana, 809. 

Lowell, 155. Effect of capital 
on, 817. 

Lowell, Francis C, 145, note, 

Lowell, John, bequest of, 882. 

Lucifer, 198. 

Lucretius translates Epicurus, 24. 

Lunar observation, 240. 

Luther, Martin, wrote in Latin, 
28,220. Favored by the Prin- 
ces in Germany, 56. An ex- 
ample of the efficacy of diffu- 
sion of knowledge, 218. Lord 
Bacon cited respecting, 219. 
Translated the Bible, 220. A 
35 



monk, begging bread, 220, 257. 
Remarks on, 286. 
Lycophron, 24. 

M. 

M'Adam roads, 100. 

Machiavelli, persecuted by the 
Medici, 25. On giant minds, 
257. 

Macedonia, 196, 

Mcllvaine, Bishop, 162. 

Mievins, a Roman poet, 225. 

Magna Gnecia, ancient civiliza- 
tion in, 194. 

Magnet, 285. See Mariner's. 

Magnetic needle, and magnetism, 
tee Mariner's. 

Magnus, Albertus, 215. 

Man, a working being, 118. 
Formed to work in society, 
121. Composed of body and 
soul, 121. The mind is, 150. 
The three teachers of, 189. 
Endowed with two preroga- 
tives, 281 ; physical power, 
281 ; moral power, 281. Sav- 
age and civilized, compared, 
284. A religious being, 846. 

Mankind, Address on the educa- 
tion of, 172, 175. In despo- 
tisms, divided into two classes, 
221. 

Mansfields, 188. 

Mantinea, 223. 

Manufactures, United States', 89. 
On capital in, 816, 317. 

Marathon, 201. 

Mariner's Compass,importance of 
the, 55, 185, 283, 285, 292, 
826. Supposed to be known 
to the Chinese, 101, 102. 

Maritime discoveries, 57, 326. 

Marshalls, 188. 

Martha's Vineyard, substance of 
remarks at, 299. Indians at, 
804. 

Martinelli, facts from, 25. 

Mary, Queen, t3rranny of, 66. 

Massachusetts Charitable Me- 
chanic Association, AddreM 
before the, w 1837, 280. 
E. E. 



410 



INDEX. 



MMMchntettf, Fort, 250, 277, 
279. 

Massachusetts State, occasion of 
the settlement of, 69. Value 
of daily work done in, 116. 
Elarly system of education in, 
163, 334. Representatives to 
Congress from Ohio and, 167. 
On contributions from, for a 
college in the West, 170. Col- 
leges in, 170. Hitchcock's Re- 
port on the Geology of, 231. 
On sustaining education in, 
270. Whale-fishery m, 315. 
Liberality of the merchants of, 
828. Constitution of, cited, 
835. See New England. 

Master-printers in France, facts 
as to, 84. 

Master-workmen, prohibitions as 
to, in Germany, 86. 

Massasoit, 3Q6. 

Matter, on the properties, laws, 
and uses o^ 104. On the ad- 
justment of mind and, 106. 
See Mind. 

Matthias, 245. 

Mayflower, voyage of the, 68. 

Mechanic Arts, Address on the 
importance of the, 280.- Econ- 
omy and accumulation of pow- 
er effected by the, 288, 290. 
Importance of single improve- 
ments in the, 288. On prog- 
ress in the, 289. Mind acting 
through, the vital principle of 
civilized society, 290, 291. In- 
tellectual and moral influence 
of the, 291 ; of writing, 291 ; 
of printing, 291 ; of the mari- 
ner's compass, 292 ; of the 
watch, 292. Object of the ex- 
hibition of the, 295. Progress 
of the, in modern times, 295. 
Inventions in the, lead to fur- 
ther improvements and inven- 
tions, 295. Effects of applica- 
tion of capital to the, on hu- 
man comfort, 318. See Arts. 

Mechanic Association, Address 
b«ibre the, in 1887, 280. 



Mechanical inventions lead to ge» 
ographical discoveries, 103. 

Mechanics, value of scientific 
knowledge to, 73. Encour- 
agements to, in America, to 
attain scientific knowledge, 84; 
their freedom from restraints, 
84, 87. Restrictions on, in 
France, 84 ; in England, Ger- 
many, and other countries, 85, 
86. Persecutions of, in Eng- 
land, to prevent their gaining 
a settlement, 87. The enlarg- 
ed field for action in America, 
a motive for their mental im- 
provement, 88. On the intel- 
ligence and morals of, 96. 
High rank assigned to, in the 
institutions of America, 97. 
See Workingmen. 

Mechanics* Institute, chief object 
of the, 78. 

Medicean age, 190. 

Medicean patronage, 198. 

Medici, Machiaveili persecuted 
by the, 25. 

Mediterranean Sea, ancient civil- 
zation on the shores of the, 198. 
Revival of commerce in the« 
326. 

Megatheria, 252. 

Menander, Terence translatesv 
24. 

Menecles, 194. 

Menippns, Cicero taught by, 194. 

Mercantile Library Association, 
Address before the, in 1838, 
807. Purpose of the, 807. 
Appeal to members of the, 831. 

Merchants, 130. Liberality of, 
328. On forming right con- 
ceptions of, 332. 

Mercury, 75. 

Metals, transmutation of, 74. 

Meteora, 198. 

Mexican confederation, 70. 

Mexico, 59, 61. Soil and sav- 
age population of, 60. Spoons 
from, 809. 

Microscopes, 184, 247, 284. 

Middle Ages, facts respecting 



INDEX. 



411 



England in the, 818. Reyival 
of commerce in the, 826. 

Military commanders, 181. 

Military despotiBms, 217. 

Milo, Cicero pupil of, 194. 

Milton, John, 25, 28. Sells his 
Paradise Lost, 25. Compelled 
to nse the Latin language, 29. 
Cited, 40, 260, 262. On neg- 
lecting, 65, 845. Allusion to, 
204. Description by, of the 
creation of animals, 280. Time 
of, 259. Images of, 261. In- 
fluence of astronomy on, 261, 
262. Spirituality of his poetry, 
266. Compared with Dante, 

266. His Paradise Lost, 266, 

267. See Paradise. 

Mind, on the adjustment of mat- 
ter and, 106. On the culture 
of the, 110. Reasons for the 
cultivation of the, by the pur- 
suit of useful knowledge, 140. 
Remarks on the, 149. On the 

' action of the, of one generation, 
upon the mind of the next, 182. 
Regularity of the laws of, 189. 
Retrogression of the cause of, 
in some countries, 198. Re- 
straint upon, in Europe, 242. 
Christianity revealed to the, 
245. Education to discipline 
and train the, 255. What 
is meant by improvement of 
the, 269. Waste of, 269. Cul- 
ture of the, compared to the 
culture of the earth, 269. Con- 
trol of, over matter, effected 
through the mechanic arts, 281. 
Acting through the useful arts, 
is the vital principle of society, 
290, 291. Education the nur- 
ture of the, 299. Treatment 
of the body and the, compared, 
801. See Education, and Soul. 

Minerva, Temple of, 87. 

Mmes, 59, 62. Effect of the 
American, on Europe, 102. 

Mmiflters, 182. See Clergy. 

MiMionaries and the claims of 
the West, 167. 



Mississippi River, appropriation 
for removing obstacles in the» 
70. Effect of the steam-boat on 
the, 108. 

Missouri, valley of the, 87, 88. 

Monarchies, enjoyment of liberty 
in, 216. 

Monks, Greek, 198. 

Moody, Paul, 145, rioter 155. 

Moral principle, connexion of the» 
yith the intellectual and phys- 
ical, 182. 

Morals , of party, 118. Influence 
of a general diffusion of knowl- 
edge on, 242. Of France, be- 
fore the Revolution there, 248. 
Importance of, to conmiunities* 
831. 

Morning's meal, 809. 

Mortality, hourly, 159. 

Mothers, appeal to, 179. 

Multiplication of languages, ef- 
fects of, on literature, 28. 
Remedies for, inefficacious, 80. 

Music, 185. 

Mystery, synonymous with trade* 
75. 

N. 

Nantucket, whale-fishery from, 
815. 

Napoleon, a hard worker, 115. 
Frederic's watch carried away 
by, 294. 

Napoleons, 50. 

National character, 8, 66. 

Natural religion, 245. 

Nature, on Uie study of, 280 ; in 
New England, 241. Temple 
of, 298. 

Navigation, in the time of the 
Pilgrims, 48. Before and after 
the adoption of the Constitu- 
tion, 89, 91. Aided by the 
chronometer, 108, 184. See 
Commerce. 

Navigation Act, the British, 827. 

Needle, magnetic, importance of 
the, 55, 101, 185, 288, 292, 
826. Columbus guided by the» 
102, 285, 826. 



412 



INDEX. 



Ntkkbon, u teachers, 189. 

Netherlandi, 222. 

Newcomb's miniatore iteam-en- 
gine, 287. 

New England, Fint Settlement 
of, 44. Remarks on, at the 
landing of the Pilgrims, 59. 
Aboriginal population of, 60. 
Contrasted with Spanish Amer- 
ica, 60. Connexion of its cli- 
mate and soil with its freedom, 
61. System of education, 163, 
834. Claims of the West on, 
166. Political influence of, 
168. Colleges in, 211, 214. 
Study of Nature, in, 241. Ef- 
feet of commerce on the colo- 
nization of, 326. See Pilgrims. 

New Haven, Phi Beta Kappa 
Address at, 172. Burial place 
of Eli Whitney, 188. See Yale, 

New Haven, Colony of, contribu- 
tions by, to Harvard College, 
178. 

Newspapers, works of Albertus 
Magnus compared with, 215. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, 64. Facts 
respecting him, and his discov- 
eries, 80, 127, 135, 158, 204. 
A hard worker, 115. Indebted 
to geometry and algebra, 128. 
Rival pretensions of Leibnitz 
and, 189. Kepler's laws said 
to be the foundations of the 
theory of, 229. Discoveries in 
light, by, 235. Citation from, 
288, 268. 

Newtonian philosophy, see Gravi- 
tation. 

Newtons, 187. 

New York, Fulton affected by the 
laws of, 107. 

New Zealanders, 128. On edu- 
cating, 186. 

Niger, mystery of the, solved, 
208. 

Nile, 49. Monuments of an im- 
proved age, on the, 54. Civil- 
ization on the, 194, 197 

Ninuf , 22. 

Norman invasion, treatment of 



Saxon peaiantry after the, 818. 
Northumberland, Dukes of, 818. 
Novelty, passion for, 800. 

O. 

Oak, contemplation of the, 110. 

Objectglass of the telescope, 126. 

Office, importance of education 
for, 341. 

Officers of the American Revolu- 
tion, 158. 

Ohio, Speech at a meeting on 
behalf of Kenyon College, in, 
162. Population, situation, and 
soil of, 164. Claims oi, on 
New England, 165. Represen- 
tatives from Massachusetts and, 
to Congress, 167. 

Olive oil, 129. 

Oracle at Delphi, 846. 

Orion, constellation of, 268. 

Orphan children, Girard's be- 
quest for, 328. 

Ossian, popularity of, SO. 

Otho, King of Greece alluded to, 
201. 

Otis, James, anecdote of, 227. 

Ottoman empire, Turks and Ray- 
as in the, 313. 

Ottoman power, dislodged from 
Europe, 202. Surrounded by 
the Russian, 202. 

Otway, death of, 26. 

Ovando, 61. 

Oxford University, Locke expel- 
led from, 25. 

P. 

Paintmg, the talent for, 129. 

Paper, 131. 

Paradise Lost, sold, 25. Cited, 
260. Struggle in, between the 
old and new philosophy, 261. 
Superiority of, 267. On a coun- 
terpart to, 267. See Milton. 

Paris, combination among jour- 
neymen printers in, 84. Cor- 
ruption of, before the Revolu- 
tion, 248. 

Parliament, rights of America d»* 
fended in, 64. 



INDEX. 



413 



Parnassni, 201 

Parthenon, 28. 

Parties, political, 117, 118. 

Patents and patent officea ihow 
the want and the possession of 
scientific knowledge, 83. 

Patience, 104. 

Patmos, 198. 

Patronage, literary, 11^ 21, 23. 
Medicean, 198. 

Pearls, 69. 

Peasantry of Europe, 192. See 
Saxon. 

Penn, Mr., presents by, to Penn- 
sylvania, 82. 

Periclean age, 24, 105, 190. 

Pericles, age of improvement in 
the time of, 105. Martyr of 
liberty, 201. 

Perpetual motion, 84. 

Persians, on the civilization of 
the, 192. 

Pern, 59, 61, 809, 881. 

Petrarch, 25, 198. 

Phi Beta Kappa Oration, at Cam- 
bridge, in 1824, 7. At New 
Haven, in 1833, 172. 

Philip the Fair, 56. 

Philip, King, 806. 

Philo the Atheniah,Cicero*s teach- 
er, 194. 

Philosophers, remarks on, before 
the invention of the art of print- 
ing, 74. Necessary connexion 
of mind and body in, 124, 125. 
French, 248. 

Philosophy of Bacon, 238. 

Phocion, 23. Martjrr of liberty, 
201. 

Phoenicians, invented letters, 196. 
Opposition to Alexander by the, 
325. 

Pilgrims, 41. First Settlement 
of New England by the, 44. 
Peculiarity of their enterprise, 
46. Their enterprise favored, 
by remoteness, 48 ; by the 
time of commencing their set- 
tlements, 54, 57 ; by the nature 
of the country, 59 ; by their 
fiaeage, 62 ; by their adversi- 
35* 



ty, 65. In Holland, 66. Pu- 
rified and sifled, 66, Voyage 
and trials of the, 67. Apos- 
trophe to the,71 . See Puritans. 

Pindar, 24. 

Pitt, William, advocated the 
rights of America, 64. On 
Franklin, 154. 

Pizarro, 61. 

Planets, supposed to be animals* 
230. Inhabitants of, 268. 

Plants, fossil, in Bohemia, 252. 

Plate of Mr. Fermor, 319. 

Plato, the philosophy of, 28. 
Cicero almost translates, 24. 

Platos, 198. 

Pliny, on the Egyptian reed, 181. 

Plutarchs, 198. 

Plymouth, Oration delivered at, in 
1824, 44. Occasion of the set 
tlement at, 57. Prospect at 
the settlement of, 68. Appro- 
priation for repairing the beach 
of, 70. Contributions by the 
Colony of, to Harvard College, 
173. 

Poetry, on the different forms of, 
in different ages, 259. Effect 
of discoveries in astronomy on, 
260. 

Poets, requisites in, 130. 

Poisoning of wells, in Hungary, 
147. 

Political parties, 117. Morals of, 
118. 

Political revolutions, 177. 

Politicalslavery, 221. See Des- 
potic, and Liberty. 

Politics, ancient religions connect- 
ed with, 56. 

Polynesia, on the inhabitants of, 
192. 

Popery, attacked by Philip the 
Fair, 66. 

Popular errors, persons subjected 
to, 229, 230. See Republican. 

Population, increase of, in the 
United States, 33, 35, 103, 
181. March of, westward, 36, 
37. Increase of, in Ohio and 
Massachusetts, 164. Of the 



414 



IMBEX. 



e»191. Of different coun- 
tries, 191. 

Portugal, pemiantry in, 192. 

Portugneie settlements, 68. 

Potash, 137. 

Power-loom, Cartwright's, 129, 
14S. Application of the, in the 
United states, 145, note. 

Practical life, education for, 74. 

Practical Navigator, Bowditch's, 
127, 157, 184. 

Pragoe, fossil plants near, 252. 

Pratt, Benjamin,Chief Justice, 77 

Press, an auxiliary to education, 
215. See Printing. 

Priestley and Lavoisier, 189. 

Principle, on adherence to, S31. 

Printers, oppression of, in France, 
84. 

Printing, importance of the inven- 
tion of, 55. Approach to, by 
the ancients, 80. Known to 
the Chinese, 101. Compared 
with a musical box, 104. 
Trades connected with, 131. 
Considered as an instrument of 
civilization, 195, 197, 202. On 
the influence of, 291. Little 
improvement in, 296. See 
Knowledge. 

Printing-press, 131. 

Prisons, origin of the reform in, 
211. 

Producers and accumulators, on 
a comparison of, 308. 

Production, accumulation and, 
308. See Accumulation. 

Products, exchange of, 309. 

Professional men want time for 
study, 152. 

Property, discussion of the topic 
of, 310. EflTects of protection 
and non-protection of, 310. In 
England, 313. See Accumula- 
tion, Capital, and Wealth. 

Protective policy, 337. 

Protestant Reformation, 56. 

Provincial, use of the word, 12. 

Prussia, education in, 337. 

Ptolemaic system, 237, 238, 262. 

Public sentiment, 96. 



Punctuality, 298. 

Pupil, education depends on the^ 
188. 

Puritans, origin of the, 56*. Their 
return to England, and opposi- 
tion to the Church, 56, 57. Ad- 
here to the Genevan Church, 
57. See Pilgrims. 

Pyramids, 22. 

Pythagoras, conception of the 
Copemican system by, 125. 

Pythagorases, 187. 



Questions of great interest re- 
cently agitated, 337. 

R. 

Racine, 26, 28. 

Raikes, Robert, 146, note. 

Rail-roads in the United States, 
90. 

Rainbow, 285. 

Raphael, 129. 

Rayas, 313. 

Reading, on time for, 152, 842» 
345. 

Reform, difficult in Europe, 58. 
Political, and increased inter- 
est in popular education, 336. 

Reformation, The, aided by trans- 
lations, 29. Remarks on it, 

55. Kindled the zeal of the 
Pilgrims, 55. The Catholic, 

56. The Protestant, in Ger- 
many, 56. In England, 56. 
Political not less than religious, 
218. Doctrine of, in the writ- 
ings of Wiclif, 236. 

Religion, Sir Humphrey Davy 
cited on, 137. Knowledge the 
ally of natural and revealed, 
245. Importance of education 
in, 346. See Christianity. 

Religions of Greece and Rome, 
56. 

Religions imposture, governments 
founded on, 218. 

Representative government, as an 
instrument of civilization, 195» 



INDEX. 



415 



RepresentatiTe systein, the first, 
11. 

Republican governments, of the 
United States, promotive of 
intellectual improvement, 10. 
Objections to, on the score of 
patronage, 11, 21 ; on excite- 
ment in a political direction, 
considered, 14. Necessity of 
intelligence in, 228. Impor- 
tance of common-school edu- 
cation in, 834 ; in connexion 
with the duty, of elective fran- 
chise, 887 ; of bearing arms, 
389 ; of acting as jury-men, 
889 ; of official trusts, 841. 
See Education, and Literary. 

Revolutions, political, 177. See 
American, and French. 

Richman, Professor, killed, 82. 

Robinson, John, father of the In- 
dependent churches, 57. 

Roman emperors, deified, 218. 

Roman republics, 10. 

Romans, civilization of the, 8. 
Spinning-wheels among the, 
289. 

Rome, the Augustan age of, 24 ; 
letters and arts of, afterwards, 
24. Religion of, 56. Allusion 
to, 196. Circumstances of the 
greatest minds of, 256. Nour- 
ished by Sicily, Turkey, and 
Africa, 811. 

Rothschild, Baron, 312. 

Rozbury, 829. 

Rnmford, Count, 186, 155. 

Russia, on the nomadic races in, 
192. The Ottoman empire en- 
circled by, 202. Improvement 
in, in the eighteenth century, 
202. May be the means of re- 
generating Asia, 202. Alliance 
of, solicited, 208. 

S. 
Saddle Mountain, 271. 
Safety lamp, 100, 187. 
St. Peter's church, dimensions of 

the dome of, 282. 
8t Petersburg, on the people of. 



192. Tablecloths from, 809. 

Sandwich Islands, civilization and 
prospects in the, 206. 

Saratoga, 48. 

Satellites of Jupiter, 292. 

Saturn, the planet, 247. 

Savage, description of the, 188, 
186. Superiority of, over civ- 
ilized man, 284. Benefited by 
the arts, 285. Difference be- 
tween the civilized and the, 
285 ; as to food, 285 ; as to 
clothing, 286. See Indians. 

Saxon peasantry, treatment of 
the, 818. 

Schiller, 28. His Song of the 
Bell, 295, note. 

Scholars, claims of country on, 
39, 42. 

School Libraries, 270. 

Schoolmen, 219. 

Schools, see Common Schools. 

Science, modesty of true, 105. 
Dependence oi, on civilized so- 
ciety, 182. Difiusion of knowl- 
edge favorable to sound, 224. 
Among men who are not au- 
thors, 239. 

Scientific knowledge. Essay on 
the importance of, to practical 
men, and on encouragements 
to its pursuit, 78. Evils for 
want of, 74. Taught too ex- 
clusively in colleges, 75. Ar- 
gument against, considered, 
76. 

Scipios, high priests, 56. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 138. To be 
ranked as a workingman, 184. 
Value of his writings, 184. 

Selden writes in the Tower of 
London, 25. 

Seneca, 41. 

Separation of America from Eu- 
rope, 49, 52. 

Sesostris, 22. 

Shakspeare, William, facts re- 
specting, and allusions to, 25, 
28, 65, 128, 151, 204, 845 
Want of literary advantages 
by, 257,258. CHed, 260. 



416 



iin>EX. 



Slieffield, S7& Ma>bl« qurriet 
at, 282. 

Ships, withoQt decki, 48. 

Bicilj, ancient civilization in, 194. 
Effects of insecurity of property 
in, 811. 

Sidereal year, 293» note. 

Sidney's Discoorsea on Goveni- 
ment, (acts from Martiiielli cit- 
ed from, 25. 

Sight, tee Vision. 

Silver mines, 59, 

Silver-plate of Mr. Fermor, 819. 

Simnltaneons discoveries, 189. 

Skipton castle, 819. 

Small, on Kepler, 229. 

Smith, Joe, 245. 

Smith, John, Captain, 59. 

Society, the most perfect, 121. 
Dependence of science on, 182. 
Artificial stracture of, 198. 

Socrates, martyr of liberty, 201. 
A poor, barefooted soldier, 
256. 

Soil, European right to American, 
noticed, 60. Of New England, 
61. 

Solon, martyr of liberty, 201. 

Soljrman the Magnificent, 218. 

Sophists, Grecian, 225. 

Sophocles, 24. 

Soul, what is the, 122. Intimate 
connexion of, with the body, 
122, 124 ; consequence of their 
union, 123. Remarks on the, 
135. Becomes great by con- 
templating great objects, 261. 
See Mind. 

South Shore, whale-fishery from 
the, 815. 

Southern States, cotton in the, 
89. Benefit of the cotton-gin 
to the, 100, 155. 

Spain, peasantry in, 192. 

Spanish settlements, 61, 68. 

Spartacus, 217. 

Speech, remarks on, 300. 

Spence, a Scotch lecturer on elec- 
tricity, 81. Apparatus of, pur- 
chased by Franklin, 82. 

Spenser's Faerie Queene, 260. 



Spinning machinery, work d<NM 
by, in Great Britain, 288. 

Stael, Madame de, remark by» 
30. 

Staining glass, art of, lost, 75. 

Standish, Miles, 69. 

Stark, John, victorious at Ben- 
nington, 250. 

Stars, the number of, 105, 262. 
Inhabitants of, 263. 

Sutd and Church, 56. 

Statesmen of the American Rev- 
olution, 158. 

Statuary, requisites for, 129. 

Steam, on the application of, 100, 
107, 233. 

Steam-boats, by Fulton, 107 ; the 
consequences, 108. Effects of, 
on the Indians, 141. 

Steam-engine, 104. Importance 
of the, 287. Labor economiz- 
ed by the, 287, 288. New- 
comb's miniature model of the, 
287. Improved by Watt, 290. 
On further improvements in 
the, 297. 

Steam navigation, in the United 
States, 89. Across the Atlan- 
tic, 315. 

Stereotjrpe printing, 100. 

Stock, Thomas, 146, note. 

Stock-in-trade, in the Middle 
Ages, 319. 

Stockbridge, 275. ^ieskau's 
watch at, 294. 

Study, on time for, 152, 842, 
845. 

Sunday Schools, 146. 

Sunderland, Lord, 25. 

Superficial learning, 225. 

Surgeons, requbites in, 130. 

Sweden, means of education in, 
215. 

Swina, fossil plants at, 252. 

Swiss cantons, 222. 

Syria, 167. Ancient civilization 
in, 194. Ruin of, 198. 

T. 

Table, articles on the, at a 
ing's meal, 309. 



nn>KX« 



417 



Tacitna, cited, 24. 

Tanner's stock-in-trade, in the 
Middle Ages, 319. 

Tartars, 50. On the civilization 
of the, 192. 

Tartarj, Ameiican trade in, 
52. 

Tassp, 25, 28, 257. 

Taunton, Remarks at, on the im- 
portance of education in a re- 
public, 834. 

Teachers, the three human, 189. 
See Instmcters. 

Telescopes, 79, 103, 111, 184, 
261, 262, 284. Obligations of 
astronomy to, 125. Trades em- 
ployed in making, 126. View 
through, 247. 

Temperance reform, origin of the, 
211. ' 

Temple of Nature, 298. 

Temples, «f Thebes, 22. Of 
Ei^'^pt, destroyed, 50. 

Terence translates Menander, 
24. 

Thebes, temples of, 22. 

ThermopylflB, 201. 

Theseum, 28. 

Thought, on the capacity of im- 
parting, 282. 

Thrace, the abode of barbarism, 
37. 

Thule, 41. 

Time, on the want of, for study, 
152, 342, 345. Influence of 
instruments for the measure- 
ment of, 292. 

Timepieces, influence of, 292. 

Tisbury, substance of remarks at, 
299. 

Titian, 129. 

Torricelli discovers the principle 
of atmospheric pressure, 127. 

Tower of London, 25. 

Tracks in sandstone, on Connec- 
ticut River, 252. 

Trade, extent of American, 52. 
Mystery synonymous with, 75. 
See Commerce. 

Trades, employed, in making the 
telescope, 126 ; in the cotton 



manufacture, 128 ; in the i 

ufacture of books, 181. 
Tiajan, Arch of, 24. 
Translations, remarks on, 80. 
Transmutation of metala« 74. 
Truth, on the eUcitation of, 228 

Inspiration of, 259, 262. 
Tupac Amaru, 217. 
Turkey, effects of insecurity of 

property in, 311. 
Turkish governments, oppression 

of, 199. See Ottoman, and 

Russia. 
Turks, condition of the, 192. 

Rayas and, 318. 
Tyre, Carthage the daughter of, 

325. 
Tyrlans, opposition to Alexander 

by the, 825. 

U. 

Ulysses, visit of, to the lower re- 
gions, 265. 

Union, importance of National, 
52. Of the States of Greece, 
considered, 196. Of the Uni- 
ted States, 209. 

United States, prospective view 
of the, 83. Rapid growth of 
the, 33. Encouragement to 
mechanics in, to obtain scien- 
tific knowledge, 84, 87, 88. 
Importance of the task of ed- 
ucation in the, 181. Prosper 
tive prosperity of the, 181. On 
educating the successive ^De- 
ration in the, 181, 188. Rela- 
tion of the, to the work of gen- 
eral education, 209. On the 
union of the, 209. Facts as to 
the growth of the, 210. Col- 
leges and means of education 
in, 214. Set America, Educa- 
tion, Meclumics, and Republi- 
can. 

Universe, ancient conceptions of 
the, 260. 

Unpolite, signification of, 12. 

Uranus, comets within the orbit 
of, 262. 

UseAil arts, eee Mechanic arts. 



418 



IMBBX. 



Uiefiil knowledge, fe« Knowl- 
edge. 



Vaceinelion, 104. 

Vaneonver, BritiBh Admiral, pi- 
loted bj Captain Gray, 92. 

Vega, Lope de, 28. 

Ventriloqnism, remark on, 800. 

Venus, phases of, obsenreid, 288, 
292. 

Vesper bell, Dante's, 266. 

Vessel, illastrative of the effects 
of intellectual action, 184. 

Vienna, people of, 192. Threat- 
ened hj the Turk, 202. 

ViUiers, 67. 

Virgil, translates Homer, 24. Al- 
lusion to, 66. Time of, 269. 
Images of, 261. His spiritual 
world, 266. 

Virginia, effect of the settlement 
of New England on, 69. 

Vision, remanu on, 800. 

Voting, tee Elective. 

W. 

Wahham, 166. 

Wampum, 178. 

Wanderings of young mechanics 
id Germany, 86. 

Want of time to improve the 
mind, 162, 842, 846. 

Wars, servile and peasants', 217. 

Washington, George, 48. A hard 
worker, 116. Greene the friend 
of, 166. Allusion to, 204. 

Watch, 148. Influence of the, 
292. Of Dieskau, 294. Of 
Frederic the Great, 294. The 
portable, introduced into Great 
Britain, 294. 

Water-power in America, 94. 

Waters, circuit of the, 206. 

Watt, James, on the conception 
of separate condensation, 291. 

Wealth, not necessary to emin- 
ence, 160, 164. In Europe, 
818. Source of, in America, 
818. A counterpoise to the 
feudal system, 826. Superi- 



ority of morality to, 881. 8e§ 
Capital, and Property. 

Websters, 188. 

Wells, said to be poisoned, 147. 

West, Education in the, 162. Re- 
lation and obligations of New 
Englanders to the, 166. Polit- 
ical influence of the, 168. On 
the prosperity and advantages 
of the, 270. See Lexington, 
and Population. 

West, Benjamin, 166. 

West bidies, soil and aboriginal 
population of the, 60. 

Westminster Abbey, degradation 
in the vicinity of, 196. 

Whale-fishery, remarks on the, 
816. 

Wheat, 141. 

Whitney, Eli, cotton-gin by, 89, 
129, 166, 188, note. A ma- 
chinist, 166. Death and burial- 
place of, 188. 

Wbittemore's carding-machines, 
129, 166. 

Wiclif, 236. 

Widows, not sacrificed on funeral 
pUes in India, 208. 

Wilkie, 129. 

Williams, Ephraim, Colonel, fiicts 
respecting, 276. 

Williams College, Address there, 
m 1887, 249. Historical rec- 
ollections there, 260. Notice 
of the foundation and founder 
of, 276. 

Williamstown, Massachusetts, 
remarks on, 276. 

Winslow, Edward, 69. 

Winter evenings, on the improve- 
ment of, 163, 842. 

Winthrop, John, settlement of 
Charlestown by, and removal 
to Boston, 829. 

Witness, anecdote respecting, 
840. 

Work, tee Labor. 

Workingmen, advantage of use- 
ful knowledge to, 188. 8m 
Hard Workers, and Meehan- 

• ics. 



XNBBX. 



419 



Workingmen's partj. Lecture on 
the, 113. Founded in the prin- 
ciples of our nature, 117. Gen- 
eral object of the, 118. Who 
belong to the, 118. Exclnsion 
from the, of the immoral and 
dishonest, 118 ; of idlers, 120. 
Relation of bnsybodies to the, 
120. Persons included in the, 
121. 

Worms, the food of savages, 
184. 

Writing, on the invention of, 288. 
See Letters. 

Written literature, 197. 

Wyses, 836. 



Xeaocles, Cicero taught by, 194. 



Y. 

Yale College, 166. Phi Beta 
Kappa Address at, 172. Bond 
between Harvard and, 172, 
211. Four first Presid^nU of, 
graduates of Harvard, 178. 
Origin of, 211. 

Yorktown, 48. 

Young, appeal to the, respecting 
knowledge, 159. 

Young, Dr., 56, note. Rival pre- 
tensions of ChampoUion and, 
189. 

Young's Night Thoughts,^ 80. 

Z. 

Zemplin and Zips, Hungary, out- 
rages in, during the cholera, 
147. 



THE ENB. 



J3 



J|« 



?. 



i 



RETURN EDUCATION-PSYCHOLOGY LIBRARY 

TO— » 2600 Tolmon Holl 642-4209 



LOAN PERIOD 1 



^L 



QUARTER LOAN 



NO TELEI'SONE RENEWALS 



ALL BOOKS AAWTBE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 

2- hour books must be renewed in person 

Jtetutyrto (J£aJ$jK?.raJs<daidt.bafmi^ted^ 

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW 



QUARTFRIOAN 



DUEt^ 



APR 9 



^OBJECTTfr 



R1£AU^ 



UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY 
FORM NO. DDIO, 5m, 3/80 BERKELEY, CA 94720 



®» 






YB 34863 



cJ^c//// iM^y^ * 





1