A DISCOURSE ON THE IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF POLITICAL SCIENCE, AS A BRANCH OF ACADEMIC EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES. Read before the Literary Societies of Randolph-Macon College, June 16, 1840. BY BEVERLEY TUCKER, Professor of Law and the Philosophy of Government in the University of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Virginia. RICHMOND: PRINTED BY PETER D. BERNARD. 1840. Randolph-Macon College, Va., June 16th, 1840. Dear Sir: As a Committee of the Franklin Literary Society, we beg' leave to tender to you its warmest and most sincere thanks for the able and truly eloquent Address which you have just delivered before the two Literary Societies of this Institution; and also to request a copy of the same for publication. By complying with this request, you will increase the obli¬ gations which we already owe for the eminent services so kindly rendered us: With the best wishes of the Society, and ourselves individually, for your future success and welfare, We remain, dear sir, Yours, most respectfully, JAS. F. DOWDELL, ) 4 JAS. L. PIERCE, y Committee, m DAVID CLOPTON, ) To Judge Beverley TuckejS Randolph-Macon College, June 17, 1840. Gentlemen: It gives me pleasure to comply with the very flattering request of the Societies represented byyou. In doing this, permit me to acknowledge the sense of my own unworthiness of their compliment, and yet more of the handsome terms in which you have so kindly conveyed it. To have been permitted to aid in your ministrations at the altar erected here in honor of my brother, and his distinguished and wise and virtuous friend Mr. Macon, and to inscribe one line on the tablet placed to their memory, has afforded me a pleasure which none but myself can appreciate. For this pleasure I am gratefully your debtor. In conclusion, I beg you to accept my acknowledgments for my kind and courteous reception at this once familiar spot, where now all seems strange to me, and for those attentions which have made my short sojourn among you so delightful. I am, gentlemen, With sincere regard, Your obd't serv't, B. TUCKER. To Messrs. Jas. F. Dowdell, Jas. L. Pierce, > and David Clopton, Committee, fyc. $ DISCOURSE. I beg you to believe, gentlemen, that I do not use the language of empty compliment, when I avow the pleasure with which I appear before you. In saying this I do not merely intend to ex¬ press my grateful sense of the honor you have done me. You need not be told that I know how to prize a compliment which assigns me a place among the wise, the learned, the eloquent and distinguished men, who have heretofore performed the task to which I am now called. But I have a source of pleasure in pre¬ senting myself before 3rou, which is all my own:—a higher, ho¬ lier, and a purer, because a sadder source. It is impossible to look on the changes which every day makes in all we see; on the march of intellect, the discoveries of science, the inventions of art, the development of resources not suspected, and the employment of agents not before known to exist, without a wish to look forward to the future, and to antici¬ pate the results of some yet hidden wonder, with which we shall make our children familiar. We find ourselves speculating on the thoughts with which the men of the last century would look upon the altered state of things in every part of the world, where science and civilization shed their light, and then we think that we too shall presently go down to the tomb, and sleep in uncon¬ scious ignorance of other changes and new discoveries, in which so much that now interests us shall be swept away and forgotten. The name of Franklin was rendered famous by his discoveries in electricity; but the instruments of his science were the toys of our childhood. The cloud-cleaving bolt of the thunderer be. came a plaything, and now has almost lost its interest, in the dis- 6 covery of the marvellous powers of a kindred agent, in which we almost fancy that we detect the mystery of life itself. How have the resources of the world, even in our own time, been multi¬ plied bjr steam! But what is steam compared with the unwea¬ ried, spontaneous, and self renewing power, which now the mag¬ net promises to exert in the service of man 1 And who shall as¬ sign bounds to the researches of the human mind ; and who shall estimate the resources now locked up in the great store-house of nature % We know that the race may be indefinitely multiplied ; and we know the power of mind acting on mind, and developing all the faculties, by that reciprocation of thought which makes the knowledge and power of all, the knowledge and power of each. See what has been achieved! The lightning of heaven has been brought down to earth, and made to do the work of a harmless drudge; and the cold bosom of the stream has been kindled into flame, and made the source of light and heat. Is there no alchemy by which stones shall be made bread, and the means of subsistence multiplied in proportion to the progressive increase of the human race ? None can say that this may not be so. None can say that there is a mystery in physical science which man shall not successfully explore, nor an agent in nature so unmanageable, nor a substance so inert that it shall not be¬ come the docile and energetic servant of his will. What destiny awaits him who can tell ? He was made a little lower than the angels. Is he, even here on earth, to renounce this subordination, and take an equal place by the side of these winged ministers of their maker's pleasure 1 Who can think of these things, and not sadden at the thought that all this may be so, but not for him ? He may catch the en¬ thusiasm of science, and eagerly watch the progress of those in¬ vestigations which promise such glorious discoveries; but in the- moment when anticipations are most cheering, and hope is brightest, there is a voice that whispers, " Gaze on, while yet thy gladdened eye may see: A morrow conies, when they are not for thee; But creeping things shall revel in their spoil. And fit thy clay tq fertilize the soil." 7 So true it is, "As a flower of the field man flourisheth, and the wind passeth over it and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." What then % Shall we murmur that such is to be our fate, when in other moods we exult in our high destiny, and boast ourselves of the advantages which so eminently distinguish this generation from all that have gone before it % And is there not besides a graver, and perhaps a sager frame of mind, in which we doubt whether this sort of distinction is indeed a thing to rejoice in ? In the midst of this age of wonders, and in the feverish excitement of this hurried march of mind, does not a sigh at times escape us, when we think of the untaught wisdom, the simple virtues, and the quiet enjoyments of those who al¬ ready sleep in the tomb that is opening to receive us % Man shall multiply till the earth swarms with the race. Will the individual man be happier then than now 1 He shall find new sources of enjoyment, till all of splendor and luxury and de¬ light that art can now supply shall seem mean, insipid and tame. Will his pleasures be sweeter, his sleep calmer, his sum of en¬ joyment greater, and his measure of suffering less than now 1 He shall mount up on the wings of science, and the stars shall teach him their mysteries: he shall plunge into the depths of ocean, and draw from thence the secrets of the abyss; and won¬ der shall cease, and mystery shall be no more. Will he be deeper read in that wisdom which gives peace to the soul, and guides it safely amid the temptations which beset prosperity, and in a mo¬ ment plunge it in stains " eternity shall not efface V And he who sleeps in that peace which God denies not to the humblest crea¬ ture, who, knowing nothing else, knows himself as he is, and his maker as his redeemer, and meekly submits to his dispensations, and confidingly rejoices in his promises:—should such a one be awakened from the tomb, to witness the glories of that intellec¬ tual millenium, which the votaries of science anticipate, would he find cause to regret that his Creator had been pleased to ap¬ point his time on earth in a day of comparative darkness and ig¬ norance % Would he not find the truth of that which has been true since the days of Solomon ? There was then nothing new 8 under the sun; nor is there now; nor will there ever be: for all that was, and is, and shall be,—all is vanity: all is vanity and vexation of spirit. Gentlemen—twenty-five years ago, I stood among the inhabi¬ tants of this place, a busy actor in the busy scenes of that day. I was then in the flush of vigorous and aspiring manhood. The frost of age has now settled on my head, and ambition is tarned, and passion is quelled; and the long vista of hope, which then extended before me, has been traversed; and the tomb, which ter¬ minates it, (then unseen in the distance,) now near at hand, dis¬ plays its open portals fearfully distinct. My eye, turn where it might, then rested on familiar faces:—and friends, never to be forgotten, cheered me in my struggles, consoled me in defeat and triumphed with me in success. " There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother," and such a one I had.* Where is he now? Where are they all; the reckless and the joyous, the kind, the good, the generous, the brave—where are they % Knock at the gates of death, and there demand them, and the answer shall be given, when the archangel's trump shall echo througli the hollow recesses, and burst the marble jaws of the tomb. Ml in¬ deed are not gone. Some few, like myself, " Some few, all weak and withered of their force, Rest on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks." Will you pardon, gentlemen, this allusion to the past ? Or will you deny all sympathy to one, who, in a scene like this, and at a moment when the throb of hope beats strongest in your hearts, and when all is eager anticipation of the spirit-stirring strifes and triumphs of opening life, would turn your thoughts to the for- * The friend here alluded to was John H. Speed, Esq., of Boydton; a gentleman of the bar, who died at a very early age, but not without having first established a reputation for talent, spirit, integrity and energy, which insured him the respect of all who knew him. All these qualities the grave covers; but in addition to these he had secured to himself that best of blessings, of which the full fruition is reserved for the world beyond the tomb. 9 gotten dead % It is perhaps unreasonable: but in such a scene it is natural for me, when "I see around me the wide field revive, With fruits, and fertile promise, and the spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, To turn from all she brings to those she cannot bring." Yet think me not, I pray you, insensible or indifferent to the value of other changes which time has wrought in this place. I should indeed deserve to be stigmatised as the " querulus et diffi- cilis laudator temporis acti," could I forbear to congratulate you on those changes, and especially on the moral and intellectual im¬ provement, which are no where, perhaps, so striking and encou¬ raging as at this spot. It is the contemplation of this improve¬ ment which has prompted the thoughts I have uttered, and sug¬ gested the theme to which I propose to invite jrnur attention. It is impossible to witness the advance of science and the pro¬ gress of society in all the arts of life, without a saddening thought of that primeval curse, which, like the sword of the cherub, still flames before the gate of that only paradise of the human heart, a state of sinless purity. There may be, and I believe there is, no assignable limit to the intellectual attainments and physical triumphs of man. God has given him dominion over the earth, and all that it contains, and to conquer and possess it, like the Israelites of old, is his appointed task and his manifest destiny. God has given him " dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth on the earth," and all these things are subject to him. The might of the elephant, and the speed of the horse, and the talons of the falcon, and the wings of the dove, are his instruments, and the serpent's fang is disarmed of its venom, and the fierceness of the tiger crouches to his mastery. In all the earth one thing, and one alone, rebels against him, and defies him. It is his own heart. The stain of far-descended ancestral sin is upon it, and it is not, and it cannot be subject to that will which should be his. " Deceitful above all things, who can know it V Alas! how vain the hope that the discoveries of science, and all the tri- 2 10 umphs of art, will do more than gild his wretchedness, and make his misery conspicuous in hopeless splendor, while he heeds not the voice of him, who has threatened to " curse his blessings," if he does not receive them as his maker's gifts, and learn to sub¬ due his passions and his appetites to his maker's will! What study then so important as the study of himself 1 What knowledge so precious as the knowledge of that mystery of ini¬ quity in his own heart, which ever lurks like a serpent amid the flowers with which he bedecks his path: which can turn honey to gall, and light to darkness, and blessings to curses 1 It is upon this knowledge that the value of all other knowledge depends. All other light without this is darkness,—" darkness visible," but serving " to discover sights of wo." " The proper study of mankind is man." To all men, in all conditions, self-knowledge and self-control are indispensable to happiness. And if this be true of all, how em¬ phatically is it true of those who know no human authority but that which they themselves create ! In the establishment of this authority; in fixing its extent; in regulating the manner of its exercise ; in selecting those to whom it is to be delegated, how important a duty do they perform! And he—who stretches forth his hand to receive the sceptre of command, to minister between God and man in the important task of giving law to will and appetite—how high the function to which he is called ! What qualities does it demand—what wisdom; what prudence ; what virtue, in him who aspires to it! Does this thought seem new and strange 1 It may well do so, accustomed as you are to see the suffrage of the citizen conferred as a matter of compliment or favor, under no guidance but that of whim or partiality; and the authority of government assumed for the gratification of a childish vanily, or the accomplishment of some selfish and unworthy purpose. Bear with me then, I pray you, while I endeavor to vindicate the truth of what I have just said, and to " show the line and the predicament wherein you range," in all that pertains to government, under the king of kings, the law-giver of law-givers, the ruler of the universe. 11 It gives me pleasure to believe that I am addressing an audi¬ ence, who will not dislike to be reminded that the God whose power is over all things ; who commands the sun and moon in their seasons; and guides the planets through the pathless hea¬ vens j and sends the wayward yet obedient comet on his errands into the deep abyss of space unfathomable; yet, condescends to interest himself in all that concerns a being so insignificant as man: that he whom angels and archangels obey, yet deigns to engage the service of the sons of Adam. What service ? What can he need, that he should ask any thing at our hands 1 " If he were hungry, surely he would not tell us, for the world is his, and the fulness thereof." It is not sacrifices and burnt-offerings he demands at our hands. " He will take no bullock out of our house, nor he goat out of our flocks," for " he knows all the fowls of the mountain; and the beasts of the forest, and the cattle on a thousand hills are his." For what service were we designed—> we with our limited faculties, and feeble powers, and fleeting breath ? For what: but that we should " offer unto God thanks¬ giving, and pay our vows to the most high ; and call upon him in the day of trouble ?" It is the heart of man that he requires, and the subordination of the heart is all the service he demands. Gentlemen; if it may be permitted to one not worthy to take that holy name upon his lips, to scan the purposes of the most high, may we not entertain the thought, that the very weakness, wThich, when we have done all we can, leaves us yet unprofitable ser¬ vants, is implanted in the nature of man, as the means of quali¬ fying him for the only service God requires of him 1 It is through his wants and infirmities that he is made subject to the discipline of life; and what is the end and effect of all that discipline, but to purge the heart of the selfishness of self-love, and to subdue the wilfulness of self-will % Why else is the helplessness of in¬ fancy inflicted, and the child of immortality condemned, through that long pupilage, to an authority wThich controls all his actions, and moulds his mind, and sways his affections, and reaches even to the thoughts and desires of his heart % Why else do the infir¬ mities of nature compel a reciprocal dependence of men upon each other, for innumerable offices without which the race must perish ? 12 Why is society thus made necessary to man, but that he may learn to submit his will to the laws of society? Why is government made necessary to the authority and existence of social order, but to familiarize him with the idea that crime shall not go unpunished ? From the cradle to the grave, obedience to something besides his own will is the lesson inculcated and enforced; and by this lesson the pride of man is humbled, and his selfishness is rebuked, and his affections are expanded, and his heart is purified, and made worthy to be a temple where God may dwell. When we reflect on these things, we are made sensible that all the authority to which man is made subject on earth is God's in¬ strument for the accomplishment of his great work in the regene¬ ration of his fallen nature. We are thus made to see how true it is, and in what sense it is true,